Northern Rain

by Nicole Clarkston

  “Why?” she tilted her head, puzzled.

  “Hamilton himself cares nothing for the business, beyond his profit margin. Not that I condemn that- we are all businessmen at the end of the day- but he will take small interest in the proper restoration of the equipment. He will invest as little as he can to become operational in the short term, but he has not the inspiration for growth.

  “And then there is that son of his! He wishes for Rupert to gain experience in trade, and no doubt plans to install him as master. I expect he will confirm all of this when he comes to talk to me tomorrow.”

  “You think he will ask you to work alongside Rupert for a time? Why, John, it could be just the thing! You would need to seek employment regardless, and here you could ensure that everything is done properly! None know the mill and the workers like you do.”

  He scowled. “I should quarrel with him within the first month. I would do better to go to Hamper! He wishes to set his own son up in a mill over in Leeds and has already approached me to work with him. At least in that case, I think I should endure six months before incurring a complete and utter breach of our working relationship.”

  “Well, we can do little good by speculating now. Perhaps you ought to hear Mr Hamilton out tomorrow before you decide there is no future in it.”

  The light returned to his eyes and he pecked a firm kiss to her forehead. “Wisdom from my future wife! Which reminds me….” Carefully he eased away from her and made his arduous, methodical way to his desk. “I have something for you.”

  He gathered a few papers from his desk and fanned them triumphantly before her face. “I spoke with the minister today. He will begin reading the banns on Sunday.”

  “My, you did not waste any time!” she laughed.

  “On the contrary, the entire process seems to me sluggish and ridiculously protracted. Upon my word, Margaret, we would already be wed if I felt I could have endured the train ride to Gretna Green. Are you certain,” his tone changed, “that you will not mind a simple- very simple- and economical wedding? You deserve so much better!”

  “Absolutely,” she assured him. “It has always seemed to me vain and silly to make such a fuss.”

  He grinned crookedly. “Thank heavens you and Fanny are not cut from the same cloth! You ought to hear the lamentations from her room when I tell her what we can afford to spend on her wedding. Watson has promised to buy her an entire trousseau after they are wed, which did comfort her somewhat.”

  Margaret shook her head in wonder. “I am glad she accepted him! He seems respectable enough. I might have feared she would reject him in hopes that Rupert Hamilton might be brought up to scratch.”

  “He has dropped from the face of the planet of late, to which I cannot say I am sorry. She was rather distraught to begin with, but I think my mother gave her a set down. She is annoyed with me and wants out of the house, so Watson is looking rather attractive to her just now.”

  Margaret could not help a little shiver. Decent enough fellow though he might be, she could not fathom giving herself to a blustering simpleton like James Watson just to secure a home. How blessed she was to admire, respect, and… and yes, passionately love the man whose name she would take!

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Thornton, it is good to see you on your feet again.” Stuart Hamilton took the offered seat in John’s private study. He bore less the air of the friendly colleague on this visit, and more the attitude of the masterly financier. Without preamble, he placed his case at his feet and began drawing papers from it.

  “Thank you, sir. What can I do for you?” Thornton eased carefully back into his seat, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and lacing his fingers together. Clearly Hamilton was working under the assumption that he had already obtained his objective, and only John’s final signature was wanting. Thornton’s jaw tightened. He might have no bargaining power, but Hamilton would not find him the soft mark he expected.

  “Well, Thornton, I should think it all rather obvious.” Hamilton spread before himself a proposal, but did not press it toward the other just yet. “You are quite ruined- a shame, my good man- but perhaps I may be of assistance.”

  Thornton’s brow lifted. “You have been in correspondence with Bell, I presume?”

  Hamilton’s surprise was barely concealed. He cleared his throat. “Why, yes, of course. I have been associated with him from long ago, as you recall.”

  “Quite. So, what is your proposal?”

  “Five years, Thornton. Give me five years of your time to get the mill operational and profitable again, under Rupert. He will require your assistance, for you know all of the contacts and technical information he will need. In exchange for signing the contract with me, I will repay your bank loan, but only the bank loan; not your private investors. You yourself will draw a modest stipend for your living expenses. That is the best I can do.”

  “And after the five years?”

  Hamilton’s eye twinkled. “That depends on you, Thornton. You may go your own way, of course. If, on the other hand, you find you prefer to stay, we may work out another agreement at that time.”

  “Under your son? Forgive me, sir, but no thank you. I do not think it prudent to so closely ally myself with a character so dissimilar to my own. I think we should not get on.”

  “No one is saying that Rupert must stay on indefinitely. He only wants some experience in business, Thornton. I intended,” he shifted in his chair somewhat, “to eventually put the business in Genevieve’s name.”

  Thornton sighed. So, Hamilton was about that again! “Perhaps I should be frank, sir. I have been engaged to another for some weeks already. The banns will be read in a matter of days. So, you see, it is impossible for me to take any interest in what you suggest.”

  Hamilton’s eyes hardened. “Ah, yes. The lovely Miss Hale. Tell me, Thornton, how did you intend to provide for her? She and her father are nearly destitute as it is, are they not? Your stipend will not be that much, and you have other debts to repay.”

  “I do not care to discuss my personal affairs, sir,” Thornton’s voice was flinty and unyielding. “I insist that you refrain from further insinuations regarding your daughter, for I cannot satisfy you.”

  Hamilton tilted back in his chair, studying his adversary. “Did you know, Thornton, that I have a good friend in London- Charles Davis, one of the chief editors of the Times?”

  “I did not.”

  “Good fellow, Charles. He keeps me appraised of any items I might find interesting- unofficially, of course, before the headlines break.”

  “And what, may I ask, is this interesting piece of news you seem to have gathered?”

  Hamilton’s face warmed shrewdly. “That is not for me to say yet, Thornton. I only suggest that you continue to keep your understanding with Miss Hale quiet. You may soon be glad that you did so.”

  “Let me be perfectly clear, Hamilton. I do not know the nature of this shocking news you claim, but I shall not be dissuaded from wedding Miss Hale at my earliest opportunity. I cannot understand why you display such zeal for engaging your daughter to a man who does not care for her.”

  “And I cannot fathom why you will not be persuaded to it, Thornton! Egad, man, think what you and I could accomplish! You stand to gain controlling interest again in the mill, with all of the resources you could desire at your fingertips and a charming wife in the bargain! What have you to lose? Why, there is not a mill owner in the city who would not have fallen over himself for such a chance!”

  “Then go to another and be done with it!” Thornton fairly snarled, clutching his side when a sharp pain stabbed him.

  “Did you know, Thornton,” Hamilton’s demeanor abruptly shifted to a more conversational tone, “that Marlborough Mills sits almost exactly in the centre of Milton?”

  He stared. “I was aware of that. Why bring it up?”

  Hamilton tapped his forefingers together thoughtfully. “How long,
Thornton, do you expect it will be before the current design of the mill is obsolete?”

  “That depends on advancing technology. Twenty years, possibly, before a substantial remodel is necessary.”

  “Hmm. And where does most of your cotton come from, Thornton?”

  “You know very well where it comes from. American suppliers ship through Liverpool.”

  “Very interesting what’s starting to happen over there. They’re finally starting to catch up to us about the slavery laws. Why, they even have a new political party formed just this year around that platform.”

  Thornton grimaced. “And as yet they are scarcely a ripple upon the waves.”

  “So far, yes,” Hamilton agreed. “But what happens to the cotton trade, Thornton, when tensions rise sufficiently over there? It’s bound to happen, sooner or later. Heaven only knows how it will all shake out, but at the very least we are talking about a substantial hike in your raw cotton prices, if not a drastic shortage.”

  Thornton fell silent, his mind beginning to make the leaps of conjecture which formed Hamilton’s reasoning. “You think,” he responded slowly, “to make the most of the profit here for the next few years, then when the cotton market turns and the property loses value, you would purchase the property from Bell- or his heir, possibly by that time- for a mere song and tear down the mill. I suppose you intend to then build some manner of commercial centre on the site?”

  Hamilton’s mouth turned upward in satisfaction. “And you continue to wonder why I want you in my family, Thornton? You are a man of vision. You can foresee these eventualities, and together we can plan a far more profitable future than could ever be achieved in cotton alone.”

  “I will not marry your daughter simply to oblige your business stratagems, Hamilton! I find it repugnant… blasphemous, even,” he winced inwardly as he found himself nearly repeating Margaret’s first rejection of his proposal. “Even had I not sworn myself to another- one to whom I am thoroughly devoted- I would never have yielded to your obvious desire to control me through marriage. Why you cannot settle for a simple business arrangement, I do not know, but you have come to the wrong man!”

  Hamilton’s expression tightened, his voice now hard. “I take it, then, that in your studies of the Classics with that old parson, you have not yet stumbled upon Machiavelli. Keep your bit of muslin if you must, but if you reject my offer, you will regret it.”

  Thornton shot to his feet, nearly roaring in rage and pain. “Get out! Get out of my house this instant!”

  Hamilton allowed a sly glint in his eyes as he rose. “I will wait for two weeks, Thornton. If you have not changed your mind, I will proceed without you. I’ll require you to vacate the premises as soon as the lease transfers to my name. Good day.”

  Hamilton departed and the infuriated former master fumed and seethed about his study for fully ten minutes. He panted and gasped in his physical weakness, but his temper was high, his passion unabated. He stood at his study window and clenched his fists in the air, biting back the ferocious howl of wrath which would only make him choke in agony and alarm his mother.

  His mother! Margaret had promised to come sit with her this morning, knowing how anxious she had been for his negotiations! Impatiently he stumbled from the room, longing only to hear the gentle reassurances of his two ladies; to feel their simple unwavering support and unshakable faith in him, no matter the circumstances.

  “John!” Margaret rose first, apprehension written plainly across her features. “John, what has happened?”

  Carefully he pulled her under his chin, not even caring that his mother was at hand. It felt so good to have her close, to know that she would look into his hopelessness and find something to believe in! Margaret leaned her head reassuringly into his embrace, but cautiously bent her body away from his wounded torso.

  “Mother,” he beckoned with his other hand. Her brow furrowed suspiciously, his mother came as well and her cool fingers took his fevered grip.

  “John, tell us!” Margaret implored. “It must be truly dreadful; I have scarcely seen your face so white!”

  At last, he found his voice, unsteady as it was. “It is as I expected. Mr Hamilton wishes me to work for him under contract for five years. And he wishes for me to marry into his family.”

  The reactions were, quite naturally, outrage mixed with confusion. “But why, John?” his mother demanded. “What matters it to Mr Hamilton what you do? You would be under contract to work, what more does he want?”

  He released a taut breath, his eyes trained over his mother’s head and out the window, on what remained of the factory roof. “Control. That is what he wants. I think I finally understand.”

  He pressed them both back, blinking and swallowing the last of his ire. Shakily, he made his way to the sofa where they anxiously joined him. “Mr Hamilton means to set himself up as quite the tycoon, and somehow, I am in his way. He sees me as competition, even now! I do not understand it. He will either have my cooperation, or he will see me ruined.”

  “And how does he mean to do that?” his mother scoffed. “You refused the offer, naturally! You may go to anyone else!”

  “Mother,” he spoke lowly, as though he himself had only just realized the truth. “Hamilton has invested in half of the mills in town already, as well as a score of other shops and firms. Hamper alone owes him nearly three hundred pounds.”

  Both of the women paled, their expressions united in horror. “Oh, John! Does that mean….” Margaret’s hand covered her mouth before daring to finish her thought.

  He nodded grimly. “He will make certain that I have no work in Milton. There is a fine network binding all of the partnerships in town, and none will wish to cripple his own business on my account. I am not that highly sought after,” he gave his mother a sardonic half smirk.

  Hannah gulped down her consternation and caught her future daughter’s eye. She lifted her chin in defiance. “Then we go to Leeds, or Manchester. You still have your name, John! We need not be dependent upon Mr Hamilton, or his little empire.”

  He tried to smile. “You are right, Mother. Margaret, my love, you would not be troubled overmuch to go? Do you think your father would not wish to relocate?”

  She wrapped her hand securely over his forearm. “I will go with you, John, and I am certain that Father will not object. You are his favourite pupil, after all.” She accompanied her remark with that gentle warmth which never failed to make his heart skip.

  There, right before his mother, he leaned forward and captured her honeyed lips in a light, intimate caress. “Then to Leeds or Manchester we go. I will begin writing some letters.” He rose and left them staring after him as he hobbled slowly back to his study.

  Margaret shuddered in a deep sigh as the door closed. “Can he really do it?” she asked hesitantly. “Has he the contacts there to find the sort of position he seeks?”

  Hannah’s lips pressed together. “Perhaps. His name is well-known, and he is respected in all quarters of the industry. Whether anyone will wish to take him on is something else entirely. He developed something of a reputation after breaking that strike. While other masters applauded him to his face, behind his back they behave rather differently. Simply bringing him on as an overseer might trigger unrest in the local Unions, and most masters are anxious to avoid that sort of trouble if they can.”

  “But there are none who work better with the Union now!” Margaret objected. “He has proven that he will not be dictated to, but has also been most generous in his subsequent dealings. I would have thought that his presence would avert strikes rather than stimulate them.”

  Hannah clicked her tongue and shook her head. “The leaders here know that about him. Time will tell what others believe, Lass. Let John worry about it for now. If I am not mistaken, we have a wedding to plan, so let us to it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  On the second morning after Thornton’s meeting with Hamilton, he crep
t his slow, laborious way down the stairs to break his fast. He would never reveal to his mother just how excruciating every movement was, but oh! Had he a pistol, he would have cheerfully shot the first man who designed stairs in a house. By the time he reached the bottom some minutes later, he was panting and his face was white with cold sweat. Thank heavens Dr Donaldson proclaimed him to be mending “despite your best efforts at killing yourself,” as the doctor’s pithy remark had reassured him. He did not think he could bear many more weeks of this!

  Clamping down on his upper lip, he took his seat and sighed his thanks as Cook’s assistant brought him his tea and paper. His face pinched. He was going to have to thin out the household staff, for what little ready money he had left was dwindling rapidly. He ought to have cut back sooner, but he had not wished to leave his long-time staff so unexpectedly without employment, nor overburden the remaining help at a time when there were two weddings to plan- modest though they would be.

  Raising his tea to his lips, his mind wandered pleasantly to weddings and teacups and mornings spent lingering over breakfast. Presently he mused to himself that in three more weeks- the date he and Margaret had tentatively set for their wedding- he might not be in such dire physical shape. A silent grin tugged at his mouth even as he attempted to drink his tea without spilling. A groom had good need to be strong and fit, after all!

  What might his delicious bride desire of him? He fairly tingled in his burning curiosity. Would she wish for him to keep her warm through the nights? Did she wear her hair loose or plaited when she slept? And what in thunder did a woman wear to bed with her husband? Husband! No more glorious title could he ever aspire to, except… except possibly…. He sighed serenely. If he had any say in the matter, there would be children one day- dozens of them! Perhaps Margaret might object to that figure, he chuckled privately.