Lakeland Lily (14 page)

Lily told him that her own family would see things differently. But in this, she was to be disappointed. They agreed to meet Bertie because Lily asked them to, but their reaction was muted. Clearly uncomfortable in his presence they kept glancing at each other, a bemused expression on each anxious face.

Hannah took the opportunity to speak on the subject to her daughter as Lily helped brew a fresh pot of tea. ‘What are you thinking of, lass? He’s the landlord’s son. One of the nobs.’

‘What of it?’

It was true that Bertie looked incongruous in their shabby kitchen, sitting on a hard stool instead of a brocade-covered sofa, drinking tea from a mug instead of bone china. But not for the world would Lily admit as much.

‘I thought you hated that family, ‘cause of what they did to Dick?’

‘I do hate them.’

‘Then you shouldn’t think to wed their son.’

Even Rose was unsympathetic. ‘You’re mad,’ she said, when Lily spoke of her intentions. ‘He’s a lovely man but weak and foolish. He’ll drive you up the bleedin’ wall in no time. The Berties of this world aren’t made for marriage.’

No one, it seemed, was prepared to see her point of view. Lily
persuaded herself that her motive for going through with it was not simply revenge. She liked Bertie as much as she could like any man, now that she’d lost Dick. She’d given up on love, hadn’t she? Much too painful. Bertie was fun, they enjoyed each other’s company, and he’d take her out of The Cobbles. She presented this argument to each and every one of her family and friends, but they were unimpressed.

‘Think again,’ they said.

‘Don’t do it.’

‘You’ll rue the day.’

‘It’s too high a price to pay.’

‘They’ll eat you alive.’

But Lily wasn’t listening.

Nathan Monroe, watching events closely, had the audacity to tell her that she’d be better off with him. He deliberately waylaid her on her way home from the fish market. ‘If it’s marriage you’re desperate for, I might consider asking you meself.’

Lily stared at him, utterly shocked. ‘You can’t be serious?’

‘At least I’d be man enough for you. Not a broken reed wanting to get even with a snobby mother who’s anxious to marry her son off to any horse-faced female who crosses his path, simply because she’s rich.’

‘Bertie isn’t a broken reed. He’s kind and amusing and very generous. And he isn’t marrying me to get even with his mother.’

‘You are. Why not him too? In one fell swoop he can get his own back on an over-critical father, and foil his ambitious mother’s plans.’

Lily firmly rejected the suggestion. It was far too uncomfortable. ‘Bertie adores me. He’s said he loves me a dozen times. Not that you would understand the meaning of the word.’

‘At least we’d be of a type, you and me. Two cups from the same pot, eh?’

‘Marry you, a bully and a jail bird?’ Contempt etched every line of her young face as Lily glared up at him, resolutely recalling every trick Nathan Monroe had ever played on her. Successfully managing to ignore the attractive way his eyebrows flared, how the corners of his mouth twitched constantly into that provocative smile. ‘Live for ever in The Cobbles?’ She glanced about the street with disdain. ‘You must think I’ve no brains in me head.’

‘We could climb out of this hole together.’

Lily laughed, the sound loud and strident, even in a street bustling with activity. ‘You’ll never get out of The Cobbles, Nathan Monroe. This is where you deserve to be. Like a rat in a sewer.’

He stepped back from her, bright blue gaze shrewdly assessing, and for some reason she shivered. Foreboding perhaps? Or regret? A fanciful notion, she told herself crossly.

‘I never said for certain that I would ask you,’ he quietly reminded her. ‘I only said I might. That if I did, you’d be better suited to me than to that duck-head.’

‘Thanks again for the generous offer,’ she cockily told him. ‘But I’ll not be so desperate till I’m ninety, blind and senile. Not even with me dying breath would I contemplate marriage with the likes of you.’

Perhaps it was this last confrontation which finally decided her. The very next day, when Bertie again begged her to elope with him, Lily accepted like a shot. No one but Nathan saw them go.

Edward Clermont-Read faced Captain Swinbourne in the Steamship Company office and felt closer to hatred for his own son than was right and proper in any father, even one as sorely tried as himself.

He understood only too well that if you failed to achieve status through birth in this world, you needed wealth and influence in order to command any degree of respect and obedience. Ferguson-Walsh had been about to invite him on to the town council, recommend him for a magistracy, Edward was certain of it. He wouldn’t now. In one night Bertie had undermined a lifetime of striving. Men like Swinbourne could look upon him with near contempt.

If this was putting it rather strong, it didn’t seem so from Edward’s point of view. Life was treating him badly at the moment. There was little comfort to be found at home. Margot had almost thrown an apoplectic fit when she’d discovered Bertie’s note saying he’d borrowed the gig to take them to Gretna Green, where he and Lily meant to marry.

‘You do see, Mr Clermont-Read, how appreciated your assistance would be,’ the Captain was saying. ‘In addition, the price of everything - provisions, wood, coal - is rising.’

‘Then put up the damned ticket prices!’

The Captain winced as if struck. ‘I’m afraid I’ve already put them up as much as I dare. Any more and we’d lose customers. Besides which, I’m offering you the chance to increase your investment. The
Lucy Ann is
a fine ship but out of date and too small to make real money. We’ve packed on as many as six hundred on occasions but with a larger vessel, say one hundred and fifty feet long instead of a hundred, and five feet wider, we could take a couple of hundred more passengers at a push. Which would naturally increase our profits.’

‘And your overheads.’

‘We need to progress, Mr Clermont-Read.’

Edward had seen the overloaded Public Steamers, packed with factory girls from the mill towns and families out on a day trip, far too often to be troubled by any fears about safety. Why should he worry if the ship was too small? Though it was tempting to consider ways of increasing his profits, ready cash was in short supply. A fact which added to his ill humour.

‘Progress? Pah! I’ve spent my life on such a quest.’ He returned to a gloomy contemplation of his personal problems. He’d left Margot in bed this morning, as usual, bemoaning her lot and still refusing to rise because her life was in ruins. She’d been there for nigh on two months. Even Selene was beginning to lose patience with her mother.

Meanwhile the recalcitrant pair had settled in The Cobbles, instructed never to darken Margot’s door again, and all that rot. His
son
living
in The Cobbles, for God’s sake! Yet he had made no protest when Margot had turned the boy out, had he?

From all accounts the Thorpe family were no more enamoured of the situation than they were. Though, by God, they should be, Edward thought. He heard the Captain noisily clear his throat and forced himself to concentrate upon the matter in hand.

‘I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time, Swinbourne. Manufacturing is going through a sticky patch at present. Outclassed and out-priced by the damned Germans. Even the Americans. It’s almost as if the Empire stands for nothing any more. Imports are increasing, which does me no good at all, don’t you know? Exports are bad, which leaves me a bit stretched. God knows where it’ll all end.’

Captain Swinbourne was not in the least interested in Clermont-Read’s problems. All he cared about was that the man was well-to-do and his largest shareholder, therefore his best bet to touch for a loan at a reasonable rate of interest. So far he was meeting with little success, mainly because of the man’s irascible temper, caused no doubt by the madcap behaviour of that young son of his.

‘It’ll all change when war comes. Iron and steel are the markets to go for, Mr Clermont-Read. And shipbuilding.’

Edward gave the man a sour look. ‘You would say that, of course. There’ll be no war, dammit! Lot of speechifying and posturing, I’ll admit, but it won’t happen. I should’ve invested my money overseas instead of in textiles. Stick with the staples, I told myself. Cotton is safe, always safe. I ship it to half the world, don’t you know? But it isn’t what it was. The future lies with the dominions, or so they tell me, only I’m too old to emigrate and start again.’

Swinbourne laughed as if this were a joke. ‘We both are, but not quite done yet, eh?’

‘I’ve certainly no spare cash to waste any more in playboy entertainments such as this tin bucket. Those days are over. Might ask for me shares back rather than putting more in.’

Captain Swinbourne went white to the lips. This was the last thing he wanted. If Clermont-Read withdrew his goodwill, then he might as well scuttle the
Lucy Ann
, never mind build a new craft. He’d be finished. ‘Let’s not be hasty,’ he soothed. ‘Perhaps you’ll take a glass of port with me and we’ll see if we can’t come up with a solution.’

But even after two glasses of excellent port and a sizeable slab of Stilton, Clermont-Read still departed without making any promises whatsoever. Captain Swinbourne sank his head in his hands on a wave of despair, so engrossed in his own misery he did not hear the door open or the click of boots on the rough wooden flooring.

‘Excuse me, sir. Wondered if I could have a word?’

A polite cough stirred him. ‘What is it now, Monroe? I’m not in the mood for any more problems. Get back to your ticket office where you belong.’

But Nathan was already closing the office door, even having the gall to take the very seat so recently vacated by Edward Clermont-Read.

Swinbourne lifted his head, incensed by the cheek of the young man. ‘Who said you could sit down?’

Nathan folded his arms and relaxed into the leather chair. ‘I reckon you’ll be happy enough to offer me a seat when you hear what I have to say.’

Starting married life in The Cobbles was not at all what Lily had planned. It was clear her family were far from comfortable at being forced to take into their home the son of their landlord, despite their protestations to the contrary. They’d much rather have kept Nathan Monroe, who’d been forced to move out to accommodate this change in circumstance, for until Bertie could find a job there was no alternative.

‘I respect all, but bow the knee to no man,’ Arnie told him. ‘So long as you appreciate that, young man, we’ll get along fine. Gentleman of the road or lord of the manor, you’re welcome in my house.’

Lily did not feel truly welcome but surprisingly Bertie accepted the situation as if, in his own words, it were all some merry jape.

‘It’s no joke, lad,’ Arnie sternly warned him. ‘You’ll not be laughing long when your belly starts to wonder where the next meal’s coming from. That’ll wipe the smile from your face.’

Bertie simply said, ‘I won’t be a nuisance. We’ll be out of here in two shakes. Soon as Mama gets over the sulks.’ Then grinned broadly at everyone, winning a giggle from little Kitty.

The sleeping arrangements were far from ideal, with no space for a married couple to sleep together in the overcrowded cottage. Not that Lily minded too much, since she wasn’t too sure how she would feel about doing ‘
It
’ with Bertie. She’d managed to avoid it so far, and was happy enough to continue to sleep with her sisters while he bunked down with Matt and Jacob. The only thing that really troubled her was that she was right back where she’d started from.

Mama apparently did not get over her sulks that first difficult week, nor even the first month. No word came from Barwick House. It was as if Bertie had ceased to exist. For his part he made no effort to find work. Lily continued to help her mother on the fish stall, although Bertie constantly assured her that he could afford the weekly sum for their keep from his allowance and she’d really no need to work. Lily, however, had every intention of maintaining her occupation which, as winter approached, in any case proved necessary for once again Hannah suffered numerous chills. Discomfort mounted as the small cottage began to reek of camphorated oil and mustard poultices, and space became even more limited with the constant supply of washing steaming before the small peat fire.

Bertie insisted that if Margot did not come round within the next week or two, he would find them a place of their own.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Hannah said. She liked the young man and the regular income he brought in was desperately needed at this time. ‘We can manage if you can.’

‘We might be poor,’ Arnie told him, pride in his voice, ‘but we’re better off than many. We have three grand beds between us, a stool or chair each to sit on, and enough food on our table for growing child and working man alike. I’ve allus kept a roof over our heads and paid our way, for all it’s been a struggle at times to find the rent. We don’t believe in moonlight flits at this house. Honest but poor, that’s what we are, and we want for naught.’

‘I can see that,’ Bertie assured him. ‘You have a fine family, Mr Thorpe.’