Love Engineered (18 page)

“You will have no need for such licence then,” Boyd said, then added, “The servant told us the ornamental gardens were your father's design.”

“Yes. He liked things ordered. I prefer something less structured, more natural. But I maintain that section of the garden as he liked it, in his memory. I've always thought of myself not as the owner of this estate, but as the custodian for future generations.”

Boyd nodded, and a short time later, a servant entered.

“Ma'am, there is Mr Francis outside. He hopes to speak to you about Miss Potts.”

“Mr Francis?”

Charles noticed her surprised reaction and tried to guess why. Who was this man and why he was calling on her?

“Yes.” The servant awaited the instructions.

“I shall come and speak to him.” Then addressing the three visitors, “Would you excuse me for a few moments? I must speak to Mr Francis.” She was aware that she was probably being rude by leaving them, but she didn't care. She didn't care if he thought her discourteous.

Mr Francis stood outside the drawing room in the hallway. Louise approached him and shook his hand.

“Mr Francis, I'm sorry I cannot invite you in properly, but I have business acquaintances visiting at the moment.”

“It is I who should beg your pardon. I didn't wish to disturb you. I shall return at a more convenient time.” He turned to go, but she stopped him.

“No, no we can speak now. I just can't invite you in. You wanted to know about Lu- Miss Potts?”

A broad smile spread across his face. “Yes. I wished to speak to her. I have returned from Manchester to see her. I have obtained a position with a reputable firm.” He blushed as he spoke. “And I wished to speak to her, only to find she has returned to Bedfordshire.”

Louise guessed what he wanted to speak about, and she sensed he knew it too. It pleased her that she was indeed right in her advice to Lucy that Mr Francis had waited to obtain a position before he made her an offer of his hand. But mostly she was happy for the pair. Although she had seen little of them together, she knew enough of them separately to know that they were very much in love. Lucy in her three months of silent brooding, Mr Francis in his deep blush and awkwardness just now when Lucy's name was mentioned.

“Unfortunately, yes, she has returned to Bedfordshire,” Louise said. “But I'm sure if you were to stop there on your way back to Manchester you would find a cordial welcome from her parents. Although I haven't met them, Lucy assures me that they are very agreeable.”

“Was she well when you left her?”

“Yes, perfectly, although a little sorry to return to England. She thoroughly enjoyed her time in Paris. As did I. She was a perfect traveling companion, insisted we went to places that I never would have thought of, or would have considered, much to my own enjoyment. Mr Francis, would your grandparents think it reproachful if I asked you to dine here tonight? They wouldn't miss you for one evening?”

“Why thank you, yes.” Astonishment spread on his face. “It would be an honour. I'm sure my grandparents will be more than happy for me to attend.”

“The honour is mine; in fact, you would be doing me a great service. The businessmen I'm in conference with at the moment shall be dining here too, and I have the feeling that they only accepted out of obligation. It would be most advantageous for me to have a friend at the table.”

The thought that Mr Francis had also accepted out of duty didn't cross her mind. But she needn't have worried, an invitation from such an eminent person was something Mr Francis had never before received. He had heard, like many others, that she kept an excellent table.

“I shall send a carriage for you at seven.”

“But Miss Thomas, that is too much!”

“Nonsense. I know your grandparents have no horse. I couldn't invite you, then expect you to walk.”

. . .

When the three gentlemen arrived back at the inn later that afternoon, Mr Ashton was in a jovial mood. Having secured the funding and having met with Robert Adams, there was little that could dampen his spirits.

They were about to adjourn to their separate rooms to prepare for dinner when they were called into the tap room by the landlord, who inquired if they would need their supper. He was a rather gruff-looking old man, who had obviously seen a fight or two, because of his crooked nose.

It was Ashton who replied. “No, thank you. We're to dine at Glazebrook House tonight.”

The landlord's eyebrows raised up in surprise. “You'll eat the best food then. Miss Thomas is said to serve her guests only the finest.”

“Indeed!” Ashton said, and decided to try and obtain more information. “Tell me, is Miss Thomas well-liked in the area?”

“Yes, she's liked. Has people queuing up to work for her. She pays well and even pays the doctor's fees for her staff, should they need him. She knows the name of all her tenants, and her staff.”

All three men listened intently. The landlord continued in a soft West Country accent: “She's a worthy trustee of the estate and is kind to the poor. Yes, she's well liked. Nothing much to dislike about her. Folk round here worry who she might marry though.”

“What do you mean?”

“People fear she'll come back from one of her trips to London engaged to some worthless fellow. So far, we've been lucky. But it will happen one day, I'm sure. Then we'll be in trouble.” He wiped the counter with a cloth, even though it was already spotlessly clean.

“I've heard she's somewhat eccentric?” Ashton asked.

“She is a little. The very rich often are, although I think her only really strange way is that she rides her horse like a man: astride and with trousers on. I've seen her several times too. A great horsewoman she is, as good as any man. A strange sight it is though. Some people say she rides bareback too, but I've never seen it.

“Her old governess Miss Gately that was, lives up yonder. Says she was a lovely child and hasn't a bad word to say about her. Says Miss Thomas thinks every child from every background should be taught to read and write and given an education. Not sure I agree with that. She started the school up the way and pays for it all though she don't boast about it. Every job available at her estate has at least ten people wanting it, not that there are many going. Nobody leaves a good employer such as her unless it's in a wooden box. Not put her rent up for five years. Not like Sir Giles – he's a bad ’un. No, you'll not hear a bad word against her.”

“Rides her horse like a man!” Ashton laughed. “I must remember that tonight as we're sitting at dinner.”

But Charles didn't share his humour. He wouldn't laugh at her. He had seen a side to her today that he never knew existed; she was guardian to so much, bore so much responsibility by herself. He mulled over her words; not spoken so that he could hear, but heard all the same as she said them to Mr Boyd while they looked at her parents' portraits:

“I do not consider myself the owner of all this, I'm simply the custodian for future generations.”

If he had accepted her offer of marriage, then perhaps he would be the one deciding where the money to invest was to go. He never had any problem getting funds for anything he designed, especially in these recent years as his reputation as a master engineer grew. What would he do with such a large amount of money? He knew; he would give it back to her. She must lead a lonely life, for although she had many grateful servants and tenants, at the end of each day, as they went to their quarters or houses, she was alone. He started to see why she craved family life so.

No, he wouldn't laugh at her. Circumstances beyond her control had carved her characteristics, and without her father to guide her. It was no wonder she had strange opinions and habits. But he realised now that she could no more walk away from this responsibility she had been born into than he could walk away from his engineering.

He started to regret even more the way he had spoken to her that day – how he had chided her, how he had put her down! He was determined tonight he must at least speak to her again, to try to make further amends. If not for his own conscience, then for Jane's.

As Louise dressed that evening, she could hardly have known all her guests were eager to attend. She assumed they had accepted her invitation out of obligation, but she couldn't have known that all of them had a keenness to speak to her at length over dinner. Despite knowing her position in life was elevated above many, she never believed herself above those gentlemen who were at the pinnacle of the industrial world. As for Mr Francis, she was sure he would soon be her friend's husband, and for that alone, he deserved her civility. She descended the great staircase at Glazebrook and trembled a little at the thought that yet again, Mr Lucas was to be in her home. This led her to check and double check every arrangement to the point where her normally patient servants grew exasperated. It was only when the clock struck seven thirty that she took a sip of wine for courage, and waited for the sound of the carriages that would herald their arrival.

She often gave dinners for friends and acquaintances, but generally preferred to eat the more plain food that was served for the servants on those nights when she was alone. Her cook, the best in Devon, thought this very irregular, but followed her orders and simply prepared her mistress's food with the utmost care and attention. Despite her position as mistress, she didn't believe it worth the effort for the cook to prepare delicate dishes for only one person. So, on such occasions as these, the servants were more than obliging to make extra effort for their most highly regarded employer.

The guests arrived in their separate carriages only a few minutes late. They stepped out and their host awaited them in the sitting room. It was warmed by a blazing fire and lit by many candles.

The introductions were made. “You are Charles Lucas?” Mr Francis said after a moment, with eyes wide. “The famous engineer?”

“Yes,” Charles said in reply, not flinching from Mr Francis's reaction. Louise watched on, a little amused. Had she also been so obviously in awe all those months ago when she first met him?

Soon enough they all found themselves seated for dinner in the grand dining room. Mr Ashton and Mr Francis were seated either side of her at the head of the table. Mr Lucas, and Mr Boyd were furthest away, but since the table could seat twenty people, they all sat at one end. Louise's gaze went over the spread. Everything was just as she had arranged it – the best silver and dinner service and her finest crystal glasses all added to the finery and opulence. She was determined to give them a taste of elegance – to give him an idea of what he had rejected. He might not like her class and wealth, but she wouldn't hide what she had. Why should she?

As they ate, the conversation took many turns and eventually went to the Glazebrook estate.

“I hear you have a palm house, Miss Thomas,” Ashton commented.

“Yes, it was built in 1823, as a wedding gift from my father to my mother. She was fond of tropical plants.”

“A palm house. That is a rarity,” Boyd said.

“It was designed by Decimus Burton. One of his first,” she stated.

“Really? And have you seen his new palm house at Kew?” Ashton asked.

“Yes. I was invited to the opening a few years ago. He remembered my father and his early commission of work and wanted a representative to be there.”

“A palm house is an extravagant gift. The window tax alone must have been a great burden.” Charles asked.

“It was, but I couldn't bear to have it torn down. My mother loved it more than any other place on the estate. Besides, it is not an issue now that window tax has been repealed, much to my great relief. Although I'm sure the government will find a different way to tax me.”

“Tell me, what is that big stone that sits near the gatehouse, the one that sits on the knoll. It looks a little odd there, a bit out of place.” Charles asked, eager to have her speak to him again.

“You mean the Dancing Stone?”

“The Dancing Stone? A stone that dances?” His brow raised in amusement.

“Do tell the story Miss Thomas,” Mr Francis interjected eagerly. “I'm sure they will find it interesting.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “But only if you like to hear a little mythology. A stone that is said to dance is no scientific fact.”

Charles nodded, and she continued. “No one knows how the stone got there and I've certainly never seen it dance. It has always been there, as far as anyone can remember. The story is that many years ago a young maiden was betrothed to a man who had to go away and fight in a war. She longed for her love to return, and would go to the knoll in order to listen out for the church bells ringing the return of the men. One of the times she was listening out a witch is said to have passed by and, seeing the love within her, grew angry at her purity and turned her into the stone. When the church bells ring, the stone is said to dance because it holds the soul of the maid. She thinks she will see her betrothed again.”

“A fanciful story for a stone! Do you believe the stone dances?” Boyd asked her.

They all stared at her and awaited her response.

“Certainly not. But it gives me something to talk about when I have guests to dinner,” she said with a smile.

“Are there many other stories like this?” Charles asked.

“Do tell them about the 'Lady of the Lake'.” Mr Francis said, “It's the best story around here.”

“The Lady of the Lake. It sounds very mystical, do tell us,” Ashton said.

Louise shook her head. “It is all folklore and fairytale.” She looked about, but none of the guests seemed worried. She sighed. “Very well. There is a lake beyond the gardens here on the estate. Some people are said to have seen the ghost of a young woman float above the water, always at dusk or dawn when the mist settles a little. She is said to have been one of my ancestors who fell in love with a man who didn't return her sentiments. The gentleman in question married someone else, and the woman, believing she couldn't live without the love of this man, sewed stones into her dress, walked out into the lake and drowned herself.”