Love Engineered (8 page)

He laughed. “But how could I not mention Mr Adams?”

They glanced around the room. “Your choice of new blood tonight is interesting,” he said, looking over to Mr Lucas.

“You disapprove?”

“Not at all. I wonder what took you so long to invite him.”

“He has only recently risen above the parapet, I believe.”

“I've known him a while, and saw his potential immediately. Mr Adams may have to fight off other investors in that man now that you have identified him.”

Louise shook her head. “He has nurtured his own reputation, and does not need me to further it.”

“Then you underestimate your influence, dear Louise.”

The evening ended after midnight and before it was over, Louise did got one more chance to speak to Mr Lucas, even though it was through coercion. Frustrated that she hadn't spoken to him – he always seemed to be in deep conversation with somebody else – she sought out Mr Ashton. She knew he would be more than willing to speak to her. She then proceeded to ask him questions about their work that only Mr Lucas could answer. Before long, Mr Ashton called over his partner. “Miss Thomas has been asking me all sorts of questions. You must speak to her so that I no longer appear stupid by not answering them.”

Mr Ashton retreated.

“More questions Miss Thomas? I thought we had exhausted the subject of all my current projects,” Mr Lucas said with a smile.

“Perhaps we have and I just have a bad memory,” she said nervously.

Their conversation lasted just a few short minutes, before she was pulled away by guests taking their leave. But for her those few minutes were enough. He had been in her house, he sat at her table, he spoke to her of his work. The fact that he treated her no differently from her middle-aged male guests quite escaped her notice. She would have to be content with the precious little time they could spend together.

It was a rainy evening a few weeks later that Charles made his way to Perrivale's coffee house. A well established place, and frequented by many of the local businessmen, it was where Charles often met Ashton after hours to discuss business in a more relaxed atmosphere than their offices. They sometimes met with business associates, but were mostly on their own. He pushed the door open and immediately breathed in the close thick air of smoke mingled with coffee. Over in the corner at their usual table was Ashton.

He looked up over his newspaper as Charles approached. “I thought you'd be going straight home tonight.”

Charles pulled out the red leather-covered chair and sat down. “Later. Mother and Jane are out visiting friends until seven.”

Ashton placed his newspaper down, scrutinising Charles. “You look tired. What time did you start this morning?”

“Seven.”

Ashton waved his finger. “The problem , Charles, is that you're too good, and if we're not careful you will be spreading yourself too thin. I'm more than happy to look after the investors and the cash flow, but I'm afraid you will wear yourself out and then be no good for anything or anyone. What would we do without you? I don't want to see you working yourself into the ground like Brunel.”

“I can't refuse work, especially something that interests me like this new project. Besides, I do not have to be at the Tamar bridge all that often, Boyd is more than capable of looking after things.”

“Yes, yes – he is very capable. But we must be careful, he lacks some experience. He doesn't have your ability to motivate the workers, or your insight.”

“Not yet, but he'll learn. I'm sure we will not have any problem getting him to report back here in London.”

“No!” scoffed Ashton.

Charles frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He is quite taken with Jane.”

“He is?”

Ashton laughed at his partner. “You had no idea, did you?”

Charles shook his head.

“Hmm, too busy with work. Surely you couldn't have missed the blushes, the fluttering eyelashes and the giggles.” Ashton said in a dry tone. “And that was just Boyd. Would you approve of the match?”

“There is nothing to approve of. Yet. He has made no indication to me.” Charles was slightly unsettled. He thought back over the last few times Boyd had met with Jane. Why hadn't he noticed? “Are you sure there are feelings between them?”

“Oh yes. I think if he did decide to make his intentions known, they wouldn't be unwelcome by her.”

“Really?”

Ashton laughed. “You really didn't notice, did you?”

Charles shook his head again. “It's natural I suppose. Jane is, I believe, not an unattractive woman. She is sensible too. Though part of me thinks no man would be good enough for her, but I know Boyd well enough to know he is the sort of man who would put his wife above everything else. So I suppose I can see no objections.”

“You would approve of him putting his wife above the interests of our partnership and his work?”

“I would as a brother, of course. You would do well to remember that. It's what I would do too. I would always put my wife first.” He added as an afterthought, “Should I ever feel compelled to marry at all, that is.”

“Still no young lady can tempt you, then?” Ashton took a sip of coffee and looked at Charles with amused eyes.

“Nor you, it seems,” he retorted and then continued. “No, I haven't yet met with a woman I could marry.” His mind flashed to one woman but he suppressed the thought.

“And if I had a sister, I would watch over her in just the same way you do. But alas, despite my mother and father's efforts they would only have boys. I think after the sixth, mother decided enough was enough. Can't blame her really, being the only woman amongst all those men. And we were all boisterous – always fighting, always arguing.” Ashton shook his head at the memories.

Charles thought of his own childhood. He and Edward had argued occasionally, but were sent to different schools, so when they saw each other during the holidays they generally got on well enough. It must have been lonely for Jane being the only child at home. She never complained of it, but she was always pleased to see them both during the holidays.

His mind turned to other matters. “Boyd is away for the foreseeable future. Besides, I wouldn't interfere in Jane's matters of the heart. I dare not.” Charles thought for a moment. Jane would never make an unsuitable match. She was too careful for that. He looked across at Ashton. “We still have much business to discuss.”

Ashton was about to reply, when a gentleman approached them.

“Charles? Charles Lucas? I thought it was you!”

Charles stood up and shook the man's hand. “Why, William Risinger. What a surprise! What on earth are you doing in London? I heard you were gone to France.”

“I did, but I'm back,” the man said.

“Permanently?”

“Possibly, but I can't say for sure.”

Charles indicated that he should sit in the empty chair, and took a look at his old school friend. William Risinger was tanned and a little weather-beaten. His face was worn and lined, with deep set eyes. Was this really the same man he had known in his youth? What could have caused him to look so much older than his years?

“This is my business partner, Ashton.” The men shook hands.

“How long has it been since we last met?” Charles asked.

“It must be at least two years, maybe three years at least.”

“It's good to see you again, William.”

“Likewise.”

The two men talked for a time about Charles's work, old friends and what William was doing in London. Ashton went back to his newspaper when it became evident that Mr Risinger wasn't well-connected, and listened in to the odd remark the pair made.

Some time later, Ashton looked at his watch. “I hate to interrupt you both, but I must be going. I'm about to try Miss Thomas to see if she will invest in a number of projects.”

“Miss Thomas?” Risinger raised his eyebrows.

“Yes.” Ashton sat forward, an inquisitive look on his face.

“Miss Louise Thomas from Glazebrook, Devon?”

“Yes. You know her?”

“I used to know her.” His eyes shifted between Lucas and Ashton. “She used to be a friend of mine, but not any more.”

“Your friendship ended? Who broke it off?”

“She did. Most adamant about it too! Told me never to darken her door again,” he said with a sardonic smile.

“The friendship can't have meant much to you then – you look positively glowing that you're no longer friends.” Ashton commented, then said after a pause, “Surely there must have been a reason, though?”

“I'd rather not talk of it. Rather a painful subject, but I'll tell you one day. Possibly.”

Charles wasn't sure what to say. Risinger looked uncomfortable, and Charles knew him well enough not to press the issue.

Ashton was more intrigued. “Come come, you can't give us a hint of something and then not follow through. Or at least tell me what you know of her.”

“I know she rarely invests in anything, so your efforts are probably in vain. She is one of those members of her class who despise the lower classes, and who think ill of the modern world.”

Charles couldn't help speaking up. “That is a very different picture of her than I have noticed. She seems to be enthralled with industry and all that it entails. She has taken a great interest in my work.“

Risinger was unconcerned. “Maybe she has changed since I last knew her. It has been three years.”

“She has been hosting her engineering dinner for longer than that.”

“Those dinners are just a tradition she has taken over from her deceased father. When I knew her, she was very good at saying one thing and doing another.”

“I don't know her well enough to argue that point,” Charles conceded. But he did think for a moment that Risinger must have the wrong person.

“You will have to rely on my word – as a friend. But if you know her, even a little, you will see she is somewhat different to other women.”

Charles thought for a moment. “Yes, she is. I cannot presume to know women all that well, or be a great judge of them. I know her so little.”

“You will have to trust me on this matter, then. I knew her when she was a child, as well as an adult. Our paths have crossed many times.” He shook his head. “She can't help the way she is – her father was a selfish tyrant. Underneath, she is much the same.”

“But surely, a woman who has lived so independently would appear selfish at times. She only has herself to think of.”

“Of course, but it has driven her to be excessively so,” Risinger said. “Now enough about that woman. Let's speak of cheerful things. How about a game of cards for a small wager? You play badly, I seem to remember.”

Charles agreed, but he wondered what had taken place between his friend and Miss Thomas and whether it would make her a less suitable friend for his sister.

Louise left London for Devon a few days later, after a fond farewell to Jane and Mrs Lucas. Her estate, situated in the eastern part of Devonshire near the Axe valley, used to be a task to get to. But after the railway had opened a few years earlier, the journey became relatively quick and easy.

Her carriage was waiting for her at Axminster station. For a few years now, she had ideas for a branch line that would take passengers from Axminster, then ten miles to the sea. But there were still many locals unconvinced of its benefits.

She lowered the carriage window, and let the cool breeze in on her face as she travelled on. Her eyes searched eagerly for the landscape she had missed these last few weeks, and eventually the houses turned into trees, fields and hills. The first signs of autumn had begun here too: the leaves were a gentle brown, and a few lay scattered on the roadside. The harvest was in full swing and the fields were full of horses, carts, threshers and other new machinery. She looked forward to speaking to the farmers near her to see how the new machinery was helping them and eagerly watched those at work as she passed.

Eventually, the coach went under the ornate stone archway marking her estate’s entrance and the house. She was tired and hungry, but her heart was peaceful. She was home at last.

The familiar three storey Portland stone building that dominated the landscape for miles was a welcome sight. There was only one thing that saddened her: the house would be empty. Yes, there were servants, loyal servants, but no family, and she felt her loneliness keenly at such a time as this. She should be used to it by now, but part of her still wished there was someone waiting for her to return.

As soon as she was settled in, she made her way outside and across the garden to the familiar stone barn that was now converted to her workroom. She carried with her the most recent purchases from London: a number of books and the sketch of Mr Lucas's bridge. The room smelt a little musty, but after she lit a fire, it soon warmed. She checked her miniature steam engines; they were a little dusty. She wouldn't allow the servants into this private sanctuary to clean, so she set about dusting them herself.

Afterward, she opened her new volume of chemical experiments, and picking one out, began to follow the instructions. A few hours later, she realised it was almost time for dinner, and pinning the sketch of the bridge onto the wall, she returned to her duties.

The next day, after she had dealt with a myriad of business matters with her steward and housekeeper, she called on Miss Hill, one of the local elderly ladies. She had known Louise from childhood and was always pleased to see her. The object of the visit was to meet the lady's niece, Miss Lucy Potts, who was newly arrived for a long visit. The girl was out, and Miss Hill apologised that such a distinguished visitor as herself had been let down. Louise wasn't upset, though it was inconvenient, but invited Miss Potts to call the next day at Glazebrook.

Before she left, Miss Hill entreated Louise to take the young girl under her wing, “Because her parents think her far too flighty and absent-minded at times. She needs someone to look up to who is the height of good breeding.” Louise reluctantly agreed – Miss Hill had been a fount of advice and support when Louise was younger and especially when her father died. She couldn't deny her this request. Her only hope was that the niece would be pleasant company.