Marrying Miss Martha (5 page)

This man yelled, “You, boy, get that hat!” to an urchin loitering on the corner.

“Yessir!” The lad set off at a run.

Not until he had seen the hat retrieved did the gentleman turn his attention back to Martha, who was picking up the last of her things.

“Why didn't you look where you were going?” he demanded. “My hat’ll be covered in mud now.”

“I could ask you the same thing, sir!” Her anger grew at being addressed so rudely. “And if you have such difficulty with your hat, I would suggest you either carry it in your hand or purchase a better-fitting one.”

He looked as if he were about to snap back at her, but the boy came up with the offending article at that moment and by the time the man had dropped a penny into the child’s grubby paw, Martha had stuffed her things back into her reticule anyhow and was walking away.

“Hoy!” bellowed a voice behind her, but she ignored it. Who did he think he was, shouting at her like that?

Footsteps pounded after her and she quickened her pace, made nervous by the pursuit. When he grabbed her arm she cried out in shock as she was pulled forcibly to a halt. Heart pounding, she swung round to face her pursuer and for a moment they stood staring at one another, so close they were separated by only a few inches.

She was tall and used to being on a level with, or taller than, other people. But he was taller by several inches, with broad shoulders and a general air of strength and vigour. His hair was dark and wavy, and the wind had sent it into tangles. His eyes were stormy, as if he was angry about something—not their encounter, surely? That wouldn’t generate so much anger. The breath caught in her throat and for a moment she couldn’t speak, only stare back at him.

He let go of her arm and stepped back. “Didn't you hear me calling?”

“I’m not in the habit of answering to shouts of ‘Hoy!’ from complete strangers.”

“What
are
you in the habit of doing, then? Throwing your purse away?” He brandished it in her face.

“Oh.” Flushing with annoyance at being caught in the wrong, she took it from him and tried to frame an apology.

But he interrupted her to say, “I’d advise you to watch where you’re walking in future. I give you good day, ma’am.” Touching his hat brim as the merest afterthought he marched away towards the rear of the church and vanished round its corner.

Once he was out of sight Martha realised with a start that she’d been standing staring after him like a bumpkin at a fair. But then she’d never seen anyone quite like him! Although well dressed, he didn’t seem to be a gentleman and his voice had a certain northern tone to it, a slowness of enunciation and a way of rolling the vowels, as if every letter of each word must be given its full value.

And what was she doing standing here thinking about a complete stranger?

She went briskly on her way but on getting back to the inn she stopped, unwilling to return to Edward and the overheated stuffiness of the parlour. Perhaps she would just take a quick turn to the other end of the square.

There she discovered a linen draper’s shop displaying an excellent range of goods. Beside it was a grocery store, the many panes of its big bow windows twinkling in the light of the setting sun and its shelves also well-stocked. The shoemaker’s shop nearby displayed an elegant lady’s and a sturdy gentleman’s shoe in the window, so clearly catered for citizens of the better sort, and the apothecary’s had a row of matching storage jars of various sizes each set in the centre of one of the many panes of glass in the window. The sign said
Chemist and Druggist
which meant, she hoped, that the owner compounded his own medicines and remedies, something which was always more convenient.

It would be pleasant to live in a larger community, she realised, not only for the convenience of having shops like these within easy walking distance but also because she and Penelope might make a few new acquaintances.

If
Mr and Mrs Wright and this Mr Seaton approved of them.
If
they succeeded in their little enterprise. So many uncertainties!

There were two streets leading off the far side of the square, each lined with comfortable dwellings set in small gardens, the sort of places usually referred to as villas. She ventured a little way along the first one, but found that it narrowed after about fifty yards and from then on was lined with much smaller terraced dwellings without gardens.

Turning round, she began to make her way back to the inn, but for some reason she couldn’t get the face of the man she’d bumped into out of her mind. He wasn’t handsome, exactly—or was he? No, it was the aura of strength and energy that emanated from him and the light of intelligence in his eyes that made him attractive, or would have done had he controlled his anger.

Of course such a person wasn’t suitable for her sister, and he might well be married, but surely there must be some eligible gentlemen in a town this size? She did hope so. She really wanted Penelope to find someone again, a kind man but with more money than John Medson, who had only been a curate with a small stipend to live on and no immediate prospects of advancement. Penelope had always insisted that she didn’t care about money but it was much better to be
comfortable
.

And if Martha could run a school in the same town, why, they would both be happy, because they would see one another quite often. She pushed aside the thought of marriage and a family of her own but couldn’t hold back a sigh. She had never attracted the attentions of any eligible gentleman and doubted that this would have changed.

Still, all in all, Tapton seemed very promising.

* * * *

Ben Seaton walked on, conscious that he had taken out his worries on the stranger, regretting his display of bad temper. Who was she? He had never seen her before and knew all the ladies in the town, by sight at least. Suddenly it occurred to him that she might be one of the new governesses and he muttered, “Oh, hell!”

But he soon forgot her because there was definitely trouble brewing in Tapton and he wouldn’t know until the following day whether he’d managed to avoid it. Machine breaking had been rife in the north in the past few years, because handloom weavers resented the machines which were taking away their independence. As if you could hold back progress! And even spinning machines were not immune from the hatred some operatives bore to machinery of all sorts, for these machines had forced men to work outside their own homes and worse, provided more jobs for women and children than for grown men, so that wives were growing too independent, some said.

He grinned on that thought. Some wives had always had minds and ideas of their own, his mother for one. It was with her behind him that his father had become a successful mill owner, for she’d done the accounts and discussed business matters with him. When she died so suddenly, his father had gone to pieces and the mill had never flourished in quite the same way again.

His smile faded. He had so much at stake with these new machines, into which he’d invested every spare penny he possessed, that he was having trouble sleeping at night, worrying about getting them here safely. Brindley would like to see him go under, but he didn’t intend to do so. However, he also didn’t want to ask any further help from Jonas. He had more than served his apprenticeship as a mill owner now and must stand or fall by his own efforts.

He was determined not to fall, determined to make Seaton’s grow and expand, not for the money alone, but for the satisfaction of a job well done and of providing work for so many people whose whole lives depended on his efforts. And he would do it in a way that didn’t leave his operatives in grinding poverty. It sickened him how little Brindley paid his workers and how badly he treated and housed them. It would sicken any decent man.

But it would also upset Ben if those same unhappy workers wrecked his new machinery.

Martha arrived back at the inn at the same time as a gentleman turned off the square into its yard. He held the door open for her and she preceded him inside, murmuring her thanks. He seemed to be studying her rather closely, but perhaps that was the northern way. Smiling at the landlady, she went straight up to her room, the clatter of her sensible leather half-boots not quite hiding the effusive welcome that was being accorded to the gentleman or the words, “Mr Wright”.  

She couldn’t resist stopping to peep over the banisters at the man who might become her employer, but by that time he had left the hall. Then she caught sight in a mirror of her windswept appearance and exclaimed in dismay. No wonder he had stared at her. The wind had whipped strands of her unruly hair from its pins, her bonnet was askew and her cloak badly crumpled from the journey, while her cheeks were blooming as rosily as a milkmaid's.

He could hardly have failed to guess who she was. What must he think of a governess who looked such a hoyden?

Before she could get into her room to repair the damage, Edward appeared at the end of the corridor.

“Ah, there you are at last!” He stopped short and frowned. “My dear Martha, whatever have you been doing to get yourself in such a state?”

“Taking a walk. It’s very windy.”

“
Walking unescorted in a strange town?
Have you run mad?”

“I needed some exercise.” He was still frowning, so she forced herself to add, “I've only walked round the square, I promise you. It was all quite proper and I was never out of the sight of the inn.” Except that Edward would not have considered her encounter with the dark stranger at all proper.

He ignored this attempt at conciliation. “But just look at you! What
will
people think? I hope you can tidy yourself up quickly, for we're expecting a visitor at any moment. I received a note from Mr Wright immediately he heard of our arrival, saying he would call on us directly, which shows him not to be lacking manners, at least.”

“I think he’s just arrived at the inn. In fact, I heard the landlady greet him by name.”

Edward clicked his tongue in annoyance and gave her a push. “Then for goodness sake, go and tidy yourself quickly!”

She whisked into her bedroom, casting off her cloak and bonnet, then sitting down in front of the mirror to attend to her hair. There was a tap on the door and Penelope came in.

“Our dear cousin sent me to check that you make yourself decent and ladylike. He’s been in a great fussation for the past half hour, ever since he found out you weren’t in your room.”

“I'm sorry to have left you to face him on your own. Did he wake you up?”

Penelope chuckled. “He got the landlady to do that, as he has too much delicacy of mind to knock on the door of an unmarried lady's bedchamber. When he found out you weren’t in the inn, he became almost hysterical. Does he really believe we never walk out alone? One would think there were quicksands underfoot and brigands round every corner to hear him talk. What a fool he is! Now, let me pin up your back hair again, love! You’ve missed a bit.” She coiled the heavy locks into a more flattering arrangement.

Martha frowned at her image in the mirror. “It’s too loose. You know I like it tighter than that.”

“There isn’t time to do it again.”

“I suppose it’ll have to do, then. You look a lot better now, Pen.”

“Oh, yes. The nap soon settled me. And the landlady brought me up some tea and cake when she came to wake me, so I'm feeling quite myself again, I promise you.”

“What do you think of Tapton?”

“I haven’t seen as much of it as you, but as long as we’re together, I don’t really mind where we live.”

“It’s an ugly town. Edward was right about that.”

“Oh, stop worrying, Martha. Let’s go and face this Mr Wright.”

* * * *

“Ah, here are the ladies!” Edward said unnecessarily as they entered the private parlour. “May I present my cousins, Miss Merridene and Miss Penelope Merridene? Cousins, this is Mr Wright.”

Martha was for a moment embarrassed to think how dishevelled she must have appeared when they met in the entrance and was relieved when he didn’t refer to their encounter. She was immediately struck by his wide smile and sturdy appearance. He was her own height, probably forty or so, with greying hair and a strong, square face. His northern accent was even more marked than that of the man she’d met in the square, and he was eyeing her and her sister far more closely than was polite.

“So you two ladies want to start up a school, eh?”

“Yes.” Martha automatically acted as spokeswoman, something she had started doing in the past year or two.

“In spite of my offer of a good home at Poolerby Hall,” put in Edward.

There was a moment's silence and Martha wondered if she had caught just the hint of a smile on their visitor's face.

He addressed them, not Edward. “Let’s get it straight from the start: it’s not me who’ll decide whether we employ you or not, but my wife, so I’ve come to invite you ladies to visit her this afternoon—if you’re not too tired, that is. She can’t go out these days because she has trouble walking. Rheumatism.” He paused for a moment, looking sad.

Penelope murmured, “It can be a terrible affliction.”

He nodded. “Aye. Don’t try to shake hands with her. It hurts too much. You can meet my little lasses while you’re there. They’re in sore need of schooling, I’m afraid. We did have a governess but that didn’t answer at all, because she was a starchy female and never stopped nagging them. I don’t want my daughters turning into quiet little mice, so she and I were soon at odds. Nor will I send them away to school. I don't hold with children living apart from their families, especially girls. Besides, I should miss mine too much. They're grand little souls."

Martha leaned forward, her eyes bright with interest, and Mr Wright mentally revised his opinion of her looks. Not such a plain Jane, after all, with that intelligent expression lighting up her whole face. He had been doubtful about even considering that silly fellow’s cousins, but he’d been desperate for help. And he was beginning to feel more optimistic already because he liked the looks of the younger sister, too.