Miss Wonderful (41 page)

She
studied his face briefly, walked away, and came back again. "I
did not mean to treat you like a child," she said. "You are
not in the least childish. You should not feel stupid or useless. I
don't know why you do. We are all of us stumbling. Life is puzzling
and difficult."

"I
mean to puzzle it out," he said, "and find a solution for
us."

She
smiled then, a sunburst of a smile. "You will make me believe
you, against all reason. Very well. Stay or leave, as you choose, of
course."

"I
am most certainly not leaving," he said.

She
nodded. "As you wish." She stepped back a pace: Her chin
went up, and her tone became coolly polite. "At present, you are
Lord Gordmor's representative. Kindly be so good as to convey a
message to his lordship. You may tell him I speak on behalf of my
father, who does not consent to his lordship's putting a canal
through this property. Tell him Mr. Oldridge is inalterably opposed
to a canal in the Longledge environs and will fight him with every
means at his disposal, both here and, if necessary, in London before
Parliament. It would be well to warn his lordship, furthermore, that
the Oldridge resources are by no means small. Will you do this for
me, sir?"

The
abrupt change, the cold, determined tone, took Al-istair aback. But
only for a moment. He was growing used to being clubbed from behind,
and recovered his poise with the speed and agility that practice so
often brings.

"Certainly,
Miss Oldridge." He bowed. "Will there be anything else?"

"Not
at present," she said. "If I think of anything, I will send
for you." She gave him a dismissive wave, which was hardly the
good-bye he wanted.

But
he'd already had more of her than he had any right to. He allowed
himself one quick, longing glance at the column against which he'd
introduced her to a pleasure far beyond her innocent imaginings.

Then
he told himself that he'd more or less insisted on her treating him
like an intelligent business representative, and that as Gordy's
representative he'd never expected or wanted special treatment.
Moreover, he had already received a great deal more of the romantic
variety than he ought.

If
he wanted tender good-byes, he'd better earn the right, with
marriage. He could not wed until he had the means to support her.
This would not happen until he and Gordmor made a success of the
mines, which depended on the canal.

In
short, this would-be knight in shining armor had several dragons to
slay before he could sweep the fair damsel up onto his charger and
gallop away.

And
so he bade her a polite good day and started away. He'd gone but a
few steps when he abruptly turned back, clasped her arms, and gave
her one quick, ferocious kiss.

Then,
leaving her to totter back against the column, he limped down the
hill.

He
did not look back, but he smiled.

WHEN
Alistair returned to Wilkerson's, he found Lord Gordmor in the
private dining parlor, keeping company with another tankard of ale.

Alistair
ordered one for himself. After it had come and the servant departed,
he delivered Miss Oldridge's message.

Gordmor
took the news calmly enough. "It is no worse than we expected,"
he said. "Better, actually. When you set out from London, we
supposed all the landowners were against us. Instead, our foe turns
out to be only one of them." He drank. "All the same, I
must insist upon your returning to Town."

"That
is out of the question," Alistair said.

"Your
loyalties are divided," his friend said. "I know you well
enough to know where it must lead. You will try to accommodate
opposing interests, which will only drive you mad. You look ill
enough as it is. Your parents will wonder why I snatched you from the
brink of death in Belgium only to let you be driven mad in
Derbyshire. Furthermore, you are supposed to be the London
representative. This was how we originally agreed to divide the work,
if you recall."

"My
life is always complicated," Alistair said. "It is time I
learnt to manage it."

"I
should like to know what you propose to do this time," Gordy
said. "You have fallen in love with a woman who is determined to
destroy us. Or am I mistaken? Perhaps you raced after Miss Oldridge
in order to enlighten her regarding the relative merits of locks and
aqueducts, or to explain the finer points of puddling."

It
was pointless to dissemble, even if Alistair knew how. Concealing his
feelings about a woman, however, was the one form of pretending he'd
never mastered.

"You
are not mistaken," he said. "I admit this presents a
challenge, but it is one I'm resolved to meet."

"How?"

"I
don't know yet, but I am determined."

"Car."

"I'll
think of something," Alistair said.

Gordy
regarded him for a moment, then shrugged. "What am I thinking,
to argue with a Carsington? Very well. As you wish. I have nothing to
lose by it. You might lose your mind, but some men are more
comfortable doing without one. On the other hand, in the unlikely
event you do succeed, you will spare us a great deal of expense and
vexation. The longer this business drags on, the more costly it
becomes."

Alistair
understood his friend's hurry. He would have been in a hurry as well,
if love hadn't slowed his mind.

He
knew that every delay would give the landowners time to think of
objections and raise the price of overcoming them. Beyond a doubt,
Mirabel would help her neighbors in this mode of thinking.

"No
matter what happens at Wednesday's meeting, we must press ahead
quickly," Gordy said. "Otherwise, we're in mortal danger of
your lady love burying the parliamentary committee in a blizzard of
petitions and counterpetitions."

Alistair
was well aware of this. He knew Mirabel had already communicated with
lawyers. In London they'd descend like locusts upon Parliament, where
they would spawn swarms of witnesses to testify. Meanwhile, the
landowners would have time to discover scores of new accommodations
they needed, and the price of property-taking would soar. And along
the way, increasing numbers of palms would want greasing.

It
would cost a fortune and take forever. He and Gordy hadn't the
fortune or the time.

Alistair
had less than ten days to stop the woman he loved from ruining his
friend, his brothers, and his last hope for himself.

ON
Tuesday afternoon, Lord Gordmor's agent Thomas Jackson arrived in
Stoney Middleton, a village in the High Peak, about fifteen miles
from Matlock Bath.

Jackson
had served under his lordship during wartime and was rewarded in
peacetime with his present position as the viscount's representative
on a number of fronts. He was as deeply devoted to Lord Gordmor as
his lordship's bailiff Caleb Finch was devoted to Caleb Finch.
Jackson, however, thought the bailiff's loyalties were of the same
species as his own. He believed, for instance, that Finch had
recently come to the Peak solely to further his master's interests in
any and all ways possible.

This
was Jackson's first and fatal mistake.

That
evening he met with Finch at the Star Inn and Post House, to enlist
the bailiff's help in promoting the canal scheme.

"His
lordship wants the miners let off, to come to the meeting,"
Jackson was explaining after they'd tucked away a hearty supper.
"He'd like one or two of the more articulate fellows to say a
few words for the canal—how their future livelihoods depend on
it, and all the ones depending on them: wives, children, and aging
parents."

"Isn't
a one of them what you call arti-cu-late," Caleb said. "And
I don't think there's a one got a wife and wee ones and aging ma and
pa." He lifted his tankard and swallowed. "The old ones has
been planted a good whiles by now, rest their pore souls," he
added piously. "Them and a lot of them pore wee babes as don't
get enough to eat nor no medicine when a sickness comes on 'em. But
as the cause is just, there mightn't be no harm in letting on like it
was the way you say. All in the good cause."

And
all in a good cause—which was to say, in the cause of Caleb
Finch—he went on to blame his lordship's mine foreman for the
present plight of the miners and their families. Caleb cited bad
discipline, unsafe practices, poor maintenance, and inefficient
methods, etc., etc.

This
was because the mine foreman, to Finch's disgust, had proved an
honest, diligent fellow. He'd refused to understand Finch's hints
about one hand washing the other. He had, furthermore, let it be
known that he'd heard some dark rumors about Finch's past in
Derbyshire.

It
was crucial, therefore, that the foreman be swiftly dismissed and
utterly discredited. Finch had dismissed him first thing Monday
morning and promptly set about the business of character
assassination. The foreman was still reeling from the blow. Finch
knew that Jackson would carry the slander to Lord Gordmor before the
victim recovered sufficiently for a counterattack.

But
this was by no means the most important matter to lay before his
lordship's trusted agent.

"I'm
worried his lordship don't know what he's up against," the
bailiff told Jackson.

"All
the good families are with us," Jackson said. "I and a
half-dozen other men will be going from village to village, doing
what we can to win support."

Everyone
knew how this was done. Lord Gordmor's agents would be spreading
goodwill in the form of good coin and good drink—the same
method used so effectively during Parliamentary elections.

"Last
I heard, you didn't have all the good families," Caleb said.
"Last I heard, Miss Oldridge was dead set against any canal
anywhere near her property."

"One
woman," said Jackson dismissively. He lifted his tankard and
drank.

"Like
I said," Caleb said. "You don't know what you're up
against. Was I in your place—" He put up his hand. "But
never mind me. You're in charge of the politics. My business is
looking after the property. You don't want my advice, even though my
family lived here almost as far back as hers, and I know what she's
like."

Jackson
signaled for more ale. Then he leant toward Caleb and said, "I
want what is best for his lordship. If you have useful information,
let's not stand on ceremony or fret about who's in charge of what. We
must work together."

"Well,
all right then," said Caleb. "All in the good cause."

Chapter
16