The Dark Earl (20 page)

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Authors: Virginia Henley

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Fiction, #General

BOOK: The Dark Earl
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Prince Albert gave him a rueful glance. “I accept your apology, Lord Hamilton.”
Both Abercorn and his son waited for the prince to say more, but after a moment, they realized the audience was over.
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Young James bowed his head and departed.
Prince Albert signaled Abercorn to remain. The queen’s consort had few friends in the British aristocracy, and even fewer intimate confidants. He considered Hamilton one of them. “Come and sit down, James. Your son was most gallant to take the blame onto himself for the unfortunate incident last night.”
“I expected no less, Your Highness.”
“As you can imagine, Victoria and I discussed the matter for hours after the ball. We decided that we could no longer ignore Vicky’s lack of restraint. Much to the queen’s embarrassment, our oldest daughter is . . .
physically
. . . precocious. We have decided the best course is to arrange her engagement to young Prince Frederick of Prussia. Today I am issuing an invitation for him to join us at Balmoral.”
“Forgive me, but an engagement at fourteen years old might raise eyebrows.”
“We are aware of that, James. It will be a private engagement. We won’t announce it to the public for at least two years.”
“I am indeed sorry that my son caused you so much worry and concern.”
Albert waved his hand. “We’ve known about Vicky’s precocious behavior for some time. This has merely precipitated our future plans for the Princess Royal.”
Abercorn bowed his head. “You are extremely understanding and generous, sire.”
On the ride home, James thanked his father for his help. “I appreciate all you do for me, Father. Thank heaven the matter is over and done.”
“Not quite, James. You mentioned Emily Curzon-Howe. Reading between the lines, I take it you have an intimate relationship. If Earl Howe learns of it, the repercussions could be detrimental to your future—you’d be forced to offer for the young debutante.”
James flushed.
“I think it advisable to find yourself an opera dancer.”
Chapter Ten
 
“W
hatever is amiss?” Harry stepped over the threshold of Barbara Leigh Smith’s house on Langham Place and knew by the look on the face of the woman who opened the door that something was wrong.
“Go through to the sitting room,” the woman said.
Harry could hear outraged voices, punctuated by the sound of someone sobbing, as she joined the eight suffragists gathered in the chamber.
Barbara said, “There’s been another pit disaster . . . an explosion at Murton Colliery. Emaline’s brother-in-law is one of the miners reported missing. She’s going to Durham this afternoon to be with her sister. Word is that fourteen are dead and more missing.”
“Durham?” Harry’s hand went to her throat. “Murton Colliery is in Durham?”
Barbara nodded. “God rot the pit owners! Have you any idea how many disasters occur every year? Yet still there are no safety measures taken to improve the deadly and dangerous working conditions of the coal miners.”
“Bloody greedy owners!” Sarah Taylor shouted. “When the miners in these Durham pit villages try to band together to form unions, the owners crush them with savage beatings and even murders!”
“The men should go on strike and refuse to do such dangerous work,” Harry said.
“How would they feed their children?” Barbara asked. “The only jobs available in the County of Durham are down the pit.”
“It’s tragic how many men are trapped every year in cave-ins, but it’s heartbreaking to know some of them are just little lads.”
“No, Sarah,” Harry explained, “Parliament passed a law forbidding women or children to work in the mines. My uncle Lord John Russell worked tirelessly to get this law passed.”
“You are naive, my dear. The mine owners ignore the laws. They still employ children as ‘trappers.’ They open and close trapdoors inside the mine tunnels to allow carts to pass through and to provide ventilation.” Sarah pressed her lips together.
“But that’s outrageous! Something must be done,” Harry declared. “I shall see that the members of Parliament are informed immediately.”
“Politicians turn a blind eye to the dangers down the pit. There’s flooding, and cave-ins, as well as firedamp gases that build up and cause massive explosions.”
“A pit disaster means catastrophe for the families involved. If a miner is killed, his wife and children become destitute and are sent to the workhouse,” Barbara explained.
“We are taking up a collection for Emaline to take to Murton.”
Harry opened her reticule, and handed Emaline two guineas. “Take this. It’s not much, but I shall get more and return as quickly as I can.”
Harriet hailed a hackney cab and told the driver to take her to Carlton House Terrace. When the carriage stopped, she jumped out and asked the driver to wait. She was about to knock on the front door when she remembered that D’Arcy had given her a key. She pulled the key from her reticule and let herself in.
The Earl of Durham’s majordomo was taken aback when he saw Lady Harriet Hamilton dash through the entrance hall and begin to ascend the stairs.
“It’s all right, Fenton. I have my own key. I do hope D’Arcy is at home.”
“His lordship is in the library, my lady.” He did his best to hide his disapproval.
She was quite breathless when she flung open the door and rushed inside the book-lined room.
D’Arcy stood up from his desk and strode to meet her. “Harry, my love. You decided to come!” He picked her up and swung her around with glee.
“Put me down! I’m not here for dalliance. I’m here on important business, D’Arcy!”
“Darling Harry, nothing is more important than dalliance.”
She grabbed a lock of golden hair and pulled it hard. “Put me down this instant.”
When he saw the incensed look on her face, he set her feet to the carpet. “What the devil is wrong?”
“D’Arcy, something dreadful has happened. There has been a mine explosion at Murton Colliery in Durham.”
“It’s all right, Harry. The village of Murton is in East Durham, miles away from Lambton. There is no danger that the castle will have been damaged.”
“I’m not concerned about your
castle
. I’m worried about the men trapped down the pit. It’s a terrible disaster. I hear that there are at least fourteen dead! D’Arcy, you must go to Durham immediately and do something.”
“Where did you hear this news?”
“I went to a women’s meeting in Langham Place. Emaline Davis’s brother-in-law is one of the miners missing in the explosion. She’s rushing up there to be with her sister this afternoon,” Harry gabbled breathlessly. “You must do something!”
“Do what, my love? If the miners are dead, I cannot bring them back to life.”
“No, no, of course not. But as the Earl of Durham, you must go and give the families moral support. They will need help . . . money . . . doctors . . . rescue workers. The women at Langham Place are taking up a collection to give to Emaline.”
“Slow down, Harry. You are in a mad panic. You will make yourself ill.” He led her to a chair and gently pushed her into it. “It is pointless for me to go rushing up to Durham every time there is an accident in a mine. I employ overseers and land agents at great expense to investigate these disasters. I have full-time secretaries whose job it is to send me reports, so it won’t be long before I learn all the details.”
“The conditions these coal miners work in are appallingly dangerous. Can you imagine working down a pit, hewing coal with a pickax all day, while floods and cave-ins and gas explosions threaten every minute you are underground?” She jumped up from the chair, unable to sit still. “The colliery owners are greedy swines who won’t pay for safety measures.”
“Harry, the colliery owners are the ones who provide jobs and pay the coal miners’ wages.”
“But when a miner is killed, his wife and children become destitute and they are sent to the workhouse. When a man loses his life down the pit, the owners should pay his widow compensation. As the Earl of Durham, you must go and speak to these owners and make them do the right and decent thing. It is your moral obligation, D’Arcy.”
“Harry, I assure you I live up to my Durham obligations.”
“But the destitute families need money,” she pleaded.
He knew he must placate her. “When I get the reports, I’ll send money. It has to go through the proper channels, or there’s every probability it will fall into the wrong hands.”
She placed her hands on his chest in supplication. “Promise me, D’Arcy! Promise you will send money the minute you get the reports?”
“Of course I promise. I would do anything to make you happy, Harry.”
My God, this isn’t about me. It’s about the poor wretches in Murton.
“I have to go, D’Arcy. I gave my word that I would return to Langham Place.”
“I wish you wouldn’t associate with these women.” He stopped, knowing he’d said the wrong thing to a woman as headstrong as Harry. “I don’t mean that. It’s just that I can’t bear to see you upset about perceived injustices. I wish you would leave it to us men to right the wrongs. These suffragists have no authority or power to change things.”
Harry refused to allow her emotions to plummet into hopelessness.
The suffragists will never accept defeat and neither will I.
“I must go, D’Arcy.”
She hurried outside and was relieved to find that the cabdriver had waited for her. “Please take me to the Parliament buildings in Whitehall. I’ll get your money from my father.”
“Who’s yer father?” he asked out of curiosity.
“James Hamilton, the Duke of Abercorn.”
He touched his cap. “Hop in, luv. I’ll have ye there in a trice.”
Harry rushed into her father’s office. “There’s been a mining disaster in Durham. My friends at Langham Place are taking up a collection. I need some money, Father.”
Abercorn searched his daughter’s face and saw that she was in earnest. “And how is the money to get to Durham?”
“Emaline Davis is traveling there this afternoon. Her sister’s husband is missing in an explosion at Murton Colliery. I promised them I’d return with money.”
“I can write you a bank draft. . . . I don’t carry much cash.”
“No, it has to be real money, Father. Give me whatever you’ve got.”
Abercorn opened a flat leather case and counted out five tissue-thin Bank of England ten-pound notes. “Fifty pounds is a lot of money for a lady to carry around.”
She snatched up the notes, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Father. You are a lifesaver!” She rushed to the door, then turned and came back. “Sorry, but I also need money for my cabdriver.”
He reached into his pocket and gave her a couple of guineas. He knew it would be futile to reprimand her for traveling about London on her own. “Be careful, Harry.”
This time she knew the hackney-cab driver would be waiting, because he had every expectation of being paid. She showed him the golden guineas. “These are yours if you will take me back to Langham Place and wait for me again.”
He grinned from ear to ear. “Hop in, yer ladyship.” At a couple of pennies per mile, two guineas was more than a week’s wages.
Barbara Smith opened the door. “Has Emaline left for Durham yet?” Harry asked. “I’ve got money for her!”
“Come in, Harriet. She’s almost ready to depart. How much did you bring?”
“Fifty pounds.”
“Good heavens, that’s a fortune!” She ushered Harry into the sitting room.
Harry took the five Bank of England ten-pound notes from her reticule.
“We’ll have to sew this money inside your petticoat, Emaline. It’s the only way to keep you and the pound notes safe.”
Barbara plied her needle and thread and sewed a cloth pocket inside Emaline’s underskirt. Then she kissed her friend. “Go with God, my dear.”
“I have a hackney waiting. I’ll take Emaline to the coaching station.”
“Bless you, Harriet Hamilton. What would we have done without you today?”
 
 
In the dining room at Hampden House, Harry sat next to her father in silence. The mine disaster was unfit dinner conversation, but she was extremely grateful that he was spending the night at home. She drew strength from his comforting presence. When the meal was over, Harry followed him to the library and shut the door.
“You were so generous, Father. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for not questioning me.”
“My dear, all I had to do was look at your face to see you were desperate.”
“I should have come straight to you. Instead, I went to D’Arcy Lambton. As the Earl of Durham, I thought he would go rushing up there and make everything right.”
“Harriet, you shouldn’t have done that. Unwittingly, you thrust D’Arcy into a thorny predicament—damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t.”

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