Once and for Always, page 9
Somehow that period of intense study had changed his attitudes and way of life. He spent less time in town and more travelling between the Ridgeworths’ various holdings, seeing the way lower class people had to struggle to survive and how the law favoured those who already had so much. There was little he could do to change things beyond helping their own tenants and workers but Simon resolved that, when he assumed the title, he would use his powers for the betterment of all.
Simon was in this unsettled state when his mother arrived in town to renew her efforts in finding him a wife. ‘The matter is becoming urgent,’ she had insisted. ‘Your father is beyond useless. He gets lost in his own house and does not know who I am.’ Simon understood that she found this distressing as she had a very rigid code of conduct and a husband who wandered around half undressed and accusing the servants of being interlopers was embarrassing. Why this should make his getting married urgent was not clearly explained.
In an effort to give her something else to think about Simon agreed to attend Society events with her and was introduced to Monica Prentiss, daughter of one of his mother’s friends. They were thrust into each other’s company and Simon was swept him off his feet. Monica had seemed an ideal life-partner, beautiful, charming and admiring of his ambitions. A hasty marriage followed before he had time to think rationally.
On their wedding night Monica had revealed her true character. She had boldly told him she was carrying another man’s child. Proving the child was not his would have been impossible. She had cleverly ensured that they had spent long periods alone and were found in a compromising situation.
To protect his family from scandal he had accepted the humiliation of his wife’s scorn and spent as little time as possible in her company. Monica had delighted in spending his money, publicly accusing him of neglect and embarking on a series of affairs as soon as the child was born. It was a girl so could have no claim on the title but he had warned her that he would deny any future children.
The disaster of his marriage had shaken Simon to the core, leaving him frozen inside and determined to protect his heart from further damage. He ignored the gossip and immersed himself in work, both for his estate and for the public good.
The increasing rain obscured Simon’s view and turned his thoughts to his reason for coming to Cambridge now.
The properties he was to visit were part of Monica’s dowry and he could not wait to be rid of them. He had a prospective buyer who had offered a premium for vacant possession. The tenants had been offered generous compensation and help to find other premises. He was here to check that his orders were carried out before the sale was completed.
The carriage drew to a halt in St Anne’s Row. A small man Simon assumed was his agent, Tanner, was sheltering in a shop doorway. He rushed forward as soon as the carriage door was opened. ‘Lord Ridgeworth, it is an honour to meet you at last.’
Simon took the man in instant dislike. Tanner’s servile greeting also carried an insolent note of censure. Simon did not need reminding that he had been negligent in not visiting the properties before. Something else jarred. Tanner seemed far too nervous when he urged Simon to stay in the carriage.
Simon got down and surveyed the row of shuttered shops. They appeared to be in good repair which did not really matter as they were about to be demolished. But it went against his nature to hand over damaged goods. He frowned when he noticed that one, a butcher’s, was still open for business.
‘I gave him a short extension, so he would not miss out on his Christmas trade,’ Tanner panted as he tried to match Simon’s swift stride down the road. ‘He will be gone before the new year.’
‘I will speak to the tenant.’
Simon’s suspicions strengthened when Tanner added, ‘Please don’t trouble yourself, my lord. He is a surly fellow, disgruntled at being told to leave.’
That did not fit with the boon of being granted an extension. More determined than ever to find out what had been going on, Simon ignored the agent and approached the shop. Making a note of the name above the door, he entered the premises.
Two women customers stepped aside to allow him to reach the counter, where he was met by a smiling young man in a striped apron.
Tanner shifted from foot to foot as Simon introduced himself. ‘Mr Brown, I am Ridgeworth.’
The butcher showed no surprise. He had taken in Simon’s smart appearance and air of command and recognised the name. ‘What can I do for you, my Lord. I don’t get many gentleman customers.’
Simon glanced at the two women who had their heads together whispering.
‘Please serve these ladies then we will talk about your complaint.’ Simon stepped back and the women gave him simpering smiles tinged with a little disappointment that they would not be able to hear about Mr Brown’s complaint.
The small transactions allowed Simon time to look around. The side bench was well stocked and several fowls hung from hooks. Gleaming knives filled a rack on the wall and the floor was spread with fresh sawdust. The air was fragrant from bunches of dried herbs handing from the ceiling. The butcher treated his customers in an easy manner, even asking after someone called Will. Simon nodded to them as they left the shop and saw Tanner watching through the glass window. He would deal with him later.
Simon waited until the door closed before turning back to the butcher. ‘I hear you are unhappy about moving.’
‘I won’t deny it, my Lord. My father opened the shop more than twenty years’ ago. He trained me and I took over when he wanted to retire.’
A woman emerged from the rear of the shop with a baby in her arms and a toddler clinging to her skirt. The glare she directed at Tanner made him scuttle away from the window.
‘It’s a crying shame, turning us all out and knocking down the shops. We have been good tenants.’ The butcher took her arm and tried to guide her into the back room but Mrs Brown still had more to say. ‘We did a good trade and had satisfied regulars but the new shop is too far away. We will have to start afresh. ‘She started to cry. ‘We have a growing family to support like the rest.’ She waved a hand as though to include the whole road. ‘Except Mrs Fleming and heaven knows what will happen to the dear girl.’
‘Please do not distress yourself Mrs Brown.’ Simon looked over his shoulder to beckon to Tanner but the man had disappeared, his place taken by a cluster of curious women. The embarrassed butcher was trying to comfort his wife.
‘Is there somewhere we could discuss this in private,’ Simon asked. ’You have customers waiting but I sense things have not gone well.’
Mr Brown raised his voice, ‘Joe, leave what you are doing and mind the shop.’
A boy of about nine or ten came through from the back room. He looked at his weeping mother and frowned at Simon. ‘What’s up, Pa?’ he asked anxiously.
‘Never you mind. See to the ladies and take care if you use the knives.’ The butcher lifted a flap in the counter and ushered Simon through to the back room and then through another door and up the stairs into cosy kitchen.
Simon spent an interesting half hour. Mr and Mrs Brown answered his quiet questions and volunteered other information. It soon became clear that Tanner had been lining his own pockets. The rent book did not agree with the figures Simon had received from his agent. They had been offered some compensation but less than they were due. They had even paid Tanner a tidy sum to be allowed to stay until after Christmas.
Simon said he was sincerely sorry for the way they had been treated.
‘I cannot change the past but be assured Tanner will be punished. If you will furnish me with your new address and the whereabouts of the other tenants, I will see you are amply compensated.
‘Thank you,’ Mrs Brown said. ‘Will you have a glass of ale while Sam gets the other addresses?’ Simon accepted and the butcher went down downstairs to the room he used as an office. The ale and a generous slice of veal pie had been consumed by the time he came back.
Mr Brown handed Simon the list, written on the back of an invoice. ‘That’s most of them. I don’t know where Mrs Fleming went.’ Simon scanned the neatly written list. Against one of the addresses he was not sure of Mr Brown had added the name of a married daughter who lived in Cambridge.
‘Mrs Fleming said she was going to the seaside until she decided where to settle,’ Mr Brown added with a frown. ‘Poor young lady, turned out with next to no notice on top of being recently widowed.’
Simon did not recognise the name which was hardly surprising. As far as he could remember he had only visited the bookshop once. He looked at the list again and frowned. ‘What happened to Mr Hastings who ran the book shop?’
‘He died. Miss Hastings took it over with her husband.’ Mrs Brown shook her head sadly. ‘Then he died too, just before we received notice.’ This was worse than anything Simon had imagined.
He felt a stab of guilt for neglecting the properties. None of his tenants had been treated fairly but a woman alone? Simon supressed a shudder. Many of his current activities had to do with working class conditions. He knew the dangers facing unprotected women.
A call from the boy left in charge of the shop broke up the meeting. Simon stood up and said, ‘I have kept you from your business for too long. I will set things in train and you will be compensated as you deserve.’
Husband and wife ushered him down the stairs, their thanks overriding each other until Simon could not decipher the words. The shop was crowded. Simon suspected the people were in search of meat for gossip rather than the pot!
It was still raining and Tanner was nowhere in sight. ‘Did you see where the agent went?’ Simon called up to his driver. The man pointed down the road. ‘That way my lord, like a rabbit with a ferret on it tail but I lost sight of him among all the umbrellas.’
‘It won’t be a ferret,’ Simon muttered as he climbed into the carriage. He brushed the worst of the raindrops from his shoulders. It was harder to dislodge the sense of unease.
A remarkably clear image of Miss Hastings filled his mind. Remarkable because he had only met her once when she was little more than a child. It must be because she had seemed mature beyond her years. They had spoken for a few minutes while her father went to find a particular book from the storeroom. He had asked what she was reading in the newspaper spread on the counter and had received a lecture on the iniquities of transportation.
‘It is not right’, she had declared. ‘Not right to be condemned without a chance to defend himself and sent far away from all he knows and loves. How would you feel if your family was starving?’
At first, he had been amused by her passion but her words had stuck. It was not right and his recent work was in trying to improve matters.
Something would have to be done to find her but he had no time to worry about it now as he was already late for his appointment with his buyer.
It was quite late when Simon returned to his hotel room. The deal had been signed but it had irked him to open the meeting with an apology for lateness. In consequence he could not refuse the buyer’s invitation to dinner. It had been a long meal with more drinks than Simon was accustomed to. The buyer was a go-ahead businessman from Birmingham who talked incessantly about his growing chain of luxury stores. By the time he escaped Simon’s head was reeling.
Noakes, Simon’s valet, was a man of few words. He took Simon’s hat and coat, asked if his lordship would like some coffee and left the room. When he returned Simon was at a small table writing.
‘I have to get this all down while it is still fresh in my mind’, Simon said vaguely as Noakes placed the coffee within reach. ‘I have been very remiss. I have allowed other people to suffer from my aversions.’
Noakes did not reply. Lord Ridgeworth often used him as a sounding board when he had something on his mind. Ridgeworth took a swallow of coffee and said, ‘Sit down.’ Noakes did so, at a discreet distance.
‘What do you remember of Hastings the bookseller?’
‘The one in St Anne’s Row?’ At Ridgeworth’s nod, Noakes thought for a moment. ‘A very scholarly man but I suspect he had no head for business When you sent me to him, he was able to select volumes on the subject requested and gave me several for you to choose from. It was his wife who verified my identity and made a note of the titles.’
‘Did you ever meet his daughter?’
Noakes actually chuckled. ‘Miss Beatrice. Everyone called her Bea because she was always busy.’
‘Bea,’ Ridgeworth said as though he had suddenly found a gold sovereign. He looked at his silent valet and prompted, ‘And?’
Noakes raised an eyebrow. They had been together for many years and Noakes had licence to speak freely. A privilege he seldom used. ‘You only asked if I ever met Miss Hastings.’
Simon’s coffee grew cold as he told Noakes of the St Anne’s Row goings on. ‘I have been very selfish. As a result, honest traders have been abused and a gently bred young lady cast adrift.’
‘You will find her.’ Noakes spoke with confidence. His long service was not due to a handsome salary. He had shepherded a youth through his wild days at university and seen him grow into a conscientious and respected adult. He probably knew more about Simon Armitage than even his closest friends. That knowledge was protected like the crown jewels.
Noakes took away the cold coffee and wished his master goodnight.
Simon made a copy of Mr Brown’s list and enclosed it in a letter to his secretary in London along with instructions to pass another copy to his solicitor. Then he went to bed.
Sleep was a long time in coming. He lay awake trying to understand why he was so worried about Miss Hastings, or rather Mrs Fleming. He argued that he would be concerned for any lady cast adrift in a cruel world. But it was more than that. The Hastings had been a cut above the general mode of shopkeepers. They had the stamp of breeding that could not be disguised.
Did she have other relatives? Friends? Members of her husband’s family she could turn to? He would not rest until knew she was safe.
Simon slept. And dreamed of Bea. Not a child but a woman he had held in his arms. He could feel the touch of her soft cheek against his.
Next morning Simon walked to the police station to lay a charge against Tanner. He had told Noakes he needed the exercise but it was only an excuse. The dream did not fade as dreams usually did. In fact, his waking mind was adding other details. It was a true memory. He had been in a crowded market when someone knocked her into his arms. Instinctively he had held her until she regained her balance and, in the process, their cheeks had touched. She had looked up at him – then she was gone, swept away by the crowd. He had not thought of the incident since.
Mysteries annoyed him. He dealt in facts. He would find her, ensure her safety and that would be the end of the matter.
The police sergeant listened to Simon’s complaint against Tanner and shook his head. ‘We can find his address, my lord, but he will be gone by now.’
‘I will meet any extra costs in finding him. I am at fault for trusting him and I want justice for the people he has abused.’
Satisfied that he had done all he could for now, Simon returned to the hotel. Noakes had everything packed and ordered the carriage to be brought round.
Simon had prearranged to visit a friend after getting rid of the Cambridge properties and looked forward to a few days of uncomplicated male camaraderie.
Chapter 10
Simon left Cambridge in a lighter mood than he had arrived. Lighter but not completely at ease. The journey to his friend’s property near Ipswich was about fifty miles and took the rest of the day, giving Simon far too much time to think about his dream. If he had not recognised Bea at the time, why did he keep thinking of holding her and the softness of her cheek against his?
There was little he could do to distract his thoughts. The persistent rain made it too dark to read and try as he might, he was unable to sleep. It was a relief to finally reach his destination.
It was evening by the time Simon arrived but his friend came out to meet him. Simon leapt from the carriage, threw his arms in the air and shouted, ‘All Hail! It was an old joke from school days when Alan had arrived with a trunk marked, A.L.Hayle. Alan had never lived it down. Now, he punched Simon lightly on the shoulder and said, ‘Don’t you dare do that in front of the children.’
Alan Hayle, Marquis of Truro, was a year or so younger than Simon, a widower with two young children. Unlike Simon his had been a love match. Long sojourns at his ancestral home in Cornwall gave him too much time to think about what might have been so he had purchased a small stud in Suffolk and tried to build a new life.
‘How are they?’ Simon asked as they went inside. ‘In bed, so you have time to recover from your journey.’
After dinner they settled in front of the drawing room fire with a decanter of brandy on the table between them and caught up on recent news. Simon told his friend about the situation he had found in Cambridge. ‘I blame myself. I allowed my personal feelings to stand in the way of caring for those properties and the tenants.’ He spoke of laying charges against Tanner and ensuring the tenants received compensation. For some reason he did not mention Mrs Fleming.
Alan sipped his brandy and casual remarked, ‘I am thinking of marrying again.’
Simon stared in surprise. Alan had, and Simon suspected, still, mourned his wife. ‘Do you have anyone in mind?’
‘No, but the children need a mother. Why else do widowers remarry?’
‘I am being badgered by my mother to think of the title but you already have a son to inherit.’
Simon thought of his own supposed daughter. She was another responsibility he had neglected to check on. But, overall, he considered the child was better off without Monica for a mother.
Alan had moved on to the topic of his stables and a promising colt he was training. The conversation moved easily from horses to current affairs to the weather until it was time to go to bed.
