The Husband Season Read online

  Her mother gasped, then smiled. ‘Oh, Sophie...’

  ‘Sophie,’ her father said, pretending severity. ‘You are doing this all the wrong way about. It is for Viscount Kimberley to come to me first and obtain my permission to speak to you.’

  ‘Oh, Papa. I know that. But you would not have withheld it, I know you would not.’

  ‘This is very sudden,’ her mother said. ‘I understood Lord Kimberley was leaving us today.’

  ‘He changed his mind.’

  ‘Sir Edward,’ Adam put in, ‘I realise this is a little unconventional, but perhaps you would grant me an interview now?’

  ‘Of course. Let us go into the library and leave the ladies to talk of weddings.’

  The two men left the room and Sophie turned to her mother. ‘Oh, Mama, I am so very, very happy.’

  ‘Then, I am pleased for you. But how did it come about?’

  ‘I was going to see Jane and he was about to board the stage when he saw me and realised he did not want to leave me, so he came after me and missed the stage. He took me into the parlour at the Fox and Hounds and proposed.’

  ‘The inn? Oh, Sophie, how improper.’

  ‘Mama, I did not care where it was, so long as it happened.’

  ‘I think he will make you a very good husband, Sophie, and I could not be more pleased for you, except...’

  ‘Except what, Mama?’

  ‘His home is such a long way off.’

  ‘I know, but we shall visit often. Adam has promised me that. Of course he still has to go home tomorrow and leave me behind, but he will be back for the wedding and then he will take me back with him to Blackfriars.’

  ‘And do you think you will mind that he has been married before?’

  ‘He asked me that, but I said I would not attempt to make him forget Anne, but I would try to make him look forward to a new life with me. He seemed very pleased by that.’

  He mother laughed. ‘Sophie, sometimes I think you have never grown out of being a schoolgirl, but there are other times when I think you are wiser than your years. What has made you like that, I wonder?’

  ‘I do not know, Mama. All the people around me, I suppose. You and Papa, Jane, Issie and Teddy. I am sad about Teddy.’

  ‘So am I, child, but your papa is right. He has brought his troubles on himself.’ She looked up as her husband and future son-in-law returned. Both were smiling.

  ‘Is it all right?’ Sophie asked Adam. ‘Papa could find nothing against it?’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ Sir Edward put in. ‘Now I am going to find the butler and order champagne so that we can raise a toast.’

  ‘Then we must go and tell Jane and Mark the news,’ Sophie said. ‘They will not know that Adam did not go on the stage and they will have their boarder for another night.’

  * * *

  The next twenty-four hours passed in a blur for Sophie. Everyone was pleased for her. They hugged her and cried with her and wished her all the happiness in the world. They shook Adam by the hand and called him a lucky dog. The dowager Lady Wyndham smiled complacently, sure that it was her homily that had brought it about.

  Practical arrangements were discussed, too. Adam would go home and see to his business and prepare his household staff for the arrival of a new mistress. Then he would return for the wedding in September, which would be conducted by the Reverend Caulder at Hadlea church. It would give Sophie time to send out invitations, for Jane to make her wedding gown and her mother to organise the breakfast feast.

  * * *

  The time to say goodbye came all too soon. Adam came to the manor and took his leave of Sir Edward and Lady Cavenhurst, then Sophie walked with him to the Fox and Hounds, her hand linked into his arm. ‘You won’t change your mind again?’ she queried when they were almost there.

  He looked down at her and smiled. ‘No, my love, I will not change my mind.’

  ‘Nor will I,’ she said. ‘The next six weeks is going to drag. I wish I could be coming with you now.’

  ‘Next time, and then we will never be parted again.’

  The coach was already in the yard and being loaded. He stopped and turned towards her. ‘Be good, Sophie. No madcap escapades, because I will not be here to rescue you.’ He looked around him, then drew her behind a tree to kiss her. She clung to him until the sound of the coachman calling, ‘All aboard, who’s coming aboard!’ made them pull apart and make their way into the inn yard.

  Alfred Farley had seen to his luggage and was already in his seat when Adam joined him. Sophie watched as the step was folded up and the door closed. Adam was looking at her through the window as they drew away. She waved and blew him a kiss. And then he was gone.

  * * *

  ‘My lord, there is a gentleman to see you,’ the footman said. ‘He says his name is Mr Anthony Byers. He would not state his business, but said it is important.’

  ‘You had better send him in, then.’

  Adam set aside the ledger he had been studying. Since he had arrived home three weeks before, the affairs of the mill and the estate had filled almost every waking hour. He had done little towards the wedding, although he had instructed the housekeeper to take Anne’s clothes from the closet and store them in trunks in the old wing before making the room ready for a new mistress. Looking back, his time in London and especially that journey to Hadlea seemed like a dream, but Sophie’s letters kept it alive for him. At the end of a busy day, he would sit down to read the day’s missive and compose a reply. He wished the time would pass more quickly, so that any doubts about the wisdom of what he was undertaking could be set at rest.

  Would Sophie be happy here, so far from home and in a very different environment from the one she was used to? Would she understand that he had to work and she would inevitably be left to amuse herself during the day? How would he feel taking another woman into the bed he had shared with Anne? How would she feel? She had been so adamant that she would not be a second wife—was she having doubts, too?

  He looked up as the footman announced his visitor. Even though he had not seen him for over month, he recognised him immediately as the man who had been following him in London and who had saluted him in the middle of the road. He was immediately on his guard.

  ‘Ask Mr Farley to join us,’ he instructed the footman.

  ‘My lord, I am glad to see you safely returned home,’ the man said.

  ‘Never mind that. Say what you have to say, but before you do that, you might tell me why you followed me from the capital. It was you, was it not?’

  ‘It was. May I be seated?’ At a nod from Adam he took the chair opposite the desk. ‘I was asked to ascertain your integrity and how far you would be prepared to go for your philosophy, my lord.’

  Alfred entered the room and Adam beckoned him to take a seat. ‘We have a Mr Byers here, Mr Farley. I think we are about to learn the answer to something that has been puzzling us.’ He turned back to his visitor and repeated, ‘My philosophy in respect of what? Why? On whose orders?’

  ‘The Manchester Patriotic Union, and more specifically Mr Henry Hunt.’

  ‘Mr Hunt doubts my integrity?’

  ‘We have had many agents provocateur infiltrating our ranks, my lord, listening in to our plans in order to have the militia standing by ready to disrupt any meeting we might arrange.’

  ‘And he thought I was one of those?’

  ‘He wanted to be sure you are not.’

  ‘And what conclusion have you drawn?’

  ‘I cannot be certain, my lord.’

  Adam laughed suddenly. ‘Then, you are at a stand, Mr Byers, but tell me, why was Mr Hunt so anxious to discover that? I have not been to any of your meetings.’

  ‘No, but you have shown a more-than-casual interest in what the union is planning, my lord, a
nd you do command a company of militia.’

  ‘So I do. Are you asking me to refrain from deploying them?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. Also, not to go to the meeting. Your presence might inflame the crowd and deflect it from its true purpose.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said with a smile. ‘There is to be a meeting. When and where?’

  ‘I am not at liberty to tell you that, my lord.’

  ‘Then, how am I to know what I must not attend?’

  ‘No doubt you will learn of it.’

  ‘And if I do not comply?’

  ‘Mr Hunt hopes very much that you will, my lord.’

  ‘You may go back to Mr Hunt and tell him I shall do what I think is right. He knows my views on the subject of suffrage and the relief of poverty. I have expounded them publicly. If he chooses not to believe me, that is up to him. I do not propose to try to prove myself.’

  ‘Very well, my lord.’ He picked up his hat from the desk where he had put it and rose to leave.

  As soon as he had gone, Adam turned to Farley. ‘What do you make of that, Alfred?’

  ‘You are being warned off, my lord.’

  ‘He has been very tenacious, don’t you think? He followed me about town and was right behind us all the way to the farm, though I was not aware of him after that. He must have gone to report back to Orator Hunt when he lost us.’

  ‘You have worried them, my lord. Do you intend to comply?’

  ‘I shall certainly not mobilise the militia unless I am forced to, but as for the meeting, since I have no idea when and where it is to be held, there is little I can do. Besides, I shall be going back to Hadlea in less than a month for my wedding.’

  ‘Speaking of the wedding, my lord, have you thought what you are going to wear? Time is slipping by.’

  ‘I know that. I will speak to Mr Harcourt about cloth for a suit of clothes. My usual tailor will make it up. I will leave you to gather together shirts and cravats and whatever else I may need.’

  ‘Very good, my lord. I will start at once.’

  He hurried away, leaving Adam musing. He wanted this wedding, he told himself. His doubts were all on behalf of his bride and how she might view this home of his with its half-finished refurbishments. There was no time to complete them before he left for Hadlea, but he could do something about the bed. He rang for the housekeeper.

  ‘Mrs Grant,’ he said when she presented herself. ‘Get a couple of the men and have the four-poster moved out of my bedchamber, put it in another part of the house and buy a new one. Buy new bed linen, too. And new curtains.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ She curtsied and went to leave the room.

  Then he went to the stables, asked for his gig to be harnessed and was soon on his way down the winding road to the valley where the Bamford Mill was situated.

  His arrival, though unheralded, did not surprise anyone. There were not many days when he did not go and oversee what was going on. He found George Harcourt in the office, working on the paperwork for a big order they had just received. The schedule to complete it was going to be tight, but he was confident they would fulfil it.

  The man scrambled to his feet. ‘Good morning, my lord.’

  Adam returned his greeting. ‘Everything running smoothly, George?’

  ‘At the moment, my lord, but I have to report the men are restive. They have been listening to one of Orator Hunt’s men and have informed me they intend to stop work to go to a meeting on the sixteenth.’

  ‘Was the gentleman’s name Mr Byers, by any chance?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. Very persuasive he was, too. He had been talking to Sir John Michaelson’s men and they had all agreed to attend, every man jack of them. Sir John has threatened instant dismissal if they go, but that appears to have had no effect.’ He paused. ‘I could threaten our workers with dismissal. They are reasonable men on the whole and they know they could not get better treatment anywhere else.’

  ‘No, Mr Harcourt. Let them go.’

  ‘But my lord, we will lose a day’s production.’

  ‘No matter. If we try to stop them, they will go anyway, and dismissing them will hardly help to fulfil orders. Give them the day off.’

  ‘Very well, my lord,’ Harcourt said dubiously.

  Having dealt with the problem of the workers’ meeting, he turned to the matter of cloth for his wedding suit. ‘A bolt of the finest we produce,’ he said. ‘Grey, I think.’

  ‘Would you not prefer something a little more colourful, my lord?’

  ‘No, George. This is my second venture into matrimony and I am not one to dress flamboyantly, as you know. A soft dove grey will suit me very well.’

  ‘We have the very thing, my lord, so fine it feels more like silk than wool. We have only just perfected it. Your wearing it will be the best advertisement we could have.’

  Adam laughed. ‘Am I to go about with a placard round my neck proclaiming its wonders? I do not think my bride will be enamoured of that idea.’

  ‘No, my lord, of course not.’ Seeing his employer’s broad grin, he smiled. ‘It will advertise itself.’ He put his head out of the door and yelled for someone, and very soon a tousle-haired youth of about thirteen arrived. ‘Billy, go and fetch a bolt of that new superfine in dove grey from the warehouse. Be quick now. His lordship does not have all day.’

  The boy ran off and returned a few minutes later bowed under the weight of the cloth. He put it on the desk and fled. Adam fingered it thoughtfully. ‘Beautiful,’ he said. ‘It will do very well. Send some up to the house. I will have my tailor call on me tomorrow to make a start on it. Knowing how meticulous he is, he will undoubtedly take an age to finish it.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Adam left and returned to the gig. Instead of going straight back to Blackfriars, he drove farther up the hill and sat almost on the peak with his back to a large boulder and surveyed the scene. Down in the valley, tall smoking chimneys and the high walls of the mills sat side by side with the humble tenements of the workers. Those of Sir John were in a poor state; as long as they were rainproof, the man did not care to spend money on them. By contrast, his own were well maintained and the tenants took a pride in keeping them spick and span. He found it hard to believe that the occupiers of those houses would rise up against him, but he could not be sure. It might be an idea to attend this meeting himself and if necessary speak from the platform. If enough of his own people were there, they might give him a hearing.

  He turned to look in the other direction. Spread out before him were green fields criss-crossed with dry-stone walls and dotted with hundreds of sheep. Their wool made his cloth, their milk produced good cheese, their meat fed his people. This had been his home all his life. As children he and his brother had played in the meadows and bathed in its streams. They had learned to herd sheep and even shear them, though they were nothing like as handy at the task as the itinerant shearers who arrived each spring. He and his brother had been the fifth generation to live at Blackfriars and farm these acres. His brother had gone to his eternal rest, so it was up to him to preserve this precious heritage. Would Sophie come to think of it as her home, too? Or would she yearn for the very different landscape of the fens, Greystone Manor and her close-knit family? This waiting time was getting him down.

  * * *

  Sophie had not heard from Adam for several days. Ever since he returned to Saddleworth he had been writing to her almost every day. Sometimes the letters were long and full of what he had been doing; sometimes they were short notes because there was some crisis at the mill he had to deal with. He knew her parents would read them as a matter of course, so they were not effusive, not love letters, although he was always affectionate. She did not mind that; she could read between the lines and know he was impatient for them to be reunited and married. But long or short, they always arriv
ed regularly.

  The last one had been a whole week before. Her own letters went unanswered. She became listless. Nothing her mother said about the mail being held up or Adam being busy preparing for her arrival as his wife would console her. Adam had changed his mind. Back among his wife’s things, he had realised he could not break that vow after all.

  ‘Sophie, I am sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation,’ Jane said one day when she visited Broadacres.

  ‘Has Mark heard from him?’

  ‘No, but they were never regular correspondents.’ She paused. ‘Come up to the sewing room and see how I’m getting on with your wedding dress. It could do with another fitting. I am not sure about the neckline.’

  ‘Do you think I am still going to need it?’

  ‘Of course you are. Don’t be silly. Adam would never break his word.’

  ‘But he did, didn’t he?’ she said, as they climbed the stairs. ‘He broke his word not to marry again. Now he regrets it.’

  ‘Sophie, I shall box your ears if you keep talking like that.’

  The gown was exquisite. Made of ivory satin covered in the fine Mechlin lace, it had a well-fitted bodice, a boat-shaped neckline and a skirt cut on the bias so that it fell from her waist to the floor in soft folds. Jane had made hundreds of little pink silk flowers and intended to sew them all over the gown, finishing with two large ones under the bust. ‘Adam will fall in love with you all over again when he sees you in this,’ Jane said, picking up her pincushion.

  ‘But that’s just the trouble,’ Sophie wailed. ‘He asked me to marry him and said he wanted to take care of me, but he never actually said he was in love with me.’ She pulled the gown off before Jane could finish pinning it up. ‘Take it away. I am never going to wear it.’

  Jane sighed and folded the dress carefully in tissue. She would have to finish it without another fitting if Sophie continued in this mood. Sophie put her plain cambric dress on again and they went downstairs. She knew she had annoyed her sister, who had taken such pains with the dress, but her misery was making her tetchy and inclined to snap. She apologised and was forgiven and set off for home. Being in love was rollercoaster enough, but suffering from unrequited love was more than she could bear.