Faraway girl, p.13
Faraway Girl, page 13
He stalked to the door. ‘The carriage will be ready in one hour. Don’t keep it waiting.’
When they could no longer hear his footsteps, Constance got out of bed. ‘Etta, thank you for everything you’ve done. But don’t worry. Your brother will live. So will your stepfather. I promise I’ll marry Mr Smeaton.’
Etta wrapped her arms around herself. This situation — it was the worst of the terriblest. Jamie or Constance? Nobody should have to make a choice like that. When she figured she could speak without falling to bits, she said, ‘One thing at a time. Let’s get ready. We’ll talk about all that on the way. And we’ll try to work out what’s behind their treachery.’
27
The moment the carriage was out of sight of the Williston mansion, Etta gave a crow of triumph. ‘Aggie, thanks to you, we did it! High five, kiddo!’ She held up her hand, then laughed as the maid and Constance stared at her, puzzlement loud in their expressions. Etta used the hand to hit her forehead. ‘Duh! Okay, wrong century.’ She explained and their faces cleared.
Constance took an envelope from her reticule. ‘Aggie, this is a testimonial for you, just in case. I don’t expect any trouble from today, but I’ll feel happier knowing you have this.’ She passed it to her maid, along with some coins. ‘I’m sorry there isn’t more but I daren’t give you any of the money my father gave me.’ He’d given it so grudgingly, slapping it down with a demand that she get receipts for everything she bought.
‘Oh but Miss!’ Aggie stared at the money. ‘This is too much. It’s more than one whole pound!’
Constance closed the girl’s fingers over the coins. ‘You deserve more. We’d not be here without your help.’
The maid was too overcome to speak until the carriage stopped outside her mother’s cottage, when she whispered, ‘Oh Miss, I pray for today to be good for you.’
The carriage moved off and Etta said, ‘We have to talk about stuff. I think …’
But Constance shook her head. ‘I know what you want to discuss, my friend. But there is no need. My mind is made up. I will marry Mr Smeaton regardless of anything we might discover today.’
‘But …’
Constance said, ‘Hush. I know it’s the right thing to do. In your heart, so do you. Do not worry about me, Etta. Marriage is the only honourable way I can live. I have no skills to make my own way.’
That was true and Etta knew it, but it didn’t feel right. It felt all sorts of wrong, no matter how she looked at it. The only way she could make it sit right with her heart and her conscience was to take Jamie’s fate out of Constance’s equation. But how to do that? She spent the rest of the journey to Manchester turning the whole thing upside down and inside out, seeking a solution. She got no answers either as to why Mr Williston needed to hide the lawyer’s letters from his daughter. Why hadn’t he shown them to her? Was he scared she’d sell her land to a rival factory owner? Smeaton must be pretty desperate to get his greedy fingers on those four acres, otherwise why not wait until Constance turned twenty-one and could sell them to him?
The only talk between the girls occurred after a particularly rough piece of road. ‘Ouch! Give me inflatable rubber tyres and sealed roads any day.’
Constance, using her proper-young-lady voice, said, ‘Yes, your methods of travel are more comfortable.’
Silence again until the carriage stopped in the city. The driver opened the door. ‘We’re here, Miss Constance.’ He helped the girls alight. Constance, with dignity and poise, gave instructions about where to take the carriage. ‘We’ll send for you when we’re ready to return home.’
Etta didn’t wait until the carriage was out of sight. ‘Constance, it’s my turn to talk and your turn to listen. No, don’t say anything. Not until I’ve had my say. Okay?’
Constance gave a resigned shrug. ‘It seems I have no choice. But I warn you, I shall not change my mind.’
‘All I ask is that you listen and really think about this.’ Etta closed her eyes briefly. She could do this. She would do this. It was the right thing to do, bugger it. ‘Listen, I don’t think Jamie should have anything to do with what you decide. No — I haven’t finished. I know what that artist guy said. But have you thought? Maybe you can’t conceive a baby with old Smeaton — he might be sterile for all we know. So that just leaves you to be the one with the descendants. Or he might decide to jilt you if somehow he gets wind of what we’re up to today. No marriage in that case.’ She paused, hoping to see relief on Constance’s face.
Constance shook her head. ‘I know what I must do.’
Stubborn bloody girl! Etta bent forward, arms akimbo, the better to glare at her. ‘Look, we don’t know what will happen between your time and mine. There will probably be all sorts of genetic mix-ups. We don’t have enough information to say that you should marry that man, or that you shouldn’t.’ She waited until Constance looked at her, then put every particle of belief into saying, ‘I don’t want you to marry him and I don’t believe you should. If you do, it’ll break my heart just as badly as if my brother disappears. Nobody wins here. We don’t know what’ll happen to Jamie, but we can know that you can choose to live your own life. So think about it.’
Constance dragged out a maddening half smile. ‘You are kindness itself, Etta. But I’ve made my decision.’
Etta wanted to scream but Constance was too used to enduring tantrums for a scream to make her change her mind. Instead, Etta took her friend’s hands, holding them firmly as if to channel her own belief into the girl’s bloodstream. ‘Promise me something, Constance. Promise you’ll really think about not marrying him if your legacy gives you enough money to be independent. Promise me!’
The tension zinged between them until Constance said, ‘Very well. You have my promise.’
‘Excellent. Come on, let’s do this.’ She climbed the four steps to the front door of Collier, Blake & Smithson, noting that a servant — female, she’d bet — must have the task of polishing the brass plate every morning, along with scrubbing the doorstep.
The knocker on the solid door was a brass … bronze … who cared? Anyway, it was a pig’s head and he had a huge ring through his nose. He didn’t look happy. Before she could get totally spooked, Etta lifted the ring and let it fall. Two seconds passed before a man opened it. Man? He probably wasn’t even shaving yet. He looked like he was still growing into his smart suit too. He gave the girls a cheeky bow. ‘How may I assist two such charming young ladies?’
Constance found she was speechless. Now the moment had come, everything felt too real, too important, too full of hard choices. She was relieved when Etta said, ‘Hello to you too, matey. What you can do is convey the information to Mr Jonas Collier that, if at all possible, Miss Constance Williston would greatly appreciate a moment of his time.’
The boy’s eyes boggled. ‘You’re that girl, ain’t you, Miss — you’re that girl as they’re saying is a witch.’
‘Yep,’ said Etta, ‘that’s me. Gotta warn you, witches don’t like being kept waiting.’
He snapped to attention. ‘Right you are, Miss. This way, if you please.’ He paced ahead of them up a dark-panelled staircase lined with portraits of bearded and moustachioed men. ‘If you care to wait in here, Miss Williston and er …’
‘Miss Limstock,’ Constance said.
The girls sat down on a hard bench in an office where two older men regarded them for three seconds before turning back to their ledgers. Etta reached for Constance’s hand to give it a squeeze. ‘Courage, sister. And remember what you promised you’d think about.’
But Constance couldn’t think, not with blind terror hammering in her blood. The only thing she was conscious of was that, for better or worse, the coming meeting had the power to change her life.
28
Mr Collier hurried into the room, his bewhiskered face beaming. ‘My dear Miss Constance! I am delighted you have come. I am honoured. Most honoured.’ He dipped his body in a courtly bow.
Etta was wondering how he knew which of them was which when he said, ‘My dear young lady, please excuse me for saying so, but you remind me so much of my dear friend, your late grandmother. The shape of the nose and the same sweetness of expression. Ah, forgive me. I have allowed myself to get carried away.’ He took out an immaculate handkerchief which was less immaculate when he stuffed it back in his pocket.
Constance said, ‘I would love to speak to you more about my grandmother another time, sir. She died when I was very young, so I have few memories of her.’
That got another beaming smile from the lawyer. ‘Gracious too — just like your grandmother.’ He gave himself a shake. ‘But to today’s business.’ He bowed to Etta. ‘Miss Limstock, I am privileged to meet you.’ He ushered them into his office, where the chairs were more comfortable than the waiting room bench had been. ‘Miss Constance, your wedding is very soon. Very soon indeed. Why did you not respond to my letters?’
‘We only discovered them yesterday,’ Etta told him. ‘Her father hid them from her.’
Understanding fought with anger in the man’s expression. Etta took the chance to pull out her phone. ‘Look, sir. These photographs are the only versions of the letters Constance has been able to see.’
While he stared at the unfamiliar object, Constance related the story of Etta’s midnight raid, although she doubted he was capable at that moment of listening.
But she had underestimated him. He brought his focus away from the phone and back onto her. There was fire in his eyes as he spoke.
‘Miss Constance, we have so little time to secure your legacy. The four acres are now yours. In accordance with your grandmother’s will, you became the legal owner on the public announcement of your forthcoming marriage, regardless of whether or not the ceremony takes place.’ He stopped as if uncertain as to how to proceed, how much to say.
Etta leaned forward. ‘Mr Collier, it’s okay … I mean, it’s all right to speak plainly. Constance has worked out that her precious father and that Smeaton guy are cheating her. But what we can’t figure out is why her legacy has been kept a secret when all Smeaton has to do to get it is marry her.’ She swivelled to look at Constance. That girl was drowning in pain, sorrow and maybe terror. Yeah, plain old terror about her future. Etta reached for her hand again, hoping like crazy she could channel a bit of hope, a smidgen of confidence through to her.
‘I see.’ The lawyer steepled his hands while he thought. It didn’t take him long to reach a decision. ‘Very well. I will speak plainly. Miss Constance, please forgive me for any hurt this may cause you.’
Constance took a moment to steady her voice. ‘You are kindness itself, sir. I am confident that you will act in my best interests. Please do speak plainly.’
Mr Collier whipped out his handkerchief once more. ‘It could be your grandmother speaking, my dear.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘Very well then. Miss Constance, I am sorry to say that your grandmother lacked trust in your father.’
Etta snorted. ‘Wise woman!’
He inclined his head. ‘Just so, Miss Limstock. Together we drew up the documents regarding the legacy to make it impossible for Mr Williston — or anyone else — to act on your behalf, Miss Constance.’
‘That must’ve driven Daddy crazy,’ Etta remarked.
The lawyer permitted himself a wintry smile. ‘Indeed. He was not pleased.’
Etta wanted to scream — the man was sweet, he was kind, but oh jeez he was slow. She hoped her impatience wouldn’t come through as she said, ‘Mr Collier, Constance’s legacy — the four acres of land — must be valuable. I mean … look how those two villains are trying to cheat her out of it.’
He gave her an approving look, and she suspected he was relieved to cut to the heart of it. ‘You are correct. I have had several enquiries over the years, but the land cannot be sold until you are legally able to give permission, Miss Constance. The most insistent enquirer is Mr Smeaton.’ He sat back, giving Constance time to absorb the news.
But Constance had by now well understood how her father and fiancé had worked together to cheat her. ‘Dear sir, do you know why my father hid my letters? I cannot understand why he kept the land secret from me.’
‘Your land,’ Etta muttered.
‘Yes,’ Constance said, struggling to believe it. ‘My land.’
The girls watched as the lawyer stared into nothing, apparently trying to decide how much to tell them. Etta was about to give him a nudge when he began speaking. ‘It pains me to speak of such matters, Miss Constance, but I believe the current situation warrants it.’
Etta clenched her fingers into tight fists so as not to yell at him to get on with it.
Maybe he sensed her impatience, because he got on with it. ‘It is well known in the city, Miss Constance, that your father invested a considerable sum of money unwisely. I understand he was advised against it but went ahead, believing he would make a fortune. When the investment failed, he lost all his money and urgently needed a loan to avoid losing the estate.’
Light hit Etta’s brain. ‘Smeaton lent him the money! I bet he said give me your daughter and once I get my nasty little hands on her land you won’t have to pay the loan back.’
‘I believe the essence of what you suggest is correct, Miss Etta. Miss Constance’s land abuts his mill and he is most anxious to expand.’ Mr Collier’s expression was that of a man who has a rotten smell under his nose.
Etta was furious, madder than she’d ever been in this twisted, unfair, stinking world, or in her own which — okay wasn’t perfect — but, man … That conniving pair of criminals wouldn’t get away with their cheating scam if she could help it. But Jamie … She shut her eyes for a second to steady herself. Just do what’s right at this moment, Etta Limstock. And the right thing was to help Constance and hope like hell that somehow it would help Jamie too. Before she could talk herself out of it, she said, ‘Mr Collier, how much were the offers you received for Constance’s land?’
He spoke to Constance. ‘The offer Mr Smeaton made in March of this year was the highest, at one thousand pounds.’
Etta waited for Constance to say something, but it was pretty obvious that she was having trouble absorbing the bombshells that kept exploding on her.
The lawyer said gently, ‘I’m very sorry, Miss Constance, but you had better know everything. I believe it was late April that your father lost the money he had invested.’
Constance found her voice enough to say, ‘It was the twenty-ninth of May that my father told me I was to marry Mr Smeaton.’
29
‘Tell me what you wish me to do, Miss Constance,’ the lawyer said. ‘I believe speed is essential. At present you have the advantage in that neither interested party realises you have discovered their plan.’
She shook her head. ‘All I can do is go home and pretend to know nothing. It’s clear that I must marry Mr Smeaton.’ She held up a hand to stop Etta speaking. ‘My parents will lose their home if I do not.’
Silence zinged through the room, only because Etta had to calm herself enough to speak — it didn’t take her long. She grabbed Constance by her shoulders to make her look at her as she said, ‘Listen up, Constance W. It’s not your duty to rescue your parents. And just think — your dumb father will probably go right ahead and throw money at another dodgy investment. Then what’ll happen?’ No reply.
Constance just sat there looking like hope had fled long ago.
Etta didn’t spare her. ‘I’ll tell you what’ll happen. Daddy will come begging Smeaton for more money and that arse will beat you black and blue because somehow it’ll be your fault.’
Mr Collier, in the driest of lawyerly tones, said, ‘I fear Miss Limstock is correct.’ He stood up. ‘Perhaps it will help if you take a little time to reflect. I will ask the housekeeper to provide you with luncheon and then we will speak again.’
Etta stood up. ‘Mr Collier, do you think Mr Smeaton would buy Constance’s land for two thousand pounds?’
That shot life back into Constance. She gasped and said, ‘Etta, that’s a fortune! He’d never agree.’
It didn’t sound that much to Etta, but what did she know about the value of the pound in 1869? A big fat nothing, that’s what.
The lawyer sighed. ‘I believe he would pay it, Miss Constance. He would know that any money he paid you would become his again once you are his wife.’
Etta tugged Constance to her feet, saying, ‘If she marries him.’ She spoke directly to Constance, forcing her to listen. ‘Would two thousand pounds be enough for you to get the hell out of Dodge?’ She didn’t explain — surely they could work that out.
Sure enough, Constance said, ‘I could lead my own life with that much money.’ She gave a slight laugh. ‘That maid Gracie only had forty-six pounds, and she was confident she could have a good life because of it.’
‘If you say so. But it doesn’t sound much to me. I mean — think about it — four acres of land. And that guy is pretty keen to get his sticky fingers on it. It’s gotta be worth at least a couple of thou. Er, thousand.’
‘Indeed.’ Mr Collier inclined his head.
‘Your granny was one smart lady,’ Etta said. ‘And enough of the could have. That’s your money. You will have it.’ She turned to the lawyer. ‘Mr Collier, would you be prepared to tell Smeaton he can buy Constance’s land for two thousand pounds? Cash.’
But Constance said, ‘Wait, Etta. I can’t do that. You’re forgetting my parents.’ She took a breath that sounded horribly like a sob. ‘I can’t let them lose their home. And then there’s Jamie …’
Before Etta could explode with fury and exasperation, the lawyer said, ‘Miss Constance, I understand your feeling that you owe filial duty to your parents. However, it is my opinion that Miss Limstock is correct in saying your father will throw away the financial advantage your marriage would bring. He has never been prudent with money, a fact that deeply worried your grandmother. I advise you to act in your own best interests.’ He smiled kindly at her. ‘Come along. A meal and time for reflection will help.’
