Calico Road (24 page)

‘And?’ he asked.

‘And . . . well, I’d not be . . . averse to . . . to taking matters further.’

He gave a smile of pure triumph. ‘Good.’ Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips, a gesture which surprised Harriet, as did the shiver that ran through her at his touch. Again, she had the thought that he seemed very masterful and she would never dare go against his wishes, but at the moment it mattered less to her than getting away from her mother and her own idle, useless life. She realised he was speaking and turned her attention to what he was saying.

‘We’d better do the thing properly. You must come over to visit me, see my house, meet my daughters, then we’ll talk again before we make any announcements.’ He offered her his arm.

It felt strong and well-muscled. As the shock of what had just happened began to fade, Harriet was able to speak with her normal calmness. ‘I should like to come and visit you, Mr Beardsworth.’

‘Andrew.’

When they rejoined the others she heard him issuing an invitation to Sophia to come and visit, bringing her sister.

The two women exchanged glances, Sophia’s questioning. Harriet nodded.

Sophia turned back to their visitor. ‘We’d be delighted, Mr Beardsworth.’

‘Good,’ said Jethro. ‘I’m glad that’s settled. We can all go to bed now.’

Only when she was getting ready for bed did Harriet feel panic shiver through her. What had she done? Could she really be considering marriage with a man she had only just met? She knew so little of him.

Then the thought of living forever with her mother made her stand stock-still, clutching her nightgown to her breast. She would do anything to avoid being left a spinster. Life with him surely couldn’t be worse than her present existence.

As she donned the nightgown and brushed out her hair Harriet grew thoughtful. It wasn’t going to be easy. There was something about Andrew Beardsworth, something very sharp beneath that polite, pleasant behaviour. He hadn’t made his fortune by being soft, she was sure. How softly would he treat her? She didn’t want to escape one tyranny only to fall under another.

Only – there was no way of finding out. She would have to take the risk. Whatever he was like to live with, it was better to be a wife than remain a spinster. No one had any respect for unmarried ladies, not even their own families.

Beardsworth left Parkside very early the next morning before the ladies got up, spent most of the day doing business in Todmorden, then set off for home mid-afternoon. On the way across the tops there was a loud cracking sound and the carriage jerked about violently before coming to a halt, tilted at an angle. He clambered out with some difficulty. One of the wheels had broken. No one could have foreseen the accident, but he nonetheless berated his coachman about it, ending his tirade with, ‘Well, what are you going to do about it?’

‘There’s an inn only a few hundred yards along this road, sir – the Packhorse. It’s respectable enough, though a bit run down. The gentry don’t use it much, but you could wait there while Sam here tries to find someone to repair it.’

Beardsworth nodded, but his expression grew tighter. If there was one inn at which he wouldn’t have chosen to stop, it was this. However, he didn’t intend to stand by the road getting wet while the groom went for help, so he set off walking, with Sam following a few paces behind him.

He stopped for a moment when he was nearly there to study the inn more carefully than he ever did while driving past on his way to Northby. The same huddle of buildings straggled along the road and back up the slope to a very old part that he’d have knocked down straight away if it had been his. Someone had recently painted the doors and window frames near the main entrance but the rest of the place still had a dilapidated air to it.

Phoebe was serving a customer, but when she saw that a gentleman had entered, she abandoned Johnny to hurry forward and greet the newcomer. ‘Can I help you, sir?’ Then she recognised him and her breath seemed to stop in her throat. Andrew Beardsworth!

He didn’t notice her reaction, thank goodness, because he was looking round.

‘Do you have a private parlour in this place?’

Toby heard his loud, arrogant tone from the back room and went into the public room at once. ‘I’ll deal with the gentleman, Phoebe.’

Gratefully she returned to her other customer, but listened carefully to what was being said.

Andrew Beardsworth stared at Toby as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘Hell, they said you looked like him, but I didn’t realise—’

‘I’ve been told before how closely I resemble a relative who is in better circumstances than I am.’ Since Toby didn’t like being known as Jethro Greenhalgh’s bastard half-brother, he’d decided to claim no more than a distant connection to the family whenever he could. Useless to deny the relationship completely because his face betrayed him immediately to those who knew his brother.

He waited to discover what had brought Beardsworth here, but the man just stood there, his eyes unfocused as if he was lost in his own thoughts, with a frown showing that these weren’t pleasant. In the end he shook his head, muttered something and turned back to Toby.

‘Well,
landlord
, my carriage has a broken wheel and I’d prefer to sit and wait for it to be repaired in more privacy than your public room can afford.’

‘That’s easily provided, sir.’ He gestured to a door to one side of the public room. ‘Though you’ll have to forgive us for the chill in there. We only light the fire when it’s occupied. But it’s already laid and will soon warm the place up.’

‘I’ll go and do that now,’ Phoebe said quickly. ‘I’ll bring a shovelful of hot coals and soon get it blazing.’

‘Thank you, Phoebe.’

Andrew hadn’t really looked at her before but at the sound of her name glanced quickly across the room. Yes, it was definitely Hal’s wife. What was she doing still here? Jethro had said he’d told her to move away from the district. ‘And my wheel? It’ll need to be repaired. Is there a wheelwright in this village who can do it?’

‘I’m afraid not, sir.’ Toby looked across at the group of drinkers. ‘Johnny, can you go and ask Ross to send down the road for help for Mr—?’ He saw from the expression of apprehension on their faces that they both recognised and disliked this traveller and turned back to his guest with a questioning expression, not willing to continue until he knew who the fellow was.

‘The name’s Beardsworth.’

Toby had learned to conceal his real feelings as a lad and to use words as a shield and weapon, but even so it was all he could do to hide his anger and disgust now. So this was the man who let little girls be beaten within an inch of their lives in his mill, the man whose reputation made mothers threaten to send naughty children to Tappersley. But in his position he didn’t dare offend Beardsworth so merely nodded.

In the back room Phoebe was taking some glowing coals from the fire with a small hearth shovel. As Toby came in and said, ‘Let me do that for you,’ she started and dropped a red hot coal on the rug, letting out a muffled shriek.

He took the shovel of live coals from her, glad of a minute to pull himself together and suppress his own feelings. He watched her shake the hot embers from the rug into the hearth and spread it out again. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes. I was just . . . worried about something.’

‘About our new customer, perhaps?’ He scowled. ‘I’d rather not serve a man like that myself.’

‘Don’t let him see how you feel! And be careful what you say to him. He can be a dangerous enemy.’

Toby walked into the private parlour, shutting the door behind him and the gentleman.

‘What’s that bugger doing here?’ one of the men in the public room asked Phoebe when she went across to see if they wanted anything else.

His neighbour nudged him. ‘Shhh, you fool!’

‘Anyone else need another drink?’ Phoebe asked to change the subject. Two men held out their empty pots and she went to collect them.

No one said another word about the man in the next room, though occasionally someone would glance towards it and scowl.

Their unwanted guest made a thorough nuisance of himself, ringing for refreshments, then ringing again a short time later to ask how long it was likely to be before his carriage was repaired.

‘I can’t tell you, sir,’ Toby answered smoothly. ‘I’m not a wheelwright. We’ve sent someone down the hill and your groom’s gone with him.’

When Sam came back and went in to see his master, Toby deliberately stood nearby. He was annoyed to hear how roughly Beardsworth spoke to his servant. You’d think the accident had been the man’s fault to hear him.

‘So the wheelwright can put on a temporary wheel to get the carriage to his workshop, sir, then he’ll finish a wheel that matches properly tomorrow. But it mustn’t be driven with any loads on it while the temporary wheel is in place.’

‘Well, make sure he takes care with my carriage. I don’t want the paintwork scratching. And he’s to do my work first. Are you
sure
he can’t repair it tonight?’

‘Certain, sir. No one could. It takes time to make a wheel that fits exactly.’

‘Get on your way then and send that landlord to see me.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Outside, the groom showed no surprise at the sight of Toby standing there. He rolled his eyes and gestured to the room, whispering, ‘He wants to see you. And he likes folk to look lively when he gives an order.’

Toby grinned and went back to wipe the counter, taking his time about it.

The groom grinned despite himself then shook his head and went outside.

When Toby judged he’d kept his unpleasant guest waiting for long enough, he went and knocked on the door.

‘Come in!’

The man’s voice was irritable. Toby kept his face expressionless, but mentally doubled what he’d intended to charge.

‘It seems my carriage won’t be ready till tomorrow. Do you have any other conveyances here, Fletcher? I’m a busy man and have better uses for my time than sitting around in your miserable excuse for an inn.’

‘Only a small cart and an old mare, sir. Hardly a suitable conveyance for a
gentleman
like you, especially as it looks like rain.’

Beardsworth went to the window, looked out and turned back to scowl at Toby. ‘Rain or not, I’ll hire your damned cart. Do you have someone who can drive me?’

‘I’ll do that myself.’

‘How much for the hire?’

‘A guinea, sir.’

‘That’s outrageous!’

‘I’ll need to hire someone to take my place here. And it’ll be another half a guinea for the use of this room and the refreshments.’ Leaving the millowner sputtering with indignation, Toby went off to let Phoebe know what he was doing. Outside he harnessed the old mare to the cart, talking to her softly as he worked so that she nickered and nudged him with her head, waiting for the carrot or wrinkled apple he usually gave her.

When Mr Beardsworth came out he looked round the stable yard with a sneering expression before asking, ‘Where’s that idle groom of mine?’

‘He went back to your carriage, I believe, to help get it on the road again. If you’d like to climb up beside me, we’ll set off.’

They drove mainly in silence because Toby had no desire to initiate a conversation with this man and Beardsworth spoke only to give directions. When it began to rain, Toby was glad to see the sour expression on his customer’s face grow even sourer, feeling actual pleasure when he saw his passenger shiver. He rarely felt the cold himself so began to whistle cheerfully, sure it would irritate his companion.

‘Stop that damned noise!’

Toby grinned.

‘What are you laughing at?’

‘Nothing in particular, sir. I’m just a happy sort of person, I suppose.’

When they got to Beardsworth’s house an hour later, he made no offer of refreshments, tossed the money at Toby so carelessly that the coins fell to the ground and went inside without a word of thanks or farewell.

Toby bent to pick up his payment then stared at the house, which stood to one side of a large mill. By the bright lights of the mill he could see that it was a small village, not much larger than Calico. Tappersley was just off the main road, one of the many settlements that had grown up where there was a stream with enough force to turn the waterwheel that had powered the machinery in the early days. He’d seen the sign to it, knew about the terrible conditions at the mill there, but had never visited it before.

It looked stark and grim, not at all like Calico, and consisted mainly of terraces of tiny dwellings clustered round the mill. They looked shoddy places, smaller than the ones in Backenshaw and sagging already. Beardsworth was using steam power to turn the machinery now, of course, and the tall chimney was belching black smoke into the air, adding to the general gloom of the scene.

There weren’t any children playing in the street or women gossiping on doorsteps. In fact there was no one to be seen. It was as if they were all hiding from their terrible master.

It would be interesting to find out if Phoebe knew anything else about the damned fellow. He was sure she did – but would she tell him?

Even though it was still raining, once he was out of Tappersley, Toby’s spirits rose and he felt as if he could breathe more easily. He let the horse find its own way up the hill through the darkness and once back at the inn he unharnessed the tired animal and wiped her down before going inside.

Phoebe came out to the stables and hovered, as she did when she needed to tell him something that she didn’t really like discussing.

‘Well?’ he asked in the end. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me what you know about that fellow?’

‘It’s been a long time since I saw him, but he and Hal had dealings just before we married. I don’t know exactly what they were. Hal told me to keep away whenever Beardsworth was around, so all I know is bits I overheard by chance.’