Chapter 7 #2
“That must not have gone over well in London,” Ed Wheaton said, meaning her marriage to Bert, and Victoria ignored the comment, as their hostess led them around the room to introduce them.
All of the guests were local, and had relatively high positions at the various mills.
Besides Victoria, Ed was the only aristocrat there, and it was obvious that he had married Jane for the money and the mill she would inherit, as one way to build his career and his fortune.
Victoria realized that she hadn’t seen him in polite circles in London in a long time, and wondered if he had been ostracized too, but she didn’t ask him, though she was curious how London society had reacted to his marrying beneath him.
In their case, the roles were reversed, and she wondered if they were more tolerant of a man’s choice than a woman’s.
Jane appeared to be a perfectly decent girl, just not very beautiful, and somewhat boring.
Victoria remembered that Ed had been a very determined flirt five years ago when she was presented.
She had found him transparent and rather oily.
It was no secret in their world that she stood to inherit a large fortune.
On their way around the room to meet the other guests, Victoria stopped to talk to a young American woman she’d just been introduced to. Her name was Florence West, and she looked a few years older than Victoria.
“Best wishes,” she said to Victoria. “I hear that you and your husband are just back from your honeymoon. Are you from Manchester?” she asked innocently, not yet knowing the subtleties of the complicated class system.
Everything about Victoria would have told an English person that she was an aristocrat from London.
She had all the familiar signs and earmarks of it, and the accent of her class.
“No,” Victoria said, smiling at her, “I just moved here very recently. I’m still getting my bearings. My husband is from here. Where are you from?” Victoria asked her.
“We’re from Detroit. My husband is the director of the Ford office here.
We moved here two years ago. He was actually the number two then, but his boss died three months after we got here, and the home office promoted him.
Now he runs it.” They were all people deeply engaged in commerce, which was new to Victoria, but she didn’t mind.
She had no prejudices about it, and found it interesting.
“Do you like it here?” Victoria asked her, still curious about the city, so steeped in industry, which she thought was exciting.
“Sometimes. It’s a little industrial for me. We lived in Grosse Pointe, right outside Detroit, which is very social, separate from the city, unlike here. But the countryside here is very pretty. The city is ugly,” she said bluntly.
“Do you get to London often?” Victoria asked her.
“Not enough. I wish Johnny could work from there, instead of here,” she said.
“But business is good, and he said it’s a step up in his career, so he likes it here.
I keep busy doing charity work in the slums. I teach some of the children to read, or I read to them.
The conditions in the slums are just terrible.
The poverty is intense. Most of the men are either out-of-work coal miners or out-of-work mill workers.
Either way, they’re a rough crowd.” Bert had already said as much to her.
“Where do you live?” the American asked her.
She was very pretty, in a green satin evening gown, and she had red hair like Delphine, Victoria’s friend in New York.
She had a certain lively energy and openness that Victoria liked.
“My husband’s home is in Wilmslow,” Victoria said.
“I gather you know our host,” Florence West said in an undertone with a slightly disapproving look.
“I knew him when I was much younger, though not well. I haven’t run into him in about five years. I had no idea they were our hosts tonight.”
“She’s awfully quiet, and she doesn’t look happy,” Florence said, lowering her voice further, ready for a good gossip.
“I wouldn’t be happy married to him either,” Victoria said under her breath and they both laughed.
Eventually Florence’s husband came over to them, and Florence introduced Victoria to him.
John West looked intelligent and interesting, and Victoria saw that he was nice to his wife and treated her respectfully, which was something Victoria always noticed.
She hated it when men treated women badly.
She could always hear it in their voices, or see a quick look of disapproval toward their wives.
There was something about Ed Wheaton that she still didn’t like, and Florence agreed with her.
“Your husband looks like a nice man,” Florence said, watching Bert from the distance.
“He is a nice man,” Victoria said with a smile. Florence didn’t comment on their obvious age difference. She was too polite to do so with a stranger, but she had noticed. She wondered what the story was there.
They moved in to dinner eventually, where the food was excellent and the wines were French and very good.
Ed seemed to show off at every opportunity, while his wife seemed colorless and drab and faded into the woodwork.
The room was ostentatious, with elaborate curtains and many statues and paintings.
Victoria noticed that Bert seemed to be having a good time conversing with the two women sitting on either side of him.
They were the wives of mill owners he knew well.
John West sat next to Victoria and was amusing to talk to.
He made fun of how seriously the mill owners took themselves.
“I prefer cars myself,” he said. “You’ll have to come to dinner at the house sometime.
Florence hasn’t made many friends here. Manchester isn’t her cup of tea.
It’s all about business and run by men. She’d rather be in London, but they transferred me here,” he said, matter-of-fact about it.
He seemed like the sort of person who could enjoy himself anywhere, and Florence looked like fun too.
None of the guests lingered long after dinner. Victoria got the feeling that no one particularly liked the hosts, but they had come to dinner anyway, and she chatted with Bert about it on the way home.
“He seems to have an eye for you,” he commented about their host, but didn’t look worried about it. He was sure of Victoria. She was steady and loyal and in love with him, and they were happy.
“I haven’t seen him in five years, since I was presented at court. I thought he was slimy then, and he still is. He married well anyway,” but his wife was so uninteresting. Victoria doubted he was faithful to her.
“I thought we’d go to my house in Yorkshire this weekend,” he said to her as they got home, changing the subject. “You haven’t seen it yet, and it’s a pretty little house. It’s only an hour and a half from here.”
“That sounds lovely,” she said, and kissed him.
She was thoroughly enjoying their life together, even when it included boring provincial dinner parties.
But she had liked meeting the Americans and hoped to see them again.
They seemed like good company, and Victoria wanted to see Florence for lunch or tea sometime. Bert had liked Johnny too.
* * *
Bert and Victoria drove to Yorkshire that weekend, where he owned a small manor house near Hawes.
It was comfortable, decorated with big leather chairs, and had a decidedly masculine feeling to it, like a hunting lodge.
They went for long walks in the woods nearby and to a magnificent waterfall, and past fields of wildflowers.
And then they explored the village. It was the perfect place to get away from everything.
The weather was warm and there were no other houses nearby.
They had total privacy, no servants underfoot, and could make love whenever they wanted without being disturbed.
Bert had local women who came in to clean when he wasn’t there.
He preferred to serve himself when he was in residence.
They spent a romantic weekend, and drove back to Wilmslow on Sunday night after dinner. They had cooked together all weekend. It was nice getting back to his big, beautiful house, but she had loved his little cottage in the woods too. It was the perfect romantic getaway.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked her when they both got into bed. He felt guilty about being so busy during the week he had little time to spend with her, but she was good at keeping herself occupied.
“Going to work with you,” she answered with a grin, and he looked surprised.
“I want to see what you do,” she said. “I won’t get in the way.
I’ll just be an observer and you can explain it to me later.
I want to see the mills, the weavers, and all the different aspects of the business.
I want to understand what you do.” He wasn’t sure how he would explain her being there, but for some crazy reason he liked the idea.
She was so bold and cheeky, but she wasn’t intrusive, just curious about everything.
She had such a bright mind. She needed things to focus on.
She wasn’t one to sit idly by and do nothing.
Bert realized it would shock everyone if Victoria came to his office, where there were no women except secretaries, but part of him thought it would be interesting and exciting to share his world with her.
He didn’t want to stop her, no matter what anyone thought.
He owned the mills and the factories, so no one could challenge him if he wanted to take Victoria to work.
He rolled over on his side in bed and looked at her.
She was so bright and alive, so full of interest, curiosity, and ideas.
“All right,” he said, smiling at her. “We’ll figure out some title for you.
Publicity consultant, or human interest advisor.
I’ll think of something. Let’s see how it goes.
” She opened his mind to new ideas constantly, things he’d never even dreamed of.
He had no idea what would happen if he took her to the mills with him, what kind of reactions it would cause.
But one thing was certain, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Of that, he was sure. Her father had been right.