Chapter Two
Samuel Milton gripped his hand around the lapels of his overcoat as he walked through the rainy streets of Glasgow.
He’d be soaked through by the time he reached the offices.
A sudden whining neigh sounded over the crowd, and he turned to see his coach pull away from the curb and disappear into the bustling traffic.
It had probably been a bit shortsighted to offer his carriage to the Atherton sisters, particularly because he had never met them, but he was familiar with Sir Logan Harris.
Hell, there was a moment in time a year earlier when he might have been the man’s brother-in-law, having once carried a torch for Grace Sharpe, but that hadn’t materialized.
A good thing too, since the sight of Jane Atherton had stunned him so.
It had been interesting watching her on the train.
She had obviously wanted to stretch her legs a bit but hadn’t expected to see anyone in the corridor.
Her gray eyes had widened slightly when she spotted him and to his eternal confusion, all the air had escaped his chest. She was, in a word, stunning, and he sheepishly had to admit that his kindness to her and her sister had been partially fueled by her beauty.
Turning on to West Nile Street, Samuel tried to remove her image from his mind completely. Attracted to her he might be, but for nearly his whole life, Samuel had made it a point not to be distracted by beautiful things. And Jane Atherton was just that.
He pulled his hat down as he walked along.
It didn’t matter that he found Jane attractive, of course, or that she smelled of jasmine which he noted when she and her sister took their leave of him.
They would likely never run into one another again, and in helping her and her sister reach their destination, he had done two things.
A good deed, which he tried to do at least one a day, and secured the gratitude of Logan Harris, a potential investor for the Milton Arcade.
The rain let up a bit as he strolled through the streets, noting the dozens of vendors who were trying to protect the wares in their stalls with canvas coverings.
Digging into his coat pocket, he produced two pounds, six shillings, and ten pence.
A sizeable amount this time, he thought as he began buying fresh baked breads, meat, fish, early spring flowers, handknitted shawls and spices.
It would have been more pleasant if the rain hadn’t been so brutal, but the looks of appreciation mixed with calculating suspicion always made him smile.
“You, young man,” he said to the boy standing behind his mother at the flower stall. “Want to earn a shilling?”
“Yes sir!” the boy, who was probably no older than twelve, said excitedly.
“Ask your mother for four of those baskets,” Samuel said, pointing to a towering stack of hand-woven baskets. “And help me carry this to my offices.”
The boy turned to his mother.
“Mother, can I—”
“Go on.” She winked. “I’ve known Samuel here since he was a lad. He’s good people. And he always pays.”
Samuel chuckled as the boy continued to gather the baskets, though he kept giving the man a curious look.
They continued down the street, stopping once in a while to buy seemingly unrelated objects, like two whole spools of blue and white ribbon, half a dozen wood carved shoehorns, and several correspondence sets, though they weren’t as fine and as expensive as the ones Samuel had just seen on his trip to London.
These were just unbound paper with a pretty pencil tied to it with twine.
“What’s all this for?” the boy asked, struggling to carry the increasingly heavy baskets as they continued north to the Cowcaddens.
“It’s shopping day.”
“Shopping day?”
“Yes, shopping day. You see, about once a week I manage to get out of the offices and do a little shopping. Not for anything in particular, as you can see, but all the things I buy can be gifted to people I know and also, people I don’t know,” Samuel said as he lifted two of the dozens of small bouquets he had bought from the boy’s mother.
He handed both bouquets to a pair of young maids, who at first appeared confused and then bashful. They hurried away, giggling at each other, and looking over their shoulders back at Samuel.
“But why?” the boy asked. “Isn’t that a waste of money?”
“I just so happen to have money to waste,” Samuel said, but then he slowed his steps. “Did you hear your mother? When she said she’s known me since I was a lad?”
“Yes, but I don’t see how.” The boy lifted his chin at Samuel. “You’ve got an awfully expensive looking suit on, and Mother doesn’t know many people who have money to waste.”
“Well, it’s true. My father owned a little curiosity shop just outside of Gallowgate when I was coming up. I was born here, studied here, and eventually, I returned here.” He glanced around the crowded street. “This is my city.”
“Gallowgate isn’t all that nice.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Then how come you’ve got money to waste? Are you a thief?”
Samuel stopped in his tracks.
“Absolutely not.” The boy seemed worried that he had offended the man. Then, he winked. “But then again, maybe I am.”
The boy frowned as they continued walking.
“Who are you?”
“Samuel Milton, at your service.”
“Go on,” the boy laughed. “Who are you really?”
“Samuel Milton.”
The boy shook his head in disbelief.
“You are not.”
“Then who am I?”
“I don’t know, but you’re certainly not Mr. Samuel Milton.”
Sam smiled.
“Is it Mister now what they’re calling me on the streets? Better than ‘slimy brat’ but they haven’t called me that in years.”
The boy watched him with an unbelieving gaze as they walked.
“Samuel Milton is the richest man in Glasgow, and the richest man in Glasgow is not buying a dozen bouquets on Nile Street just to hand them out to strangers.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about him. Are you an acquaintance of Milton then?”
“No.”
“Then how would you know what I do and don’t do?” Sam asked when they finally reached the Baroque-style building on the corner of Nile and Renfrew Street. A large, iron “M” had been secured onto the building, just above the main doors.
A door opened for Sam and the boy.
“Good day, Mr. Milton,” the doorman said with a nod.
“Afternoon, Jinks.” Sam handed him a wrapped fish and two bottles of spices. “How’s your sister doing?”
“Ach, she’s doing much better now. The fever faded away finally.”
“That’s good to hear. Jinks, this is, er…” Sam looked down at the boy, his dark wet hair plastered to his face. “Who are you?”
“Billy.”
“Billy who?” Jinks asked.
“Billy Squires.” Sam moved back to let another man inside. He tipped his hat at Sam, who continued to talk to Jinks. “He’s one of Daphne’s sons.”
“How did you know my mother’s name?” Billy asked as the door closed behind him. “And about my brothers?”
“Cor, everyone knows Daphne and Joe Squires. Ten sons are quite a feat,” Jinks said, elbowing Sam. “This one doesn’t know much, does he?”
“I know plenty,” Billy began to argue, but Sam didn’t have time to let this scene play out.
Instead, he walked into the building, passing the dozen or so desks that lined the first floor of his offices.
Some of the employees were financial brains, while others were working on the architecture for the arcade.
Although Milton Enterprises had started out in a little curiosity shop outside of Gallowgate, Samuel had turned it into a business empire.
It had started out simply enough. When Samuel was about thirteen years old, he had quickly discovered that while the family store did well enough to stay open, it wasn’t a necessity for the community around it.
Second-hand goods were nearly eighty percent of their store’s products, with most of the sales reported being objects for homes.
Doorknobs, nails, old step-top cook stoves, and the like were constantly being sold and then resold in their curiosity shop that it got Samuel to thinking about why.
Why did people need new doorknobs? Or new stoves? Upkeep, of course. Many of the houses in and around Gallowgate were ancient and poorly insulated, and with the expansion of the population, it was getting harder to fit families into the already fractured living spaces that were inhabited.
Which turned Samuel’s focus from selling goods to building.
For years, he studied books about building.
Architectural books, structural books, pamphlets on new ideas for heating homes as well as papers about plumbing and plaster.
His parents had taught him how to read and in doing so, they had unlocked a voracious reader.
Ignited by his love for learning and building, Samuel eventually began working for a builder, Deem & Co.
He had started out as a ditch digger for posts but soon became frustrated with his position.
After working for Deem & Co. for two years, Samuel was able to convince his parents to give him the deed to the curiosity shop and buy a stake in the company he worked for, which buoyed the business to build a tenant house.
That was immediately bought up by a factory to house its workers, leading to a sizeable return for Deem & Co. and thus its investors.
But Samuel had only just begun.
By the time he was twenty years old, Samuel had bought the rest of Deem & Co.
and changed its name to Milton Enterprises.
Now, ten years later, they were one of the largest businesses in Scotland, with the company covering all sorts of ventures, such as building, financing, and importing and exporting goods.
At least four men rushed to meet Samuel, each one eager to speak with him as he headed for the back of the building, where a rather impressive staircase had been remodeled just last year.
Sam began to climb it, all the while keeping aware that Billy was trailing behind him.