Chapter Ten
Jane, Mrs. Milton, and Tompkins were working together in the library, writing responses to all their correspondence that they had received in the past week.
Though Mrs. Milton was usually responsible for the mail, it had grown to such a size that she needed to enlist the services of two others, hence Jane and Mr. Tompkins’ presence.
“We should write to see if Rosangela Sabatini or who is that French soprano we met in Vienna last year?” Tompkins murmured while writing a letter.
“Blanche Bernard,” Mrs. Milton offered offhand.
“Yes, we should write her too and see if either of them would be available to visit Glasgow in five months for the opening of the arcade.”
Jane had heard of both singers, as they had both been quite famous for the past two years. She had hoped to see Sabatini in London last year, but she and Cora hadn’t been able to attend the musicale with their brother, who, even though he had promised to escort them, had gone to his club instead.
“They’re very popular, though,” she said, concerned that such talent might not wish to travel all the way to Glasgow to perform. “Do you think they would come?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Mrs. Milton began. “Samuel became close friends with them while we were on tour in Vienna. Both were such dears and they said they would be happy to support anything Samuel does.”
Jane glanced up, pausing her writing.
“Oh. Is that so?” She cleared her throat, noting that her voice was uncharacteristically higher than usual. “That was nice of them.”
“Yes, but most people say that after they meet Samuel.” She sighed as she continued her writing. “He has that effect on people.”
Jane wanted to ask how exactly Mr. Milton had become acquaintances of the famous singers, but it felt a touch too personal.
She hadn’t been able to quell the growing urge to learn everything she could about Samuel, ever since she had witnessed his kind and level-headed interaction with Mary the previous week.
Jane had become desperate to discover all she could about him.
Only every time she learned something new, it always led right back to his desire to make the world a better place for as many people as possible.
It had been infuriating at first, but the more things she learned about Samuel, the more she had to admit that she liked him.
For instance, just the other day, one of the clerks, a man named Mr. Austin, had made the mistake of investing a sizable amount of money into a failing mining company in Wales.
He was horrified to learn that the company, of which Milton Enterprises had become majority owner due to his misstep, had barely enough collateral to sell off to reimburse the cost. Mr. Austin had been agonizing over telling Samuel all day and yet, when he finally did, Samuel didn’t meet him with animosity or anger. He merely pivoted the plan.
“I don’t know quite how you managed this,” he had been saying when Jane had entered his office to collect papers to distribute to the other clerks. “But it seems we now own a mining company in Wales.”
“Sir, I swear, the seller had these contracts written up in such a way that I barely believe it.”
“Hm. Well, perhaps you and Mr. Roy might take a trip to this town. What was it called?”
“Mosten, sir.”
“Right. Well, make a business trip of it. Find their biggest client, as well as second and third. Take over the books, make sure everyone’s being compensated and that the money made is being put back into the mine. Also, have Mr. Roy conduct some health tests.”
“Health tests, sir?”
“Mine work isn’t healthy work, but it is a necessity. I’d like to make sure they’re in the best conditions they can be in, despite their work. Understood?”
“Yes sir.”
Jane had left the room as they finished their conversation, but it had baffled her, just as much as everything in this house did.
Samuel seemed hellbent on fixing every single issue in the world and he seemed never to rest. If anyone wanted to find him, he could always be found in his office, working.
It had begun to worry Jane. He operated on such little sleep, and though he had a healthy appetite when she did see him pausing long enough to take a meal, he seemed wholly unaware of his own needs.
Jane had even started to try and become a buffer between Samuel and the rest of his staff, in an effort to give him some peace, but she hadn’t been successful.
He was so different from every other person she had ever met, and it was puzzling trying to anticipate his need.
Just then, Tompkins stood up to stretch.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Milton, Miss Atherton. But I, erm, well, nature calls.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Milton said, waving her hand without looking up from her letters.
Once they were alone, Jane leaned forward over her desk.
“May I ask you something, Mrs. Milton?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Did your son always have that effect on people? I mean, was he always impressing people with his endless kindness?”
Pausing for a moment, Mrs. Milton looked up.
“Oh, no. No, that he came in to eventually. No, when Samuel was a child, he was actually quite argumentative. It was constant. I swear there was a whole year where every word out of his mouth was backtalk.” Jane chuckled at the terminology.
“But he stopped eventually. When his sister Martha passed away, Samuel changed.”
Jane’s smile slipped.
“Oh. Yes, your son mentioned your other children. I’m so sorry.”
“Did he? Well, I never knew him to mention them to anyone before,” she said, shaking her head. “But if I had to guess, I would say that it was Martha’s death that affected him the most.”
“The most?”
“Aye. She was my second child, second daughter too. She and Samuel, oh, they were terribly close. When the fever came through the city, my eldest, Claire, went quickly, but Martha, she held on for too long. You could imagine what it would take for a mother to say such a thing, but Martha withered away before our eyes, and…” She began to sniff.
“Well, it had a profound effect on Samuel. You see, we had a curiosity shop, just near Gallowgate. It wasn’t very profitable, but it had been Mr. Milton’s father’s store, and while we were better off than some, it was still a struggle.
“The doctor told us there wasn’t anything that could be done and gave us laudanum to dull Martha’s pain.
It was terrible for Mr. Milton and myself, but Samuel, bless his heart, he was so sure that Martha would get better.
When she took a turn for the worse, he left the house, sure that he could find someone, somewhere with an herb or magical potion that would save her.
Just like in a fairytale. But he didn’t. He couldn’t, the poor thing.”
Jane’s heart began to break at the thought of a young Samuel, running out into the city in the middle of the night, banging on a doctor’s door to beg for some sort of miracle tonic to save his sister. She had to blink to keep the tears from spilling over.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Milton. That’s awful.”
Mrs. Milton glanced at her.
“Yes, it was, my dear.” She sighed. “After Martha passed away, he didn’t talk for nearly a month.
And then, one day, he came to us, his father and I, and started talking about changing what we sold in the store.
It was peculiar. He was so focused on numbers and profit margins all of a sudden and was doing all sorts of calculations, far more advanced than my Mr. Milton ever could manage.
And after that, it all sort of snowballed.
And all this,” she said, raising her left hand slightly.
“It’s strange, I suppose. It sometimes feels like all this wealth is some sort of macabre altar to Martha, and the others, of course, but particularly Martha.
I suspect that’s why he wants to build that hospital.
He’s wanted to build one for ages now,” she said with a firm nod before glancing at Jane then, who was watching her with wide eyes.
“I suppose our egalitarian lifestyle here at Milton House makes a little more sense now, doesn’t it? ”
It really did. Jane had been scandalized by how easily the staff, from the clerks to the housemaids, interacted with the Miltons, as if they were all somehow equal.
It had been shocking, considering that she had grown up in a house where servants, or any members of the working class, were neither seen nor heard.
Yet Samuel spoke freely with everyone, from the driver to his mother, to the head butler to Jane herself.
He did not change how he spoke but addressed them all in the same manner.
It had rankled her at first, she had to admit, but after hearing Mrs. Milton’s story, she thought she understood him a little better indeed.
“Yes,” Jane said with a single nod. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I’ve found that the more times I share my darlings’ stories, I’ve an easier time knowing the Lord took them.”
That caught Jane’s attention.
“Oh. From what your son says, I didn’t think God was, er, well, discussed much within your family.”
Mrs. Milton’s mouth set in a hard line as she shook her head.
“Now that’s a sour subject between him and me. Samuel never attends church, says he’s too busy, but a godless man is a dangerous one and I’ve warned him of that. Stubborn fool,” she added under her breath as she scanned the new letter beneath her hands. “Oh! It’s here.”
Mrs. Milton stood up at once.
“What is it?” Jane asked, distracted from their previous conversation.
“A letter, from one of Lady Belle’s correspondents from London. A Mrs. Trundle. Evidently, she lives close to Mr. Liddell and is part of his social circle. It details all of Mr. Liddell’s likes and dislikes.”
“You have people spying on Mr. Liddell?”
“Of course. It’s politics after all. Samuel needs Mr. Liddell’s vote for the Reform Act.”
Jane frowned.
“What’s that?”