Chapter Twelve #2
She gave a hard laugh. ‘Especially not Edward. He would say I deserved rejection for my folly.’
‘I hate him all the more, then.’ What a dolt Ashford must have been not to appreciate her mind, and what damage he had done to a young, impressionable, eighteen-year-old woman still finding her wings. That damage was still being done, in Alistair’s opinion.
‘Truly, Alistair, I don’t want you to think I am ungrateful for your intervention.’
‘I understand. I have a tendency to rush in, to act on good intentions that are often impractical in the long run.’
She squeezed his arm affectionately, making him feel less vulnerable with his confession. ‘I know. Remember, I was there for all your summer pranks.’
‘Those mostly turned out fine,’ he defended himself with a laugh.
‘But I didn’t outgrow it.’ If he wanted to tell her about his idea for a journal, he had to tell her about the cartel first. He needed her to understand that.
‘When I was twenty-five, I was eager to try my hand at making money like my father did. Up until then, all of my business pursuits had been participating in my father’s ventures and benefiting from being under the aegis of his expertise.
I wanted to strike out for myself. I had a small inheritance from a great-aunt that I pledged for the venture.
I wanted to start a clotted cream cartel that united the dairy industry in our area and ship clotted cream to London. ’
‘How would you keep it from souring? Sessile Oaks is nearly four days from London. Maybe you could ship in the winter?’ Ismay’s mind was already working, her brow furrowing over the problem. ‘Ice would be expensive and would add to overhead.’
‘That was my question exactly. How to get it there intact.’ Alistair smiled.
‘Time was of the essence. So I designed a relay system that cut the delivery time to two days. It worked, but it wasn’t sustainable.
The overhead on the ice and the horses was not cost-effective.
We had to charge five times the amount the cream was worth just to break even, which decreased the number of customers who would be able to buy the product.
’ He shook his head, remembering those days, the struggle to succeed, and then ultimately needing to admit to the failure.
‘We’d thought to appeal to the middle and upper classes in the beginning.
But when that was not possible, we promoted ourselves as a subscription for exclusive households.
We raised the price and targeted wealthy homes.
We felt we had a better chance of regularly shipping to them than to cast a wide net working with grocers and food providers for the general public. ’
To her credit, Ismay appeared thoroughly enthralled. ‘That probably only worked during the Season. When London emptied out in August your business went with it.’
He nodded. ‘And the price of ice was higher in the spring and summer, which increased our overhead. In the end, we didn’t make any money.
All those people I’d dazzled with the idea and projected profits made nothing.
They were not rich men who invested with me but local farmers with a little in savings.
I gave up all of my own investment and even borrowed from my father to cover the difference to see them refunded.
They might not have made any money with me, but I would be damned if they were going to lose what they had because of me. ’
Her eyes were soft and contemplative. ‘That was very kind and generous of you.’
‘It wasn’t kind. It had been risky, and I had convinced people to go along with me,’ he corrected. He didn’t want her thinking he was a saint. She had a tendency to do that. ‘This is meant to be a cautionary tale, Ismay, about doing business with me. I’m a starter, not a closer.’
‘I think that’s a lovely thing to be, Alistair. People need ideas.’ Her step slowed. ‘As for business, are we doing business?’
‘Maybe. I had an idea today when I was talking to Professor Loughty. Have you thought of starting up your own publication? I noticed there were some other women there today. Perhaps they would enjoy reading scientific reports written by other women. Maybe they have work they’d like to publish or there are women around Europe who would submit works.
To start, it could be a scientific journal written by scientific women for scientific women, a forum where ideas could be exchanged.
Then over time it could expand its audience. ’
She gave a sad smile. ‘My parents wouldn’t approve of me putting out a journal. They don’t even like me attending lectures and participating in the academy. It’s too public for them. Even if they did approve, I don’t have the money.’
‘Money is no issue.’ He put his hands at her waist and swung her over a mud puddle. ‘I know people with money. The Duchess of Ravenswick is a great champion of women and a friend of your family. Hayes and Evelisse would see great merit in it.’
* * *
She saw great merit in it. It was a wondrous idea.
Alistair was intoxicating like this, far more than the two raspberry champagnes she’d downed.
His enthusiasm was contagious—or almost so.
It would be easy to be swept away by it, to believe more was possible than it really was.
That was his gift: his ability to get people excited about a project.
Goodness knew he’d roped them all into enough pranks in the summers with that same energy, that same leadership that said he was willing to do his part.
He would be her link to those people he spoke of.
They knew him more than they knew her. She’d been gone from their circles for years.
She had no doubt he’d get the money for her.
But beneath his heady proposal and enthusiasm there lay improbability.
‘Alistair, you are leaving. You will be gone by Christmas. The journal, the donors would disappear without you.’ Perhaps that needed to be said for both their sakes, to ground them, to remind them both this was a ruse.
Today they’d accidentally stepped outside it, their choices reflecting care for one another.
Alistair had stood up for her, unasked. She wondered now if that was because he was subtly changing the plan on his own.
Had he made decisions without her? Men did.
‘Alistair, you are leaving,’ she repeated.
She grabbed the lapels of his coat and forced him to look at her, panic rising, the warning wildness starting in her throat.
Was he trying to undermine her? Trying to steal her freedom from her with sweetness instead of force?
‘Tell me the truth. Are you reneging on our deal? You promised me you would leave no matter what, that we were in no danger of a December wedding.’ When had she started believing he wasn’t like other men?
Shame on her. Her chest tightened. She lurched, but Alistair was faster, recognising the signs immediately.
‘Ismay, it’s all right. I didn’t mean to upset you.
’ She felt his arms about her, felt his strength encase her.
He was silent for a long while, his summer-sky eyes holding hers steady as if he could see into her soul.
At last he spoke. ‘If that’s what you want, I will leave.
I see what you’re up against, Ismay. I only meant to help as much as I can for as long as I can. ’
She let go of his lapels, smoothing them and patting them with her palms. ‘Good. Then, we are in accord.’ But his words echoed the rest of the way home: If that’s what you want, I will leave.
It was what she wanted, what she needed.
So why didn’t it feel that way? Her freedom was safe. She ought to be celebrating.