Chapter 44
Forty-Four
Alec took himself on a ride around the estate.
It was not overly large, though a pleasant piece of land, nonetheless.
Clearly, Mr. Hardcastle had known the countryside well and selected this piece of property for the vistas it provided, along with access to a few tiny copses, the meadow from his gallop with Aurora yesterday, and a small stream which promised future paddling expeditions for Marjorie.
He groaned and laughed. He could see his daughter now: plunging headfirst into the water, getting thoroughly soaked and covered in mud, and being absolutely delighted by the entire proceedings.
His recent realizations continued to be of no help this morning.
In fact, in finally confronting the actual flesh-and-blood woman over the breakfast table, any plans he had to speak up and declare his true feelings to her died in his throat.
She was lovely, he realized, simply being Aurora.
The reality of her! He had wanted to pull her up out of her chair, cover her face with kisses, and then carry her back upstairs.
But she wasn’t the person in his dreams. She was a real person with her own mind, and, regardless of his feelings for her, his mind fell back into its old grooves.
Ultimately, was he not simply a means to a title?
A business arrangement? At least the conjugal part would not be unpleasant, or a burden.
They seemed to have reached a level of comfort with each other, and she seemed willing.
But best not to build castles in the air.
Alec realized he had brought his horse to a standstill and could sense the animal’s restlessness, so he moved him forward at a slow walk, following the stream back to the house.
Aurora was still young, very young. And sheltered. Lord, there were times he felt ancient next to her. She was a woman, so she had to marry. She had funds, and he needed the money. Blast, that still felt ugly.
But deuce take it—he wanted it to be more. With her. And the hope tugged at him, tipping him off what he had believed was a sensible, rational foundation.
Alec looked up and saw the house coming closer.
Still feeling at loose ends and not ready yet to go inside, as it was far too early for luncheon, he decided to return to the manufactory.
Perhaps he might have a greater opportunity to observe the workers at their tasks and gain a better understanding of what exactly everyone was doing.
Also, he could ask to see some of the cloth being produced.
He recollected Mr. Hardcastle had mentioned the quality was now considered very fine, fine enough for some of the London emporiums, while they maintained a plainer, sturdier line for the clothing and uniforms worn by regular folk.
His mind made up, Alec pointed his horse’s head in the direction of the works.
He remembered the route from his trip yesterday and was shortly pulling up into the courtyard.
He handed his reins to a young man who appeared to be on duty in front of the main entrance.
The hard-packed earth was neatly swept in front of the double doors.
Again, as yesterday, Alec expected his eyes would need to adjust to the gloom of the interior, but the sunny day outside meant light flooded the factory floor.
He smiled at the people closest to him and indicated he wished to see the factotum.
Through hand gestures to compensate for the noise of the machinery, he was told Mr. Ambleside was in fact on the premises and inside his office.
Calum appeared startled when Alec entered yet quickly schooled his face to a look of welcome and rose to shake his hand. “Good morning, Your Grace. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I apologize for barging in on you unannounced, Ambleside. I try not to display the rudeness of my class, and I fear I am doing so now. I was out for a ride and had some extra time and wondered if it would be convenient—if I am not taking you away from any deadlines you are attempting to execute—to visit with you and learn a little bit more about the business.”
Calum had a touch of nervousness about him today and seemed to be attempting to peer around Alec to look for something in the larger factory space. Alec turned around to look as well but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“It is no trouble at all, Your Grace. Please sit. Yes, there is fine. Let me move these teacups out of the way.”
“Ah, so I see you have had other visitors already this morning.”
“Yes, Stephen, whom we mentioned yesterday, stopped by for a short visit. One final time. A last farewell. Now, what were some of the questions you had for me, Your Grace?”
The two men settled in for an animated discussion.
Alec felt himself warming to Calum. The man’s graying hair was barbered short and close to his head, and his clothes were well-tended and neat.
He was about ten years Alec’s senior and put on a small set of spectacles which tended to migrate down what was a sharply angled nose as they examined the most recent ledger.
Even through the other man’s lenses, Alec could see the smile lines and noted the lack of worry creases in his forehead or around his mouth.
This boded well, both for the man’s character and for the place where he worked.
“Ah, let me bring out a ledger from ten years ago so you can compare to the most recent. Yes, things have been proceeding nicely.” The man leapt up and went to a shelf of ledgers in a corner of his office, selected one, and returned to his desk.
It became clear to Alec that Calum was deeply loyal both to his employer and to the employees whom he supervised.
He acknowledged the manager’s comment that, “I am most impressed, sir, by your quick grasp of the ledgers,” accepting it as both genuine and flattery, too.
Alec continued to look for the fly in the ointment of what appeared to be an almost idyllic business.
Experience had taught him, however, that idylls existed only in books.
He soon realized, while he would definitely find those flies in due course, as no human enterprise was without them, worrying about them in advance was not getting him anywhere.
Until he heard a sharp gasp behind him and raised his head to spot the answering alarm in Calum’s face.
Startled, he whirled around to see two figures running out through the factory toward a door farther back than the one he entered: a taller figure and a shorter one.
Alec was momentarily confused. Who were they to cause such alarm to Calum?
If the taller one was, perhaps, the mysterious Stephen, why would he run?
And why would he be bringing a child into the factory, a factory where no children were present?
What an odd young man the apprentice was.
If he was so flighty and apt to jump, he could not understand why he was considered a favorite and held in such esteem.
And then he remembered the second figure.
This one was a child, a boy of about seven or eight.
Similarly dressed to Stephen and in a soft cap with hair the color of darkened wheat peeping out underneath it.
The way the boy moved was oddly familiar.
It was almost as if—and here his line of thinking abruptly broke off.
He whipped back around to look at Calum.
The other man appeared chagrined and attempted to raise his hands in a placating gesture.
“Was one of those two my daughter? The other one must have been Stephen, yes? But, why— and what was Marjorie doing here, and dressed like that? And, you knew? What is going on here? Am I being made a fool of? Why was my daughter—Damnation!”
As he spoke, Alec was fully on his feet, and out the main door by the time the final words left his lips. Calling for his horse, he grabbed the reins from the attendant who handed them to him and leapt up onto the stallion’s back.
“Which way did they go?” he barked. The people in the courtyard simply looked at him. “Damnation!” he swore again, and took off pell-mell, tearing away from the factory and toward the house.
He scanned the horizon. No luck. Where could they be?
And then he remembered the small stream he had discovered earlier that morning, which was tucked into a grove of trees.
He turned his horse around and headed in that direction.
As he got closer, he could see two figures following the stream and flitting through the trees as they ran toward the house along the pathway.
He dug his heels into his horse and yelled, “Stop!” The figures kept running. Riding forward a few more feet, he jumped down and began running toward them himself. The two figures stopped, panting, each looking at him with wide eyes.
“Papa?” asked Marjorie. “Am I in terrible trouble?”