Chapter Ten #3
She glanced in the same direction and caught a glimpse of his brother and her sister dancing together. ‘Is he to be sent to Hamburg as well?’ she asked.
‘No, to America. There is a shipping magnate in Baltimore who has a daughter ready to be married.’
Alice felt a pang on her sister’s behalf. ‘So he’s to be sacrificed on the altar of matrimony, is he?’
Bentham looked down at her. ‘He won’t mind in the least,’ he said. ‘I’m told Baltimore is home to an uncommon number of pretty women, and I don’t suppose he’ll allow marriage to slow him down. My brother is not troubled too much by ambition. Being a large fish in a small pond suits him to a T.’
Alice wondered if he was giving her a warning to pass on to Rachel. But Rachel loved Angus, didn’t she? She was just flirting with Jervis, that was all. ‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘Are you ambitious?’
‘I’m a second son,’ he said. ‘We have to cut our coat according to our cloth. If my father wants me in Hamburg, Hamburg is where I’ll be found.’
‘I see. Well, I hope you’ll be happy there,’ Alice said. ‘I should like to travel. Italy and Greece, the cradle of the arts. I’d love to see them, but I don’t suppose I ever shall. Unless—’
‘Unless?’ he asked kindly.
‘Unless I marry a man who likes to travel,’ she said.
After the first dance Jervis left Rachel to dance with other girls, but she had plenty of offers so was not upset.
It was good, she felt, to show him how popular she was.
And to show Angus, if he was watching – but she had not seen him since that moment by the lake.
She didn’t know if he had left, or simply that she had not spotted him in the crowd.
But she was angry with him for not showing that he minded when he had seen Jervis kiss her.
That cool nod, that indifferent greeting…
He ought to have been furious. Having Miss Canning on his arm was no excuse.
That was just a business arrangement, wasn’t it?
Wasn’t it? She replied at random to the remarks of her current partner, too deeply involved in her thoughts, and after a few more he stopped making them and they revolved in silence.
At the end of the dance she was glad to find Jervis at her elbow, ready to take her, with no risk that someone else would intervene. He seemed in high good mood, held her a little more closely than was quite customary, and hummed the tune a little as he whirled her round at the end of the floor.
A glimpse of Giles, dancing staidly with Kitty, decided her. ‘You know that my brother is here? My elder brother, Lord Stainton.’
‘Is he?’ Jervis said, more polite than interested.
‘Yes, and I think when this dance is finished you should take the opportunity to talk to him,’ she said, quivering at her own daring.
He loosened his hold enough to look down at her. He seemed amused. ‘Do you think he will enjoy talking to me?’
‘It is a good opportunity to catch him,’ she said, ‘while he’s in London.’
‘I’m sure he’s a charming man,’ Jervis said, ‘but we are not acquainted. I shouldn’t know what to talk to him about.’
She felt her colour rise. ‘About us, of course,’ she said. He looked quizzical. ‘I know that people have noticed. I think it’s time that you made things official.’
His smile disappeared, his eyes grew veiled. ‘I’m not sure I know what you are referring to,’ he said.
With a sick feeling in her stomach, she ploughed on. ‘My mother is my guardian but she lives in Germany, and Giles is head of the family. I think it would be best if you asked him for my hand.’
He didn’t answer for a significant moment, not long in absolute terms, but long enough for Rachel to feel and understand her humiliation before words spoken made it certain.
‘My dear ma’am,’ he said, ‘my admiration for you knows no bounds. But if I have somehow given you the impression that I meant more than I did, I shall blame myself for not being more guarded.’
‘What—’ was all that Rachel managed to say. Inside, she was screaming.
‘We have enjoyed each other’s company,’ he went on firmly, ‘but I have always known you were meant for another – just as I am.’
‘You are?’ she gulped.
‘I leave next month for America to fulfil a very long-standing engagement. Her family and mine came to an understanding on the subject many months ago. I am sure you knew that.’ He gave a smile that made her want to scream all the more. ‘This is a tease, is it not – a little joke on your part?’
For a moment she wanted to shriek, and call him all the names she could lay tongue to. Of course I didn’t know! You’ve never given the slightest hint! You’ve pursued me like a free man and deceived me!
But then she realised he was offering her a way of saving face. She swallowed hard, stitched on a smile, and took it. ‘Just a tease, of course,’ she said. ‘I wish you every happiness, Mr Farocean.’
And then, thank God, the music stopped, and she was able to make her exit. Oh, you fool, Rachel, you fool! ran her thoughts. What have you done?
The headquarters that Angus Tullamore had set up for Mr Cowling was in Finsbury Square, where he had also taken lodgings, but the new shipping venture required an office closer to the docks, in Limehouse, and it was there that he had been spending most of his time lately.
Just the week before, the last documents had been signed, with relish by Mr Cowling and perhaps a little wistfully by Mr Mayer, and the shipping line of Mayer and Frank had become part of Cowling’s ‘empire’.
There was no Frank to sign the deed – the original blood line had ceased to exist when a previous Frank’s only child, a daughter, had married a Mayer son: the name had been kept on out of sentiment, and because it was recognised in the shipping business.
The present Mr Mayer was keeping a minority share in what was now the Mayer, Frank & Cowling Company.
It had taken over the lease of the office, and had added the premises next door in anticipation of expansion.
Here Angus had been toiling in a morass of legal documents, financial accounts, contracts, bills of lading, lists of ships, crew manifests and more, while the vast maps on the walls were improving his geography at pace.
Now Mr Cowling, in his shirt sleeves, was leaning on his fists on the desk, looking at papers and talking about the future of the company.
It was hot outside and the windows stood open, the slight breeze bringing in the flat smell of the river and twirling dust motes in the shafts of sunshine.
Workmen were busy in the office next door, and when they came to knock a door through the dust would be dreadful.
But at least when it was all finished they could have a thorough cleaning – and Cowling had promised both offices would be fresh-painted, the floors revarnished.
‘We’ve got to think about the company’s name, first of all,’ he said.
‘Mayer, Frank & Cowling’s a mouthful, but Mayer’s not wrong that we need to keep his name for recognition, at least to begin with.
We should have insisted on my name going first,’ he added discontentedly.
‘But Cowling, Mayer & Frank sounded awkward, somehow.’
‘We can shorten it to the initials, MFC,’ Angus said.
‘Aye, but who’ll know what that means?’ Cowling objected. ‘Sounds like a football club.’
‘We’ll do it by degrees. Look, I’ve been sketching out the heading for the new company stationery.
You see’ – he passed over a dummy sheet – ‘there’s the full name across the top, but then in the corner – actually, I think it should be larger than this – a sort of emblem, a badge, if you like, like they have in heraldry. ’
‘Heraldry, eh?’ Cowling said, with a slight increase of interest.
It was a triangle with the capital letters MFC printed across it.
‘I’ve been toying with a double line round the letters – I think it looks more solid.
The idea is that people get used to seeing the badge alongside the full name.
We print it on everything, and gradually withdraw the name so that the initials are all anyone uses. ’
Mr Cowling looked at it with reserve. ‘I don’t know,’ he mused.
‘We can have it painted on the funnels of the ships, too,’ Angus went on, watching him closely. ‘An enormous triangle with MFC in it – you’d see it for miles.’
‘Aye, but I still don’t like it. It’s a dry mouthful.
I can see it’ll work on the stationery, all right, but it’s not memorable.
We need a trading name. “MFC trading as…” and something catchy.
Like the White Star line – something people’ll remember.
’ He stared at some rather dull photographs on the wall of Mayer & Frank ships.
Then his eyebrows went up as he thought of something. ‘Funnels, you said?’
‘It’s the first part of the ship you see as it comes up over the horizon, long before you can make out the name on the bow. And when there’s a mass of shipping all in port together, the funnels are about all you can distinguish.’
‘Well, that’s it, then, isn’t it? We paint all the funnels the same colour – aye, and put your blessed badge on ’em if you like – and call ourselves, what? Blue’s a good colour, I like blue. The Blue Funnel Line!’
‘I’m afraid there already is a Blue Funnel Line,’ Angus said gently. ‘And a Red Funnel.’
‘Hmm. What about green then? Anyone got green?’
‘No, sir, not that I know of.’
‘Right, then, we’ll grab it, before anyone else does! Mayer, Frank & Cowling trading as the Green Funnel Line. A good strong green, mind, and your badge smack in the middle – it makes a good picture.’
‘And I’ve just thought of something,’ Angus said. ‘Suppose we do all our letterheads in green ink?’
Cowling wrinkled his nose. ‘Green ink? I never heard the like!’