One Snowy Regency Christmas. Sarah Mallory

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      There was no point in explaining that the only lesson anyone was likely to see was that Stratford sat in a mansion at a fine dinner, while Lampett sat hungry in a cell. ‘But it would make me most unhappy, Father,’ she said as sweetly as possible. ‘And Mother as well. If we can have nothing else for Christmas, can we not have a few days of peace?’

      ‘I will be peaceful when there is reason to be,’ her father acceded. ‘I doubt, as long as that man breathes, we will see that state again.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      JOSEPH Stratford rode home alone in comfortable, if somewhat pensive, silence. The conclusion to today’s outing had been satisfactory, at least for now. The crowd had dispersed without any real violence. But if Bernard Lampett continued stirring, the town was likely to rise against him. Before that happened sterner measures would need to be taken.

      In his mind, he composed the letter he would send to the commander of the troops garrisoned in York. It was drastic, but necessary. If one or two of them were hauled off in chains it might convince the rest of the error of their ways.

      His carriage pulled up the circular drive of Clairemont Manor and deposited him at the door—so close that the chill of the season barely touched him on his way into the house. He smiled. How different this was from his past. Until last year he’d frequently had to make do on foot. But in the twelve months his investments had turned. Even with the money he’d laid out for the new mill he was living in a luxury that he would not have dreamed possible in his wildest Christmas wishes.

      Joseph handed hat, gloves and overcoat to the nearest footman and strode into the parlour to take the cup of tea waiting for him by the second-best chair near the fire. As he passed the closest seat he gave a gentle kick at the boot of the man occupying it, to get Robert Breton to shift his feet out of the way.

      Breton opened a sleepy eye and sat up. ‘Trouble at the mill?’

      ‘When is there not?’ He lifted his cup in a mock salute and Breton accepted it graciously, as though he owned the house and the right to the chair he usurped. While Joe might aspire to knock away at his own rough edges, affect the indolent slouch and copy the London accent and the facile gestures, he would never be more than false coin compared to this second son of an earl. Bob had been born to play lord of the manor, just as Joe had been born to work. He might own the house, but it was Bob’s birthright to be at ease there.

      And that was what made him so damned useful—both as a friend and an investor. The Honourable Robert Breton opened doors that the name Joseph Stratford never would, and his presence in negotiations removed some of the stink of trade when Joseph was trying to prise capital from the hands of his rich and idle friends.

      Joseph took another sip of his tea. ‘Lampett has been giving mad speeches again—raising the population to violence. Lord knows why Mackay did not run him off before now, instead of allowing himself to be scared away. He might have nipped the insurrection in the bud, and his business would still be standing.’

      Breton shrugged. ‘Anne tells me that Lampett was not always thus. There was some accident when the men fought the mill fire. He has not been right in the head since.’

      ‘More’s the pity for him and his family,’ Joe replied. ‘If he does not leave off harassing me he will be the maddest man in Australia by spring.’

      ‘Anne seems quite fond of him,’ Breton said. ‘Until they closed the school he was a teacher in the village and a respected member of the community.’

      Joseph reminded himself to speak to Anne on the subject himself, if only so that he might say he had. It did not seem right that one’s best friend got on better with one’s prospective fiancée than one did oneself. But Bob and Anne enjoyed each other’s company—perhaps because Bob was able to converse comfortably on subjects other than the price of yard goods and the man hours needed to produce them.

      ‘If Anne respects him, then she has not seen him lately. From what I have observed he is not fit company for a lady. There was a girl at the riot today who must have been his daughter, trying to drag him home and out of trouble. She came near to being trampled by the crowd and Lampett did not notice the danger to her. I rescued her myself, and did not get so much as a thank-you from either of them.’

      ‘Was this before or after you threatened to have the father arrested?’ Breton asked dryly.

      ‘In between threats, I think.’ Stratford grinned.

      Breton shook his head. ‘And you wonder why you are not loved.’

      ‘They will all love me well enough once the mill is open and they are back to work.’

      ‘If there is work to be had,’ Breton said. ‘The Orders in Council limit the places you can sell your wares. As long as America is a friend of France, there is little you can do.’

      ‘They will be repealed,’ Joseph said firmly.

      ‘And what if they are not?’

      ‘They will be. They must be. The merchants are near at breaking point now. The law must change or we are all ruined.’ Joseph smiled with reassurance, trying to imbue confidence in his faint-hearted friend. ‘It will not do to hesitate. We cannot err on the side of caution in this darkest time. If we wish for great profit we must be more sure, more daring, more active than the others. A busy mill and a full warehouse are the way to greatest success. When the moment comes it will come on us suddenly. Like the handmaidens at the wedding, we must be ready for change.’

      Breton shook his head in wonder. ‘When you tell me this I have no trouble believing.’

      ‘Then take the message to heart and share it with your friends.’ Joseph glanced out of the window at weather that was slate grey and yet lacking the snow he wished for. ‘When we have them here for Christmas I will wrap them tight in a web of good wine and good cheer. Then you shall explain the situation, as I have to you. Once they are persuaded, I will stick my hand into their pockets and remove the money needed for expansion.’

      Breton laughed. ‘You make me feel like a spider, waiting for so many fat flies to ride up from London.’

      ‘But that is not the case at all, my dear fellow. I am the spider. You are the bait—if spiders use such a thing. Without you, they will not come.’

      ‘We will be lucky if they come at all. Here in Yorkshire you are quite far out of the common way, Stratford.’

      ‘And you are the son of the Earl of Lepford. There must be a few in London, particularly those with eligible daughters, who would be eager to spend a holiday in your august presence.’

      ‘Second son,’ Breton corrected. ‘No title to offer them. But I am rich, at least. In much part I can thank you for that.’

      ‘Be sure to inform your guests of the fact, should the opportunity present itself.’

      Breton made a face. ‘Talking of money at a Christmas house party is just not done. They will not like it if they get wind of your scheme, Joe.’

      ‘That is why you will do it subtly—as you always do, Bob. They will hardly know what has happened. You may apologise to them for my lack of manners and let them plunder my cellars to the last bottle. Talk behind your hand about me, if you wish. Dance the pretty girls around the parlour while I am left to their fathers. СКАЧАТЬ