Melinda Hammond (15 page)

 'Thank you. I admit I do not like too much lace and fancy embellishment, however feminine.'

 He looked at her, a disquieting gleam in his hard eyes.

 'That outfit accentuates all your feminine points, Miss Shore, never fear.'

 Blushing furiously, Verity kicked her horse on, leading the way at a canter along the grassy lane. The fresh breeze helped to cool her cheeks, and as she checked the mare's pace she felt sufficiently at ease again to enquire after Lady Winter.

 'I have today received a letter from my brother in law,' he told her as he came alongside. 'Sir Robin tells me Sally has delivered a fine baby boy - Marcus.'

 'Oh I am so pleased. And your sister - she is well?'

 'Very well. Robin tells me they are having difficulty making her rest.'

 'I am delighted for her. Would you give her my best wishes when you write again?'

 'Perhaps you would like to write to her yourself, Miss Shore. I know Sally would be grateful for a letter from you, and I would very much like you to be friends. I will give you her direction when we return.'

 Verity flushed and thanked him, conscious of an unreasonable satisfaction that he should desire her friendship with his sister.

* * * *

 They were high on the open moors before he spoke again.

 'The mare's back has healed well, I take it?' commented Mr Bannerman

 'Yes. I have ridden her on a few occasions now and she seems to be suffering no ill effects.'

 'Good. Then I hope you are ready for a strenuous ride, Miss Shore.'

 'Oh? Where are we going, sir?'

 'You'll see.' He urged his horse forward and Verity could only follow, intrigued.

 They followed the lane northwards until the walled fields gave way to open moors and the path was picked out by a double row of causey stones that swept in a huge arc around the edge of a wooded valley. At length Mr Bannerman reined in and waited for Verity to catch up with him.

 'Have you been this way before?'

 'Only once, with Luke, although I believe this is still Highclough land?'

 He nodded. 'The moors provide only rough summer grazing. Ambrose always considered this the least profitable part of the estate.' He pointed to the woods. 'What I want to show you is down there, in Beech Clough.'

 He turned his horse on to a grassy track that led down through the trees. Verity followed, allowing her mare to pick her way over the uneven ground. As they descended, the trees closed about them and the pleasant smell of the damp earth hung in the air. New green leaves providing a dappled canopy against the bright sun while birds sang freely from the higher branches. The path turned at the edge of a steep ridge where the ground fell away sharply and Verity found herself looking out of the trees into a steep-sided valley. Neat green pastures covered the higher slopes on the far side and a dark line of stone walls divided the farmland from the steep wooded slopes that led down to the valley bottom.

 'Oh, how pretty!'

 'Derringden and Halifax are that way, to the east.' Following Mr Bannerman's raised arm she observed how the valley wound its way around interlocking spurs of land, small farmsteads dotting the gentler slopes. 'Do you see the cloth stretched out on the tenters to dry?'

 'Yes. They look like white sails,'

 Her companion grinned.

 'Very poetic! Weaving is carried out in each of those houses, but they are restricted by how much yarn their women can spin: it takes more than a dozen spinners to keep three weavers in work. Imagine how much more efficient it would be if we had a manufactory, here in the valley, to spin the yarn.'

 She turned to him, smiling at the enthusiasm glowing in his look.

 'This is the project Mr Oldroyd talked of at your party.'

 'Yes.'

 'And is this where you want to build your mill?'

 'Yes, down here. Come on.'

 They set off again, descending once again through woodland. The path finally came to an end and Verity looked about her: they were in a small clearing with the merry sound of water rushing near at hand.

 'Well, Mr Bannerman, what is it you want me to see?'

 'We must go the rest of the way on foot. Will you come?'

 He dismounted and walked across to her, holding up his hands. Verity kicked her foot free from the stirrup and dropped into his arms. His hold tightened and Verity was shocked at the pleasure she experienced being held so close to a man. Blushing for her thoughts, she dared not look up and was aware of a mixture of relief and regret when, a moment later, he released her. With a word to the groom to stay with the horses, he took Verity by the hand and led her through the trees, picking the easiest route across the rock-strewn valley. At last the water was in sight, a tumbling white froth that roared over its rocky bed. Mr Bannerman stopped.

 'The finest water in the county, and a good descent to add to its power.'

 Verity laughed. 'Of course. For your water frame.'

 'Exactly. But it is not just mine, there are several others, businessmen and landowners keen to invest in the idea. Josiah Sutcliffe owns the land on the other side of the valley, then there is Amos Williams - and James Oldroyd, whom you know.'

 'All men of substance, I believe.'

 'Indeed. Very well then. With your permission, we could build the mill here to take advantage of the constant water supply. We will collect the tops - that is, the best of the wool - from the local woolcombers, spin it here and then return it to the weavers. We calculate we can provide enough wool to keep every weaver in the district busy all year.'

 She smiled at the enthusiasm in his voice.

 'You think it is viable? It seems so, so remote here.'

 'Not only viable, imperative. The manufacturers of Manchester and Bradford will soon be producing more cloth than we can ever hope to do if we continue in the present piecemeal fashion. They will not come so far to collect their cloth if it has to be trailed all over the country by mule. The track leading up to the causeway would have to be improved, of course, but we would also open up a toll road along the valley bottom to Derringden, where we can pick up the new canal - that will give us access to Rochdale and Manchester. We must make use of it, or see the people leaving the hills to find employment in the towns.'

 'And would you employ children, as Sir Richard does in Cromford?' Verity asked, frowning. 'The mills there operate day and night, and I have watched the little children going into work; they look so pale…'

 'Children are a good source of cheap labour.' He reminded her.

 'But it cannot be right, sir. They are little more than babies.'

 'I will employ no child under ten, Miss Shore, you may depend on that.'

 She turned to look at him, her anxious eyes searching his face.

 'Truly?'

 'You have my word.'

 She looked back at the water, tumbling and frothing over its rocky bed.

 'It could work,' she murmured, 'The valley widens considerably from this point, so there would be room here for small houses too, like those at Cromford, and even a school.'

 'There are other valleys, of course, but none with such a good source of water.'

 'And a new toll road would link it with the canal, too.'

 'Exactly.' He looked down at her. 'What do you say, Miss Shore? In a couple of weeks you will be mistress of Highclough and able to make your own decision. Will you sell the valley to us?'

 Verity gazed at the stream, imagining its power harnessed and a complex of stone buildings filling the valley. She felt the first stirrings of excitement.

 'No, I think not.'

 His black brows drew together.

 'No? You dislike the idea?'

 'I think,' she said slowly, 'I would prefer to keep it, and join you as a business partner.'

 'A partner! I never thought -' he laughed. 'Of course. Why not?' He turned to face her, his hands on her shoulders. 'You are an unusual woman, Verity Shore.'

 'No, merely a sensible one. If there are profits to be made, why should Highclough not share them?'

 'If it's fast profits you are looking for, Miss Shore, then you will have to use the children. We are not looking for a quick return on this investment.'

 'No more am I. But I will insist that you build a school here.'

 As she smiled up at him, his grip on her shoulders tightened and there was a blazing look in his hard eyes that she could not read. Her heart seemed to leap into her throat, suffocating her. She felt sick and faint and strangely elated all at once, and it frightened her. Fixing her eyes on the top button of his coat, she tried to speak normally.

 'P-perhaps you will ask Mr Reedley to draw up the papers. We will need a legal contract for this.'

 'What? Oh, yes.' Abruptly he let her go and turned away. 'We should go back. Megs will think I have kidnapped you.'

 He strode off ahead of her, his pale greatcoat flapping about him. Verity sighed a little and shook her head, wondering if he had been as shaken as she by the moment they had just shared, or perhaps he was angered because she proposed to join him in his mill-building venture.

 Far from worrying, Mrs Worsthorne greeted them serenely.

 'I guessed you would be gone all afternoon and I have put dinner back an hour. You will join us, Master Rafe?'

 The gentleman cast a swift glance at his companion.

 'If Miss Shore is not sick of my company by now, I would be delighted.'

*

 'So, Bannerman has been explaining his dream to you Cousin.' Mr Worsthorne lounged back from the table and pushed his fair hair from his brow. 'I hope he has not persuaded you to invest in his ridiculous schemes.'

 Mrs Worsthorne shifted uncomfortably, but Mr Bannerman merely smiled.

 'Why ridiculous, Luke?'

 'Well, anyone can see that this new-fangled machinery won't work.'

 'Believe me, it is the future.'

 'The future? Aye, and so it may be, if you want a future where the people are put out of work by machines! How is a man to earn his keep if a machine can do his job in half the time?'

 'The weavers will continue with their looms and their farms. Others can work in the manufactory. I want to keep worsted production in the area, Luke. Others will embrace this change even if we do not.'

 Luke drained his glass and reached for the bottle.

 'The men will rise up and destroy your machines, Rafe, when they see them taking away their work,' he growled. 'It is already happening in Manchester. If my cousin will heed my advice she will have nothing to do with this.'

 Verity was silent, and Mr Bannerman gave her a reassuring smile.

 'I think we can leave Miss Shore to decide for herself.'

* * * *

 Mr Bannerman left soon after, by which time Luke had already broached his third bottle. Mrs Worsthorne eyed her son anxiously as she bade him goodnight, and Verity was about to follow the widow out of the drawing room when Mr Worsthorne called her back.

 'Damned imposter! How dare he try to persuade you to join in his madcap schemes?'

 Verity carefully closed the door upon the wooden-faced butler crossing the hall.

 'I do not think it so outrageous, Cousin. I believe it could provide Highclough with much-needed income.'

 He pushed back his chair and lounged to the window, staring into the blackness.

 'Ha! Rafe has sweet-talked you into thinking his way.'

 She laughed and came back to the table.

 'I have never heard any
sweet-talk
from Mr Bannerman! But his arguments were convincing, and there are several like-minded men willing to join in the venture, including Mr Oldroyd, whom you know.'

 Luke scowled.

 'So when you are mistress here you will hand over the valley to him?'

 'I do not intend to hand over anything. I wish to be a partner and have a full say in this business. I shall speak to Mr Oldroyd, then discuss the matter thoroughly with Mr Reedley. Pray believe that I will not rush into this, Luke.'

 She moved back towards the door but her cousin forestalled her, crossing the room to lay his hand on the door just as she reached it.

 'Cousin - Verity! Verity, my dear, don't go.'

 'Luke, what is it?' She looked up at him, frowning. 'What is it you wish to say to me?' She could smell the fumes of wine and brandy on his breath and she stepped away, waiting for him to continue.

 'Cousin - Cousin, I didn't mean to speak again, but I cannot let this pass. Pray, my dear, I cannot let you take on this house and its land on your own, with no one to guide you.'

 'No, of course I understand that, and I appreciate your efforts in showing me over the estate -'

 'No! That's not enough.' He turned away, running his fingers through his hair. 'Cousin, Highclough is not an easy place to live. The land is poor and the climate savage. It is no place for you to be alone.'

 'Luke -'

 'No, let me finish.' He came up to her and took her hands. 'I know you do not love me yet, but that could change: an alliance between us could be very profitable - I
know
this land, I love it. Together we could manage it, improve the farms, increase the rents - there would be no need to build new mills, destroying all that is best about this place.'

 'Luke, hush now. Please believe me, I am minded to allow the mill to be built in Beech Clough, but will do nothing until I have spoken with Mr Reedley. As to the other, well, I have told you I cannot marry you, but I shall always value your advice.'

 'Yet now, when I give you my view, you fly directly against it.'

 'No, I have said I shall think on it.' She put up her hand to smooth the hair from his brow. 'Please, Luke. Be my friend on this.'

 'Friend? I would be your husband.'

 'I know, and I am honoured, but …I cannot.'

 'Is it Bannerman?' he demanded. 'Damn him, Has Rafe been making love to you?'

 'Of course not!' She knew her flushed cheeks betrayed her, but she answered him frankly. 'I - I am not even sure that he likes me. But that is beside the point, Luke. I want us to be friends, I
need
you for my friend.' She met his gaze steadily, observing in his face the emotions battling within him. For a moment she thought the anger in him would win and he would strike out at her, but she stood her ground and was relieved to see the passion leave him. Finally he nodded.