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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Serie: Angels
- Sprache: Englisch
Two years have passed since Livia and her sisters were made to suffer the harsh brutality of their corrupt father and finally all seems well in the Lake District: Livia is set to marry the handsome and caring Jack Flint who longs to settle down and start a family, while her sisters are contentedly living at Todd Farm. Yet Livia still dreams of bringing back to life the neglected and old-fashioned drapery business which was left to her when her father died. But is she prepared to jeopardise the love she shares with Jack to achieve her wish? Racked with guilt over the tragic death of her sister Maggie, she promises never to let anyone down again and to do something worthwhile with her life. Standing in the way of her ambitions is the wealthy and determined Matthew Grayson, who has been appointed to oversee the restoration of the business. His infuriating stubbornness clashes with Livia's tenacity and the pair get off to a bad start. But as her problems with Jack worsen, Livia finds it increasingly difficult to resist his charms.
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Seitenzahl: 478
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2011
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Angels at War
FREDA LIGHTFOOT
Angels at War
Contents
Chapter One
1910
Livia gave up wrestling with an endless sleepless night, climbed from her bed and went to the window to watch the sun rise over Castle Hill. The sky was a lovely apricot streaked with powder blue, with not a cloud in sight, a perfect day for a wedding. Yet she felt quite unable to appreciate its beauty. The gentle gurgling of the River Kent failed to soothe her, and the sound of the church bell tolling six o’clock, only filled her with trepidation.
Wasn’t a girl supposed to feel happy and joyful on her wedding day? Then why did she have this dreadful sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, as if she stood on the brink of a precipice, about to fall? She was marrying Jack Flint, for goodness sake, whom she loved, didn’t she? They had lived together, despite the gossip their relationship created, for more than a year now, so why was she suddenly experiencing these doubts?
Not that they had spent this night under the same roof. Jack was staying with a friend, and Livia with her sister and brother-in-law in a rented house on Gooseholme, as convention dictated. Their family home, Angel House, had been sold following the death of their father.
The door of her bedroom creaked open and Ella slipped in, as if on cue. Putting her arm about her sister, she hugged her close. ‘I heard you moving about. Couldn’t you sleep?’
Livia cast her a bleak look. ‘Am I supposed to feel like this, all sick and in the glums? I feel dreadful, as if I want to take to my heels and run as fast and as far away from that church as I can.’
Ella laughed. ‘It’s only pre-wedding nerves. Perfectly normal, I’m sure. At least you’re already in love with Jack, and he absolutely adores you. You have a head start on when I faced marriage with a complete stranger. I’d never even met Amos until our wedding day, if you recall, and would not have agreed to the match but for Father’s bullying. Yet it has turned out all right in the end, as you can see. I was fortunate enough to fall in love with my own husband.’
Livia kissed her sister’s cheek. ‘I’m so glad. I could never bear for you to be unhappy. You are happy in the farm at Kentmere, aren’t you, Ella?’
‘As content as a bug in a rug,’ she laughed. ‘Not that we allow any of those in our house. We have almost brought Todd Farm into the twentieth century, would you believe? We have running water now, a decent cooking range, a boiler that works. It’s a veritable paradise of modernity. Almost!’
Livia was laughing with her, remembering how very different it had been when her sister had first gone to live in that remote dale.
‘And the children are well?’
‘My step children are in excellent health, thank you. Mary is happy in her new job in service, and Emmett and Tilda are doing well at school. And I absolutely adore them.’ A shadow flitted across Ella’s face. ‘Oh, but Livvy, I would so like a child of my own. I cannot think why I haven’t quickened with one already.’
‘I’m sure it will happen if you don’t allow yourself to worry too much, and become too tense. Where’s the rush? You are young yet.’
Ella said nothing more, knowing her sister didn’t understand this yearning she had to hold a child of her own. She ushered Livia into a chair and started to brush the long glossy titian hair, her gaze drifting to the wedding gown of crisp lace that hung upon the wardrobe door. ‘You will make a beautiful bride, dearest. I shall lend you a pretty garter for the something borrowed, and the blue must be your gentian eyes. Then we just need something old and something new.’
‘What nonsense you do talk, Ella. There’s really no need for all this fuss, the veil will cover most of my hair in any case.’
Ella was outraged. ‘Of course there’s a need for fuss. It’s your wedding day!’
Whereupon Livia bolted for the bathroom, returning some time later looking wan and peaky.
Ella was instantly concerned. ‘Were you sick?’
Livia shook her head. ‘Almost. I told you this was all a mistake. I’m really not the marrying sort.’
‘Nonsense. Are you sure you aren’t pregnant?’
‘Absolutely certain! I have no wish to start breeding yet, thank you very much, and take every care not to.’
Ella’s eyes widened as she gave an impish smile. ‘You don’t use methods?’
Livia laughed. ‘Of course I do. If a person is determined to be unconventional in their choice of lifestyle, one has to take precautions. And I will continue to do so, even with a ring on my finger.’
‘What does Jack have to say about that?’
Livia blew out a puff of air, looking more confident than she actually felt. ‘I haven’t asked him, nor shall I.’
Ella looked shocked. ‘I think you should. Husband and wife ought to decide these things together.’
Livia only grinned. ‘I’ll let him know when I’m good and ready to start a family, and not before.’
‘Don’t be too set against it, dearest. Nothing is foolproof.’
‘I’m trusting that these methods, as you call them, will be. I have other plans which need attention before I tie myself down with nappies and pushing perambulators. Which reminds me, I must pop in to see the solicitor this morning.’
Ella looked outraged. ‘You won’t have time, the ceremony is booked for eleven.’
‘Don’t be silly, there’s plenty of time.’
‘Well, at least let me finish your hair first.’ Ella began to twist rose buds amongst the pinned curls. ‘You aren’t still intending to work at the store, are you?’
‘I most certainly am. As you are all too aware, we were left with massive debts when our late, unlamented father died and was declared bankrupt. It has long been my dream to become involved in the family business, and I’ve no intention of being bullied by anyone who tries to make me give it up, particularly if that someone is a man. Never again.’
Both girls fell silent, recalling the harsh brutality of their upbringing and the strap Joshua Angel would inflict upon his daughters whenever he wished to bend them to his will, sometimes punishing one in order to control the other. And when they were most obstinate, he would lock them in a cage high in his turret room. An icy shiver ran down Livia’s spine as she recalled the fear and the pain she’d experienced, even though she was safe now from his malice. Ella kissed her pale cheek, knowing only too well how her sister’s thoughts ran.
‘You were saying, about the store.’
Livia gave herself a mental shake. ‘Oh! Yes! Mr Blamire, the solicitor, has spent months in negotiations and legal complexities, the family business hanging on by a thread, but now it’s ready to reopen. It will be hard work, and I admit I know nothing about running a department store, but I fully intend to bring it into profit, pay off the debts, and make us all some money in the end.’
‘Does Jack approve of this plan?’
Livia screwed up her nose. ‘Let’s say I’m working on him.’
‘Oh, Livia, let it go. Why don’t you just sell up and stop fretting about it.’
‘Because as it stands the store would never realise its true value. We’d lose everything and still have debts. How would that serve us? In any case, I feel a responsibility towards the staff. They deserve to keep their jobs as there are precious few of those around. Besides, I need to pursue my dream. You have your farm and the children. I shall have the store. I must salvage something from the mess Father left.’
Their conversation was halted while a maid brought them hot coffee, soft rolls and bacon for breakfast. Then Livia indulged herself with a long soak in the huge Victorian bath tub in the luxury of a built-in bathroom. She lay back in the warm, jasmine scented bubbles, taking care not to disturb her hair or Ella would never forgive her. She gently soaped her arms and breasts with the flannel, worrying over how her life was about to change, and if she should allow that to happen.
What if Jack did expect her to start a family the moment the ring was on her finger? Would it be so very hard to postpone her dream a little longer, just to please him? Livia knew that it would be very hard indeed. Father had been resolute in his determination not to allow her to work in the store, almost scathing of her request:
‘What could you do, pray?’
‘I’m good with figures,’ she’d told him, ‘so perhaps I could help with the accounts?’
That was the last thing he’d wanted, of course, to have his own daughter poke her nose into his financial affairs, and discover how he had wasted money on gambling and his mistresses.
Livia had ploughed on. ‘If not in the accounts department, then perhaps I may present myself for an interview with Miss Caraway? I’d be happy to work as a shop assistant, and would insist on being treated exactly the same as the other girls, naturally.’
He’d seemed to find this highly amusing, telling her how coddled and spoilt she’d been by her late mother, which wasn’t true at all. Then he’d coldly informed her that her purpose in life, like that of any well-brought up young woman, was to marry, and by so doing further the interests and longevity of her family.
But Livia had stubbornly resisted every effort on his part to marry her off, particularly to the dreadful Henry Hodson, so why was she now willingly putting her own head in the noose?
Oh, but she did love Jack, didn’t she? She wanted their marriage to be happy.
Livia remembered the day she’d first met Jack Flint at Ella’s own wedding nearly three years ago. Despite taking issue with this stranger for intruding on a private event, she hadn’t been able to tear her eyes from his. He had lovely eyes, like polished mahogany. But then Jack Flint was disturbingly good-looking with a mane of dark brown hair and stubble on his jutting jaw. Even in plain fustian trousers, and a crumpled tweed jacket that had seen better days, he’d clearly been a man to reckon with. The proud tilt of his head, the way he’d lounged before her with his hands in his pockets, had loudly declared a supreme indifference to convention. He was a man determined to be intimidated by no one, no matter what their station in life.
Jack Flint might be classed by some as a troublemaker and a rabble-rouser, a man ready to do battle with the landlords and bosses, insisting rents be reduced, or wages improved. Yet Livia knew him also to be a caring man who looked after his mother, Jessie, his many siblings, and herself when she needed it, with infinite care.
They came from the opposite ends of the social spectrum. Was this what had first attracted her to him, but now concerned her? No, she swiftly refuted this notion. Such niceties as social standing had never bothered Livia in the slightest. They’d once mattered to Ella, although even her sister had tempered her views since marriage to a farmer.
But married or not, she surely deserved to realise her own ambitions, particularly now that her father was gone.
Livia stepped out of the bath, hastily rubbed herself dry with a towel and pulled on a skirt and blouse. It was still only eight o’clock, plenty of time to talk to dear old Blamire before the ceremony. Marriage, she told herself firmly, would make absolutely no difference to her hopes and dreams.
Mr Blamire was delighted to see her and ordered coffee and biscuits to be brought in by his dull and dusty clerk.
‘I really don’t have time.’ Livia glanced at the fob watch attached to her belt. ‘I just wanted to get those papers you mentioned duly signed.’
‘Do not fret, dear lady. We will not allow you to be late for your wedding.’
Dear lady! Had the old fellow at last accepted that little Livvy had grown up, even though she was now five and twenty? With his rotund figure, and more hair in the form of moustache, white whiskers and bristling eyebrows than on his bald pate, he looked very much the epitome of a man of law. And if his ponderous way of going about business sometimes drove Livia mad with impatience and frustration, she also knew him to be sound and scrupulous in his dealings. He had been the Angel family’s solicitor for as long as she could remember, and was honest to a fault.
She cleared her throat, tightened her resolve, and wasted no time in getting down to business. ‘Am I right in assuming that we will soon be in a position to reopen the department store? If so, then I would wish to be a part of it. It is my inheritance, after all, and as the eldest of the Angel sisters, I have no wish to evade my responsibility.’ It wasn’t quite what she’d meant to say, but it was near enough.
The old solicitor gave her a kindly smile. ‘There’s really no need for you to concern yourself, dear lady. We have the matter entirely in hand.’
‘We? I’m not sure I understand.’
‘You, a mere girl, cannot be expected to take responsibility for running such a large enterprise.’
She itched to remind the lawyer that thanks to Mrs Pankhurst, women were exercising their rights a great deal these days, but managed to restrain herself. ‘I’m twenty-five, Mr Blamire, and a married woman.’ Again she glanced at her watch. ‘Or will be in one hour and thirty minutes.’
He peered at her over the rim of his spectacles, as if to make quite certain that she was no longer the pretty little thing he remembered. ‘Indeed, but such a large business would be beyond the skills of a young lady such as yourself.’
‘I don’t see why—’
Mr Blamire carried on talking as if she had not spoken. ‘There is in fact someone here today whom I would very much like you to meet.’
It was then that she noticed someone else had entered the room, and was standing quietly behind her. ‘Allow me to introduce you to your new manager.’
Livia was tall, used to looking people in the eye, but this man towered several inches above her. She found herself looking up into a face not handsome in any conventional sense, yet possessing a certain quality which would no doubt attract the less discerning female. Maybe any sort of female, Livia conceded, as she felt an undeniable frisson shiver down her spine. A shock of dark brown hair which had clearly defeated all attempts to keep it in place, fell in untidy curls across a broad brow. And a faint fan of tired lines radiated from the corners of dark grey eyes, which were regarding her with shameless curiosity.
He held out a large, square hand. ‘Matthew Grayson. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Angel.’ His mouth, she noticed, had a slight twist to it, as if he were smiling at some private joke. Had he expected to find some frowsty old spinster?
Ignoring the outstretched hand Livia half turned to again address the solicitor. ‘I do not recall issuing any instructions to appoint a manager.’
‘Mr Grayson has excellent credentials, and, as I have explained, dear lady, the business needs a firm hand of experience if it is to survive.’
Despite his bluster, Blamire quailed slightly beneath the frost of her glare. Livia was thinking fast. Was he right? It was certainly true that she had absolutely no experience in running even a small shop, let alone a whole department store, and the situation was precarious. Yet she was struggling to damp down the disappointment that burnt deep inside her.
‘You may well be right to make such an arrangement,’ she managed. ‘At least for the moment.’ Livia was making every attempt to be gracious, her gloved fingers tapping thoughtfully together.
Blamire expelled a long breath of relief, while the gentleman himself said, ‘Perhaps you would care to examine my references.’
‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary. I should welcome your input, Mr Grayson,’ she icily informed him as she at last accepted the proffered hand. His grip was firm and warm, taking possession of hers as if he owned the right to it, and Livia felt a strange regret when he let it go.
‘Perhaps later, after you have partaken of your lunch, you may care to view the changes I have made already, now that we are again open for business.’
Livia had been about to snap that she was not at all the kind of person who had little to do with her day beyond partake of lunch, even when it was not her wedding day, when his last words registered. ‘Open? The store is already open and no one has thought fit to inform me?’
The old solicitor, looking decidedly flustered, quickly intervened. ‘My dear lady, I didn’t wish to trouble you. You were busy with your wedding arrangements.’
‘I’m sure I could have found the time to attend such a momentous occasion.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ Grayson smoothly apologised, plucking a stray rosebud that had escaped the confines of her sensible hat and was lolling by her ear. ‘I’m surprised you have time to discuss business at all, in the circumstances. Isn’t a wedding day the highlight of a woman’s life?’
Livia snatched the flower from his hand, feeling a burst of irritation at his evident amusement. She could tell by the suppressed laughter in his eyes that he was enjoying her discomfiture. ‘For some women, perhaps. You should appreciate, Mr Grayson, that your job is but temporary until Angel’s reaches firmer ground.’
‘He is on a two year contract,’ put in Blamire hastily. ‘With an option to renew for a further year, naturally. By which time I predict the business should be on its feet. I trust that is satisfactory to you both?’
Livia glared at the solicitor as if it were anything but. ‘I shall visit tomorrow and …’
Grayson’s eyebrows shot up into his unruly hair. ‘The day after your wedding? Do you not have better things to do?’
Livia ignored the remark. ‘… and would naturally welcome any suggestions you may have.’ She wanted to make it absolutely clear from the start that she had no intention of being sidelined.
‘I understood I would be working alone, and fully in charge.’ The teasing tone had vanished, the voice now dangerously low, with a timbre to it which indicated he was a man used to getting his own way.
Livia looked away, not quite meeting his gaze, which was alarmingly direct. But if he thought he could order her about, he would soon realise his mistake. The arrogance of the man, opening the store – her store – without so much as informing her, without even issuing an invitation for her to attend.
‘I fear you have been misled,’ she caustically informed him, forcing herself to look at him. ‘Perhaps Mr Blamire misunderstood, but I intend to be fully involved in the business, and take control of it myself just as soon as I can.’
The iris of his eyes were rimmed with green around the dark grey, she noticed with surprise, but did not in any way warm his gaze as they now matched her own for frost. ‘And what experience do you have, Miss Angel?’
‘None whatsoever, but I’m a quick learner. I’m quite sure I won’t find it difficult to get the hang of things, at which point your services will no longer be required.’
He laughed, and the sound shocked her even more than the challenging glitter in those beguiling eyes.
Mr Blamire, she noticed, was frantically pouring coffee into china cups, desperately attempting to offer her one. She made no move to take it. ‘Have I said something funny?’
‘Not at all. I do, however, have a suggestion to make. If you are to learn the business, may I suggest that you begin, as does everyone else, on the shop floor. I believe a Miss Caraway is responsible for recruiting the female shop assistants. I recommend you speak to her about a job.’
‘Shop assistant?’ Livia repeated, in the kind of tone she might use to describe a woman of the streets.
Twin brows rose in quizzical enquiry. ‘Too grand are we for menial work? Not quite what you had in mind?’
Livia was instantly ashamed, and furious with herself for making the slip. She hadn’t meant it at all as it had sounded. ‘I was surprised, that’s all. I rather anticipated a more … administrative role, since I do own the store after all. Nevertheless, I’m more than ready for the challenge.’
‘I think you’ve made your status very clear, although ownership could easily change, of course, if the business fails to thrive.’
A long, breathless silence as she glared at him. ‘Is that meant to be some sort of threat? Are you planning a takeover?’
He was smiling at her again with that air of quiet amusement, and gave a slight shrug, almost as if he couldn’t care less what the outcome was. Livia wasn’t fooled by this show of unconcern. He was as sharp as a drawer full of knives.
‘I shall look forward to watching your progress,’ he said, holding that infuriating smile. Then turning his back, he politely declined the cup of coffee saying he had work to attend to, and graciously thanking the solicitor, presumably for securing him the post in the first place, he strode from the room without a backward glance. Livia watched him go, open-mouthed.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘Well! What an insufferable man.’
‘But highly qualified, dear lady, as I said. I’m sure he will do all he can to save Angel’s Department Store.’
‘We shall see, Mr Blamire. We shall see.’
Chapter Two
By the time Livia returned to the house on Gooseholme, Ella was in a lather of panic, running hither and thither in her smart powder blue two-piece costume, fussing and fretting over the children, the food, the carriage waiting at the door, but most of all the fact that Livia was going to be late for her own wedding. She pounced upon her sister the moment she walked through the door.
‘There you are, at last!’
Livia glanced at her fob watch. ‘There’s ample time yet, a whole—’
‘Fifteen minutes. You have fifteen minutes to get dressed,’ Ella scolded, pushing her up the stairs.
Livia went, albeit with a heavy heart. What was the matter with her? What was it she wanted? The wedding was to be a small, quiet affair, as they had little in the way of family, although there would be quite a few friends present. The excited squeals of the children told her that someone at least seemed to be in a mood to celebrate.
‘Is Mercy here yet?’
Ella helped Livia into her bridal gown, smoothed the close fitting sleeves, fluffed out the ruched swirls of skirt and began fastening the long row of pearl buttons down the back. ‘She’ll meet us at the church, with George. They’ve stayed home as long as they could to look after the farm, then they’ll leave it in Tom Mounsey’s capable hands for the rest of the day.’
Mercy was their half-sister, being the illegitimate child of Joshua Angel’s one-time mistress, a fact that had resulted in a huge chip on the girl’s shoulder, not least because he had banished her to the workhouse for a time. Livia was rather fond of the girl, difficult and prickly though she undoubtedly was, but wondered if her gloom meant she was still in mourning for her other, beloved sister.
‘Oh, I do so miss Maggie. There should be three Angel sisters here today.’
‘There are.’
‘You know what I mean. There should be four of us then.’ Livia’s eyes filled with a sudden rush of tears. ‘How can I possibly be getting married without darling Maggie?’
Ella put her arms about her. ‘Because she would expect you to go on, to look forward and not back. Maggie will live in our hearts forever, even if she did tragically choose to end her own life. We can still love her, and remember her.’
‘How could we ever forget? Our father drove her to do what she did.’
‘This isn’t the moment for such morbid thoughts, dearest. Now wipe those tears, brides are expected to look radiant.’
More guests arrived with yet more hugs and tears, Ella’s stepchildren racing around and a great deal of noise and commotion, love and good wishes. Livia was deeply relieved when they all went off to the church and left her alone with Amos, who was to give her away.
She felt oddly awkward and over-dressed in her lace wedding gown with its fussy frills and long train, being the kind of person who much preferred to be in her old gardening skirt, or out on her bicycle in bloomers. And her spirits hadn’t lifted. What was she doing? Why was she even thinking of giving up on her dream? How could she build a modern, vibrant business if she became Jack’s wife, expected to keep house and be the mother of his children, which he would undoubtedly want?
Amos, her usually stoic brother-in-law, sensed this fear in her but misinterpreted it. Taking her hand, he very gently kissed it. ‘My dear, you look absolutely stunning. If Jack isn’t already in love with you, he’ll fall head over heels at first sight of your incomparable beauty.’
‘Oh, stop your flattery! You are making me blush.’
Amos smiled. ‘Good, a bride should be rosy-cheeked and happy on her wedding day.’
Livia’s heart twisted with fresh doubts. ‘Oh, please don’t, Amos. Let’s go. The sooner this whole stupid performance is over, the better.’
The carriage drew up outside the parish church in Kirkland, to be met by a small group of well-wishers, all with smiling faces, seemingly much happier than the bride herself. She could smell autumn leaves and that indefinable churchyard smell that so reminded her of death. Maggie had lost the will to pursue her dreams once she’d found herself pregnant by her own father, and who could blame her? She was the victim of a tragedy not of her own making. The horror of that traumatic time had left its mark on Livia. It was true what Ella said. Maggie would want her to be happy.
Livia thought of the meeting she’d just had with the solicitor, and the new manager who had so arrogantly taken over.
In that moment the certainty came to her that she couldn’t yet relinquish her freedom. Livia knew instinctively that when Jack slid the ring onto the third finger of her left hand, it would feel as if it were a shackle of iron instead of a band of gold.
‘Please, Amos, I would like you to ask Jack if he would step outside for a moment. There’s something I need to say to him.’
Patiently waiting to help her down from the carriage, Amos looked shocked, as well he might. ‘It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony.’
She looked at him with sadness in her eyes. ‘There isn’t going to be any ceremony. I can’t do this, Amos. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, my dear girl.’
‘Don’t say another word. Fetch Jack.’
It was perhaps just as well that her would-be-husband showed no sign of being overwhelmed by her ‘incomparable beauty’ as he hurried to meet her at the church gate. But then Jack Flint wasn’t the romantic type. After Livia had said her piece, he stared at her thunderstruck. ‘Say that again.’
Livia wiped away a tear that had rolled unchecked down her cheek. ‘I’m so sorry Jack, but I can’t marry you. It’s not that I don’t love you, or want us to part. I would simply prefer for us to carry on as we are.’
Two heartbeats passed before he responded, his face pale. ‘I thought you wanted to be respectable, and to start a family.’
She began to unpin her veil, the rosebuds that Ella had so carefully pinned in place falling out onto the church path. The sight of the flowers brought to mind another face, one that was pale with a wide brow and long straight nose, quizzical grey eyes rimmed with green, and a shock of unruly dark brown hair. A face she shouldn’t even remember after so short an acquaintance.
Livia took a shaky breath, all too aware of curious onlookers hovering close, deeply engrossed by this small drama. ‘You were the one wanting a family, and why should I care what people think of me when I’ve already been the subject of gossip for years? Everyone sees me as eccentric and unconventional, so why disappoint them? Some even see me as immoral, but then they probably never met my father so don’t properly understand the meaning of the word.’ She half laughed, but Jack didn’t join in. He didn’t seem to find her comments in the least amusing.
‘You’ve made a fool out of me.’
‘No, of course I haven’t. Perhaps I’m saving us both from what could be a dreadful mistake. Marrying to please convention is not a good reason.’
‘I thought you loved me.’
‘I do.’
‘Just not enough.’
Livia felt panic crawl over her skin like cold sweat. ‘I don’t want to lose you, Jack. I’m just not ready for all of this – this family stuff that Ella so adores. What do I know of happy families? Think of the example set me by my own parents.’
‘You’re likening me to your devil of a father now, are you?’ His fury was palpable, but then she’d hurt his pride badly.
‘No, no, but please try to understand. We’re both radicals, you and I. Free spirits with a strong desire for independence.’
‘I’m entitled to feel that way, as a man.’
‘Why should being a woman make me any less entitled?’ Aware of the rage building in him, she quickly changed tack. ‘But this isn’t the moment for politics. I just know I need more time.’ She put out a hand to touch him but he brushed it away.
‘People will say you jilted me, right at the altar.’
‘No, that’s not true. That’s why I asked you to come outside. I’ve no wish to leave you, Jack, or break your heart. I still love you. We can go on exactly as we were.’ The lace veil was screwed into a ball in her hands as she desperately tried to make her point. ‘Can we go home now, please?’
He glared at her for another long moment. ‘No, we damn well can’t go home. There’s a couple of dozen people inside that church expecting a wedding. The least we can do is feed them.’ And turning on his heel he strode furiously away.
A cold collation was provided for the somewhat subdued guests in the church hall, although surprisingly Jack’s friends didn’t seem in the least concerned by the unexpected turn of events. They grew louder by the minute, singing and carousing as they became ever more tipsy. Livia went over to tenderly kiss his cheek.
‘Don’t imbibe too much, sweetheart.’
He looked at her, somewhat bleary-eyed. ‘Why? Are you suggesting I’m not man enough to satisfy my wife after a pint or two? Ah, but you’re not my wife, are you? I was forgetting.’ He hiccupped loudly, then added with a sly wink, ‘I’ve not been a laggard in that direction so far, have I? And if you’re still willing, I certainly am.’ He laughed, rather crudely, then pulling her on to his knee, captured her mouth in a kiss that went on for so long all his mates were clapping and cheering. By the time he released her Livia was left hot and breathless, and deeply embarrassed.
He smacked her backside. ‘Now go and refill my tankard with good strong ale, and bring my friends another slice each of that expensive wedding cake before the toffs eat it all.’
‘Jack—’ she half protested, but he interrupted her.
‘Begone, woman … mistress … whatever you are. We’re still allowed to enjoy ourselves, aren’t we, even if you won’t wed me? You could try smiling a bit more yourself.’
Cheeks burning with shame, Livia relayed these instructions to a passing waiter. And even if the smile on her flushed face became increasingly fixed as the afternoon progressed, she dutifully mingled with her guests, politely thanked them all for coming, apologised profusely for the inconvenience she had caused them, and promised to speedily return their generous gifts.
Livia had been striving to avoid Ella for some hours, but her sister finally caught up with her, grabbed her firmly by the wrist and dragged her outside. ‘Let’s walk by the river. You and I need to talk.’
‘There’s nothing to say, Ella dearest. My mind is made up. Besides, it’s too late. The decision is made.’
Ella’s blue eyes glittered with anger in the pale afternoon light, the distant mountains shrouded in mist, looking as cold and miserable as Livia felt at heart. ‘What do you think you’re doing? Have you run mad? You love Jack. You’ve lived with him for how long? Over a year?’
Livia shrugged. ‘Something of the sort. Look, I’ve no excuses to offer, except that it didn’t feel right. You know I’ve had reservations all along. I’m happy with things the way they are. I just want everything to stay the same. What’s wrong with that? Now let’s get back inside. It’s about to rain.’ She half turned away but Ella grabbed her arm and gave it a little shake.
‘You realise you’ve broken his heart.’
Livia managed a laugh. ‘Don’t be silly. Jack is a strong, independent man. His feelings for me occupy only a small part of his life. Besides, as I say, I’m not leaving him. We’ll carry on exactly as we were.’
‘I think you’ll find that impossible. Jack wouldn’t have agreed to a marriage in the first place if he wasn’t keen on the idea. He wants a family and—’
‘Not that again, Ella. Babies are your passion, not mine.’
Livia had heard enough and began to walk away, just as the rain started to fall. Ella ran to catch up with her and both sisters were half-soaked by the time they reached the church hall. Even so, Ella put a staying hand on her arm. ‘Be warned, things will be different between you. This decision will change everything. Nothing will be the same ever again.’
‘No, you’re wrong.’
Livia marched back inside, head held high, and glanced across the room at the man she had just refused to marry. He still stood propping up the bar with his chums, and in that moment Livia wondered if perhaps her sister might be right. Had she hurt more than his pride? Would he ever forgive her? He would certainly be well in his cups by the time they got home this evening. But then she hadn’t expected romance, not after rejecting him at the last moment like this. He mightn’t even wish to share her bed, then she would be the one left hurting. Livia could hardly bear to contemplate losing him.
Dear lord, what had she done?
As suspected, by the time Jack arrived home, having sunk his anger and disappointment with rather more beer and wine than he should, Livia had been fast asleep. Now it was morning and while she was up and about early, fetching water, riddling some heat into the fire, and preparing sandwiches for his snap tin, Jack was still snoring his head off. So much for his deciding not to take an extra day off work, she thought. She glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf, its fingers almost at seven o’clock, and dug him in the ribs.
‘Get a move on, lad, or you’re going to be late for work.’
Jack was a labourer on a building site, having lost his job some time ago at the stocking factory, and even this work was hit and miss, very much dependent on the changeable Lakeland weather.
‘Look sharp about it.’ She tickled his nose with a feather, then when that failed, kissed him tenderly on the lips. He smelt of stale beer and cigarettes but Livia didn’t mind. He was her man and she loved him still, despite what some might call her odd decision yesterday.
One eye opened, then another as slowly he focused on her gaze, then grabbing her around the waist, he pulled her onto the bed with him, making her squeal. Livia laughingly struggled to free herself even as she showered his face with kisses, delighted he still wanted her.
‘There’s no time for that now. It’s gone seven. You’ve less than half an hour to get to the building site on the other side of town.’
Ignoring her protests Jack kissed her long and deep. A warmth spread through her, deep in her belly, and she forgot all about his needing to go to work, or her annoyance over his drinking too much. Maybe he had good reason. It even flickered across her mind that her decision yesterday may have been a bad one, after all. But the kiss ended all too soon, and he was giving her one of his rueful grins. ‘I messed up in some way, didn’t I? Not good enough for you. Too stupid. Too poor. That’s why you wouldn’t go through with it.’
‘That’s not it at all.’
‘So why won’t you marry me then?’
Livia sighed, struggling to extricate herself from his hold. ‘I explained all of that. This is not about you, it’s about me. I’m just not ready for marriage and babies yet. Anyway, why can’t we have a free-thinking union on equal terms? No ceremony, just a promise.’ She kissed him again, wanting him, needing him to forgive her, but he brushed her aside, reached for his shirt to pull it over his head.
‘Who brought me home?’
‘I’ve no idea. I was fast asleep.’
‘Hardly matters in the circumstances, does it?’ His tone had changed, taking on a bitter edge. ‘It wouldn’t have been a proper wedding night even if we’d gone through with it, would it, since we’ve been together so long?’
‘You mean I wouldn’t have been a trembling virgin waiting for my man.’
He shrugged, concentrating on tucking his shirt into his trousers, saying nothing.
‘Would you have preferred a virgin for a wife?’
‘I would have preferred you, but you turned me down.’ Then he snatched up his cap and jacket and strode to the door.
Livia leapt from the bed to run after him with his satchel and snap tin. She wanted desperately to make him understand her point of view. ‘You know I saw Mr Blamire yesterday?’
He turned to frown at her, his hand on the door knob. ‘What for? I thought your father’s affairs were all settled.’
‘They are, except for the store, which has reopened. You know we once talked of—’
Jack interrupted, looking suddenly exasperated. ‘You aren’t still thinking of trying to run it yourself?’
Livia gave a half shrug. ‘Why would I not? It belongs to my family. The responsibility for all those staff is mine. Besides, I need to earn some money so we can get out of this place. Maybe then, when I’ve got things running smoothly at the store, we can think again about marriage.’
She could see at once it had been the wrong thing to say. Jack stepped back into the room, his face darkening with anger, his tone dangerously soft. ‘Is there something wrong with Fellside? Think yourself too grand, do you, for the home I can provide, is that it?’
‘Don’t be silly, Jack. I’m not saying that at all. Fellside, and you, have been kind to me. But we aren’t intending to spend our entire lives here.’
‘Plenty do.’
‘Not willingly. You know full well this is the roughest, poorest part of Kendal. Your own mother was eager enough to move to Staveley, to set up her knitting business.’
Livia glanced about her at the loft, strangely empty now that Jessie and her children had moved out. Even the loom that had once taken up more than half the available living space, the boxes of yarn, the finished cloth and stockings that had occupied every corner that wasn’t already filled with a sleeping child, had gone. The Flint family had barely earned enough money to feed themselves and had constantly struggled to pay the increases in rent inflicted upon them by Josiah Angel, her own father. Yet when she’d finally walked out of her own home, blaming that same father for Maggie’s suicide, Jessie had given up her own bed to Livia. The old woman had opened her heart and home to a perfect stranger without a second’s hesitation.
Her son had welcomed her for a different reason. Now he was telling her that she could do the place up. ‘You could make curtains, give it a lick of paint. Make it nice for us. You’ll have time now you’re no longer working on the loom all day.’
‘Is that supposed to satisfy me? Sewing curtains, tidying up, washing and ironing. And why are men never expected to “make things nice”? Why shouldn’t women try to find a way out too? Where’s the harm in having aspirations to better ourselves? Once I get things going we could rent a house on Gooseholme, or in one of Kendal’s yards.’ Livia smiled, reaching up to kiss his cheek, but he jerked his face away.
‘I haven’t time to listen to all this nonsense. Some of us have a living to earn,’ and turning on his heel, he stormed off down the stairs.
Exasperated with this display of stubborn hypocrisy, Livia called after him. ‘Exactly, so what’s wrong with my earning a living too? It never bothered you before when I helped Jessie with the knitting.’
‘That was different, you were no good at it,’ he shouted back. ‘And you weren’t my wife then.’
‘I’m not your wife now, and maybe never will be at this rate!’ Almost the moment the words were out of her mouth, Livia wanted to pull them back. They were met with a long silence, followed by the slam of the door.
Chapter Three
Livia had always enjoyed visiting the store and paused before entering to allow herself time to carefully examine the window display. ‘Still too overcrowded and busy,’ she muttered to herself. Every corner was crammed with goods: linen tablecloths and pillow slips, a blue Chinese dinner service, ladies wraps and furs, gloves, shoes and capes jostling with golf bags and gentleman’s check socks, autumn sweaters and summer straw hats. Even the season was unclear, as if heralding in a new one while still trying to catch up on lost summer trade. Nothing was ticketed, and the entire muddle overlooked by mannequins with knobs for heads dressed in frilled frocks more suited to a garden party than a cool September day.
So much for Grayson’s qualifications in window dressing.
Livia had resolved to waste no time in presenting herself that very afternoon before the redoubtable Miss Caraway, looked upon as something of a dragon by the staff. She’d no idea whether the work would be easy or not, and Jack was right when he said she’d been useless at helping Jessie with the knitting and weaving. Hopefully, shopkeeping was much less complicated than trying to operate a loom, or a knitting pin?
Filled with new optimism and a firm belief in herself, Livia pushed open the door and went inside. At all cost she meant to hold fast to her dreams.
She glanced about her, wondering where Miss Caraway might be, or if one of the many page boys in white gloves might point her in the right direction. As ever she found herself watching, fascinated, as an esteemed customer was met at the door by the principal floorwalker in his smart morning suit. Bowing deferentially, he exchanged a few polite words, presumably to ascertain madam’s requirements, before escorting her to a counter. Once he’d ensured that she was comfortably seated, and after yet more obsequious bows, he left her in the proficient care of a shop assistant.
‘What a lot of fuss,’ Livia muttered to herself. ‘Why can’t a customer be left free to explore the store and view the goods on her own, without interference?’
‘Because it would be entirely lacking in dignity and taste not to attend upon a customer with proper decorum. And most presumptuous of Angel’s to assume a customer would be unable to resist whatever she chances to find.’
Startled, not realising that she’d actually voiced her thoughts out loud, Livia found herself face to face with the dragon herself. ‘Oh, Miss Caraway. I didn’t see you standing there.’
‘Clearly not.’
Blushing to the roots of her hair, Livia instantly and profusely apologised for her careless remarks, claiming complete ignorance in such matters.
Miss Caraway tartly agreed, biting her tongue against further comment as she was all too aware that she could hardly reprove the owner of the premises for voicing her opinion on it.
Before she quite lost courage entirely, Livia asked if she might have a word. ‘In private, if you please.’
‘I was warned you may be calling,’ Miss Caraway archly remarked, with what might pass for a smile.
Livia was led into a room little bigger than a broom cupboard. This was evidently Miss Caraway’s private sanctum, stuffed as it was from floor to ceiling with catalogues, dress patterns and order books. It also contained a table piled high with rolls of fabric, but no chair, so Livia was obliged to stand. It was only now, faced with bringing her dream to reality, that it occurred to her it wasn’t simply from ambition that she was about to ask for a job, but necessity. Yet not for the world would she allow this woman to know how desperately she and Jack needed the money.
Clasping her hands tightly before her, she faced the woman feared by all who worked at the store. How she managed it Livia could never afterwards recall, but she put forward her request to be taken on as a shop assistant in something of a breathless rush, making it very plain that she wished to be treated exactly the same as the other girls.
It was quite obvious that the woman had been primed in advance, no doubt by the new manager, as Miss Caraway coolly remarked that she saw no reason to deny her this opportunity. ‘Normally I would require references, and a good deal of information concerning previous experience. Obviously, that will not be necessary in your own case. If Mr Grayson has no objections, then neither do I.’
It was on the tip of Livia’s tongue to cuttingly remark that she did not need Grayson’s permission, but she managed to stop herself in time. She’d no idea what the extent of her own powers were, in legal terms, and the business was undeniably in dire straits.
‘I shall look forward to welcoming you onto the staff,’ Miss Caraway was saying. ‘I assume you will continue to live at home.’
‘I’m currently making enquiries about renting a house close by.’
The door opened and Grayson himself stood there, filling the tiny office with his towering presence. ‘I think not. Miss Angel will reside in the living quarters above the store, along with the other shop girls.’
‘Oh, but—’ Livia began to protest, it not having occurred to her this might be a requirement, but he kept on talking, giving her no time to finish.
‘Miss Angel will live with everyone else, at least until she’s reached her objective of learning how this store operates. And since she informs me that she is a quick learner and will soon get the hang of things, she will not be inconvenienced for long, I’m sure. Remember she is to be treated exactly the same as every other employee, is that not so?’
Livia spoke through gritted teeth. ‘It is exactly as I would wish.’
Livia knew Jack would not be pleased at the prospect of her living away from home, on top of everything else she’d inflicted upon him in the last few days. She would simply have to convince him that it was worth the sacrifice. In fact, she couldn’t wait to get started.
She made a great fuss of him that evening, cooking him a delicious supper of pork chops followed by rice pudding. Afterwards they made love with a sweet tenderness, all quarrels forgotten. It was almost like their early days together.
And then she told him.
As anticipated, he did not take it well. ‘So all that talk of a free-thinking union was just so you could move out, was it?’
‘No, of course not. This is only temporary.’
‘Because you’ve taken against Fellside?’
‘It wasn’t my choice, it’s the rules.’
‘Rules? You own the flipping store. You can make your own rules.’
‘No, I can’t. Well, in theory I suppose I could. In practice the store hovers on the brink of disaster. Try to understand, Jack, I need to do this, and I need to do it right. There’s a great deal to learn, so it’s probably better that I live on the premises. It’s only for a short time, I promise you. And I’ll be home on Sundays, and Thursdays of course, which is closing day.’
‘I’ll mark it on my calendar,’ Jack drily remarked, never having owned such an item.
Livia sighed. ‘Why did you want to marry me, Jack?’
He glowered at her. ‘You know why. I like having family about me, and I wanted one of my own.’
‘You miss Jessie and the children.’
‘Course I do. It’s like a morgue round here without them.’
‘Is that what it was all about? You thought, why not marry Livia and have a few children of our own to give the place a bit of life.’
‘You know it isn’t. I want to bind to you, as is only right and proper. But even if it were, what’s wrong with that?’ he shouted.
‘Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with that at all.’ Livia was forced to concede that, poor as he was, Jack had always enjoyed a loving, happy home, while with her the very opposite was the case. She’d never wanted for anything save love and care. She could feel emotion blocking her throat, a fear starting up deep inside. They’d always bickered, each being strong-willed people, but never like this. ‘You could have checked how I felt about it. I have dreams and ambitions too. It might not be enough for me to be cooped up here all day with nothing to do but sew curtains and titivate, wash your shirts and wait for you to come home.’
‘Most women are happy to do just that, and there’d be childer at yer feet to keep you company.’
Livia sighed, the chasm between them yawning ever wider. ‘I’ve been at pains to explain how I’m not yet ready to start a family.’
‘Aye, you’ve made that very clear.’
‘I don’t want to rush into producing babies until I’ve properly sorted out the problems at the store. We’re young, there’s plenty of time for all of that later, if we want it.’
As if realising he was losing the argument, Jack changed tactics. ‘You realise you’ll be ostracised, considered a fallen woman?’
Livia laughed. ‘They say that already, don’t they? What other people think has never bothered you before, why should it now? I refuse to bow to gossip.’
Livia kissed him, but all desire had died in him. She persisted by pressing her breasts against his chest, teasing her fingers through the hair at his nape. She murmured softly against his mouth, which was surely beginning to yield to her teasing lips. ‘Don’t be angry that I have to live in at the store for a while. It will be to our benefit in the end.’
It was the wrong thing to say. Jack pushed her away, his face darkening with a new anger. ‘Are you suggesting I can’t afford to provide for you in the manner to which you are accustomed?’
Livia closed her eyes in despair for a second. ‘Of course not. Look, this is a fallacious argument. All I’m saying is—’
‘Don’t use your big fancy words on me. Go ahead. You do exactly as you please, don’t mind me. You’re one of the Angel girls, after all, and I’m just the hired help.’
‘For goodness sake, Jack, don’t talk stupid! I’ve always supported you, even against my own father that time when you were involved in the rent riots. Now I’m asking you to support me. I’m saying you’ll benefit too in the long run, once the business is more secure. I don’t intend to live in for more than a few weeks. Then we’ll rent a lovely home of our own on Gooseholme or in one of the yards. In fact, I’ve already made a few enquiries and …’
But he was no longer listening. Snatching up his cap he strode out of the door, and though Livia ran after him, calling for him not to rush off in a huff, he kept on walking. And it was not difficult to guess where he was going.
The next day Livia met her sisters at a small café in the Shambles. They’d arranged to take lunch together, and she was positively bursting to tell them her news, but instantly recognised an atmosphere between the two girls.
Since George had accepted a labouring job on Todd Farm in Kentmere, Livia had held great hopes that Ella’s charm might win over Mercy’s sulks and jealousy, and that the pair might become friends at least. One glance at their closed faces, and at the way they stood half turned away from each other, told her the futility of such a dream. Mercy still refused to believe that her half-sisters had fully accepted her into the family and loved her for herself.
It didn’t help that Ella had decked herself out in her smartest coat and hat with the fur trim, and Mercy, for some reason, wore nothing but a shawl over her stuff gown to keep her warm on this cold autumn day.
‘Goodness, you’ll catch your death in that. Where’s your coat?’ Livia scolded as she greeted them each with a kiss and a hug.
‘I save that for best,’ Mercy icily responded. ‘I can’t afford two coats, not like some.’
Ella clicked her tongue with impatience. ‘Anyone would think Amos didn’t pay you decent wages, and he most certainly does. You could perfectly well afford another.’
‘I don’t go nowhere except to the cowshed or the barn, so why bother?’
‘I’m so glad you could both come,’ Livia enthused, resolutely ushering them to a table. ‘There’s so much I have to tell you I don’t know where to begin.’
‘With a pot of tea and a decent lunch in recompense for our disappointment over a certain wedding we’d hoped to celebrate,’ Ella sternly remarked, looking cross.
‘But it was my friend she let down,’ Mercy retorted, then turning to Livia, added, ‘I’m not sure I can ever forgive you for treating Jack so badly. He deserves better.’
Livia gave a rueful smile, knowing the two had ever been close as Jack had been like a big brother to Mercy. Before she’d decided how to respond to this accusation she was interrupted by Ella’s scolding voice yet again.
‘And I am your sister, so should have been forewarned.’
‘But Jack was hurt most,’ Mercy insisted.
The pair were at once embroiled in an argument as to which of them had suffered most by Livia’s decision. Sighing, Livia quickly intervened to ask after the children, which generally distracted Ella, but felt a deepening dismay as Mercy continued to glower and sulk. How the pair of them coped with working together in the farmhouse every day, she really couldn’t imagine. The waitress serving them tea and ham salads couldn’t get away quickly enough, the atmosphere was so frigid.
