The feel of his mouth on hers sent shock waves right through her.

Her knees began to tremble, and would have buckled if he had not been supporting her, holding her so close against him she could feel his warmth, turning her insides to liquid fire. She seemed to have left the ground, flying from all earthly things, all sensible thoughts. She wanted this man. She wanted the kiss to go on, to lead to other transports of delight she could only imagine. She clung to him, returning his kiss in full measure.

It was only then he realised what he was doing and released her. They stood facing each other, breathing heavily. Neither spoke. She did not condemn him; any sign of anger would be a pretence, and he must know it. Nor did he regret what he had done—though he did not know why he had done it, nor why a simple stolen kiss should have such a devastating effect on him. It had unnerved him. He opened his mouth but no words came from his lips. ‘Sorry’ seemed inadequate. She was lovely, and the temptation had been great, but that did not excuse him. Besides, he wasn’t sorry.

Born in Singapore, Mary Nichols came to England when she was three, and has spent most of her life in different parts of East Anglia. She has been a radiographer, school secretary, information officer and industrial editor, as well as a writer. She has three grown-up children, and four grandchildren.

Recent novels by the same author:

THE HONOURABLE EARL THE INCOMPARABLE COUNTESS LADY LAVINIA’S MATCH A LADY OF CONSEQUENCE THE HEMINGFORD SCANDAL MARRYING MISS HEMINGFORD BACHELOR DUKE AN UNUSUAL BEQUEST TALK OF THE TON WORKING MAN, SOCIETY BRIDE A DESIRABLE HUSBAND RUNAWAY MISS

RAGS-TO-RICHES BRIDE

Mary Nichols

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Chapter One

1837

‘Papa, you will make yourself ill if you do not take some nourishment,’ Diana said, leaning forward to take the half-empty glass of cognac from her father’s hand and put a plate of food on the table in front of him.

‘Not hungry.’

‘No, I am told strong drink dulls the appetite.’ She put his glass down on the table and sat down opposite him. He had once been robust, weatherbeaten from years at sea, a loving husband and beloved father who made their lives carefree and interesting, until four years before when his left arm had been amputated after a skirmish in the Indian Ocean and he had given in to his wife’s pleading to leave the service before it killed him. The loss of his arm and what he termed a life of uselessness on shore had started the downward slide, but while her mother was alive he had still been the father she knew and loved. Since Mama’s death he was not the same man at all.

‘We cannot go on like this, Papa. Something must be done.’

‘What about?’

‘How we are to manage.’

‘I have a pension.’

She sighed. ‘I know, but it is not enough.’ She was tempted to add that he drank most of it, but that would have been cruel and she desisted. Together with the tiny pension, he had left the service with a small accumulation of prize money but that had disappeared very quickly trying to keep up their hitherto comfortable way of life. They had been forced to dismiss their servants, sell their furniture and move into smaller accommodation, and when even that proved too much to maintain, to these two rooms in a boarding house in Southwark. These were poorly furnished; though Diana did her best to keep them clean, the grime seemed ingrained in the fabric of the tall, narrow tenement. It was difficult to maintain standards, but she was determined not to let them slide even further into poverty.

Her mother had made ends meet by taking in fine embroidery from a dressmaker in Bond Street, but now Mama was gone, worn out with the stress of it all, Diana knew she had to do something herself to keep the wolf from their door. She had no one to turn to, not a relative in the world that she knew of, and her father was becoming more and more hopeless.

If only he would rouse himself, he was not beyond a little light work, but he did not seem able to drag himself out of the pit he had dug for himself. In the two months since Mama’s death, he had spoken only briefly and then only when necessary, and he had hardly eaten at all. His diet consisted almost exclusively of strong liquor with which he hoped to achieve oblivion.

‘I must find work,’ she told him. ‘The rent is due and there is very little food in the larder.’

‘Do what your mama did.’

‘I tried that yesterday. Madame Francoise told me I was not skilled enough.’ That had rankled, considering she had been doing most of the work since her mother became too ill to do it herself, though they had never told Madame that. ‘Plain sewing, perhaps, but they had nothing to offer me; in any case, the wages for that make it no more than slave labour.’

‘We will manage.’ He reached for his glass and she gave up. It was up to her to do something. If she did not find work soon, she would have to sell her mother’s necklace. Mama had given it to her just before she died and Diana treasured it as a lasting memory. Its stones were a pale greenish colour, which she thought were opals, set in silver filigree. She doubted it was valuable—her father had never been wealthy enough to indulge in expensive trinkets—but it would be a dark day indeed when that had to go.

Swathed in mourning black in spite of the heat of a summer’s day, she left their lodgings and set out with a handful of advertisements culled from the newspaper, determined to find something, but everything she tried—lady’s companion, lady’s maid, governess to small children—all required her to live in and that she could not do. Who would look after her father if she did not come home to him every night? She thought of teaching, but her education had been so unconventional that she was not considered suitable, except at dame-school level and the pay for that was barely enough to feed her, let alone her father. Besides, she knew their landlady, Mrs Beales, would not allow her to use their lodgings for the purpose.

The man in the employment agency she tried was disparaging. ‘I could try for a position as a domestic servant,’ he said, ‘but I doubt you would suit. You need to be properly trained and experienced, and have excellent references…’ He paused to shrug his shoulders and look over his spectacles at her with a certain amount of compassion. This applicant had obviously been genteelly brought up, not in the highest echelons of society but high enough to exclude her from menial tasks. Beneath her large unbecoming bonnet, her complexion was unlined and unmarked, her hands were smooth and white; her clothes, though not the height of fashion, were well made in a good bombazine. ‘And in any case, you would need to live in.’

‘I cannot do that,’ Diana told him. ‘I have to look after my invalid father.’

‘Then I am afraid I cannot help you.’

She had known before she entered that it was hopeless. She thanked the man and set off she knew not where. Unwilling to go home with her mission unaccomplished, she walked down Regent Street and turned into Burlington Arcade. Perhaps she could obtain some plain sewing from one of the many fashion shops that traded on that busy thoroughfare—low pay was better than no pay at all. The shops were all high-class establishments, catering for the elite. Surely someone would employ her?

She stopped to look into the window of a shop displaying costly silks, ornaments and trinkets imported from India and the Orient. She had seen items like that on her travels being sold in noisy bazaars and market places, at a time when she had been happy and carefree. Better not dwell on that, she decided, turning away. And then her eye was drawn to a ticket in the window. ‘Clerk wanted,’ she read. ‘Conscientious and quick at figuring. A good hand essential. Apply within.’

Diana knew perfectly well they wanted a man; ladies simply did not do that kind of work, but she did not see why they could not if their skills were appropriate. She and her mother had often travelled abroad when her father had been posted to some far-off station and she had been taught by her parents, augmented by her own curiosity, about the sights and sounds of foreign places they visited, as well as through her reading, which was wide ranging. Surely that must count for something? She pushed open the door and her nostrils were immediately assailed by a mixture of spices and perfume, which had once been so familiar to her.

A tall gangly youth came towards her, a smile of welcome on his face, assuming she was a customer. It was no good stating her errand to him; she would be laughed off the premises. She drew herself up to her full five feet five inches and faced him squarely. ‘I would like to speak to the proprietor.’

‘Mr Harecroft?’

‘If that is his name, yes.’

‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘No, but he will see me. My name is Miss Diana Bywater.’

She made herself sound so confident that he did not doubt her. He asked her to wait and disappeared into the back of the premises, while she looked about her. The shop was spacious and well laid out. There were shelves full of bolts of silk, muslin, gingham and chintz in a rainbow of colours, and others displaying ivory ornaments, snuff boxes, fans and tea caddies. Towards the back were larger items, stools and intricately carved chests. These were the source of the exotic odours. She had not noted the name of the establishment and remedied the omission by going to the door and reading it from the facia. ‘Harecroft Emporium’ it said in gold lettering. She had barely returned inside when the young man came back.

‘Please follow me.’

She was conducted through a labyrinth of rooms, all packed with merchandise, and up a flight of stairs along a corridor lined with closed doors, then up a second flight and along another corridor to a door at the end, where the young man knocked and ushered Diana in. ‘Miss Bywater, sir.’

Diana walked into the room, trying not to let the man who rose to greet her see that she was shaking. He was in his middle years, his hair the colour of pepper sprinkled with salt and his eyes piercingly blue. He wore a dark grey frock coat and striped trousers. His collar was tall and stiffly white, his cravat slate grey. ‘Miss Bywater,’ he greeted her, holding out his hand. ‘How do you do.’

‘Very well, sir.’ She shook the hand and allowed herself a quick look about her. The room was large. The desk from which he had risen to greet her was in its centre, facing the door. One wall was covered in shelves containing ledgers and boxes, a large window occupied the middle of another wall and there were several upright chairs and two small tables. She was favourably impressed by its neatness and the fact that there was a square of good-quality carpet on the floor surrounded by highly polished boards. ‘You are the owner of this establishment?’

‘I am its proprietor. It is one of several under the Hare-croft banner. Please sit down.’ He resumed his own seat behind his desk and steepled his hands on it, waiting for her to state her business.

‘I see from the card in your window that you are seeking a clerk.’

‘We are indeed.’ Again he waited.

‘Then I am that clerk.’

‘You!’ He made no attempt to disguise his amusement. ‘You are a woman.’

‘So I am.’ She looked down at her skirt as if to confirm this, but really to renew her courage, before raising her eyes to meet his gaze. ‘Would you prefer a man? I could dress up in a man’s clothes and cut my hair. Would that make a difference?’

‘No, certainly not. Miss Bywater, you surely did not think I would entertain such a preposterous idea? My employees are all men, we have never employed women in the business—’

‘Now, that is not quite true.’ The voice came from behind Diana and she swivelled round to face a very old lady who had that moment entered the room. She was tiny, but very upright. Her snow-white hair was pulled up under a black bonnet with a purple feather curling round its brim. She wore an old-fashioned gown in purple taffeta and a short black cape. Her face was lined, but her eyes were the blue of a summer sky.

Diana realised almost at once that she must be related to Mr Harecroft and this was confirmed when he sprang to his feet and exclaimed, ‘Grandmother! What are you doing here?’

‘I have come to see you, since you have not been anywhere near Borstead Hall for months.’

‘We have been extremely busy, as you must know. Visitors to London are more numerous than usual what with all the goings on at court, foreign dignitaries arriving and everyone wanting black for the late King. Some are even buying material for their coronation clothes. They have money burning a hole in their purses, and who was it who taught me that the business must come first?’

The old lady laughed. ‘I did and I am a woman. So what is this young lady asking of you?’ She turned to Diana for the first time, a smile on her face. ‘Am I right in thinking you are here looking for work?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I am Lady Harecroft. The dowager, of course,’ she said, blue eyes twinkling. ‘But I once worked alongside my husband in this enterprise and helped build it up from nothing, which is why I said my grandson was not correct in saying the company has never employed women. One of its instigators was a woman.’

‘That’s different,’ Mr Harecroft said.

Her ladyship ignored him. ‘Tell me, child, why do you need to work and what can you do?’

‘My father is an invalid and my mother died two months ago,’ Diana answered her. ‘I need to earn a living that will allow me to live at home and look after my father. As for what I can do, I can write in a good hand, I am familiar with adding, subtracting, fractions, decimals and computing percentages. Items such as you have displayed downstairs I have seen and handled in India and the Far East.’

‘You are very young to be so well travelled.’

‘I am eighteen, my lady, and my father was a sea captain. Mama and I often travelled to distant parts to be with him.’

‘What will he do when you are at work?’

‘He is not so incapacitated that he cannot amuse himself, my lady. He has lost an arm and that has weakened him, but I am hopeful he will improve day by day. The demise of my mother affected him badly.’

‘Have you no relatives?’

‘None that I know of. Both my parents were without siblings and their parents long dead.’

‘Then you do indeed carry a heavy burden.’ She turned back to her silent grandson. ‘John, give Miss… Oh, dear, I do not know your name.’

‘Diana Bywater, my lady.’

‘Good Lord!’ The smile faded suddenly, her eyes opened wide and she put her gloved hand to her mouth with a little cry before sitting heavily in the nearest chair.

Diana started up in alarm. ‘Ma’am, are you not well?’

Whatever it was that had disturbed her, the old lady recovered quickly and the smile was back. ‘I am extremely old, my dear, you must forgive my little lapses.’ She opened her fan and waved it vigorously in front of her face. ‘It is so hot today, I am quite worn out with it.’

‘You should not have attempted the stairs,’ her grandson said. ‘If you had sent a message, I could have come down to you. I will send for Stephen to take you home.’

‘Very well. But give Miss Bywater a trial. If she is as good as she says she is, it will not matter a jot that she is a female.’

‘Grandmother,’ he protested, ‘women cannot be expected to do such meticulous work. They do not have the constitution for it, nor the mental ability…’

‘Nonsense! You forget the country is ruled by a woman now.’

‘The new Queen will no doubt be guided at every step by her ministers and advisers. There is no comparison. And how can I put Miss Bywater in a room full of men? I will never get any work out of them.’

‘Then find her a corner to herself. I am sure she can deal with any unwarranted attention.’ She turned to Diana and scrutinised her carefully, her gaze ranging from her sensible boots, her simple black dress and three-quarter-length coat to her wide-brimmed bonnet, which hid most of her face. ‘Take that bonnet off, girl.’

Diana did as she was told, to reveal lustrous red-gold hair which she had attempted, not very successfully, to drag into a knot at the back of her head. The old lady gave a secretive little smile, which puzzled Diana. ‘You will hide that under a suitable cap when you are at work, my dear, and you will wear a plain gown, long-sleeved and buttoned to the neck, otherwise you’ll do. John, you may send for Stephen now.’

Mr Harecroft picked up a bell from his desk and gave it a vigorous shake. Almost at once the young man who had conducted Diana upstairs entered the room and was told to find Mr Stephen Harecroft and ask him to come. He looked at Diana as he turned to obey and gave her a smirk, which told her he had been listening on the other side of the door. Lady Harecroft had said she could deal with unwarranted attention and she must demonstrate that she could. She gave him a haughty look and replaced her bonnet.

She was wondering if she ought to leave, but she had not yet been appraised of her duties or told her hours of work and remuneration. She was not even sure that Mr Harecroft would give her a job after Lady Harecroft had gone. He had certainly said nothing that indicated he would, had said very little at all, leaving the talking to his grandmother. She sat with her hands in her lap and waited.

Stephen Harecroft was a younger version of John, in his early twenties, Diana guessed. He had similar clear blue eyes and a shock of pale gold hair with just a hint of red. ‘You sent for me, sir? I was busy checking that last consignment of silk. It’s not up to the same standard as the last batch. We shall have to have words with our suppliers.’ He turned to the old lady, his face lighting up with pleasure. ‘Great-Grandmama, you here? How are you?’ He bent to kiss her cheek.

‘Perfectly well, boy. I want you to escort me back to Hare-croft House. I will stay with you tonight and go home tomorrow.’

‘A pleasure, but who brought you?’

‘Richard, but he’s gone to a meeting. He will join us for dinner.’

‘A meeting?’ Mr Harecroft queried. ‘With whom?’

The old lady shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He didn’t say.’

‘Something to do with his book, I dare say,’ Stephen said. Suddenly seeing Diana, he stopped. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am.’ This with a bow. ‘I did not see you there.’

‘Miss Bywater is coming to work here,’ Lady Harecroft said.

‘In what capacity?’

‘Clerk,’ his father said.

The young man did not trouble to hide his astonishment. ‘But—’

‘No buts, Stephen,’ her ladyship said. ‘Miss Bywater is in every way suitable and she needs to work, so you will do all you can to help her.’

He looked from his great-grandmother to his father, one eyebrow raised in a query. His father shrugged. It seemed to Diana that the old lady’s word was law and, however much they might disapprove, they dare not go against her. She watched as the young man escorted his venerable relative from the room, then turned to face Mr Harecroft.

‘Ahem…’ he began, twiddling a pen between his fingers. ‘I assume it is no good asking you for references?’

‘No good at all, sir, but I am willing to demonstrate my ability.’

He reached into a drawer and drew out a ledger, opening it at random. ‘Add that column of figures, if you please.’ She did so. After he had checked her accuracy, he asked her to work out seven and a half per cent of the total. This done, she was required to copy a column of figures. If he had hoped to catch her out, he was disappointed. The speed with which she came back with the correct answers startled him. ‘My father set me practising on the bills of lading on the ships he commanded,’ she told him. ‘I also worked out the percentages of the prize money for each member of the crew. It was Papa’s way of teaching me mathematics.’

‘It seems to have worked,’ he murmured. ‘What else did he teach you?’

She was relaxed enough to laugh. ‘Oh, so many things. How to steer by the stars, the tides and ocean currents, the geography of the ports where we called, what they imported and exported, what it cost and what it fetched when it arrived in England, some of the culture. He is a very knowledgeable man.’

‘But now unable to work himself?’

‘That is correct.’ She shut her mouth firmly on expanding on that. She did not want him to know about her father’s drinking. It was something of which she was ashamed, ashamed most particularly because she could not coax him away from it. And bullying him only made him angry. He was her father, he would tell her, she had no right to question what he did.

‘I will give you a month’s trial. Your pay will be thirty-five pounds per annum and you will work from eight in the morning to seven at night from Monday to Friday and from eight until two on Saturdays. The men are given an allowance for a suit of clothes, so you shall have enough for two gowns. Grey, I think. Is that agreeable?’

‘Yes, thank you, but I would like to be paid at the end of each week, considering I am to live at home.’

‘Very well.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘You can no doubt compute how much that will be yourself.’

‘When shall I start?’

‘Tomorrow.’ He opened a cash box and extracted three guineas which he offered to her. ‘For your dresses. They will remain the property of the company.’

She rose to take the coins and put them in her purse, then thanked him again and left. He did not ask anyone to escort her off the premises, assuming she would find her own way down to the shop floor. Only when she was safely out into the arcade did she let out a huge breath of relief and allow herself to smile. She had done it! Sheer effrontery had paid off. At least for a month. She had no doubt Mr Harecroft expected to be able to say at the end of that time that the experiment had not worked and he must part with her. She had to disappoint those expectations, which meant not only being as good as the men he employed, but better. At the end of the month she must have made herself almost indispensable.

And she did. At the end of the trial, he was obliged to admit she had earned her pay and told her she could stay. She was still there a year later.

So that she would not distract the men she worked in solitary splendour in a little cubby hole on the second floor. Luckily it had a window which looked out onto the street at the back the shop, which she could open to let in a little air. She was doing that one hot day in June 1838, when she spotted the Harecroft carriage drawing up outside. She leaned out to see who had arrived and saw Lady Harecroft being escorted into the building.

Diana had not seen her ladyship since she joined the company the year before, and assumed her great age had precluded any more uncomfortable coach journeys from her home in Berkshire. But here she was. What had prompted her make the trip, especially in the heat of summer? There was no need for her to come shopping; anything she needed could be sent to her.

In the time she had been working at Harecroft’s she had discovered a great deal about the business and the hierarchy of the family who ran it. At its apex was the redoubtable dowager Lady Harecroft. Her husband, plain George Hare-croft then, had made his fortune in India where he worked for the British East India Company. Returning with his pockets jingling, he had not only married Lady Caroline Carson, the seventeen-year-old daughter of the Earl of St Albans, but, when Britain’s textile manufacturers forced the end of the East India Company’s monopoly of trade with the subcontinent, had set up Harecroft Importing and Warehousing from premises on the docks, which still belonged to the company and still figured largely in its affairs. Two years later his uncle died without issue and he became the second Baron Harecroft and inherited Borstead Hall near Ascot in Berkshire.

‘Everyone expected him to give up the business and live the life of an aristocrat, but he chose to continue building it up,’ Stephen had told her soon after her arrival. He had overcome his initial shock at her being employed and had assiduously obeyed his great-grandmother’s injunction to help her all he could. ‘I am told it caused no end of gossip, but he was never one to listen to tattle and he was encouraged by my great-grandmother who was, and is, a very unusual woman. Now we have a thriving import-and-export business and several shops besides this one. Great-Grandfather died some years ago and my grandfather took the title. He left the business then to concentrate on the estate where he breeds and trains race horses. My father took over here. One day, the warehouse and shops will be in my hands. Richard, of course, will eventually inherit the title and the estate in Berkshire.’

‘Richard is your brother?’

‘Yes. He is older than me by three years, but he disdains working in the business. He and Papa fell out over it years ago. He was in the army for a time, but now he says he is writing a book, though what it is about I do not know.’

‘Is he married?’

‘No. I do not think he is the marrying kind.’ And then he had abruptly changed the subject, talking about the estate and his grandfather’s love of horses and his great-grandmother, who would be ninety the following month.

That same almost ninety-year-old was even now being helped into the building by a young man Diana supposed was Mr Richard Harecroft. She hurried along the corridor and knocked on her employer’s door. ‘Mr Harecroft,’ she said, when he bade her enter. ‘The Dowager Lady Harecroft has just entered the building. I saw her from my window.’

‘Good Lord!’ he exclaimed, looking up from the paperwork on his desk. ‘How did she get here?’

‘By carriage, sir. There is a young man with her.’

‘Richard, I’ll be bound. Go down and make sure she is comfortable in the staff dining room. We cannot have her wandering all over the shop. Do not let her attempt to climb the stairs; the last time she did that, it nearly finished her. I will be down directly.’

Diana turned to go downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs was a full-length mirror and she paused long enough to check her appearance. Her grey dress was plain except for a few tucks down the bodice. It had tight sleeves and a high neck as her ladyship had dictated. Her hair had been drawn back under a white cap. She smiled at herself; she had obeyed Lady Harecroft’s instruction to cover her head, but it made her look almost matronly. What she did not realise was that her flawless complexion and neat figure gave the lie to that and her wide intelligent grey eyes made everyone, young and old, want to smile at her in a kind of conspiratorial way as if they knew she was playing a part.

‘Peaches and cream,’ her father had said, when he was in one of his more affable moods. ‘Just like your mother.’ Her mother had been slightly taller and her hair had been dark, but Diana was like her in other ways, intelligent, doggedly determined not to be beaten and sympathetic to other people’s problems without being soft. She had fitted into Harecroft’s well and though her male colleagues had been wary at first, most had come to accept her and sometimes brought their troubles to her sympathetic ear. Even Mr Stephen Harecroft.

She could not make up her mind about him. It had not taken her long to realise that Stephen idolised his father and would do anything to please him. At first he had talked to her about her work, but then they had gone on to speak of other things: what was happening in the world outside the business; the coming coronation of Queen Victoria, which had the whole country in a ferment of excitement; the recent publication of a People’s Charter, which had the nation split down the middle; the great technological advances being made; music, literature, the things they liked and disliked. Their little talks led to strolls in the park on a Saturday afternoon after work had finished for the day, and the occasional visit to a concert or a lecture. Only the day before he had asked her to accompany him to a Grand Ball to be held at Almack’s the evening following the coronation.

Was he just being kind or was he seriously courting her? Flattered as she was, she could not think of marriage while her father needed her. He had been much better of late and she was hopeful he was over the worst, but she was still careful not to give him any cause to relapse. One day she hoped they might move out of the shabby rooms they now occupied into something better; in the meantime, her address and her father’s affliction were secrets she guarded carefully. If Mr Harecroft were to learn about either, she was quite sure his attitude towards her would change; he might even find the excuse he needed to dismiss her. She must find a way to discourage young Mr Harecroft, meanwhile, there was his great-grandmother to deal with.

She found the old lady sitting in a gilded chair in the front of the shop, surrounded by fabrics, talking to Stephen. There was no sign of Richard. It appeared he had done as he had the year before: brought the old lady and left her.

‘Good afternoon, Lady Harecroft,’ Diana said.

The old lady turned to survey her, a wry smile lighting her features. ‘Good afternoon, young lady. Have you come to keep me in order?’

‘Oh, no, my lady. Mr Harecroft senior bade me greet you and make you comfortable in the staff dining room. He will join you directly.’

Her ladyship chuckled. ‘And I am to be prevented from wandering all over the shop, is that not so?’

‘My lady?’

‘Oh, you do not need to answer me. I know my grandson. But tell me, what do you think of this silk?’ She plucked at a length of the material to show Diana.

‘It is very fine.’

‘That may be so, but is it worth the exorbitant price I believe was paid for it?’

Diana was in a quandary. The desire to give an honest opinion did battle with her need to be diplomatic and she strove to find an answer that would satisfy both. ‘I think it might be a little overpriced, my lady, but in today’s market, with everyone vying to be seen to advantage for the coronation, it is selling well.’

‘Exactly what I said,’ Stephen put in.

The old lady smiled and pulled herself to her feet. ‘Escort me, Miss Bywater. We can have a little chat before my grandson joins us.’ She took Diana’s arm and together they made their way to a small room at the back of the ground floor that had been set aside for the staff to eat the mid-day meal they brought with them. It also had a fireplace and facilities for making tea. Once her ladyship had been seated, Diana set the kettle on the fire and stirred the embers to make it blaze.

‘How do you like working for Harecroft’s, Miss Bywater?’

‘Very much. I am grateful to you for affording me the opportunity to do something interesting.’

‘My grandson tells me you are quick to learn.’

‘I try to be.’

‘And Stephen sings your praises constantly.’

‘Does he?’ The kettle boiled and Diana used the distraction of making tea to cover her confusion. What had Stephen been saying? ‘My lady, I hope you do not think I have set out to…’ She stumbled over what she wanted to say.

‘No, of course not. Ah, here is John.’ She turned to her grandson. ‘John, you are paying far too much for your silk these days.’

‘It is the going rate, for the best quality, Grandmother. I cannot afford to drop standards. Besides, people are prepared to pay good money to appear in the latest fabrics for the festivities.’ He sat down next to her. ‘But you did not come here to talk about the price of silk, did you?’

‘No, I did not. I decided I had mouldered long enough in the country. I came to attend the coronation and to give you notice that I intend to have a house party.’

‘Oh?’ One bushy eyebrow lifted.

‘I am to reach the grand age of ninety next month, as you know…’

‘You won’t if you insist on racketing about town.’

His grandmother ignored him and continued as if he had not spoken. ‘And I wish to mark the occasion with a party.’ She accepted a cup of tea from Diana, who also put one in front of John and turned to leave them. ‘Stay,’ the old lady commanded, waving an ebony walking stick at her. ‘Pour a cup for yourself.’

‘Grandmother, what are you talking about?’ John asked, answering Diana’s questioning look with a nod. ‘You cannot possibly have a party. It will be too much for you.’

‘I decide what is too much for me. Besides, we have a houseful of servants at Borstead Hall, idle half the time—it won’t hurt them to stir themselves. Alicia will arrange it. I want all the family to stay the weekend. Friends and acquaintances will be invited for the Saturday only.’

‘Why?’ he asked, mystified.

‘Why? How often does a woman reach the age of ninety and still be in possession of all her faculties? I fully intend to be a hundred, but just in case I do not achieve it, I will have my celebration on Saturday, July the twenty-first.’

‘What does my father say about this?’

‘Nothing.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘He knows he will lead a much more peaceful life if he humours me. And William does like a peaceful life, looking after the estate and his beloved horses.’

‘And Aunt Alicia?’

‘Alicia too. I mean to have a really big day, with my family and friends around me, plenty to eat and drink and fireworks to round it off.’

‘It will kill you.’

‘Then I will die happy.’

Diana was beginning to feel uncomfortable; she did not want to be a witness to a family argument, and she did have work to do. She stood up to leave, just as Stephen joined them. ‘Good, there’s tea,’ he said.

Diana fetched another cup and saucer from the cupboard and poured tea for him.

‘Great-Grandmama, will you ask Miss Bywater to your party?’ he asked, making Diana gasp.

‘Of course. The young lady will be welcome.’

‘You knew about it?’ his father asked him.

‘Great-Grandmama told me when she arrived. I am looking forward to it.’

‘And who is going to look after the shop if we all dash off to Borstead Hall?’ John demanded. ‘Miss Bywater has to work on Saturdays and so do you.’

‘On this occasion, I expect you to make an exception.’ This from Lady Harecroft.

‘Oh, no,’ Diana put in. ‘You must not do that. It would set a bad example.’

‘Do not tell me what I must not do, girl,’ her ladyship snapped.

Diana blushed furiously. ‘I beg your pardon. I did not mean to be rude.’

‘Do you not care to come?’ Stephen asked, aggrieved. ‘I am sure you will enjoy it.’

‘I am sure I would, but I cannot leave my father while I go into the country.’

‘Bring him too,’ her ladyship said. ‘It is time we all met him.’

‘I am afraid he is not well enough, my lady.’ Diana was beginning to panic. Her father was not yet stable enough to pay calls, and a party where there was bound to be wine and punch might set him off again. Flattered as she was to be asked, and much as she would have liked a break from routine, to dress up, live in a little splendour and pretend that her life had never had that treacherous downhill slide, she could not risk it.

‘Miss Bywater’s father is an invalid,’ John said. ‘She explained about that when she first came to us.’

‘So she did. But no matter, we can arrange for him to be looked after for a day or two. Problems like that are not insurmountable.’

‘I am sure he would not agree,’ Diana said. The old lady’s family might defer to her, but on this matter she was going to find herself thwarted. She would not subject her father to the indignity of being looked after, as if he were a child packed off to the nursery when his presence became inconvenient. And she did not know why Stephen was so anxious she should be one of the party.

‘I think you must allow Miss Bywater to decline without bullying her, Grandmother,’ John said. ‘And you know, we are very busy and it is not altogether convenient for me to drop everything to take you home when you arrive unexpectedly.’

‘You don’t need to.’ Her voice held a note of asperity. ‘Richard brought me. He has gone to the House of Commons and then he is coming back for me.’

‘House of Commons?’ Mr Harecroft senior demanded. ‘Since when has he interested himself in politics?’

‘You must ask him that. I am not his keeper.’

Diana had been inching her way towards the door in order to escape and was reaching for its handle when it was opened and she found herself half-hidden behind it, sucking a little finger that had been caught in the handle.

The newcomer turned to shut the door and saw her. ‘I beg pardon, I did not see you hiding there.’

She met his blue-eyed gaze and something inside her turned a somersault. He was a much bigger version of Stephen; he was taller, his shoulders broader, the red-gold of his hair more pronounced—a characteristic she concluded all the family had to a greater or lesser degree—his eyes were bluer and his mouth fuller. She realised with a little stab of guilt that he made his brother look drab and colourless, particularly as in contrast to Stephen’s grey suit, he was wearing a brown frock coat, light brown trousers and a pale fawn cravat. It was not only his size and his clothes, his presence dominated the room. He exuded power and self-assurance. She could easily imagine him as a serving officer, in full command of his men. ‘I was not hiding, I was about to leave,’ she said, finding her voice at last.

‘Oh, please do not leave on my account.’ He stopped suddenly, unable to take his eyes from her face. She seemed so familiar he felt he ought to know her. She was plainly dressed and wore an unbecoming cap that hid most of her hair, but her complexion was flawless and her eyes reminded him of the plumage of a dove, a soft blue-grey. Her lips were pink and firm and at that moment were sucking a little finger; it was an incredibly sensuous act, made more so because she appeared totally unaware of the effect she was having. ‘Does it hurt?’

She took it from her mouth to answer him. ‘No, it is nothing.’

‘Richard, may I present Miss Diana Bywater,’ Stephen said, stepping between them. ‘Miss Bywater, my brother, Richard.’

‘How do you do?’ he said, wondering why Stephen found it necessary to introduce someone who was so obviously a servant. It did not bother him, but his family were sticklers for form.

She bowed her head. ‘Mr Harecroft.’

He nodded towards the table where the teapot and the used cups and saucers were evidence of the refreshment they had been enjoying before he arrived. ‘Are you going to pour me a cup of tea?’

‘I am afraid it must be cold by now. I will make a fresh pot if you like.’

‘Miss Bywater, you have those accounts to complete before the end of the working day,’ John reminded her.

‘Accounts?’ Richard queried. ‘Oh, you must be the young lady who had the temerity to apply for a man’s job. I heard all about it from Great-Grandmother.’

She smiled. ‘Yes, though why it should be called a man’s job I do not know. It is mental work and does not require strength. I do exactly the same work as the gentlemen clerks without concessions to my gender. Now, please excuse me, I must return to it. Good afternoon, Lady Harecroft.’ She turned to go and Stephen sprang to open the door for her.

She thanked him and escaped to the sanctuary of her own room. Arriving breathless, she shut the door behind her and stood leaning against it. The encounter with the elder of the two brothers had shaken her. She did not know what she had expected, but she felt she had been buffeted by a whirlwind, and all in the space of a few fleeting minutes.

She crossed to the window just in time to see her ladyship being handed into her carriage by Richard. He was taking enormous trouble to make sure she was comfortable before getting in himself. She watched as the carriage made its way down the busy street and disappeared round the corner, before returning to the ledger she had left an hour before.

It was difficult to concentrate. Quite apart from that strange encounter with Mr Richard Harecroft, the invitation to the party, the assumption that she would foist the care of her father on to someone else in order to enjoy herself with a group of people who were materially and socially way above her, vexed her. She cared too much for her father to do that to him. She would have to be firm, but would that cost her her job? She could not afford to lose it, for where else could she find something so congenial and so well paid? Without her wages, she and her father would sink even lower in the social scale.

Stephen came into the room and sat on the corner of the table at which she worked. ‘Do not let my brother upset you, Miss Bywater.’

‘He did not upset me, whatever gave you that idea?’

‘Good. Every family is supposed to have a black sheep and I suppose he is ours.’

‘He did not look like a sheep to me.’

‘No, perhaps I should have said wolf.’

‘Not that either,’ she said, though when she remembered those blue eyes almost devouring her, she did wonder. ‘More like a lion with that mane of golden hair.’

‘Hmm.’ He seemed to consider this and then dismissed the idea. ‘Whichever it is, we do not need to see much of him at Borstead Hall. He lives in the dower house.’

‘He lives with your great-grandmother?’

‘No, Great-Grandmama lives with my grandfather in the big house. He says she is too old to live by herself and he needs to keep an eye on her, so she told Richard he could use the dower house. He shares it with a couple of penniless artists and his mi—’ He stopped suddenly, his voice so twisted with bitterness, she looked at him sharply, but he quickly recovered himself. ‘I do not suppose we shall see anything of them.’

She wondered what he had been about to let slip; it sounded as if he were going to say mistress, but surely his brother would not live with such a one so close to the family home? ‘What does your great-grandmother think of his friends?’

‘Oh, she does not mind them. She has a soft spot for Richard.’

‘He seems very fond of her.’

‘Yes, she is the only one who can get Richard to do what she wants.’

She realised suddenly that he was jealous of his brother, even though he enjoyed more of his father’s favour. It was all to do with the old lady. ‘I wish you had not asked her ladyship to invite me to her party,’ she said.

‘Why not? We will have a splendid time.’

‘We will not, because I cannot accept the invitation.’

‘Why not?’

‘I have to work. And I cannot leave my father.’

‘He is an invalid, isn’t he? I did not know that until you mentioned it today. Are you always so secretive?’

‘I am not secretive,’ she said, feeling the colour rising in her face. ‘Your father and great-grandmother knew and there has been no reason why I should make a point of telling you. It did not come out in the course of conversation, that’s all.’

‘What is the matter with him?’

She took a deep breath. ‘He was invalided out of the navy five years ago when he lost his arm and then my mother died and his nerves have been badly affected.’ It was not really a lie, she told herself, just not the whole truth.

‘Father can hire a nurse in for him or arrange for him to go into a comfortable nursing home so that he is looked after. If he does, you will come, won’t you?’

‘I do not think so. I cannot put Mr Harecroft to the trouble and it upsets Papa if his normal routine is changed.’

‘You are just making excuses. You heard my great-grandmother say she expected us all to go and my father will not go against her. The Dowager Lady Harecroft angry is an awesome sight, I can tell you.’

‘I do not see why she should be angry with me. I am not family.’

‘I am hoping that in the fullness of time you will be.’

She looked up from the ledger on the desk and stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I had intended to give you time to get to know me properly before proposing, but Great-Grandmama has precipitated it. But surely you guessed?’

‘No.’ She felt as though she was being carried along, tossed about like a leaf on the wind, as if she had no will of her own and it annoyed her.

He left the desk, walked round behind her and took the pen from her nerveless fingers, laid it down and clasped her hand in both his own. ‘Miss Bywater—Diana—would you consider a proposal of marriage from me?’

It was a very roundabout way of asking her, she thought, almost as if he were not altogether sure that was what he wanted. He had said nothing of his feelings towards her. Did he love her or was he simply looking for a helpmate in the business? Did she love him? He had not even asked that crucial question. If he had done so, she would not have been able to answer it. But it did not matter; she could not, would not, leave her father and she could not see the Harecroft family taking him to their collective bosom.

‘Mr Harecroft,’ she said, ‘I am an employee, I need my job and you are putting me in a difficult position.’

‘I do not see why. If you accept me, then you need work no longer, or only as long as you wish to. You have fitted into the business very well—in fact, I sometimes think you know more about it than I do—and fitting into Harecroft’s is more than half the battle.’

‘I do not want a battle, Mr Harecroft, I want to be left alone to do my job. And now, if you please, I must get on with it. I am lagging behind today.’

He let go of her hand and straightened up. ‘Very well, but I shall ask you again, perhaps at Great-Grandmother’s party. Yes, on reflection, that will be the ideal time. I will say no more until then.’

‘I have said I cannot go.’

‘Oh, you will,’ he said with infuriating confidence. ‘The Dowager Lady Harecroft will brook no refusal.’

Before she could reply, he was gone and she was left staring down at a column of figures that seemed to dance about on the page so that it took her three attempts to total them correctly.

Chapter Two

‘Well, what do you think of Miss Bywater?’ her ladyship asked Richard as their driver negotiated the traffic in Bond Street.

‘Should I be thinking of her?’ he asked mildly.

‘I am intrigued by her,’ the old lady went on. ‘Her situation is strange. She is educated, well spoken, deferential and neat in her appearance, but there is something secretive about her and I should like to know what it is.’

‘I cannot tell you.’

‘I wonder if it has anything to do with her father,’ she went on as if he had not spoken. ‘She says he is an invalid and is very protective of him. It is because of him she needs to work.’

‘But if she does her work well, is her private life any of our business?’

‘It is if Stephen wants to marry her.’

‘Good Lord! Does he?’

‘I think so. He asked me to invite her to my party.’

‘And did you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what did she say?’

‘She protested she could not leave her father and when I said bring him too, she began to make all manner of excuses.’

‘Then perhaps you should leave well alone.’

‘I do not want to. I need to know more. You could help me. Find a way of meeting her father, talk to him, discover all you can about his antecedents. I want to know about his family and his childhood, where he spent it, where he was educated, what happened to his parents, his mother’s maiden name. If either had any siblings, if Miss Bywater has brothers and sisters.’

‘To what end? To find out if Miss Bywater is a suitable person to marry Stephen?’

‘If you like.’

‘Then ask Stephen to do it. He is the one who will have to decide.’

‘Stephen does not have your finesse, Richard. He might alienate the man and that is the last thing I want.’

‘And is Miss Bywater to know of this inquisition?’

‘I would rather she did not. Not yet.’

‘Great-Grandmama, I cannot approve.’

‘’Tisn’t for you to approve or disapprove. Just do as you are told. Be easy, I bear the child no ill will, but I need to be sure.’

‘Is there something you are not telling me? I am very busy, Great-Grandmama, and acting the spy is not to my taste…’

She looked sharply at him. ‘Busy doing what?’

He smiled wryly. Why did everyone assume that just because he was not seen to go to work like his father and brother, that he was idle? Six years in the army had taught him many things. Serving with men from all walks of life had opened his eyes to his privileged position. Rubbing shoulders with the educated and the abysmally ignorant, those who knew no other life than soldiering and those who had enlisted as a matter of patriotism or because they were out of work or needed to escape the law, had taught him to judge a man on his merits, irrespective of his position in what his parents chose to call society. Unlike most of his fellow officers, who would not have dreamed of associating with the men under their command, he had taken the trouble to find out about their homes and their families. And what he had learned had horrified him and made him determined to do something about it.

He soon realised his attempts to help the poor and lame were too piecemeal: a good deed here, a generous donation there; taking poor artists into his home and providing them with pleasant conditions in which to work; writing articles that the more die-hard newspaper proprietors refused to publish, so they found their way into the more radical publications, which were frequently being shut down by the government on the grounds that they were seditious and encouraged unrest. He risked imprisonment himself every time he fired a broadside at those who ought to have been helping and did nothing. He had come to the conclusion that it would be better to work within the establishment. Hence his visit to the Commons.

The old lady tapped his arm with her fan. ‘Well? Will you do this for me?’

He had always found it difficult to deny her anything, but on this occasion he was adamant. ‘No, ma’am, I will not. It is an infringement of the young lady’s privacy unless you have reason to believe she is up to no good.’ He paused to study her lined face. ‘Do you?’

‘That’s what I want to find out. If you will not oblige me, I must find other ways of discovering what I want to know.’

‘And what happens if you find out she is not all she seems—what then? Will you expose her?’

‘I do not know; it depends on what turns up.’

He knew her well enough to realise she was up to something and it was more than a desire to protect Stephen. Did she already know more than she was telling about Miss Diana Bywater? It intrigued him, but not enough to comply with her request.

They turned into Grosvenor Square and drew up at the door of Harecroft House and he jumped down to lift her out of the carriage and help her into the house and up to her room. He had a feeling he had not heard the last of Miss Diana Bywater.

Diana was still at work at eight o’clock, when Mr Hare-croft came into the little cubby hole where she worked. ‘Still here, Miss Bywater?’

‘I have been trying to catch up on lost time.’

He smiled. ‘Grandmother can be a little disruptive. But stop now. I have my tilbury outside. I will drive you home.’

‘Thank you, but that will not be necessary. I can easily walk.’

‘It is the least I can do. It was not your fault you were behind with your work.’

She smiled suddenly. ‘Would you offer to drive one of the men clerks home?’

‘No, certainly not.’

‘I do not wish to be treated any differently. It was part of our bargain when you took me on.’

‘So it may have been, but circumstances have changed. I am wholly converted to lady clerks.’ He smiled as he spoke. ‘At least to one of them. You have proved yourself more than capable and I take back any reservations I might have had.’ He picked up the ledger she had been working on, made sure the ink was dry, and shut it firmly. ‘Now come along, I will accept no argument. I would have asked Stephen to take you, but he has already gone home.’ He bent and put his hand under her elbow to raise her to her feet.

They were standing close together, his head bent towards her, his hand still under her arm, when Richard came in. He had changed into a black evening suit, which, even more than the clothes he had worn earlier in the day, emphasised his strong lean figure. He stopped on the threshold, his blue eyes taking in the scene.

Thoroughly embarrassed, she drew her arm from his father’s hand and he, following the line of her startled gaze, turned to look at his son, watching them from the doorway.

‘Richard, what are you doing here?’ His voice sounded pleasant enough, but Diana thought she detected an undertone of annoyance.

‘Looking for you. You were not in your office…’

‘Well, now you have found me. I suppose there is a reason for you to set foot on the premises for the second time in one day.’

Diana sank back into her chair, feeling awkward. She wished she could leave the tiny room and find fresh air.

‘Great-Grandmother is a little truculent. She says she expected you home hours ago, she wants to talk to you. If I had not promised to come and winkle you out, she would have commanded Soames to get out the carriage and come looking for you herself.’

‘I had business to do and it was her fault, taking up so much of our time this afternoon.’

‘Are you ready to leave now?’

‘I must take Miss Bywater home first. She has been kept late on company business and I cannot allow her to go home alone at this time of night.’

‘Oh, please do not trouble yourself,’ Diana said. ‘I can walk and Lady Harecroft is waiting for you…’

‘Yes,’ Richard put in, looking down at Diana, unable to make up his mind about her. His great-grandmother had triggered his own curiosity, heightened by the sight of his father’s apparent intimacy with Diana. Was she up to no good, worming her way into the company in order to take advantage of an old lady? But his great-grandmother, though old, was not vulnerable or simple; she was as astute as they come, so what was it all about? ‘She will wait up until you get home, Father, you know she will, and she has had a tiring day. Besides, Mother is expecting you and she is not very good at coping with the old lady in one of her moods. I will take Miss Bywater home.’ He realised, as he said it, that he was doing exactly what his great-grandmother wanted, that she had probably guessed if she sent him back to fetch his father something of the sort might happen. He almost laughed aloud.

His father sighed. ‘If Miss Bywater agrees, then it might be best.’

‘But…’ Diana began again. She did not want either of them seeing how she and her father lived.

‘No buts,’ Richard said firmly. ‘It will be my pleasure.’

‘How did you arrive?’ his father asked him.

‘In a cab. I have kept it waiting. Great-Grandmama’s instructions were to make sure you came home.’

‘I will take the cab. You take Miss Bywater in the tilbury.’

‘Please do not trouble yourselves, either of you,’ Diana begged, reaching for her bonnet and light cape from the hook behind the door and following the two men from the room. ‘I am quite used to walking home alone.’

Neither listened. They seemed to be having the conversation with each other over her head; it was almost as if she were not there.

‘Are you staying at Harecroft House tonight?’ father asked son.

‘Yes, but I will probably be late back, so do not wait up for me.’

‘I gave up waiting for you years ago, Richard. Do not wake the household, that’s all.’

They reached the ground floor and left the building, while Mr Harecroft senior locked the premises, Diana tried once again to say she could manage on her own.

‘You are very stubborn, Miss Bywater,’ Richard said. ‘But rest assured I can be equally obdurate. You are not to be allowed to walk home alone and that is an end of it.’ He led the way to the tilbury and helped her into it, then unhitched the pony and jumped up beside her, the reins in his hand. ‘Now, you will have to direct me. I have no idea where you live.’

‘Southwark. I usually walk over Waterloo Bridge, so if you let me down this side of it, you will avoid paying the toll.’

‘Miss Bywater, I am not so miserly as to begrudge the few pence to take you across,’ he told her, setting the pony off at a walk.

The streets were not quite as busy as they had been earlier in the day and the vehicles on the road were, for the most part, those taking their occupants to evening appointments. A troop of soldiers were rehearsing their part in the coronation parade, a man with a cart was hawking the last of the flags and bunting he had set out with that morning. A flower girl was offering bunches of blooms that were beginning to wilt and a diminutive crossing sweeper stood leaning on his broom waiting for custom. The evening was like any other, but for Diana it was different. She was riding and not walking for a start and, instead of thinking what she would make for supper, her whole mind was concentrated on the man at her side and how to persuade him not to take her all the way home.

The prospect of him seeing the run-down tenement in which she lived, and, even worse, her equally run-down father, was enough to make her quake. She could imagine his disgust, the tale he would carry to his father. And they would say, ‘We cannot have a person like that working at Harecroft’s. It lowers the whole tone of the establishment and who knows what pestilence she brings with her? I knew it was a mistake to employ her.’ And she was quite sure Lady Hare-croft would not intervene on her behalf a second time.

‘Do you enjoy working for Harecroft’s?’ Richard asked her, breaking in on her thoughts.

‘Very much.’

‘It is a strange occupation for a woman,’ he said, as they turned down the Strand. ‘How did you manage to persuade my father to take you on?’

‘If you are implying that I—’ She started angrily, remembering the disapproving expression on his face when he had entered her office and seen his father’s hand on her arm.

‘Heavens, no!’ He lifted one hand from the reins in a defensive gesture. ‘There was no hidden implication in my question, do not be so quick to rise. I was simply commenting on the fact that I have never heard of a female clerk and I am sure the idea never entered my father’s head of its own accord.’

‘I saw the advertisement for a clerk and applied.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘I do not think he would have even considered me but for your great-grandmother, who arrived while I was talking to him. She told him to give me a trial.’

‘That sounds like Great-Grandmama. How long ago was that?’

‘A year.’

‘And now you are an indispensable adjunct to the business.’

‘Of course not. No one is indispensable, but I pride myself that I have justified Lady Harecroft’s faith in me.’

‘She has rather taken to you, you know. I gather she has invited you to her party.’

‘Yes, it was kind of her, but of course I cannot go.’

‘Why not?’

‘Saturday is a working day, besides, I cannot leave my father for long. He is an invalid.’

‘And your mother?’

‘She died fourteen months ago.’

‘I am sorry to hear that. Is that why you must work?’

‘Only the rich can afford not to work.’

‘True,’ he said. ‘But could you not have found something more suitable than becoming a clerk?’

‘What’s wrong with being a clerk?’ she asked defensively.

‘Nothing at all, for a man, but it is evident you have had an education, you could perhaps have become a teacher or a lady’s companion.’

‘I think, sir, that a companion’s lot is harder than a clerk’s. At least with Mr Harecroft my work is clearly laid out and I do have regular hours and can live at home.’

‘Except when you decide to work late.’

‘Sometimes it is necessary. It is best to be flexible.’

‘And what do you like to do when you are not working?’ Having stopped to pay the toll, he steered the tilbury on to the bridge, but she would have known where they were even with her eyes shut; the overpowering smell of the river assaulted her nostrils, a mixture of stale fish, sewerage, damp coal, rotting vegetation and goodness knew what else.

‘I read to Papa and we go for walks in the park on a Sunday afternoon if he is not too tired.’

‘He is your constant companion?’

‘Yes. He needs me.’

‘But you leave him to go to work.’

‘He is used to that and our housekeeper keeps an eye on him for me. When I am late she cooks him supper.’ Housekeeper was an euphemism; Mrs Beales, their landlady, lived on the ground floor and did as little as possible for them and then only if she was paid.

‘Will he be concerned that you are so late home tonight?’

‘He knows I sometimes work late to finish a particular task.’

‘My goodness, how conscientious you are! No wonder my father sings your praises.’

‘Does he?’

‘Oh, yes. I have heard him using you as an example to the others.’

‘Oh. I wish he would not. I do not like to be singled out.’

He laughed. ‘Too late, you have been. Stephen thinks you are a paragon of virtue and industry and Great-Grandmama has a mischievous gleam in her eye whenever your name is mentioned. She is up to something, I know it.’

‘I cannot think what it could be.’

Neither could he. He did not think it was simply concern that Stephen should not make a mistake in marrying her. ‘Now we are over the bridge, which direction shall I take?’

‘You can let me down here. I am not far from home and can walk the rest.’

‘Certainly not. I am going to take you to your door. What do you think my father would say if I admitted to him I had left you short of your destination?’ He looked about him at the people in the street. Working men and women trudging home, seamen, dockers, costermongers with their empty carts, a brewer’s dray with its heavy horses, a stray dog worrying something it had found in the gutter. It was not the place to leave a young lady on her own and it was obvious that if she was not a lady in the accepted sense, she had been brought up genteelly. She had said she did not want to stand out, but she did. She was well spoken, educated and neatly if not fashionably dressed, so why was she living in an area that was only one degree above a slum? ‘Come, direct me.’

Short of jumping out of a moving vehicle she could do nothing and reluctantly directed him to turn left into the next street, which had a row of tenements on one side and warehouses fronting the river on the other. A hundred yards farther down she asked him to stop. ‘This will do, thank you.’

He looked up at the row of tenements. ‘Which one?’

‘It is round the corner, but the way is narrow and it is difficult to turn a vehicle there.’

‘Very well.’ He drew to a stop and jumped out to hand her down.

She bade him goodnight and turned swiftly to cross the road, hoping he would not follow. A speeding hackney pulled out to overtake the stationary tilbury just as she emerged from behind it, almost under the horse’s hooves. Richard, in one quick stride, grabbed her and pulled her to safety, while the cab driver shook his fist but did not stop.

‘You little fool!’ Richard exclaimed, pulling her against his broad chest. She was shaking like an aspen, unsure whether it was because of the close call she had had or the fact that he still held her in his arms. ‘Is my company so disagreeable you must run away from it?’

‘No, of course not.’ She leaned into him, shutting her eyes, saw again the bulk of the horse rearing over her, heard again the yell of the cab driver and the frightened neighing of the horse and shuddered at what might have happened. ‘I did not see the cab. He was driving much too fast.’

‘Indeed hewas. Areyou hurt?’ He held her away from him to look down on her. Her bonnet and the silly cap she wore under it had come off, revealing a head of shining red-gold hair that reminded him of someone else with tresses like that, but he could not think who it might be. Surely if he had met her before he would have remembered the occasion? She was too beautiful to forget.

‘No, just a little shaken.’ She pulled herself away. ‘Thank you, I can manage now.’

‘I do not know why you are so determined I should not see you home. Is your father an ogre? Will he suppose I have designs on your person?’

‘He is not an ogre. He is kind and loving. As for having designs…’ She turned to look directly into his face. ‘Have you?’

He was taken aback by her forthrightness and then laughed. ‘Certainly not. Let us go to him. I shall explain why I felt it necessary to escort you home. And how right I was, considering you nearly got yourself killed.’

She gave a huge sigh of resignation and led the way down the side street. Here the tenements were huddled together, grimy and dilapidated, built years before to house the dockers and those working on the river and in the warehouses. Oh, how she wished she could be going home to the villa in Islington, which had been their home four years before. It had not been grand, not up to the standard of the Harecrofts’ residence in Grosvenor Square, which she had taken a look at out of curiosity when she first joined the company, but even so it had been solid and well maintained and her mother had made it comfortable and welcoming. She would not have been ashamed to take him there. And this was what she had come down to: two rooms in a slum, which all the cleaning in the world could not improve.

Two ragged urchins, a girl of about seven and a boy a little younger, stood on the pavement and watched them approach. Suddenly they smiled and two grimy hands were outstretched, palms uppermost. ‘Who are they?’ he asked.

‘I do not know, but they often appear as I am coming home. I usually give them a penny each. I think they spend it on bread.’

She went to open her purse, but he put his hand over hers to stop her, then delved into his pocket and produced a sixpence. ‘Here,’ he said, offering it to the girl. ‘Go and buy a meat pie and potatoes for your suppers.’

The waif broke into a wide smile, grabbed the coin in one hand and the boy with the other and they scuttled off up the street.

‘Poor little devils,’ he said, as they resumed walking. ‘Where do they live?’

‘I have no idea, but they seem to have adopted me.’

‘No doubt because you give them money.’

‘Perhaps, but it is little enough. The government should do something for the poor and I do not mean build more unions where they can be conveniently forgotten. They are no better than prisons and most people would rather beg and steal than enter one.’

He agreed wholeheartedly but, until something was done officially, it was up to individuals to make their plight known. He had no voice except through his writing. He did not see himself as a novelist, like Charles Dickens, who was also concerned with highlighting poverty, but he could write books and pamphlets pointing out the facts. And the facts made horrifying reading. It was a pity too few people troubled themselves with them. Something else had to be done to make the government pay attention. His visits to the Commons to listen to debates had made him realise that although most of its members paid lip service to the need for action, few were prepared to do it. It was one of the reasons he wanted to join them. ‘You evidently feel strongly on the subject,’ he said.

‘I have seen what poverty can do.’ She opened the door of one of the houses, slightly better than the rest for the curtains were relatively clean, the step scrubbed and the door knocker polished. He followed her inside, as she knew he would. ‘I live on the first floor,’ she said, turning to thank him again and hoping he would take it as a dismissal, although the damage was already done.

‘There you are!’ A woman came out from the back regions of the hallway. She was very fat, wore a black skirt, pink blouse and an apron that had seen better days. Her greying hair was pulled back so tightly into a bun at the back of her head it seemed to stretch the skin on her face, making her dark eyes look narrow. ‘About time, too. I never did undertake to be his warder, you know. I can’t keep him in if he is determined to go out.’

‘Oh, dear, I am sorry, Mrs Beales. Has he not come back?’

‘No, you know he won’t shift until they throw him out. I gave him a luvverly plate of stew for his dinner, luvverly it were, and he just looked at it and grunted that he needed food, not pigswill, and slammed outa the house. If you think I’m goin’ to put up with that sort of treatment, miss, you can think again. I c’n find plenty of tenants who’d be more appreciative.’

‘I am sorry, Mrs Beales. He can be a little difficult about his food sometimes.’

‘Don’t I know it! You shouldn’be so late home. You know it sets him off.’

‘I’m afraid I had to work late.’

‘Hmm.’ The comment was one of derisory disbelief.

‘Thank you, Mrs Beales,’ she said levelly, aware that the woman was looking Richard up and down, summing him up and probably coming to quite the wrong conclusion. ‘I’ll go and look for him.’

‘Do you know where he has gone?’ Richard asked the woman. ‘I came especially to see him.’

She grunted. ‘I wouldn’t put money on you gettin’ much sense outa him tonight.’

‘I think I know where he is,’ Diana said, giving up all hope of keeping the truth from him or the rest of his family. He was looking at her with an expression she could not quite fathom. Was it curiosity or disgust or compassion? Those blue eyes gave nothing away, but he could not have failed to understand what Mrs Beales had been hinting. She wished the ground would open and swallow her.

‘Lead the way,’ he commanded, as Mrs Beales plodded back to her own quarters.

‘This need not concern you, Mr Harecroft. Please tell Mr Harecroft senior I shall be at work as usual tomorrow.’

‘I will do no such thing. Take me to your father.’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ he repeated impatiently. ‘Do you think I am slow-witted? It is as plain as day what is wrong with him and I doubt if you are strong enough to get him home alone.’

‘It is not like that. He is not well.’

‘Your loyalty is commendable, Miss Bywater. Now let us go and find him.’ His apparent abruptness marked a deep concern. How did someone as young and beautiful as she was come to such a pass? Long before he went into the army, he had become aware of the deep chasm between rich and poor, a chasm that the rich for the most part ignored, salving their consciences with donations to charity. The poor had always been part of the population, but in this young lady’s case, he was sure it was of recent duration. That she had managed to hide it so successfully said a great deal for her pride and determination. Was that the sort of thing his great-grandmother wanted him to find out?

Without answering him, she turned and went out again. Neither spoke as she walked swiftly down the street, holding her grey working skirt out of the mire, with him in attendance. Why had Papa slipped back, after being good for so long? And tonight of all nights.

They could hear the sound of raucous singing long before they reached the door of The Dog and Duck. She hesitated with her hand on the latch, but it wasn’t as if it were the first time she had been obliged to enter that establishment, so she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

‘Stay here,’ Richard said, putting a hand on her arm to detain her. ‘I’ll fetch him out.’

‘He won’t go with a stranger.’ It was said half-heartedly. Now her horrible secret was out, the invitation to Borstead Hall would be withdrawn, there would be no marriage to Stephen, probably no job either. She was not so concerned about the invitation or Stephen’s half-hearted proposal, but the job was important. And she had a dreadful feeling one depended on the other.

The tavern was crowded with working men, some of whom were singing lustily. James Bywater was sitting in a corner between two scruffy individuals apparently deep in conversation. His suit of clothes had once been smart and his cravat had been clean that morning, but was clean no longer. On the table at his side was a tricorne hat that he had once worn when commanding his ship. Diana hurried over to him. Oh, let him be sensible, she prayed. Make him come home quietly.

The trouble was that, even sober, he was difficult to handle, rather like a truculent child determined to have his own way. And yet, like a child, he was warm and loving and he never meant to hurt her. For her dead mother’s sake she persevered with her effort to help him to help himself.

From his corner seat he saw her and waved his full glass at her, slopping the contents over his fingers. The strong weatherbeaten seaman was gone and in his place was a shabby middle-aged man with an empty sleeve and brown stains on his cravat. His dog, Toby, sat patiently at his feet, waiting to lead him home because that was what had frequently happened in the past. ‘Diana, what are you doing here?’ She was thankful his speech was not too slurred.

‘Looking for you, Papa. I was hoping you would be at home. I have brought someone to meet you.’

He looked past her to where Richard stood. ‘Your young man?’

She felt the colour flood her face. Just lately he had been talking to her about making a good marriage, telling her to encourage her employer’s son, as if that would solve all their problems. ‘You would be well set up there,’ he had said. ‘No more scrimping and trying to make ends meet and we could leave this sordid place.’

‘No, Papa, this is Mr Richard Harecroft.’

James shrugged as if it was all one to him. ‘Join me in a drink, young feller.’

‘Thank you. I’ll have a pot of ale.’

Diana gasped. She had been relying on Richard’s help to extricate her father, and here he was encouraging him. ‘Papa—’ she began.

‘Sit down.’ Richard spoke quietly, but it was a command and she found herself obeying, even as she opened her mouth to protest that she did not frequent taverns and had only ever stayed long enough to haul her father out and that had not happened for nearly a year. ‘Say nothing,’ he murmured. ‘He has a full glass and he will not come away until it is empty, so be patient a minute.’

That was all very well, she thought as Richard beckoned a waiter. Papa would not want to leave even when his glass was empty; they would still have a fight on their hands. It was nerve-racking and exhausting and all she wanted was to go home and hide and never have to face the world again.

‘You work at the shop with your father?’ James asked. The two men who had been with him had disappeared at a nod from Richard and the three of them were alone at the table.

‘No, trade is not for me. I am a writer.’

‘Writer, eh? What sort of writing?’

‘Papa, you should not quiz Mr Harecroft,’ Diana said.

‘Oh, I do not mind it,’ Richard said. ‘I only wish more people were interested. I write about the common soldier and the trouble he faces finding employment when his services are no longer required.’

‘Not only soldiers,’ James said meaningfully. ‘Sailors too.’

‘True, but I know very little about the navy. You could perhaps enlighten me, tell me about the men and their children. Particularly the children.’

‘Like children, do you?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you have none of your own.’

‘I am unmarried.’ He began to wonder who was quizzing whom, but he was also aware that he was playing right into his great-grandmother’s hands.

‘Time enough to remedy that.’

James finished his drink, but before he could suggest ordering another, Richard drained his tankard and stood up. ‘Time to go home.’

‘Later, let us have one for the road first.’

‘Papa.’ Diana stood up and bent to take his arm, but he pulled himself roughly from her grasp.

‘Do not rush me, girl. You know I hate to be rushed.’

‘Papa, please come home.’

Richard turned to Diana. ‘You take his arm and I’ll take the other side and off we go. Do not give him a chance to struggle.’

It worked like a charm. Diana held firmly on to his one arm and Richard put his hand on his shoulder on the other side and more or less propelled him out to the street. Diana marvelled at his sheer strength and command of the situation. When anything like that had happened before, she had had to plead with her father, but because her strength did not match his, even when he was drunk, she had not been able to drag him away before he wanted to come. He was always sorry afterwards and begged her forgiveness, promising not to let it happen again. And for nearly a year he had kept that promise. Until tonight.

With Toby trotting behind, he walked fairly steadily between them; though he did not appear to need their support, neither released him. He was not as bad as Diana had thought at first, hardly more than slightly tipsy. At any rate the two men were chatting quite amiably. She began to revise her opinion of Richard. Although he was firm, he did not appear to condemn, he simply accepted the situation, almost as if he were used to it. She could not imagine Mr Harecroft senior or Stephen imbibing too much or even condoning it in others, but Richard had been in the army and no doubt that accounted for it.

‘How long were you in the army?’ the older man asked the younger.

‘Six years, most of it in the colonies.’

‘I am a naval man myself, man and boy, never knew any other kind of life—’ He stopped suddenly and buckled between them, and taken by surprise, neither could hold him. He sank to the ground at their feet.

‘Papa!’ Diana cried, bending over him. ‘Do get up, please.’

Richard gently pushed her to one side and crouched beside the unconscious man, bending his head to listen to his chest and then leaning back to look at his contorted face. Diana stood looking down at him with her hand to her mouth while the dog whined round them in agitation.

‘Stay with him, while I fetch the tilbury,’ Richard said, straightening up. ‘He is not drunk, he has had a seizure. We must take him to hospital.’ They had attracted a small crowd. He turned to them. ‘There is nothing to see, my friends. The gentleman is ill. Give him air, if you please.’ He ushered them away and then sprinted up the street, leaving Diana to kneel beside her father and lift his head on to her lap. She was angry with herself for the unkind thoughts she had been having about him and wished he could hear her apologising.

Richard returned with the gig very quickly and, hardly appearing to exert himself, lifted the unconscious man into it and propped him in the corner, then helped Diana up beside him. There was now no room for a driver, and so he led the horse, breaking into a run as they reached the end of the street. Diana, cradling her father, called out to him. ‘Where are you taking us?’

He called back over his shoulder. ‘St Thomas’s. It is the nearest. We must not waste time.’

He did not want to take them there, but he could see no alternative. Hospitals catered for the poor whose purses and living conditions precluded them from being treated at home. People who could afford to pay for their treatment expected nurses and doctors to visit them, not the other way about. If that were not possible, there were private nursing homes. He would have had no hesitation in paying for the captain’s treatment, but realised that would not be appropriate, and in any case speed was important.

He turned back to look at Miss Bywater. She was very pale, but appeared calm. He was full of admiration for her courage. To live as she did, looking after a difficult parent in conditions only one step above squalor, and yet put in a day’s work at Harecroft’s showed a strength of character that was at odds with her femininity. He wondered how much Stephen had told her about himself. Or how much Stephen really knew about her. He had a feeling the party at Borstead Hall would bring everything to a head. Would she come? She had declined the invitation even before this had happened. But Great-Grandmama was a strong character and if she wanted the young lady there, she would find a way of bringing it about.

He pulled up outside the hospital and lifted the older man down and carried him into the building, leaving Diana to follow. In no time, because the Harecroft name was known and they had given generous donations to the hospital in the past and because Richard promised more, Mr Bywater was put into a small room on his own and a nurse was delegated to his care.

The next few hours were a nightmare to Diana. She moved like an automaton, sitting when told to, drinking endless cups of tea that Richard sent out for, unaware of anything except her concern for her father and her own feelings of guilt. She had misjudged Papa and if Richard had not been there, she might have been slower to realise that his condition was caused by illness and not drink. Telling herself that on past performance she could be forgiven for it did not make her feel any better, nor the fact that it was Mr Richard Harecroft, of all people, who was on hand to help her.

At dawn she was still sitting on a bench outside the room where her father lay fighting for his life. Richard had left to take Toby back to Mrs Beales and then he was going home himself. ‘I will tell my father what has happened,’ he had said before leaving. ‘You will not be expected to go to work today.’ She wondered what else he would tell his father and the rest of the family. She was thankful that it was Saturday and there was all the next day before she need worry about her job.

If her father lived, she would devote herself to him and try even harder to help him overcome his problem and she would put all ideas of marrying Stephen out of her mind. In any case, as soon as he knew her circumstances, Stephen would make excuses not to take her out again and the subject of marriage between them would be tacitly dropped. It was not that she minded about that. She was not in love with him and had only been considering it because her father had told her not to dismiss the idea out of hand. But Stephen’s strange way of proposing had made her wonder if he too might be having pressure put to bear on him. Though why? She was no catch. She had no dowry, no fortune and no more than average good looks.

Thinking about that set her thinking about Lady Harecroft’s party. In normal circumstances she might have been thrilled to be asked, would have anticipated it with pleasure, but the circumstances were far from normal. What was going on in that old lady’s head? She did not appear demented, but perhaps she was, perhaps she was mistaking her for someone else, someone far more suitable as a bride for her great-grandson. And from those thoughts it was a simple step to thinking about the other great-grandson.

Mr Richard Harecroft had shown himself to be masterful and completely in charge of the situation. He had not turned a hair at having to go into that low tavern, nor shown any kind of disgust, either at their dismal lodgings or the state of her father. And he had known at once that Papa was ill. He had saved both her life and her father’s in the space of a couple of hours, and he had paid for the private room. She owed him more than she could ever repay.

She looked up and jumped to her feet as a nurse approached her. ‘How is he?’

‘He is a fighter, I will give you that. We think he will pull through.’

Diana let out a long breath of relief and scrubbed at her eyes with an already sodden handkerchief. ‘Thank God. Can I see him?’

‘Yes, you can go in and see him for a few minutes, then I suggest you go home and rest. The worst is over and now only time will tell how far he will recover.’

‘What do you mean, how far?’

‘He will need careful nursing and a great deal of help and patience. He will have to learn to manage his disability…’

‘You mean the loss of his arm. He manages that very well.’

‘No, I mean the paralysis of his left side and not being able to speak properly. We do not know how permanent that is. He might recover some speech and movement in time. It is in God’s hands. We have done all we can.’ She pushed open the door of the sickroom. ‘Captain Bywater, here is your daughter, but she must not stay too long and tire you.’ She turned to Diana, who had followed her. ‘Take his hand and squeeze it now and again,’ she murmured. ‘You never know, you may arouse a response.’

Diana moved towards the bed. Her father’s normally weatherbeaten face looked grey and still had that contorted look, which had so frightened her. She sat in a chair beside the bed and took his hand. ‘Papa, it’s me, Diana.’ He turned to stare at her, but she was not sure if he had taken in what she said.

His lips moved slightly, trying to frame a word, but he gave up and she realised he could not speak and that made her want to cry again. ‘Do not try to talk,’ she said, determined not to let him see her tears. ‘Just squeeze my hand.’ But he did not; his own hand lay limply in hers.

‘Mr Harecroft took Toby home,’ she said, making herself sound cheerful. ‘He said he would make sure Mrs Beales looked after him. You remember Mr Harecroft? He came home with me last night. I do not know what I would have done without him. I will go home when I leave here and see how he is.’ She forced a laugh. ‘Toby, I mean, not Mr Hare-croft. I expect Mr Harecroft has gone back to Harecroft House and I did not have a chance to thank him properly.’ She prattled on. He neither moved nor spoke and only his eyes seemed to have any life as they searched her face.

The nurse came in. ‘Time to go, Miss Bywater. Your father needs to rest and so do you.’

Diana bent over to kiss her father’s forehead. ‘I must go now, Papa, but I will come back soon.’

He moved his lips and she heard him utter the word, ‘Kate’. It was her mother’s name and she turned away blinded by tears.

In the corridor the nurse asked, ‘Did he say something?’

‘Only “Kate”. He thinks I am my mother.’

‘Do not let it worry you. Saying anything at all is a good sign. Now off you go. He is in good hands.’

‘I know and I cannot begin to thank you.’

‘You do not have to. It is our job.’

It was more than just a job, Diana thought as she made her way out of the hospital, it took courage and dedication, both of which would be required of her in the next few days and weeks. Or perhaps it would be months and years. How was she ever going to manage?

‘Miss Bywater!’

She looked up and was surprised to see Richard Harecroft striding towards her. And suddenly she felt more cheerful, simply because he was there. ‘How is he?’ he asked.

‘Comfortable. He is being well looked after and I have been sent away to rest.’

‘Quite right, too. I have brought the gig to take you home. Stephen would have come, but he has gone to work, so I have come in his stead.’ He took her elbow to usher her towards the patient pony. ‘I know, you are going to say you can easily walk…’

‘No.’ She managed a smile. ‘I am glad you came, I wanted to thank you for what you did for my father last night. And for me.’

‘I did nothing.’ His tone was brusque, dismissing her gratitude.

‘All the same I am grateful, and I am sure Papa will be too, when he understands what happened.’

He helped her into the gig, climbed in beside her and set the pony off at a trot. She was silent, too tired to make conversation, until they came out of the end of the street and turned towards the river. ‘Mr Harecroft,’ she said, sitting forward in dismay, ‘this is not the way. You have taken a wrong turn.’

‘I do not think so. Great-Grandmama instructed me to take you home and that is what I am doing, taking you to Harecroft House.’

‘Your home! Oh, no. I cannot go.’

‘Why not?’

‘I am unkempt, my father is in hospital and I must be on hand to visit him; besides, you could not have told her ladyship the whole sorry story.’

He knew what she meant. ‘No, that is between you and me and no one else’s business unless you choose to tell them.’

‘Oh.’ She paused to reflect; she could not keep her job and look after her father at the same time, and yet she needed to earn if they were to live. It was a problem that would have to be faced, but at the moment she was too exhausted to think about it. ‘Would that not be dishonest?’

‘I do not see why. Your father is ill and he is not going to be in a position to go wandering off on his own for a little while, is he? Why stir up more problems for yourself?’ He turned to look at her. She was very pale; there were dark circles under her troubled blue-grey eyes and her hands were shaking in her lap. He put one hand over hers. ‘Our secret, eh?’ Even as he spoke, he wondered what he would say to the dowager if she asked him what he had discovered? What had Great-Grandmother seen in her that had made her so anxious to probe? The whole business was on the way to distracting him from his main purpose, being elected to Parliament and having his book published. He thought becoming an MP ought to come first, but he had heard nothing from Peel or Chadwick.

‘Thank you.’ She looked down at his strong brown hand covering hers and it felt so comforting and so right, she did not withdraw it as she ought to have done, but a minute later he was obliged to put both hands on the reins to steer the pony to a stop in order to pay the toll over Waterloo Bridge and the moment of intimacy was gone. ‘But I still do not think you should take me to Harecroft House. I am an employee, it is not fitting…’

‘That makes no difference as far as the old lady is concerned. When she says do something, we all jump to obey.’ His voice softened. ‘Do not be alarmed. She will not eat you. You will be given a room where you can rest and refresh yourself and later someone will take you to visit your papa. It is better than going back to those dismal rooms and the uncouth Mrs Beales, is it not? You could never rest in the daytime there.’

‘Yes, but…’

‘I suggest you accept, it will be easier in the long run.’

‘Thank you.’ She leaned back and shut her eyes and let him carry her forward, though she could not help feeling she was being manipulated, losing control. Accustomed to directing her own life, of looking after her mother before she died and her father since then, she was not sure she liked it. But she was too tired to argue, much too tired…

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