Off the Rails (17 page)

She didn’t think it was.

‘If I had a fairy godmother,’ he said, ‘to come and wave her magic wand for me, that’s what I would wish for. In fact, if I tell you the truth, I can’t think of anything I’d like more.’ Then he was lost for words, and stood looking at her while he changed the bags from his right hand to his left, wondering whether it was a proper time to tell her other things.

‘There’s the cart a-coming,’ she said, winding her muffler more closely round her neck.

‘Ah, yes,’ he said, trying to sound as though it didn’t matter, although he was secretly flooded with disappointment because they were going to be interrupted at such an inopportune moment and there were so many things he wanted to say to her. However, by the time Jenkins brought the cart to a slithering halt alongside them he had recovered his balance and was back to his public persona again, handing the young lady into the cart and giving the luggage to the servant like the gentleman he was. There would be other times. He knew he would have to ride to Oxford as soon as they got back to Longfield Hall because that was arranged. But he could always write to her.

He wrote as soon as he got back to Oxford and the letter was delivered to her at breakfast the next morning. She was careful not to open it until she was alone in her room. It would never have done to read it in front of all the others. But it was worth the wait for it began ‘
My dearest Milly
’. The words made her feel quite overcome. She had to sit down on the bed before she could go on reading.

I hope you will forgive me for addressing you in such an informal way,’ he wrote, ‘but we are both orphans, after all, and were both raised by the same good woman and I felt I could scarcely address you as Miss Smith. It was such an enjoyable holiday I haven’t digested it all yet. I do so hope we can visit with your mother and Mr Cartwright again very soon.

‘I will visit the bookshops tomorrow and see whether I can find you any other fairy stories since I know they are dear to your heart.

‘Meantime, I remain your fellow orphan,

‘Felix.’

She put the letter in the top drawer of her chest of drawers, hidden away underneath her petticoats. And that night, when the day’s work was done and dinner was over, she sat down at her dressing table under the gaslight and wrote him a long reply.
My dearest Milly
, she thought as she settled in her bed. Oh my dear Felix. Am I truly your dearest? Really truly? The words had turned her life upside-down. I should so love to be your dearest.

I
T WAS THE
new year of 1835 and change was coming to the city of York. It wasn’t just the railway – most people knew that was on the way and were either looking forward to it or deploring it – it was change of a
political
kind and that was a thing very few of them expected. York had been a staunch Whig town ever since most people there could remember. So when it was announced that there was to be an election for a Member of Parliament, they assumed that a Whig would be elected. But they were
reckoning
without Mr George Hudson, who took immediate action to ensure that, this time, young John Henry Lowther, his favoured Tory candidate, would be the one to win.

‘High time the Whigs were ousted,’ he said to the Tory election committee. ‘They’ve had t’run of t’mill for a deal too long. Give me a list of all the electors and let’s see if I can persuade ’em.’

He was persuasive to the tune of several thousand pounds and when some of his fellow Tories worried that what he was doing might not be completely legal, he laughed them to scorn.

‘What’s “legal” to do wi’ it?’ he scoffed. ‘What counts is brass, gentlemen, brass and influence, and there’s brass in t’kitty. Don’t you worry about
that
. I matched old Sir John Lowther pound for pound, right back at the beginning. Now all we have to do is spend it to good purpose. Don’t fret about niceties. Leave that to lesser men. Now’s the time for banquets and junkets and standing a few drinks and slipping a few pennies in a few pockets. Electors are an empty-headed lot and empty heads can be swayed.’

As it turned out. To the Whigs’ annoyance and amazement, it was John Henry Lowther who was returned to Westminster as Member of Parliament for the City of York. George was cock-a-hoop and threw a party to
celebrate
, naturally, and got splendidly and uproariously drunk, naturally. And while he was still well oiled and exuberant, he posted a sovereign to every voter he’d swayed by way of a thank-you present.

His detractors were appalled at such behaviour. ‘Showing off,’ they said to one another. ‘Flashing his money about it. No good’ll come of it.’

George let it all roll off his shoulders. They were plenty broad enough. His man had won and that was what mattered.

‘Now,’ he said to Lizzie as they were finishing their lunch the next day, ‘I can build as many railways as I want and be sure of an Act of Parliament to support ’em instead of kicking my heels for months waiting for some blamed fool at Westminster to tek pity on me. James Meek’s not an earthly bit of use. ’Tis pointless waitin’ for him to do owt.’

Lizzie became aware that he was waiting for her to say something. ‘I thought I might just walk down to t’shop,’ she offered, ‘if that’s agreeable to ’ee. To have t’children measured for some new clothes. Well, the three eldest I mean, not Baby. He can manage a bit longer I daresay, being a baby. But George is such a big boy now and he’s grown right out of his little jacket, you can see all his wrists, and what I can say about Ann’s little dresses I really don’t know. I mean for to say they don’t fit at all – I mean not as they should. She can get them on, I’ll grant that, but they’re such a tight fit her little arms are all stuck out sideways.’

‘You’ve not been listening to a single word I’ve been saying,’ George said, hot with exasperation. ‘Not one single blamed word.’

‘Oh no, George,’ Lizzie flutttered in some panic. ‘I wouldn’t want ’ee for to think that. I’ve been payin’ the greatest attention. I allus do.’

‘Greatest attention my aunt fanny,’ her husband said and left her.

‘He was that cross, you wouldn’t believe,’ Lizzie said to her brother half an hour later. Since their sister’s death two years ago, the two of them had grown so much closer to one other that she felt she could confide in him. ‘I do try to listen, tha knows that, I allus do, I’d not be much of a wife to him if I didn’t, but this talk of railways and elections and whatnot is mortal hard on the ears.’

‘Lift your arms up, Georgie,’ Richard Nicholson said to his nephew, who was standing on the counter being measured. ‘How would ’ee fancy the blue wool for his jacket, Lizzie? ’Tis all the rage this season and I could give ’ee a good price.’

They decided on the blue wool and the sprigged muslin for Ann and then Richard folded up his tape measure and put it in the drawer under the counter and told them all he was taking them out for tea, as they’d been such good children.

‘Actually,’ he said to Lizzie when they were all settled with pots of tea and a plateful of sugar cakes, ‘it’s you I want to talk to.’

‘What about?’ Lizzie said, wiping cake crumbs from her mouth.

‘I’ve been thinking of buying shares in the railway,’ her brother said. ‘What would ’ee say to that? Would it be wise?’

‘Aye, it would,’ Lizzie told him. ‘Railways are going to mek a deal of money once they’re up and running. George told me. He might get a bit
tetchy wi’ me when I don’t listen – he’s a great man and you’ve got to mek allowances – but he knows all there is to know about railways. None better. And money.’

‘I’d like to buy one of those new houses up by Clifton Croft,’ Richard said, ‘furnish it all
a la mode
, sort of thing. Live easy, sort of thing.’

‘Why not?’ his sister approved. ‘George would advise you, I’m certain sure. You have to buy at the top of the market – or was it the bottom? Anyroad there’s a best time for it. He’d be able to tell ’ee. And there’s a new railway a-coming. You could buy shares in that.’

The new railway was voted into existence that summer at a meeting of the Committee of the York Railway which was now such a prestigious group they held their proceedings in the Guildhall. On this occasion they agreed to link up with the Leeds–Derby project and form a new railway company, which they called the York and North Midlands Railway. And when the shares were floated, one of their principle new shareholders was Mr Richard Nicholson, who naturally became one of the company’s directors.

George invited him to one of his rowdy dinners to celebrate.

‘Now,’ he said, as they took their places one on either side of the table, ‘tha’s on tha way to becoming a very rich man.’ And he raised his first glass to his brother-in-law. ‘Your very good health, sir!’

Jane and Nathaniel were dining with Milly and Felix that evening. Dining together had become a regular event since their brief visit at Easter and one they all looked forward to. Sir Percival and Lady Livingston were in London for the season, as was Felix’s father, and as term was over and Felix was officially ‘home for the hols’, they had plenty of free time – as well as one of Sir Mortimer’s carriages in which to travel about. Persuading his father to let him have it had been quite a victory as Felix was happy to tell them.

‘He thinks I’m visitin’ my Oxford friends,’ he said, the first time he drove to their door. ‘He’d have a fit if he knew where I really was.’

‘Good job he doesn’t then,’ Jane said, kissing her daughter. The warmth of being a conspirator and outwitting the icy Sir Mortimer was a real pleasure.

But on this occasion, Felix had arrived with a problem which was
obviously
worrying him, and it wasn’t long before they discovered what it was. Apparently Sir Mortimer had come back to Foster Manor for a few days and had been laying down the law as to what his son was to do when he finally came down.

‘He says I can holiday abroad for the summer but then I’m to go back to the Manor and learn how to run the estate ready for when I inherit.’

‘You must have expected that, surely,’ Nathaniel said reasonably. ‘After all, that’s what eldest sons always do.’

‘Yes,’ Felix admitted. ‘I suppose I did, in a general sort of way. But …’ He sighed.

‘So what is the problem?’ Nathaniel asked.

‘It ain’t what I really want to do with my life,’ Felix told him honestly.

‘And what
do
you want to do with your life?’

‘I want to be a lawyer, sir. Always have done, as Milly will tell you.’

‘Could you not do both?’

‘Not according to the pater,’ Felix said ruefully. ‘We had words, I’m afraid. He said he wouldn’t allow any son of his to join such a disgraceful profession.’

‘Ah!’

‘You’re young yet,’ Jane said, trying to comfort. ‘You’ve got another two years at Oxford, have ’ee not? Happen he’ll change his mind.’

Felix sighed even more heavily. ‘The pater never changes his mind,’ he said. ‘He tells you what he intends you to do and leans on you until you do it.’

Yes, Jane thought, that’s exactly what he does.

There was a long pause, while Milly and Felix looked sadly at each other and Jane looked hopefully at Nathaniel and Nathaniel poured more wine for them all and then considered, gazing away from them into a space of his own.

‘When we’re building a railway,’ he said eventually, ‘and we hit upon a problem – an incline too steep for a cutting, for example, or an inpenetrable hill – we sit down and ask ourselves questions and give our minds to finding another solution to it. There are invariably other solutions. It’s just a matter of looking for them and asking the right questions. Happen I might ask you some questions in this case, Felix.’

Felix nodded, although both Jane and Milly could see that he had little hope that an interrogation would provide any useful answers.

‘Your father appears to dislike the legal profession for some reason,’ Nathaniel said.

‘Yes. He does.’

‘Do you know why that should be?’

‘Oh yes,’ Felix said. ‘He makes no secret of it. In his opinion lawyers are rogues and fools.’

‘Not honest men, is that the size of it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Does he often express such an opinion?’

‘Yes. He does. Frequently.’

‘Then I believe we may have hit upon a plan of campaign,’ Nathaniel said. ‘I would advise you to say nothing about your hopes for the time being. In fact if I were you I would avoid the subject of your future
altogether
, agreeing that you would, of course, be prepared to learn how to run the estate but otherwise holding your peace. Then all you have to do is wait until the next time your father is holding forth about the dishonesty of lawyers and, when he has disburdened himself of his opinion, I suggest that you ask him, very politely, whether he would allow you to provide him with a lawyer who would be more to his taste. If what you say about him is true, he will protest that there is no such thing as an honest lawyer. You can then ask him whether he might prefer a lawyer who has been raised and bred in his own house and therefore knows right from wrong and would be utterly trustworthy. What do you say to that?’

Jane clapped her hands with delight to think of this cold, powerful man being outwitted. ‘I never knew you could be so artful,’ she said.

But Nathaniel was still looking at Felix.

‘I’m not sure, sir,’ Felix told him. ‘The pater ain’t the easiest man for anyone to talk to. He don’t listen, d’ye see.’

‘Then you would have to choose a good moment,’ Nathaniel said. ‘You’ve plenty of time to think about it.’

Then the subject was dropped because their parlourmaid had come in to ask if there were owt else they needed and they decided that as the meal was finished they would walk in the garden while it was still light. And Milly and Felix asked if it would be agreeable for them to take a short walk in the fields instead, which they always did when the meal was over.

Jane watched them stroll away, very close together but being careful not to hold hands until they were out of sight. ‘They do mek me remember,’ she said, taking Nathaniel’s arm.

‘Aye,’ he smiled. ‘I can see that. Will he take my advice, do you think?’

‘He will try,’ Jane said. ‘He does so want to be a lawyer.’

‘He would make a good one,’ Nathaniel said. ‘He has the necessary virtues.’

‘And what are they, pray?’

‘He is patient and he listens. You brought him up well.’

The summer gentled by: Jane’s garden was scented by roses and raspberries; Nathaniel worked on plans for the new railway; Sir Mortimer stayed in London and so did Sir Percival and Lady Sarah, who wrote to Milly twice a week to send her the latest gossip and to enquire after her daughters. And at the end of July, her letter was bubbling with the news that ‘that dreadful upstart George Hudson’ had been summoned to appear before a special
committee in the Houses of Parliament to answer charges of bribery and corruption during the recent election.

‘We are all agog to see how it will turn out,’
she wrote.
‘’Twould give the wretch his just deserts were he to be sent for trial. He has always been a deal too full of himself.’

That was the opinion of the Whigs in York, who were still smarting over the way Mr Hudson had outmanoeuvred them and still complaining about the effrontery of those sovereigns. George himself was annoyed to be summoned so peremptorily but not overly concerned. After all, both parties had bribed the electors. That was the way of the world. It was a storm in a teacup, as he told his friends in the Tory Party. Nevertheless he had to obey the summons, even though his first instinct had been to ignore it, and he duly travelled down to London on the appointed day, taking his solicitor friend James Richardson to support him, and prepared himself to answer their unnecessary questions.

They were a great deal more searching than was comfortable for, as he saw at once, one member of the committee seemed to have made up his mind that he was guilty as charged before he’d had a chance to open his mouth.

‘You are the treasurer of the Tory Party in York, I believe,’ he said.

George agreed that he was.

‘Then you would have been responsible for any monies spent by that organization.’

‘No, sir. That was the responsibility of the committee as a whole.’

‘But you were the treasurer?’

‘Aye.’

‘Then you would have paid out monies on Mr Lowther’s behalf.’

That needed a denial or the wretched man would trap him. ‘No, sir, I did not.’

‘I find that hard to understand,’ his questioner went on. Really, the man was like some ugly little terrier. ‘Were you treasurer without a treasury?’