Off the Rails (20 page)

It was dark and rather chill out in the gardens after the crush and heat of the ballroom but blissfully private. Milly and Felix strolled towards the river arm in arm still singing the tune of the reel. They were dizzy with love and wine and good food and impervious to the cold. Above their heads the stars were white pinpricks in a velvet sky, the music of the next dance drifted out towards them over the lawns and below their feet the river was a moving blackness made visible by the reflected lights from the Guildhall.

‘I feel as if I’m dreaming,’ Felix said, as they stood side by side leaning against the parapet. ‘I shall wake up presently and none of this will be true.’

She leant amorously against his side, looked up into his face and pinched his cheek.

‘Ow!’ he said, jumping back from her. ‘What did you do that for?’

She laughed at him. ‘If you’d been asleep you wouldn’t have felt it,’ she said. ‘Now tell me what Mr Cartwright said.’

‘You know what he said,’ he protested. ‘I’ve been telling you all
afternoon
.’

‘So why don’t ’ee propose to me?’ she teased. ‘You’re mighty slow about it.’

‘I couldn’t very well go down on one knee in the ballroom,’ he said.

‘No,’ she agreed, ‘possibly not. But you can do it now.’

‘Is that what you want me to do?’

‘Naturally. I couldn’t say yes to ’ee if you were standing on your feet. Or on mine as the case may be, what you were doing in that reel, summat chronic.’

He was appalled to be told such a thing. ‘I wasn’t,’ he said and then asked anxiously. ‘Was I?’

‘You were,’ she said, laughing at him again, ‘but I’ll not scold ’ee for it. Not if you propose nicely.’

‘Now?’

‘Now.’

He lowered himself rather gingerly to one knee. He really
was
very squiffy. He reached for her hand and took it, more to steady himself than because it was the thing to do. ‘Miss Smith,’ he said, gazing up at her. ‘It cannot have escaped your notice that I am very much – um – enamoured of you. Is that the right word, Millikens?’

‘Aye,’ she said, delighted by him but pretending to be severe. ‘It is. But do get on with it, for mercy’s sake. I never knew anyone so long-winded.’

‘Where was I?’

‘May I have the honour,’ she prompted.

‘Ah yes,’ he said and took a deep breath. ‘My dearest Dumma-dumma, may I have the honour of your hand in matrimony?’

‘Yes, yes, yes,’ she said, stooping to kiss him full on the lips.

At that he had a fit of the giggles. He simply couldn’t help it, the relief was so ovewhelming. ‘I can’t believe it, I tell ’ee,’ he said, between gasps of laughter. ‘I simply can’t believe it.’

Now and a little late in the occasion, she realized that he was kneeling in mud. ‘You’re getting mud all over your breeches,’ she said. ‘What will people think?’

‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘Let ’em think, say I. Let the whole world think.’

There were people approaching them along the path. Rather
grand-looking
people.

‘Get up, my darling,’ Milly said. ‘They’re looking at us.’

He got up but he was too excited for caution. ‘My dearest, darling Dumma-dumma,’ he said and kissed her long and passionately.

When he lifted his head he discovered that he was being scrutinized by one of his old college friends. ‘I say, Felix!’ that gentleman said. ‘I never thought you had it in you. You
do
go it!’

Felix recovered sufficiently to make introductions. ‘Miss Smith, allow me to present an old friend of mine. Rufus de Seward. His pater’s a lord, don’t ye know.’

Milly had recovered her balance more quickly than her lover. ‘Your servant, sir,’ she said and dropped him a pretty curtsey.

‘Rufus,’ Felix said with splendid aplomb, ‘allow me to present my darling Miss Millicent Smith who has just done me the honour of agreeing to be my wife.’

‘My stars!’ Rufus said. ‘You
do
go it!’

They walked back into the ballroom together, giggling and laughing, and Milly and Felix ran straight to her mother’s table as soon as they got in through the door because they couldn’t wait to tell her they were engaged. Rufus watched them rather enviously for a few seconds, and then strolled off to find his friends and tell them the amazing news but, unfortunately for Felix, the first person he actually found was his father and his father had seen their cheerful entry and quizzed him about it straightaway.

‘Was that not Sir Mortimer’s son I saw coming in with you?’ he said.

‘It was indeed, Pater,’ Rufus told him. ‘Bit of a surprise, what?’

‘And who was that
person
hanging on to his arm?’

Rufus was too cheerful with drink to realize that he was treading on dangerous ground. ‘Oh, she’s his fiancée,’ he said. ‘They’ve just got engaged. He was telling me all about it.’

‘Engaged?’ his father said, eyebrows disappearing into his hair. ‘Never heard the like. Most unsuitable person I ever saw. Looks like a governess. I can’t imagine what Sir Mortimer will have to say about it. Does she have a name, this person?’

Rufus dithered but he could hardly disobey his father by not answering his question – not now the conversation was under way. ‘Millicent,’ he said ‘Millicent Smith.’

The eyebrows disappeared completely. ‘Smith?’ the noble lord said and his voice was shrill with outrage. ‘Smith?’

‘She’s a deuced fine gel, sir,’ Rufus said, trying to make amends. ‘Frightfully jolly.’

‘Jolly!’ his father said. ‘My dear boy! She’s common.’ Sir Mortimer would certainly have to be told about this and the sooner the better.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, while most of his guests were sleeping off their excesses, George Hudson woke at first light. Despite the enormous success of the grand opening, Mr Meek’s spiteful jibe still scratched in his brain and, as always when he felt he’d been unfairly put down, he needed to work to restore his sense of importance. He wrapped his dressing gown around him and strode off to the library, where he took Nathaniel’s huge railway map from its long drawer and spread it out across the table. Just the sight of it restored his equilibrium, all those long dependable double lines, drawn in red ink where his railways already ran, and in pencil where the lines were being built or still in planning. It was admirable. He traced the route from York to London with his finger, through Normanton to Sheffield and Derby and then on to Rugby. I’ll complete the South Milford to Altoft section as soon as it can be done, he thought, and then I can link up with the North Midland Railway. That should have been done long since. And I must send a letter to Mr Stephenson and ask him to dinner. We hardly had time to talk about anything yesterday and his proposal for a
route to Scarborough and Whitby is very sound. Needs following up. A line like that would do a deal of trade.

Let Meek and his nasty-minded cronies say what they like, he thought, as he sat down at his desk and reached for pen and ink. I’m the man who gets things done – and I’m a damned fine Lord Mayor, what’s more, which nobody can deny. Why shouldn’t I be Mayor two years running? All that fuss about it being unconstitutional is just a lot of rot. If you’ve got a good ‘un, stick with him, that’s what I say, and damn the constitution.

By the time the letter was written, Lizzie had come waddling in to see where he was and to tell him that breakfast would be served in half an hour and that the post had come.

It was a very satisfactory post, for the first three letters were singing his praises for throwing such an enjoyable party and the fourth was from Harrow school saying they were pleased to offer his son George a place in the school.

‘There you are, George,’ he said to his quiet son, who was sitting beside his mother eating bacon and kidneys as neatly as he could and
concentrating
hard. ‘When you’re thirteen, you’ll be going to Harrow. What do ’ee think of that?’

George swallowed the latest mouthful, wiped his mouth with his table napkin and said he was gratified.

‘And so you should be, boy,’ his father boomed. ‘Cost me a deal of money has that. So see you’re worth it.’ Then he thought he ought to pay attention to his other children. ‘Sit up straight, John, I don’t like to see you all a-slouch. It’s bad for the spine. Then if you’re a good boy I’ll send you to Harrow too. And you an’ all, William, when you’re old enough.’

‘What about me, Pa?’ Ann said, tossing her newly brushed ringlets at him and flirting her eyes because she knew he liked it. ‘Am I to go to Harrow too?’

‘You,’ he told her, making eyes back, ‘are to have a rich husband what’ll keep you in fine style and give you everything you want. Can’t say fairer than that, can I?’ Then, having distributed largesse to all four of them, he went back to spearing his kidneys and picked up the morning paper to see what they had to say about his grand opening. And it had better be good.

Over on the other side of town in the sunlit warmth of their pale green breakfast room in Shelton House, Mr and Mrs Cartwright and their now extended family were all talking at once. There was so much they wanted to say and it all had to be said that very minute. Mary wanted to know when her Milly was going to get married and scowled when Felix said he didn’t know because he had to ask his father’s permission first and his
father was away visiting a cousin for the next two months, so she asked if she could be a bridesmaid and carry the flowers and clapped her hands when Milly said yes; Nat asked whether Felix was going to be his ‘really truly brother’ and clapped
his
hands when he was told he was, declaring to anyone who was actually listening that he’d always wanted a really truly brother; and Milly laughed at them and said she couldn’t really believe it ‘even now’ and her grandmother laughed at them and said she’d never heard anything to equal it and Nathaniel begged them to speak ‘one at a time’ and none of them took any notice of him. Felix was in a state of such overpowering happiness that he could barely put a sentence together without blushing and Jane smiled and smiled because her two babies were so gloriously, transparently happy with one another. And wasn’t that exactly what she’d said was going to happen? And as if all this weren’t enough, they had three more days to enjoy themselves before Milly and Felix and her dear Nathaniel had to go back to their work.

‘’Tis a beautiful day,’ she said, when they finally paused for breath. ‘Let’s take a drive out into the country and have us a picnic. What do ’ee think?’

They had two picnics, because the weather held for them, and they dined well and noisily every evening, and when the happy lovers finally kissed them goodbye and left for their short drive to Longfield Hall, Jane was still stupid with delight at what had happened. Oh, she thought, life is so good.

Milly and Felix took such a long time to say goodbye to one another when they reached Longfield Hall that Nathaniel’s coachman, who was waiting on his seat, discreetly looking in another direction, was forced to dismount and remind the young gentleman that he had a stagecoach to catch and that if they didn’t get back to the Star and Garter in good time it would go without him. And as he was due to appear in court the following afternoon, Felix sighed and agreed to get back into the carriage.

It was a long lonely journey back to London and the overnight stop at Rugby only served to increase his loneliness, for the food was poor and the bed was extremely uncomfortable. He felt weary and decidedly grubby when he climbed back on the coach early the next morning. I must take a cab to Charlotte Square and get washed and changed before I go to court, he thought. It wouldn’t be at all proper to appear there in his present dishevelled state.

He was surprised to be greeted at the door of the house by his father’s butler, Mr Jennings.

‘Sir Mortimer’s compliments, Mr Felix,’ Mr Jennings said. ‘I am to tell you he would be obliged if you would join him in the library.’

‘Now, Jennings?’ Felix asked.

‘As soon as you arrived, sir. Those were his instructions.’

It sounded ominous but Felix did as he was told. He could wash and dress later.

His father was sitting at his desk, busily writing. ‘Yes?’ he said without looking up.

‘You wished to see me, Pater.’

The pen was wiped and put on its stand, the page dusted dry, the chair swivelled until they were facing one another. ‘I do indeed, sir,’ Sir Mortimer said. ‘Sit down.’ And when Felix had perched himself rather precariously on one of the chairs beside the library table, he gave him a discomforting look and went on. ‘I have been hearin’ some extremely disquietin’ reports of you, sir.’

As an answer seemed to be expected, Felix swallowed and provided one, as politely as he could. ‘I am sorry to hear that, Father.’

‘I trust you are, sir, and that the matter will be remedied.’

He knows about Milly, Felix thought, and his heart shuddered. But he didn’t say anything for there didn’t seem to be anything he
could
say. Instead he concentrated on staying calm and not showing any emotion. His father’s long nose was pinched white with anger and his expression was so cold it was turning the air to frost. It was several chilly seconds before he spoke again.

‘You were seen at some vulgar celebration in York, I believe.’

‘The opening of the York and North Midlands Railway,’ Felix told him, speaking with deliberate calm in his gentle barrister’s voice. ‘It was a very grand occasion.’

‘That,’ his father said, ‘is of no concern to me. The unfortunate matter we have to discuss is the company you were keepin’.’

Felix tried to deflect him. ‘I was there as the guest of Mr Nathaniel Cartwright,’ he said, ‘who is one of Mr Hudson’s principal engineers and a man of some standing.’

Sir Mortimer flicked that information aside with his long white fingers, as if it were of no consequence at all. ‘I was told, by a reliable source,’ he said, freezing the air between them, ‘that you were in the company of a highly unsuitable person.’

‘I was with Mr Cartwright’s stepdaughter, sir.’

‘In the company of a highly unsuitable person to whom you claimed to be affianced. I trust you were in your cups, sir, and unaware of what you were sayin’.’

Felix steadied himself before he answered. ‘I was perfectly aware of what I was saying, Father,’ he said. ‘Miss Smith has agreed to be my wife, so, yes, we are affianced.’

‘You will pardon me, sir, until you have asked my permission and it has been granted, you are no such thing. Let me tell you here and now, I have absolutely no intention of agreein’ to an alliance with a tradesman’s daughter. You will terminate this engagement forthwith.’

‘I cannot do that, Father. I love her and I have given her my word.’

‘Love!’ his father sniffed. ‘Love has nothin’ to do with the case. We are talkin’ about marriage, which is a matter of breedin’ and society and family obligations. If you love the gel you may take her as your mistress until you tire of her, providin’ you are disceet about it, but marriage, sir, marriage is quite another thing. And marriage with this “person” is out of the question. I trust I make myself clear.’

‘Perfectly clear, sir,’ Felix said, straightening his spine, for battle had now been joined. ‘However I must tell you that I intend to marry Miss Smith no matter what you might say. I love her and mean to make her my wife.’

Sir Mortimer’s anger was hard as ice. ‘In that case, sir,’ he said, ‘you leave me no alternative. If this marriage goes ahead, I will disinherit you.’

‘As you wish, sir.’

‘Your folly does you no credit,’ Sir Mortimer said, breathing deeply to control his anger. ‘However, I am nothin’ if not fair. I will make no decision for the moment. I shall be visitin’ with my cousins in Norfolk probably for the rest of the Season. You have until August to come to your senses and be done with all this foolishness. Is that clear?’

Felix agreed that it was, stood up, stiffly, and left the room. He felt as though he’d been pole-axed. But there was work to be done and little time in which to prepare for it. He went to his room to wash away the dust of his journey and dress himself in his working clothes, acting automatically as if what he was doing was nothing to do with him. When he was respectably ready, he sat down at the table and wrote a short controlled letter to the one person who would know how he was feeling. Then he went out to call a cabriolet to take him to court.

Jane was rather surprised to receive such a serious letter. In fact, she had to read it through twice before she could make any real sense of it. Something had happened, that much was clear, for he said he would be coming to see her in a day or two and then went on to hope that Mr Cartwright would be at home ‘
because I would be much obliged if I could ask his advice on a matter of some urgency
’.

She wrote back at once to tell him he was welcome at any time but that Mr Cartwright would be away until a week Saturday ‘
on account of he is working on the Altofts Junction
’. Then she worried, and went on worrying
until a week Saturday had arrived and Nathaniel was home and Felix had written again to tell her he would be arriving on the three o’clock stage that afternoon. She was waiting in the inn yard at the Star and Garter, fidgeting with impatience and anxiety for twenty long minutes before the coach rumbled in, and as soon as she saw him stepping down and walking towards her she knew her fears were horribly justified. He looked drawn and much too serious, almost like a different young man, as if he’d aged by several years since she last saw him.

‘Oh Felix, my dear,’ she said, reaching up to kiss him. ‘What is it?’

He told her baldly. ‘My father has forbidden our wedding.’

Thoughts crowded into her head, angry and disturbing – that Sir Mortimer was a heartless brute, that her poor Milly would be heartbroken if the engagement was broken – but she didn’t give them voice. That would have been unkind. Instead she took Felix’s proffered arm and walked him out of the yard. ‘Let’s have ’ee home,’ she said, ‘and we’ll see what Mr Cartwright has to say.’

Nathaniel was waiting for them in the parlour and rang the bell at once for tea to be served. Then, when the kettle had been brought up and the tea made, steaming and comforting, they sat in their comfortable chairs around the empty hearth, drank their first soothing cup and listened while the tale was told.

When it was finished Nathaniel put down his cup and sat for several seconds deep in thought. ‘It seems to me,’ he said at last, ‘that you are faced with an impossible choice. Either you obey your father and break off your engagement to our Milly or you marry Milly and lose your inheritance. We spoke of this earlier, as I daresay you remember. However speaking of a thing and having to face it are two very different matters.’

‘That,’ Felix agreed miserably, ‘is the case in a nutshell. For the life of me I don’t know what to do.’

‘Have you told Milly what has happened?’

Felix winced. ‘No, sir,’ he admitted.

The next question was probing but kindly spoken. ‘Why not?’

‘I couldn’t bear to,’ Felix said. ‘It would upset her too much.’

‘But if you decide to break off your engagement you will have to tell her, will you not? Should she not be forewarned?’

The idea made Felix shudder. ‘What
am
I to do?’ he said.

‘I cannot tell you, Felix,’ Nathaniel said. ‘It is your decision and yours alone. You are the only one who can make it. However, it does seem to me that if you cannot bear to forewarn our Milly, which is something that does you much credit, then you are already more than halfway to your decision. But it is your decision.’

There was another very long silence, while Jane and Nathaniel waited and Felix looked at the carpet and battled with his thoughts. Eventually he lifted his head and looked at Jane. ‘I can’t not marry her,’ he said. ‘
You
know that, don’t you? I simply couldn’t. I love her too much.’