Cry of the Peacock (11 page)

“And the City and South London,” Ruskin added, “though it’s made no money yet, so far as I can see.”

“Well it won’t have done. It hasn’t opened yet. When it does, though, it’ll be a boon for everyone involved.”

“You know this?” Ruskin demanded of David.

“I’d stake my name on it. Everything I own.”

Ruskin considered for a moment, and then: “I think we should sell it.”

What was he thinking? David silently begged his father to make some argument.

“We can’t,” was all he said, though he did it on a sigh. Which was all the worse. Why could they not see what they held in their hands? It was like giving a blind man a chunk of gold and watching him throw it into the fire as if it were a lump of coal.

“What do you mean, we can’t?” Ruskin asked, nearly demanded. “Do you mean to say they won’t sell?”

“No. I mean to say we can’t sell them. They’re ours, but not ours to use, if you see what I mean.”

But Ruskin didn’t, and neither did David. It was a trust, yes, he understood that much. From where had it come, though, and how long had they had it? The ledger now lay on the desk unheeded, and David, unable to resist any longer, took it up to examine its contents.

Written in his own father’s heavy hand, David saw the words that cemented what he hardly believed he had heard and had only begun to believe he saw. They owned shares in the Central and South London! Was it possible?

This railway project he’d been watching closely. It was a controversial one, proposed as a means of alleviating the growing traffic problems of the city, and to do it by means of electric cars that would run fifty feet or more beneath the surface through narrow tunnels. The success of it was dependent solely upon its opening. It was no small affair, either. Planned for November, the ceremony would be performed by the Prince of Wales.

The Metropolitan had made many rich, even when other railways had seen their stocks collapse. But the ‘tube’ was revolutionary. It would change the face of urban travel, perhaps change the face of travel for people all over the world. It was something to be involved in for anyone with a mind for innovation. There was no counting how many times he’d insisted they invest in this project. To learn that his father had purchased shares after all… It was almost too much to believe! Before he could ask the questions that would help him understand, the book was taken from him and replaced in the drawer from which it had been withdrawn.

“Perhaps, David,” his father said to him as he turned the key in the lock, “you wouldn’t mind speaking with the bailiff about Benderby.”

“Benderby?” What had Benderby to do with anything? Something about that Summerson girl, but at present, he couldn’t remember what it was.

“James dismissed him before he left. He did it without consulting me.”

“Or me,” Ruskin added.

Sir Nicholas’s brow lowered momentarily. “Yes, quite. He had him thrown out, and without his pay. The bailiff needs to know what to do with it. It might be sent on to him if we had an address, but I can’t help wondering if we might instead send it to the Summ—”

David wasn’t listening. “Forgive me, Father, but I still don’t understand. How is it we have these railway stocks? Why is it you never told me of them?”

“The bailiff, David.”

“What of the trust? It’s none of my business, I know, but now the subject’s come up…”

He received no answer, however, save for the opening of the door by his father. This air of secrecy galled him. Certainly he had earned the right to ask such questions.

“David!”

“Sir?”

“You are excused.”

“Yes,” he said waking from his stupor and looking up at his father. “Yes, I gathered that.” And he understood just as well that he had been excused from more than the room alone. David hesitated a moment more, but there was little use. It was done. The transfer of power, political, managerial and financial, had been made. He looked from his father to Ruskin, then to his father again. Frustrated and feeling not a little injured, he offered a curt bow of his head and quit the room.

*   *   *

“What now?” Ruskin asked when the door had shut again. “We cannot use the trust. We cannot sell the stocks. Yet you must have shown them to me for a reason.”

“I did.”

“Well?”

“It’s not unheard of to borrow against one’s expectations. It isn’t usually wise, but it’s possible. In our case quite possible. You are certain Miss Gray will accept you?”

Ruskin hesitated for only a moment more. “Absolutely,” he said.

Receiving this assurance, and requiring no other, Sir Nicholas withdrew, once more, the ledger.

As Ruskin drew nearer, her playing became more studied.

Dearest Abbie,

Imagine my surprise when, after weeks of spare correspondence, I receive not one letter, but two! Imagine my further surprise to read about poor Miss Summerson! Please do tell her she is to come to us, and right away. In any and every way possible we will help her to make a respectable life.

In the meantime, I hope you will not be angry if I observe that you mentioned Mr. Ruskin Crawford by his Christian name. Write as soon as you can and please tell me all there is to tell about your improving acquaintance. You know how sincerely I pray for your happiness. And as I have no hope of carrying on any romances of my own, I must live vicariously through you. Do not be cruel by keeping it all to yourself.

Of course you are wise to suggest that our aunt be spared certain facts regarding poor Miss Summerson’s history. Her story is no different than countless others, after all. That she has come to us from Holdaway is a mere detail and one best to be omitted.

Write again, as soon as you can, and remember me, your anxiously awaiting and ever loving sister,

M.

P.S. Mr. Meredith has just confirmed the travel arrangements. You are to meet him at the Fareham station on Thursday, and in time to meet the 2:35 train to London.

*   *   *

Abbie, with letter in hand, paced the length of her room, while Sarah sat watching over her mending. The letter had arrived yesterday, and so far circumstances were aligning themselves to further Abbie’s purpose. As Lady Crawford was preoccupied in preparing for guests, who were expected to arrive that evening, Abbie had the day to spend as she wished. She wished to spend it in aiding Hetty Summerson, but it was not quite so simple as that. She could not go out to the cottages alone, after all. It was a promise she was unprepared to break for any reason short of desperation. But who was she to enlist to go with her? Not Sarah, that was for certain. Only how she was to manage the journey? And yet Hetty must be at the station, this very afternoon, and with bags packed and in tow.

If only James were at home. On friendly terms with the Summersons himself, he might have been persuaded to come to Hetty’s assistance. Asking Ruskin was of course out of the question, for his help had already been sought and denied by Hetty herself. Neither was it possible to appeal to him a second time, for he and Sir Nicholas had gone into the village that morning to make the arrangements necessary to continue work on the new building project.

That left David, and yet she was very nearly as reluctant to explain her mission to him as she was to explain it to Ruskin. Of the three brothers, he was the greater stranger to the laborers and their families, and consequently, to their troubles. But who did that leave? She hesitated a moment more, but there was no use. It was David or no one, it seemed. He was finishing up his work in the library when Abbie found him.

“Miss Gray,” he said, greeting her almost cheerfully. “Your library is at last ready. I might show it to you, if you like. Were you headed that way, by chance?”

“No,” she said, then remembered her manners. Her library was finished. This was happy news! “Thank you, Mr. Crawford. I’m very grateful.”

“Is something troubling you, Miss Gray?”

She wrung her hands, but there was no more time to waste. “I’m in need of your help, as a matter of fact.”

He appeared surprised by this. “How can I be of service?”

“Do you know Hetty Summerson?”

He hesitated a moment. “She is a daughter of one of our laborers, I believe.”

“She’s in a bit of trouble. I want to help her. In fact I’m determined to do it, only I can’t manage it alone. Miss Summerson is going to London today.”

“London?” He looked surprised. “What business can Miss Summerson possibly have in London?”

“I cannot say, at the moment. That is, I’d rather not.”

He looked at her suspiciously and she began to feel a little desperate in consequence.

“If you refuse then I’ll have no choice but to go on my own,” she pled. “To engage the cart is a small matter. I’ve driven it before, and I would do so again but for the questions that must arise. No one would think anything of it were you to make the arrangements.”

“And what am I to do once I am neck deep in your conspiracy if I find I do not like it?”

“It isn’t a conspiracy, exactly. Miss Summerson is in need of some assistance, and I am in a unique position to give it. I can’t explain it better than that just now. As I said, I’ll go on my own, if I must. I don’t mind, only I don’t want to cause trouble. I only want to help someone who has not the means of—”

“Very
well
, Miss Gray,” he said, sounding a little exasperated. “I will help you.”

His sudden acquiescence startled her. “Thank you, Mr. Crawford. We’ll need to retrieve Miss Summerson and her things and be in Fareham in time to meet the 2:35.”

David pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. “Well, then,” he said, “we had best get moving.”

Half an hour later, Abbie met David with the cart in the stable yard.

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” he asked her and handed her in.

“It’ll all be quite apparent soon enough.”

“Very well,” he conceded, and apparently reluctantly, but he did not press, and she was grateful. More grateful still to see that he intended to take the reins himself. Perhaps he had surmised enough to know that this was a delicate business and that the fewer eyes and ears there were to witness, the better. The seats were arranged so that Abbie faced behind, sitting back to back with David as he drove. Such did not provide for easy conversation, but it was just as well. Abbie’s mind was too full of her mission to offer much that was to any purpose. Perhaps David had inferred this much, for he made few contributions of his own.

They arrived in good time, and Mrs. Summerson admitted them with a finger to her lips and a nod toward the staircase that led to the bedroom above, from which Mr. Summerson could be heard snoring.

*   *   *

David waited at the door, while the women held conference around the kitchen table, their heads together and talking in hushed and hurried voices. Anxiously he waited for the mystery to reveal itself. A moment later it began to, when Hetty, clearly with child, arose from her place at the table, and quietly made her way upstairs to the room she shared with her parents. Above them, David could hear her rustling and shuffling, hurriedly collecting what little she possessed. Before long she returned downstairs, bags in hand.

“Have you everything you need, Hetty?” Mrs. Summerson asked, silent tears streaming as she fussed with her daughter’s wrappings.

Hetty nodded.

Mrs. Summerson drew a small pouch from her pocket and gave it to her daughter, who reluctantly took it, then fell into her mother’s arms weeping.

There was a noise upon the stairs. A stumble and a step. All looked up to see Mr. Summerson supporting himself with both hands on the banister rail.

“What in damnation is this!”

“I’m going, Father. I won’t be a trouble to you no more.”

“I see you have the landlord to help you, do you? ‘Tis right enough he should, after all,” he said, and spat on the floor before David’s feet.

“He’s come to help. And he’s brought Miss Abbie, see?”

“What brings you to our door,
Miss
Gray?” he asked with an exaggerated, and rather infuriating, air of false respect. “Come to sell us some more of your ‘improvements’ have you?”

“Not this time,” Abbie answered, uncertainly. Clearly she did not take his meaning, and, for that matter, neither did David. “Hetty’s in want of help, and I find myself with the unique power of being able to offer it.”

“Unique power, eh?” Mr. Summerson said with a glance in David’s direction as he approached Abbie to stand very close. “You’ve a unique power indeed if you can lure Mr. Crawford to come along with you. You brought the wrong one, though. He can’t help us. Nor can he help you. Not in the way you’d like him to, I’d wager.” He gave her a hungry look from head to toe, and stepped nearer her.

Summerson’s insolence, and his proximity, had now reached its limit. David stepped forward and drew Abbie behind himself. “That’s quite enough, Mr. Summerson.”

“I’ll tell you when’s enough! You come trampin’ in here with your airs to look down on us. It were bad enough when you turned up your noses and let us be, but now you come round to do your improvin’. Meddlin’, more like. You didn’t make a big enough mess of it the last time you came calling, did you?”

“Truly, Mr. Summerson,” David said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Which statement seemed to infuriate Mr. Summerson all the more. “I’m talkin’ about our new lodgings that’s to come so dear to us,” he said, nearly yelling. “We’ll be no better off when we’re cleaner and brighter and more ‘respectable’. In fact it’ll be worse on us, and make no mistake.”

“And we’ll have to leave our gardens behind,” Mrs. Summerson added. “We’ll have to start again. Nor is anything likely to grow on that forsaken land.”

“Forsaken?” David repeated.

“Will ye be loanin’ us your carts and wagons,
sir
,” Mr. Summerson continued, taking up where his wife had left of, “or are we meant to carry our belongings on our backs all that way?”

“The new cottages are to be built nearby,” David answered, confused and frustrated by this exaggerated concern over minor distances and inconveniences.

“You call three miles nearby, do ye?” He advanced again, and Abbie clung onto David all the harder.

“Now you listen here, Mr. Summerson—”

“Spoken out of turn, have I?”

“You have, and you’ll apologize for it. To the ladies in particular.”

“There’s only one lady here, and she’s takin’ my gal I know not where.”

“She’ll be well, Mr. Summerson, have no fear,” Abbie said, speaking out now and stepping forward. David wanted to hold her back, but thought better of it. She was in apparently better control of the situation than he could ever hope to be. “I’m taking her to live with my sister in London. She’ll be well cared for there. You have my word. But we really
must
go or we’ll miss our train.”

“Not so fast, if you please!” Mr. Summerson said and he kicked one of the bags from Hetty’s hand just as David was preparing to take it from her.

David watched in suppressed indignation as it slid across the floor.

“Let me go now, Father. Miss Mariana will take care of me, and I’ll send home when I get a position.”

“As what? As a used bit o’goods. Whoever’ll want you now’ll have to pay for you, t’be sure!”

“You slander the girl, Mr. Summerson,” David objected, “and you slander Miss Gray and her sister, which they do not deserve.”

“They slander themselves by mixin’ themselves with the likes of her. But if they want her, they can have her. I’ll have no more of her, and that’s a fact.” With a hand on his daughter’s back, he pushed her toward the door.

Abbie caught her by the arm and quickly escorted her outside, grabbing the bag as she went. David followed close behind, while Mr. Summerson shouted oaths and execrations from the doorway, looking not unlike a cock on the stoop of a henless hen house.

“Get on with you all!” Mr. Summerson shouted, “I hope this’ll be an end to your interferin’. I won’t stand for no more of it, I won’t! Nor will the rest of us, and you can take that as a warning.”

David, who understood only a fraction of Mr. Summerson’s rantings, was quickly losing patience with them. “Perhaps you’ll remember to be a little more respectful, Mr. Summerson. Your complaints seem beyond reason to me. Were you willing to speak of them as a gentleman, I might do you the honor of listening.”

“Honor? I’ll tell you what you can do with your honor, Mr. Crawford. You can plant it in your barren fields and see what grows of it. Better yet, you can bring Master James back to make amends. Were it not for him, we’d not be in this mess. Hetty’d not be disgraced and leaving us, and we’d not be on the verge of losing our homes to go live in hell begotten respectability on land that it aint your right to own, much less build upon!”

“I’ll forgive you for your insolence, Mr. Summerson. You’re not in your right mind. But I’ll warn you once more to get yourself sobered up and back to work or you won’t have a home, cursed or otherwise, to make your bed in, do you understand me?”

“You understand me, Mr. Crawford!” Mr. Summerson took a step toward him, but tripped upon his threshold and toppled down the steps and into the mud below.

While he raised himself to his feet, spitting oaths all the time, David mounted the cart, where the young ladies were waiting. Mrs. Summerson was busy saying her last goodbyes and fussing still over Hetty’s preparations.

“Now you’ll not forget to keep your coat about you and your money close. I’m sure Miss Mariana will do her best, but you can’t be too careful, especially in a great city like London.”