Old Sins Long Shadows (26 page)

‘
An estate with an absent owner decays.  It needs a family inside it to keep it alive.  You are now Lord Brockenshaw. You need to be here, to oversee the tenants, to be part of the community!’

‘
No, Mother. I do not but you are right…I am Lord Brockenshaw and I need no woman to tell me what I can and cannot do.’

The bank manager shuffled through the papers and looked over his glasses to observe the new Lord. He was young and fashionably dressed and sat tapping his walnut cane on his shoe in measured irritation. The bank manager coughed.

‘Well, as I have mentioned to your mother there is not much cash in the bank, but plenty in assets. You could try raising the rents but as they are quite high already and not due for a couple of months that does not help you in the short term or may not be a viable option. If they are too high people won’t pay because they can’t pay and this will just result in tenants falling behind with the rent. Then there will be eviction costs, looking for new tenants and, of course, if the rent is too high new tenants will be difficult to find.’  He watched the tapping cane and wondered if his client was even listening. ‘You could look through the accounts and see what savings can be made, it will take time and work but many estates have been saved by streamlining their costs. Your father did leave money in the bank, it’s enough to continue to run the estate for a few months, but not enough to provide the lifestyle you are hoping for.’  He coughed nervously, somehow he could not envisage the man sitting opposite him curtailing his expenses. ‘Do you have anything you wish to sell?’

‘
Bosvenna Estate itself.’

The bank manager smiled,
‘We both know that is not an option. Your father has made a clause in his will that the estate is not to be sold for ten years after his death.’

‘
I need no reminding,’ was the curt reply. Even in death his father was taunting and controlling him.

‘
You could turn the estate into a business. I understand it has large function rooms. You could rent them out for dances, meetings, weddings. It’s a new idea but I’ve heard it can be successful. It will take organisation and a business mind but the results would be well worth it. It would become a profitable estate that you can improve upon and leave to your descendants while still remaining your home.’

The tapping stopped.

‘I want a loan.’

‘You do?’

‘
I do.’

‘
How much?’

‘
Half the worth of the estate.’

‘
That’s a very big sum!’

‘
But possible?’

‘
It would have to be a loan against the property. You understand this means that the estate is collateral?’

‘
I do.’

‘
And if you fall behind in payments the estate will be at risk.’

‘
But a loan is possible?’

‘
It depends what it is for. I need to be reassured that your venture is viable.’  James was prepared for this. He slid across an illustration of a street lined with rundown houses. He had never visited the street or had any interest in the houses but the paperwork served his purpose.

‘
I plan to buy these houses and renovate them,’ he lied, ‘I can then sell them at a profit, however I need money to buy them. I plan to have them completed within ten months. I will be able to repay the loan in full and the profit can be used for the estate.’  The banker lifted the papers and looked through the pictures. He asked a few questions on price and costs and James answered them to his satisfaction.

‘
Well I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t aware you enjoyed this sort of venture.’

‘
There is a lot you do not know about me. Do I have the loan?’

‘
I see no objection.’

‘
Then let’s sort the paperwork out, I have no time to waste.’  He dragged the illustration from the table and watched the banker find the appropriate paperwork. ‘I need not tell you that this is confidential. I do not wish my mother to know.’

‘
Everything between a banker and his client is confidential Lord Brockenshaw. You can rely on that.’

‘
I’m glad to hear it,’ said James leaning back in his chair. The tapping began again as he waited for the banker to prepare the appropriate paperwork and set the loan in motion. He silently congratulated himself as he watched the older man across the desk. The morning had been a successful one and he would soon have the money to put his true venture into motion, a venture which did not include a street of pitiful houses. No, it was the stock market that beckoned him and a thrill of anticipation started to grow inside him as he waited to sign on the dotted line. The same thrill a gambler feels when he hears the clicking of the spinning roulette wheel.

James returned home energised. The money would be in his account within a few days and he would start to build his fortune. Chosen carefully he could double his profit within a few days. Stocks and shares were too easy for him and he relished the chase and sell. He marched along the corridor of Bosvenna Manor, his long strides echoing on the wooden panelled floors. He was heading for his study, deciding on the way to pass by his mother’s rooms rather than visit her. He had no wish to be made to feel guilty by her this morning. He thought he had managed to pass by unseen when the door of her sitting room suddenly opened and Janey came out. It was the first time they had seen each other since his return and she looked shocked at his sudden appearance.

‘
My God, it’s Janey Carhart!  What a sight for sore eyes.’ He caught her arm and pulled her to him but she pulled away and started to walk in the opposite direction. ‘Hey,’ he called grabbing her skirt, drunk on his successful visit to the bank, if not on the alcohol he had already consumed that morning. ‘Where are you going?’

‘
I’m working, sir.’

‘
Is that all you have to say?  I return and all you say is,
I’m working
.’

She pull
ed her skirt away from his hand, ‘Sir, please don’t,’ she said coolly.

‘
Don’t what?’ he seemed genuinely surprised.

‘
Just don’t,’ she turned to go but he grabbed her wrist again, anger starting to bubble up inside him.

‘
And I say stay!’ For a moment his angry tone unnerved her but her courage returned and she slowly turned to face him.

‘
Mr Brockenshaw, Lord Brockenshaw,’ she corrected herself, ‘I feel anything between us is inappropriate. I do not wish your attentions or encourage them. I want them to stop. I am your mother’s maid. I do not wish my position to be jeopardised and your special treatment of me makes me uncomfortable.’

His face was almost comical as he took in what she
had said and then he laughed.

‘
You don’t mean it!’

‘
I do, sir.’

‘
Don’t be stupid,’ he reached for her again but she shook him off roughly.

‘
I said don’t!  I’m not interested. Now leave me to get on with my work.’

‘
A man can get tired of the hunt, Carhart’

‘
Good, then stop hunting!’ She began to stride away, but he followed her.

‘
You upstart!  You bitch!  Don’t think you will be working here for much longer.’

She turned and pinned him with a stare
.

‘
Do your worst Lord Brockenshaw. I will not change my mind and if you dismiss me your mother will want to know why. Will you tell her, or me?’  When he did not answer she turned and walked quickly away, her heart beating so loud in her chest she was afraid he might see it throbbing. Yet she felt a great weight lift from her shoulders, and as a result her step felt light.

James, in a state of shock
, now changed to a state of fury. He spun around and stamped away in the opposite direction, slamming the door of his study with such force the books shook on the shelves. He had never had a woman say no to him. Never!  Women usually fell for his good looks if not his money and to have a servant turn
him
down was hard to take in. Like a petulant child he was furious.

Lady Brockenshaw and Miss Petherbridge had heard it all. They had been discussing the menu for the following day when Lord Brockenshaw’s raised voice was heard in the corridor outside followed by Janey’s quiet but firm replies. They listened in painful silence, neither speaking yet both pretending not to have heard. The older woman wished she had not heard the heated conversation whilst the younger one soaked up the words and stored them away for weaponry in the future. They listened to the receding foot steps and Lady Brockenshaw took a shaky breath.

‘
As a loyal employee, Miss Petherbridge, I can trust you to remain discreet.’

The housekeeper folded the menu away,
‘Of course, ma’am.’

‘
Then let the conversation we have heard never be mentioned again - to anyone.’

The housekeeper smiled.

‘As you wish, ma’am,’ she replied, her eyes narrowing, ‘As you wish.’

Bodmin was a thriving market town, linked to the neighbouring town of Wadebridge by a steam railway. It was one of the busiest towns in Cornwall with a growing population and the grand County Court building took centre stage in the spacious town square. Despite the busy streets, shops and ale houses, Daniel hated it. To the west of the town towered the gaol, with its small barred windows and towering boundary wall. It looked down on the town with a sombre air and despairing lost souls locked in its belly. The inmates inside had either been found guilty or awaited trial for a wide verity of crimes ranging from stealing bread or a sack of wheat to murder. To the south of the town, and as equally imposing, was the Lunatic Asylum. Its wards spread outwards like the spokes of a wheel from a centre tower. Each one had small evenly spaced barred windows looking down on the hospital grounds which were enclosed by yet another tall boundary wall. The steep vertical structure kept the inmates in and society out, segregating itself from the outside to form a self sufficient world inside. Behind the grey stone walls were the outcasts of society, the mentally ill, the physically and mentally disabled, and the unfortunates, whose behaviour just wasn’t understood by society. On the same grounds loomed the workhouse which housed the paupers, unmarried mothers and the homeless. Daniel  knew that at the root of his dislike for the town was the certain knowledge that, but for the good fortune of meeting an old farmer called Zachariah who had seen good in him, he too would have eventually found himself an inmate of any one of those large foreboding stone buildings.

He had spent the morning at the crowded livestock market amongst the throng of men looking for the right purchase to add to their flock
. Today he had gone to observe, to watch the state of the market and take note of the price animals were being auctioned. He had made contacts with other men who were like minded as him and he hoped one day he would be able to put into action his plan for the farm. Daniel knew farming would soon change. Industry was growing and the old farming ways would soon be forgotten. He knew that, in the not too distant future, the expanding rail links would connect more towns and villages in Cornwall and beyond. Daniel understood that if he was ready and willing to change he could take advantage of this.

His farm was self sufficient but he wanted to expand
. He hoped to increase his herd of cattle, and with the extra milk they produced, sell it to the local villagers. He had already made contacts with like minded farmers and together they hoped to organise a collection of milk from different farms to sell to the villages of St.Tude and St. Mabe. They also knew that when more railway links were developed, milk could also be transported at speed to the towns and further afield. Daniel wanted to be a part of that but it would mean expanding the number of his herd, which took time and money. Time he had and, in the past, he had used it to sell some of his produce to Bosvenna Estate to earn extra money. That source of income was no longer an option but Daniel was a patient man and a driven one. He had already begun to rent out his boar and bull for breeding and soon he would have enough money. He wanted to build a solid future, one where any offspring he had would never have the life he had experienced as a child. Whatever their gender he wanted them to have a solid family life, an education and choices on what they wanted to do with their lives. For him to achieve this he needed a profitable farming business, which in turn needed money.

Before collecting his horse to ride home he took sanctuary from the noisy crowds in the Cat and Fiddle
ale house. The meat pie he had eaten wasn’t as good as Edna’s but it sufficed. Nursing a jug of warm ale he contemplated his next move. The ale house had been quiet as the midday rush had dispersed out into the streets but all that changed as a crowd of young smartly dressed men stumbled through the doors. Already high on spirits drunk elsewhere and laughing and talking much too loudly their presence immediately affected the peaceful atmosphere of the building. They took over several tables and chairs, banging the table in unison until a barmaid took their orders. Amongst lewd remarks and raucous laughter she escaped to the bar where the landlord took over the order and sent her upstairs out of harms way. Daniel did not turn around but kept himself to himself. He had no interest in the young men, at least not at first, not until he heard a familiar voice that made his hackles rise.