Georgie Lee - Mr Fairclough's Inherited Bride

The men nodded and mumbled their agreement. Even those who’d been hesitant tilted their heads in thought at Silas’s proposal. Silas shifted in his chair, determined not to betray the excitement surging inside him. He’d won them over. He could feel it.

‘You do dream big, Mr Fairclough,’ the balding Mr Penniman said before leaning over to take the last sweet from the platter in the centre of the table.

‘His big dreams will overshadow all of us one of these days,’ Richard added, finally making his presence as the senior partner and the owner of this house felt. He held a handkerchief to his mouth and coughed as quietly as he could before sliding it back into his pocket. ‘The smart man would buy into the future while it’s still affordable.’

‘I assure you, gentleman, we aren’t the only ones having this discussion, but we must be the first to put our plans into action.’ Silas motioned for his valet, Tibbs, to instruct the footmen silently waiting along the periphery of the dining room to refill the brandy glasses with the fine vintage Silas had procured from one of his best English sources. None of the servers made a move to top up Silas’s glass, though. Tonight required a clear head.

Mr Penniman covered the top of his crystal glass with his hand, glancing at Lady Mary Weddell to say that it was in deference to her that he exercised restraint. ‘No, thank you, I think I’ve had enough for the evening.’

‘Don’t deny yourself the pleasures of Mr Fairclough and Mr Jackson’s generosity on my account, Mr Penniman,’ Lady Mary encouraged, offering him and a number of the other gentlemen a smile that saw them sit back and allow their glasses to be refilled. ‘I refuse to let my presence parch a gentleman, especially while discussing matters that require a robust thirst.’

She motioned for a footman to place a new tray of sweets on the table in front of Mr Penniman. She’d been so sly in her ordering of the extra treats that not even Silas had noticed their arrival in the dining room. Clever girl.

Mr Penniman didn’t hesitate to select the largest chocolate dusted with white sugar. ‘You’re a very smart woman, Lady Mary. You’ll make some man very lucky one day.’

Lady Mary’s smile remained as beguiling as before but the sparkle she’d turned on Mr Penniman dulled. He was oblivious to the change in her as he savoured the chocolate, but Silas noticed it. It was the same painful regret that used to mar the drawn faces of the women who regularly appeared on the doorstep of the Fairclough Foundation, begging for help. He doubted Lady Mary shared that sort of misery, but the nagging feeling that something unpleasant had brought her to America was as difficult to ignore as her help in wooing the investors.

Silas motioned for Tibbs, who leaned down beside him. ‘Send Lady Mary a nice gift, something to thank her for her assistance tonight.’

‘How nice a gift, sir?’ The mental tally of Tibbs’s contacts at various Baltimore shops and goldsmiths was almost visible in his light grey eyes.

‘Ladylike exquisite.’ Silas raised his half-drunk glass of brandy to Lady Mary, who nodded serenely. She was a plain young woman he guessed to be about three or four years younger than his twenty-five, with lively and intelligent brown eyes which seemed to miss nothing about her surroundings. She wore her blonde hair in a more mature fashion without the barrel curls most young women preferred. Her slender waist and stomach were accentuated by full breasts that were well hidden beneath a high-necked and far too plain dark grey gown. Despite the puritan simplicity of her attire, she sat with the poise of a queen, seeing over the table and the dinner arrangements with the panache of an experienced hostess. If she wore better dresses and did her hair in a more becoming fashion, she would be striking, but standing out, as Silas had learned during the three months that she’d lived with Richard, was not her habit. Instead, she remained discreetly present, understanding the gravity of what Richard and Silas were trying to accomplish and coyly doing all she could to help them achieve it.

‘Yes, sir.’ Tibbs straightened and Silas was certain Lady Mary would like whatever Tibbs selected for her. Silas couldn’t speak to her tastes for he’d never enjoyed a private conversation with her beyond the weather. Despite them both being from England, she didn’t hail from the same barely respectable part of London that Silas did. Thankfully, most Yanks didn’t recognise the subtle difference in their accents, all to Silas’s benefit. The higher up the social ladder they believed him to be, the more favourably they viewed him and his wild ideas.

‘Gentlemen, here’s to us and the future success of the Baltimore Southern’s expansion.’ Richard raised his brandy glass, the level of the liquid inside of it as unchanged as Silas’s glass. The guests raised their drinks in answer, offering up a supportive cheer that made Silas smile. They’d secured the investors, even Mr Penniman who smiled at Lady Mary as widely as he did whenever his horse placed first in a race. Silas drained his brandy and motioned for Tibbs to refill it, ready to celebrate before tomorrow and the hard work began.

‘We did it.’ Silas relaxed into the leather wing-backed chair in Richard’s study and stretched his feet towards the roaring fire in the grate. The study was an impressive room full of fine wood furniture and leather chairs where Richard had spent years building up his wealth through various business ventures, though it was the railroads that were closest to his heart, as they were to Silas’s. Silas had been speechless the first time he’d stood in here, having stepped off the boat from England the day before, and he’d promised himself that one day he’d have a room like this. It was a pleasure to sit in this chair tonight and think of his study at home and how he’d achieved almost every goal he’d set for himself since leaving Liverpool nearly five years ago.

‘Not we, you.’ Richard removed his handkerchief from his pocket and coughed into it.

‘They wouldn’t have supported me if it weren’t for your influence.’ Silas traced the bottom of his brandy glass, wishing his ideas could stand on his reputation and merit, but he had yet to cultivate that kind of influence. More years in Baltimore establishing roots and a string of successes as long as the Baltimore Southern’s tracks would earn him the respect he craved. Until then, he was thankful for Richard’s influence and every opportunity he’d provided Silas since Silas had arrived in America. Without Richard, Silas would still be the penniless, prospectless nobody he’d been when he’d left Liverpool. Silas tapped his glass with the pad of his finger. He’d never be that man again. ‘I’ve already applied to the English patent owner for permission to build his locomotive here. Given what we’ve already invested in the steam works, it needs to start producing engines as soon as possible.’

The rails manufactured in the new foundry could be sold to other railroads to offset the cost of the Baltimore Southern’s investment, but stronger, faster engines were the real key to railroad’s future. Silas wished there were better American models to be had, but his adopted country had yet to produce a winning design. In time he was sure they would, but at present he needed the rights to the British one.

‘That engine will take the Baltimore Southern to new heights and success.’ Richard inhaled, the air rattling through his chest. ‘But sooner than any of us would like, you’ll have to win over investors without me.’

‘You aren’t thinking of retiring, are you?’ Richard lived for his work.