Mary Nichols - Working Man, Society Bride

Lucy had no idea how she was supposed to respond to that and so she sipped her tea and smiled and said nothing.

‘I believe there is good hunting country in that area.’ The Countess added her contribution to what Lucy saw as persuasion.

‘Oh, yes. Edward loves to hunt. Do you hunt, Lucinda?’

‘No, I do not care for it. Rosemary is the huntswoman of the family.’

‘Is that so?’ Her ladyship turned reluctantly to Rosemary.

‘Yes, my lady,’ she answered. ‘We girls have been encouraged to take part since we have been old enough to leave our ponies behind and ride proper horses.’

‘We shall naturally invite you and Viscount Gorridge to bring Mr Gorridge with you to our next one,’ the Countess said quickly. The Earl was famous for the hunts he held on the Luffenham estate, which Viscount Gorridge had attended in the past. ‘That goes without saying.’

‘Thank you. I am sure Edward will enjoy that. Alas, my hunting days are over, but I shall enjoy watching from a distance with Lucinda.’

The gentlemen rejoined them at that point and Lady Gorridge busied herself with dispensing tea for them and then calling on Lucy to sing and play, which she did to warm applause. Then she played a duet with Rosemary, while Edward stood by the piano ready to turn over the music. After that he was persuaded to sing and chose ‘Greensleeves,’ the old ballad supposedly composed by Henry the Eighth, saying it was in honour of Lucy’s beautiful gown. He looked at her the whole time he was singing and she felt her face growing hot. When she tried to look away, he stepped round her so that he was in front of her again and took her hand so that she had no choice but to look at him or appear rude. Dorothea was next and sang to her own accompaniment, then the Countess played for the Earl to sing and they rounded the entertainment off by all singing a round song together.

‘Now, what about a hand or two of whist?’ Lady Gorridge said.

‘Mama, there are nine of us,’ Edward said. ‘I beg you excuse me. I have something I want to do.’

‘Me, too,’ said Victor, standing up to follow his cousin.

‘Edward, that is very uncivil of you,’ his mother complained. ‘And if Victor goes, too, we shall be seven.’

‘Can’t be helped, Mama. Find a game that does not require fours.’ He turned to Lucy. ‘If you wish, I will give you a tour of the house and grounds tomorrow after breakfast.’ And with that he took his leave and Victor scuttled after him.

‘Oh, he is too trying,’ his mother complained.

‘I prefer a game of billiards,’ Lord Gorridge put in. ‘How about it, Luffenham? I’ve a good table.’

The Earl jumped at the suggestion, leaving the five ladies to amuse themselves.

Myles and his two companions, having surveyed the proposed line from Leicester back to Gorryham village, arrived there late that evening. Waterson elected to go back to his lodgings, but Myles and Joe Masters decided to spend the night at the Golden Lion before continuing the work next day. They would need to take their calculations and findings back to the office and work on them, but they could see no great difficulty, except the short stretch to avoid the village. They were discussing whether a cutting or a tunnel would best serve when Edward and Victor burst in, talking and laughing.

‘Landlord, your best ale,’ Edward called out. ‘Dining at home and being polite to my mother’s guests is thirsty work.’

He leaned against the bar and looked round the company, which had fallen silent at their entrance. Most were villagers: tenant farmers, agricultural labourers, the blacksmith, the harness maker and the cobbler, all known to him, all in some measure dependent on the Viscount for a living. They touched their caps or forelocks to him, but none looked particularly pleased to see him. Then he caught sight of Myles and his friend. ‘Whom have we here?’ he asked. ‘Not the usual peasantry by the look of it.’ He picked up the quart pot the landlord had filled and put at his elbow and wandered over to them. ‘What business brings you here?’

‘Who’s asking?’ Myles demanded, deciding he didn’t like the man. He had seen the look of exasperation on the landlord’s face when he had taken his drink and made no effort to pay for it.

‘I am. You are not the usual sort of labourers, but certainly not gentlemen, so I guess you’re railwaymen. Am I right?’

‘You are.’

‘Ah, then you must be the advance guard of the Peterborough and Leicester.’

‘You could say that.’

‘There are some—’ and he waved the pot at the company ‘—who will not welcome you in their midst. Heathen rabble, some say, not fit to mix with civilised folk. And overpaid into the bargain.’

‘If you mean the navvies, sir, they are as hard a working set of men as you’ll find anywhere and earn their wages.’

‘You being one, I suppose.’

‘He’s—’ Joe began, but stopped when Myles laid a hand on his arm.

‘Aye, and proud of it.’

‘Is that so? What have you got to be so proud of? That you can outswear, outdrink and outwench any ordinary man?’

Myles laughed. ‘If you like. We can also outwork him. How many men do you know who can lift twenty tons of muck a day from the ground into a wagon, with nothing but a shovel?’

‘None, and I’ll wager you can’t, either.’

‘Oh, but I can.’

‘Would you care to prove it?’ He ignored Victor, who was pulling on his sleeve to persuade him away from the confrontation. ‘Twenty guineas says you can’t.’

‘Very well, twenty guineas, but you’ll have to wait until we start building this line. I’m not disrupting work or any other works in order to satisfy you.’

The men in the room, who had been listening to the conversation with undisguised curiosity, began to laugh. ‘Oh, there’s a put-off if you like,’ one said. ‘He’ll be long gone afore he’s put to the test. I don’ reckon he’ve got twenty guineas.’

For answer, Myles fetched a purse from his pocket and counted out twenty guineas. ‘There’s the stake and the landlord can hold it.’

He handed it over to the landlord, who looked to Edward for his stake, but he just laughed. ‘Why would I carry cash about me? I have no need of it. You’ll have to accept my word as a man of honour.’

It was a statement that made Myles laugh. ‘As you have declined to give me your name, how am I to know that?’

‘Edward Gorridge, at your service.’

‘The Viscount’s heir, I presume.’

‘You presume correctly.’

‘Very well, when the line reaches this village, you will find me among the men, doing my share of the work.’

‘Myles…’ Joe protested, but Myles took no notice of him. He held out his hand to Edward who, after a moment’s hesitation, took it.

‘Landlord,’ Edward called. ‘Let’s have a drink to seal the bargain.’

Drinks were brought and Edward and Victor sat down with Myles and Joe. Myles could see that Gorridge was already a little tipsy and wondered if he would remember the wager by the morning. Or perhaps he did not consider a bet with a navvy one that needed honouring. It did not bother him one way or another; he could make good his boast. His father might not be too pleased when he heard of it, but he was tired of having to defend the navvies’ reputation and it might help when it came to recruiting men for the works.

Edward, who had imbibed freely at dinner that evening, was not in a mood to be discreet. ‘Had to get out of the house,’ he said, by way of a confidence. ‘It’s full of women, chattering about clothes and balls and picnics. Want me to marry, you know.’

Myles smiled. ‘And you are not keen on the idea?’

‘Don’t see why I should when it’s just as easy to have my cake and eat it.’ He laughed and quaffed ale. ‘You married?’