Have they started the haymaking?
I heard they were going to make a start today. Why do you want to know that?
I like to watch the men at work.
Miss Lucy! The cook was shocked, knowing, as Lucy did, that the men worked in shirtsleeves, many of them with their sleeves rolled up, displaying muscular arms and, in the absence of collars and ties, a certain amount of neck and chest.
Lucy, laughing, removed the toasted bread from the fork and returned to the table to spread it thickly with butter. Theres no harm in seeing how the work is done. I admire the skill of the men, all working in unison. It must be back-breaking, but they are all so cheerful.
So they would be, considering the wet winter we had and everything so late. They are glad to be working again. Are you sure you wont have any more to eat? Thats hardly enough to keep you going all morning.
It is quite enough, Cook. For the last two months Ive had nothing but seven-course meals, tea parties and complicated picnics. I have had my fill of food.
You enjoyed yourself, then?
Oh, yes, it was wonderful, but Im glad to be home. She finished the milk. Now Im off to have Midge saddled. With that she picked up her hat and danced out of the kitchen door, munching the last of the toast as she went.
The outside staff were all busy. Some were working in the garden, others grooming the horses that had brought her and her mother home. Some were cleaning out the carriage; others were saddling up some of the riding horses to exercise them. The horse master had a young colt on a long lead and was training him to answer to the bit. She watched for a moment in admiration and then went into the stables where Midge put her head over one of the doors and snickered. She stroked her nose. Have you missed me, old thing? Well, lets go and have a good gallop, shall we? She opened the door and slipped inside to saddle her.
Miss Lucy, Ill do that for you. It was young Andrew, Sally-Anns intended.
Thank you, Andrew, but, if you are busy, I can do it myself.
Not too busy, miss. I mean, my lady. He hurriedly corrected himself, remembering she had just returned from her débutante season in London and that meant she was grown up and a proper lady now and must be treated as such. I must make sure the girth is properly tightened or his lordship will have my head on a plate.
She laughed. Miss will do fine, Andrew. She watched as he deftly saddled the mare. I believe congratulations are in order. And, because he looked puzzled, added, I understand you have spoken for Sally-Ann.
Oh, yes, miss, thank you, miss. He led the horse out into the yard and bent to clasp his hands for her to mount. Mind how you go. She hasnt had much exercise lately.
I will. She accepted her crop from him and trotted out of the yard towards the drive. Halfway down she turned and cantered across the grass and on to the parkland that surrounded the Hall.
Midge was frisky and Lucy decided that the park was too restricting and made her way to a gate, which led on to a lane. From there, she found her way on to a wide, grassy track between a meadow and a field of growing wheat. Due to a cold, wet spring, the second year in succession, the wheat had struggled to grow and the harvest would be late. She had heard tell that there was new machinery being tried that would do the job of several men and wondered if they would accept that, or would they be afraid of being thrown out of work, as the cotton workers had been a few years before? Life was hard enough for them as it was, what with one poor harvest after another and the price of corn kept artificially high, but how would they fare if farmers began to mechanise jobs that until now had been done by men?
The haymakers were busy in one of the meadows and she reined in for a minute to watch. The men were moving steadily forward, their muscular arms, tanned from the sun, working to an age-old rhythm. Swathe after swathe fell to their scythes and behind them the women raked it out to dry in the sun. She rode on and up on to the heath, where she let the mare have her head and before long they left the cultivated fields behind. The heath was covered in scrub and a few trees, where sheep nibbled at the heather and sparse grass. Skylarks nested up here, and butterflies flitted from flower to flower. Overhead a kestrel hovered.
She drew the horse to a walk as they topped the rise and then stopped to sit, looking down on to a valley with a river snaking along the bottom. Down there were more cultivated fields, and a few farm buildings. Across the valley more sheep grazed on more meadows. It was all her fathers land, acres and acres of it that had been in the family since the Reformation, as he was very fond of telling anyone who would listen. It was good hunting-and-shooting country, too, and later in the year her father would invite friends and relations to stay for a weeks shooting and again just after Christmas for the hunt, as he did every year.
She put her hand up to her face to shade her eyes when she spotted three men in the valley. They were certainly not labourers, because two were dressed in top hats and tailcoats. The third was more casually dressed. They appeared to be examining something on the ground and she spurred her horse down the steep slope towards them, crossed a narrow wooden bridge over the river and cantered up to them. She realised as she drew near that they were using a theodolite and one carried a notebook in which he was making notes. They looked towards her when they heard the horse and the youngest of the three, who had been squatting down examining the ground, stood up.
He was a hugely impressive specimen of manhood. Well over six feet tall, his shoulders were massive, straining the cloth of his tweed tailcoat. His chest was broad and his hips, clad in plain brown trousers, were slim. He wore a loosely tied neckcloth and, unlike the other two, he was hatless. His curly light brown hair was worn collar length. He had large hands that, at the moment she reined in and stopped, were crumbling the soil between his fingers.
He smiled, displaying even, white teeth. Good morning, miss. His accent, while by no means uncouth and certainly not betraying the patois of the peasant, was not refined as a gentlemans would be. She found it difficult to take her eyes off him and, though she knew there were two others present, she was facing him and him alone.
What are you doing? she asked, without returning his greeting.
Surveying, miss.
Surveying what?
The land, miss, for a railway.
Here? She was astonished. She had heard her father say more than once that he abominated railways and would not have one on his land, which was inconsistent considering he used trains himself when it suited him.
It looks as good a route as any, but we cant tell until weve walked the whole way.
From where to where?
Leicester to Peterborough, to join the Eastern Counties Railway to the Midland.
I find it difficult to believe my father has agreed to it.
And who is your father?
He did not appear at all overawed, which made her all the more determined to stand on her dignity. The Earl of Luffenham and, before you ask, you are on his land, which, if you are surveying, you surely know already.
The young man bowed, though it was more a formality than any show of respect. I am sorryif I had known who you were, my lady, I would have addressed you correctly.
The young man bowed, though it was more a formality than any show of respect. I am sorryif I had known who you were, my lady, I would have addressed you correctly.
He saw before him an arrogant child of wealth and class on a superb horse. Judging by the size of the horse and the easy way she sat on it, she was quite tall. Her riding habit, which was spread decorously over her feet, was of dark-blue taffeta with military-style frogging across the jacket. Her tiny riding hat, with its wisp of a veil, was perched on top of dark golden ringlets. Her eyes, looking fearlessly into his, were greeny-grey. He would have liked to despise her, but found himself admiring her spirit. She was evidently not afraid of approaching three men and telling them exactly what she thought of them.
That doesnt answer my question. Has my father agreed?
We are not seeking the agreement of anyone at the moment, my lady. We have yet to establish the feasibility of such a line.
And to do that, it appears you must trespass.
One of the others gave a little cough, which made her drag her eyes away from the young man towards him. My lady, I think you will find the Earls land begins on the other side of the water. And he pointed in the direction of the river behind her.
It does not. It extends up to that ridge. Her riding crop indicated where she meant. This whole area is Luffenham land. She swept her arm in a wide arc.
Until we see evidence we must beg to differ, my lady.
Then I suggest you apply to the Earl, who will no doubt supply it. In the meantime, desist whatever it is you are doing.
The youngest man laughed and she swung round to face him again. It is not a laughing matter.
His amber eyes were alight with amusement. I am sorry, my lady, but we have been given a job to do and we will not meekly leave it on the say-so of a young lady who can have no idea what she is talking about. I suggest you continue your ride and we will talk to your papa when the time is right.
His condescension infuriated her; though she would have liked to go on arguing, she was not sure enough of her facts, and instead wheeled round and cantered off. Once back over the river, she slowed to a walk, though she did not look back. She was sure that if she did, she would see that they had resumed their inspection of the terrain. She ought to have asked their names so that she could tell her father who they were, but nothing on earth would persuade her to humiliate herself further by turning back to do so.
The man had been insufferably rude and the two others, who were older and should have tried to curb him, had said nothing, except to back him up. But my, he was a handsome devil, all bone and musclebut he had a warm smile and laughing eyes, which in some measure made up for his insolence. Of course he would not approach her father, that would be done by his superiors, which was a pity because she would have liked to meet him again, if only to confirm her first impressions that he was a conceited brute of a man who had no idea how to behave towards a lady.
She wondered what her father would say when she told him of the encounter. He hated change, anything that might interrupt his ordered way of life, and she had heard him rant against the railways so often, she knew he would send the deputation away and threaten to shoot them if they came back on to his land. And he would be angry with her for even speaking to them, so perhaps it would be best to say nothing. He would find out for himself soon enough.
Myles had not returned to his task, but was standing watching her go, admiring the way she rode, her back held straight, the reins held easily in her gloved hands. He realised he had been arrogant and had not explained carefully enough that he and his colleagues were simply trying to find the best route for the line and that the Earls land, far from being compact, was sprawled all over the place, taking in a farm here, a hamlet there, woodland, heath and pasture, as small parcels had been added over the years. A broad strip stuck out like a tongue between the Gorridge estate and the land on the other side, which his father had bought a few years before to build himself a mansion. The railway, if it took the shortest route, which it was almost bound to do because it was costed per mile, would cross straight over that small tongue before going on to the Gorridge estate. Viscount Gorridge had agreed to sell his section to the railway company and had also assured them that he could guarantee that Luffenham would consent to part with his piece of land. He had intimated that he had some influence over the Earl.
So that was one of the Earls daughters, Joe Masters commented. I heard he had three.
I wonder if they are all like her.
Masters laughed. He was in his fifties and had worked for Myless grandfather and father since he was old enough to work at all, which made him more outspoken than most employees. God help the Earl if they are. He has to find husbands for them. And dowries.
Are we really on the Earls land?
He shrugged. Doesnt matter if we are. If he wont agree to sell, then the land will be compulsorily purchasedyouve been in the railway business long enough to know that, havent you?
Yes, of course I have, but I hate dissension. It makes for bad feelings all round.
You know your trouble, lad, Joe said, laughing. Great lump that you are, youre too soft.
Ill show you whether Im soft or not, Myles said, putting up his fists and punching the other man lightly on the shoulder. Martin Waterson, the third man of the party, watched in amusement as they began sparring, though neither would have dreamed of hurting the other.
Pax, Joe said, holding up his arms in surrender. I give in. Youre not soft.
Myles, who was hardly out of breath, dropped his hands. Come on, lets get on with the job. I dont fancy a run in with the Earls men. Not until it becomes necessary, anyway.
They worked on and by late afternoon had surveyed the land along the valley bottom, which would be the easiest route for the line, and were approaching the village of Luffenham. I reckon this is as far as we need go today, Waterson said. I suggest we start again at the other end tomorrow and work our way back to this point. We might find a better route.
Right. Well call it a day, Myles said, finishing his notes and putting them in his pocket.
After arranging where to meet, they mounted the horses they had been leading and went their separate ways. Masters and Waterson went north where they had lodgings while Myles rode home over the hills on a huge black stallion called Trojan, which his father had bought for him four years before on his twenty-first birthday. The size youre getting, you need a big horse, he had said. Im blowed if I know where you get it from. Im not much above average in height. As for your mother, shes tiny. Must be a throw-back to some distant ancestor.
His mothers ancestry was unquestionable. She was the daughter of Viscount Porson, the last of a long line, which had not thrived in the way the Gorridges and Luffenhams had thrived. His lordship had been glad enough to let his daughter marry the son of a mill owner with no pretensions to being a gentleman, but who had become wealthy through business. It was that money, and a generous contribution to Wellingtons army in the shape of uniforms, that had led to his being created a baron. Myles could just remember his grandfather, who worked all the hours God made, driven by ambition and a fear that whatever wealth he had created could disappear in a puff of wind and he would be back where he started. It was a trait he had passed on to his son, Myless father.