One Snowy Regency Christmas: A Regency Christmas Carol / Snowbound with the Notorious Rake. Christine Merrill
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Joseph took another sip of his tea. ‘Lampett has been giving mad speeches again—raising the population to violence. Lord knows why Mackay did not run him off before now, instead of allowing himself to be scared away. He might have nipped the insurrection in the bud, and his business would still be standing.’
Breton shrugged. ‘Anne tells me that Lampett was not always thus. There was some accident when the men fought the mill fire. He has not been right in the head since.’
‘More’s the pity for him and his family,’ Joe replied. ‘If he does not leave off harassing me he will be the maddest man in Australia by spring.’
‘Anne seems quite fond of him,’ Breton said. ‘Until they closed the school he was a teacher in the village and a respected member of the community.’
Joseph reminded himself to speak to Anne on the subject himself, if only so that he might say he had. It did not seem right that one’s best friend got on better with one’s prospective fiancée than one did oneself. But Bob and Anne enjoyed each other’s company—perhaps because Bob was able to converse comfortably on subjects other than the price of yard goods and the man hours needed to produce them.
‘If Anne respects him, then she has not seen him lately. From what I have observed he is not fit company for a lady. There was a girl at the riot today who must have been his daughter, trying to drag him home and out of trouble. She came near to being trampled by the crowd and Lampett did not notice the danger to her. I rescued her myself, and did not get so much as a thank-you from either of them.’
‘Was this before or after you threatened to have the father arrested?’ Breton asked dryly.
‘In between threats, I think.’ Stratford grinned.
Breton shook his head. ‘And you wonder why you are not loved.’
‘They will all love me well enough once the mill is open and they are back to work.’
‘If there is work to be had,’ Breton said. ‘The Orders in Council limit the places you can sell your wares. As long as America is a friend of France, there is little you can do.’
‘They will be repealed,’ Joseph said firmly.
‘And what if they are not?’
‘They will be. They must be. The merchants are near at breaking point now. The law must change or we are all ruined.’ Joseph smiled with reassurance, trying to imbue confidence in his faint-hearted friend. ‘It will not do to hesitate. We cannot err on the side of caution in this darkest time. If we wish for great profit we must be more sure, more daring, more active than the others. A busy mill and a full warehouse are the way to greatest success. When the moment comes it will come on us suddenly. Like the handmaidens at the wedding, we must be ready for change.’
Breton shook his head in wonder. ‘When you tell me this I have no trouble believing.’
‘Then take the message to heart and share it with your friends.’ Joseph glanced out of the window at weather that was slate grey and yet lacking the snow he wished for. ‘When we have them here for Christmas I will wrap them tight in a web of good wine and good cheer. Then you shall explain the situation, as I have to you. Once they are persuaded, I will stick my hand into their pockets and remove the money needed for expansion.’
Breton laughed. ‘You make me feel like a spider, waiting for so many fat flies to ride up from London.’
‘But that is not the case at all, my dear fellow. I am the spider. You are the bait—if spiders use such a thing. Without you, they will not come.’
‘We will be lucky if they come at all. Here in Yorkshire you are quite far out of the common way, Stratford.’
‘And you are the son of the Earl of Lepford. There must be a few in London, particularly those with eligible daughters, who would be eager to spend a holiday in your august presence.’
‘Second son,’ Breton corrected. ‘No title to offer them. But I am rich, at least. In much part I can thank you for that.’
‘Be sure to inform your guests of the fact, should the opportunity present itself.’
Breton made a face. ‘Talking of money at a Christmas house party is just not done. They will not like it if they get wind of your scheme, Joe.’
‘That is why you will do it subtly—as you always do, Bob. They will hardly know what has happened. You may apologise to them for my lack of manners and let them plunder my cellars to the last bottle. Talk behind your hand about me, if you wish. Dance the pretty girls around the parlour while I am left to their fathers. They will think me common at the start. But by the time I leave I will have their cheques in my pocket. To one in business, Christmas must be a day like any other. If your friends wish to invest in this new venture they will see a substantial return to make their next Christmas a jolly one.’
The door opened, and the housekeeper, Mrs Davy, entered, with an apology for the interruption and a footman carrying a large armful of greenery. As he began swagging bows from the mantel, Joseph stood and quizzed the woman, ticking things off the list in his head as he was satisfied that they had been taken care of.
‘Everything must be in perfect order,’ he said firmly. ‘While nearly every mill owner in the district has had some problems with frame-breakers and followers of Ludd, it would reflect poorly on me if my guests see a lack of control over my own household. I cannot fault the cleaning you have done, for I would swear you’ve scrubbed the house with diamonds it sparkles so.’
The housekeeper bobbed her head in thanks, and showed a bit of a blush. But his praise was no less than the truth. Everywhere he went he could smell the beeswax that had been worked into the oak panelling ‘til it reflected the light from multitudes of candles and fires with a soft golden glow.
‘And the larder has been stocked as well, I trust?’
‘It was difficult,’ Mrs Davy said modestly. ‘There was little to be had in the shops.’
‘You sent to London, as I requested?’
She nodded.
‘There is no shortage of food in the city, nor shortage of people with money to buy it. My friends from the South will not understand the problems here, and nor do they wish to be enlightened of them. If they come all this way to visit me, I mean to see that their bellies are filled and their hearts light.’ He grinned in anticipation. ‘And their purses emptier at the end of the trip.’
The housekeeper’s smile was firm, if somewhat disapproving. ‘They shall eat like lords.’ She passed him the menus she had prepared. ‘If you will but select the meals, Mr Stratford.’
Given the bounty she presented, it was impossible to make a choice. He frowned. ‘There must be goose, of course, for those who favour it. But I would prefer roast beef—and lots of it. With pudding to sop up the gravy. Swedes, peas, sprouts.’ He pointed from one paper to the other. ‘Roasted potatoes. Chestnuts to roast be side the Yule Log. And plum pudding, Christmas cake, cheese …’
‘But which, sir?’ the housekeeper asked.
‘All of them, I should think. Enough so that no one will want, no matter what their preference. It is better to have too much than too little, is it not?’
‘If we have too much, sir, it will go to waste.’ From the way she pursed her lips he could tell that he was offending her to the bottom of her frugal Northern heart.
‘If it does, I can afford the loss. A show of economy in front of these investors will be seen as a lack of confidence. And that is something I will not be thought guilty of.’ He paced past her, down the great hall, watching the servants tidying, examining ceilings and frames with a critical eye and nodding with approval when he found not a speck of dust. ‘All is in order. And, as just demonstrated, you have seen to the greenery.’
‘There are still several rooms to be decorated,’ she admitted. ‘But some must