CHAPTER 17

The midday sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the table. I sat, my hands folded in my lap, trying to maintain an air of calm despite the nervous energy thrumming through my veins. Mother sat across from me, her lips pursed in disapproval as she stirred her tea.

"Terrible carriage ride. The roads really ought to be better maintained. Having to cut my trip short like that, I'll have to return to London to finalise discussions I was having about investing in some machinery. They say if the men can get it to function as it should, it will increase the output from cotton mills tenfold and therefore bring in some extra fortune for us."

"Sorry your journey wasn't comfortable," I said quietly.

"Mrs Ravenscroft tells me you spent some time travelling by yourself. Was Mildred well?" She glanced at me over the cup in her hand.

I glanced at the boiled egg. "The solitude became unbearable."

She raised her eyebrows but seemed satisfied with the explanation. "The strike at the mill was most ill-timed," she said, her voice clipped. "The workers on strike and production ground to a halt. Workers with no clue as to the problems they caused. While in London, I was tempted to send word to Mr Bryson to fire the lot. That would have taught them to stop work."

I took a sip of my own tea, the delicate china cup rattling slightly in my grip. "I'm sure Mr Bryson acted quickly to resolve the situation, Mother. Perhaps in time we might listen to the workers. Surely that would help with better productivity."

"Pfft, Mr Bryson played no role in the strike ending. Workers over at another mill returned to work. Once that occurs, they all follow each other like sheep. Still, days without production. Time is money, my dear. And we cannot afford to lose either." She set her spoon down with a clatter. "Speaking of money, I ran into Lord Harmon while I was in London. He inquired after you."

My stomach churned at the mention of Lord Harmon.

"I'm not interested in Lord Harmon, Mother. Or any other suitor you may be considering, for that matter. I've told you this before."

Mother's eyes narrowed. "Don't be foolish, Hannah. You're not getting any younger and a match with Lord Harmon would secure our future. He's a wealthy man with a vast estate."

"And a closet full of dead wives," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Mother." I set my cup down, my appetite vanishing. "Anyway, this estate will need to be managed and I can hardly do that if you marry me off to someone with their own properties to manage. I doubt Cousin Samuel would be willing to help out either."

Mother stiffened, her fingers tightening around her teacup. "This property is not something I will allow Samuel to get his hands on. He's already robbed me of one estate; he won't be taking this one from me. Why, it's been in our family for generations."

I frowned. "I always wondered why about Uncle Thomas and Aunt Rebekah. Surely, they were wanting children."

The teacup clattered from Mother's grip to the table and then to the floor. Hot liquid stained the crisp white tablecloth. She jumped to her feet, her face pale. "That's enough, Hannah. I won't have you prying into matters that don't concern you. Your uncle and aunt died in the most distressing of circumstances and I will hear no more of it. It upsets me too much."

"But Mother—"

"I said enough!" She snapped, her voice rising. "I have to meet with the banker tomorrow about how much that strike cost us. Today though I need to meet with the gamekeepers, it would seem some from the town have been poaching fish after dark. In the meantime, I expect you to drop this nonsense and start thinking about securing your future."

With that, she stormed from the room, leaving me alone with the shattered remnants of our lunch. I sat there for a long moment, my mind reeling. Mother would never admit to any involvement, but her mention of the banker piqued my interest. She kept copies of the transactions in the house, even the banker could not be trusted to abstain from fiddling with the records after the fact, according to Mother.

I hurried up to my room, changing out of my dress and into something more suitable for walking. A sturdy pair of boots, a simple day dress, and a warm cloak. As I pinned my hat in place, my gaze fell on the small portrait of Thomas and Rebekah that I'd taken from the forbidden room. They smiled up at me, their faces so full of love and hope. I tucked the portrait into my pocket, a talisman against the unknown.

Slipping out of the servant's entrance, I made my way down the gravel path, past the towering hedges of the maze, towards the little bridge that led to town. The air was crisp and cool, the sun just beginning to burn off the mist that had lingered since dawning. My breath puffed out in little clouds as I walked, my pace brisk and purposeful.

The streets bustled with activity as I entered the town. Shopkeepers swept their stoops, housewives haggled over produce, children darted between the stalls and carts. I kept my head down, not wanting to draw attention to myself. A fine lady like me had no business in this part of town.