CHAPTER NINE

For Anna, the days crawled by.

She suggested to Mr Lowe that a possible temporary location for the exhibition might be achieved by moving the offices of both himself and his secretary to the floor above which, at present, was only occasionally needed for storage. That way, the two ground-floor rooms would provide a convenient location. Mr Lowe agreed that this was as good a solution as any and said he’d set the necessary changes in hand immediately. Anna smiled and pretended an enthusiasm she ought to feel but couldn’t.

She wasn’t used to this degree of distraction and she didn’t like it. Unfortunately, that didn’t make it go away. No matter what else she might be doing or what other matters demanded her attention, a part of her mind was always occupied with Viscount Reculver; how soon and in what way he might reply to what she was increasingly beginning to see as an act of impulsive idiocy.

When Simeon Harvill returned to the manufactory demanding to see her, it barely engaged her attention. Even his arrival at the door of her home didn’t bother her unduly because, having been forewarned of this possibility, Sedley told the fellow that she wasn’t at home. However, when Mr Harvill came again only two days later, Anna decided that enough was enough and said, ‘Sedley … please inform the gentleman that I will not receive him. Not now, not ever . And if he continues to plague me in this fashion, I shall lay a complaint against him with the local magistrate.’

Then she put the matter from her mind and attempted to concentrate on making a list of the other Hawthorne wares deserving of a place in the budding exhibition and what colour the rooms should be painted in order to show everything off to the best effect.

There was only a week, just seven days left before Lord Reculver was due to give her his answer. Once she had it, she would be able to function normally again. Wouldn’t she?

***

Daniel arrived home feeling better than he had in what seemed a very long time. This happy state of affairs lasted long enough for him to greet his mother and sister and answer their numerous questions about his friends. Then he went to the library to look through whatever correspondence was awaiting him there … and everything came crashing down around him again.

The cause was a polite letter from a man he’d never heard of but who it seemed his father must have known very well indeed.

My lord, I suspect you may be unaware of an interest-free loan I made to your late father last autumn. Enclosed, please find his note of hand, bearing the amount, date and both of our signatures.

We were very old friends and his need of the funds was urgent, it being payment of a debt of honour. He expected to be in a position to repay the loan by March, at the latest, but by then sadly, he had passed away. I have delayed bringing this to your attention for as long as possible out of respect for his memory but, as can see, the sum is no trifling amount and represents funds of which I now stand in need.

I look forward to hearing from your lordship at your earliest convenience.

Yours respectfully,

H. Grimshaw

It was indeed no trifling amount. According to this, Father had owed Grimshaw four thousand pounds.

Daniel felt as if the floor was dissolving beneath him. His stomach rose into his throat and he was barely in time to vomit into the waste basket rather than across his desk. Then, pressing a handkerchief to his mouth and breathing very fast, he shut his eyes and tried, without success, not to think.

Four thousand pounds. For a debt of honour? That doesn’t sound like Father. He wasn’t a gamester – or, if he was, I never knew of it. And where – and to whom – could he lose a sum like that? Come to that, who is this fellow Grimshaw? I never heard the name before. He attempted to take a long, calming breath . Then thought, What the hell was Father playing at? And what else don’t I know about yet?

Nausea was still roiling inside him and he felt icy cold. Crossing to the brandy decanter, he sloshed its meagre contents into a glass and downed it in one swallow.

There having been insufficient time to set his plans for it in motion before leaving for Hazelmere, he had three thousand pounds locked in a drawer of his desk. A few, short minutes ago, that had represented a small start on the road to recovery … but no longer. He wasn’t just back where he’d started. He was drowning.

Five thousand owed to Kit, four to Grimshaw and two-and-a-half to Henderson and at best, it would just be another temporary bandage on a wound which continued to bleed.

The bank wouldn’t extend his credit; it had been stretched too far and too long already. He could not, would not, turn to his friends because the existing debt to Christian was already nagging at him like an aching tooth. But this business with Grimshaw … Daniel forced his brain to work. The fellow lived in Cirencester, a little less than twenty miles away. If he met the man, he might at least get to the root of that and perhaps learn something that made sense of the rest of it.

He briefly considered writing to ask for an appointment, then decided against it. Best to take H. Grimshaw by surprise rather than giving him time to prepare.

But before he thought any more about that, there were two obvious things he could do immediately. He hunted for something bearing his father’s signature and, when he found it, set it alongside the note of hand sent by Grimshaw. So far as he could see, the signatures looked the same but for the ink in which they’d been written … but that small difference wasn’t enough to give him hope that the newer one wasn’t genuine.

He swore under his breath, pushed both papers aside and strode from the library. Finding his mother in the drawing-room and coming directly to the point, he said, ‘Do you know of an old friend of Father’s by the name of Grimshaw?’

A peculiar expression flickered briefly across the Dowager’s face and she hesitated for a moment. Then she said, ‘I know the name . I’ve never met the man himself.’

‘But he was one of Father’s friends?’

‘Yes. For a while some years ago, they used to spend time with each other – most often in the vicinity of Cirencester where I believe Mr Grimshaw lived.’

‘He did and still does. They spent time how precisely?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What did they do together? Visit gaming houses? Go to the races? What?’

‘Your father didn’t gamble – you know that. For the rest, I – I’ve no idea how they occupied themselves. Why are you asking?’

‘Mostly because I’ve received a letter from Grimshaw and wanted to know that he is who he says he is. But also because, although you say you’ve never met him, I sense that you dislike him. Why is that?’

‘Dislike him? Don’t be silly, dear. How could I? But why did he write to you?’

He didn’t miss the evasion but he let it go and was equally evasive himself.

‘An apparently unresolved matter between him and Father.’ Then, abruptly seeming to change tack, ‘I’m afraid I have to go away again.’

‘But you’ve only just got back!’

‘I know – and it’s unfortunate but inescapable. And brief. I’ll leave tomorrow and be back the day after.’

Returning to the library and thankful that, in his absence, someone had removed the offensive waste basket, he dropped his head in his hands and did his best not to contemplate the fact that there was a way out of this entire mess if he chose to take it.

All I have to do is say yes and sign the rest of my life away. Nothing to it, really .

***

Arriving in Cirencester around mid-afternoon, he took a room at the Twelve Bells where he ordered a bath and dinner. He also asked for and received directions to Grimshaw’s house. Throughout most of a largely wakeful night, he searched for the best means of approaching the problem. Then, next day and with the bare bones of a strategy in mind, he set out hoping to find the fellow at home.

The house was a moderate-sized and well-maintained property on a pleasant street. A trim maid answered the door and Daniel learned that he was in luck. His quarry was indeed at home. Daniel was shown into a small parlour containing a good many indifferent ornaments … and then a tall, thin man walked in, wearing an expression which was half-wary and half-satisfied before being replaced with a cordial smile.

He's expecting to get his four thousand pounds back , thought Daniel cynically as Mr Grimshaw shook his hand and said what a pleasure it was to meet his old friend’s son.

‘Thank you, sir,’ replied Daniel. ‘But I fear you have the advantage of me. I don’t recall my father ever mentioning you. From where did you know each other?’

‘We met at Oxford,’ came the easy reply, ‘and stayed close after it. I travel a great deal on business – exporting wool and importing cotton. But between trips, I live here with my widowed sister-in-law, thus close enough that your father and I were able to maintain our friendship. Allow me to say how very sorry I was to hear of his death. I shall miss him.’

Daniel acknowledged this with a polite inclination of his head and said, ‘You weren’t tempted to attend the funeral?’

‘Sadly, I was away at the time.’ A pause, then, ‘I hope Lady Reculver is well? And your sister?’ And when Daniel nodded again, ‘But forgive me. I should ring for tea.’

‘Not on my account, sir. I would prefer to come to the point. I am sure you know why I am here. And – ’

‘I’d hoped you were here to repay your father’s loan. Isn’t that the case?’

‘No. Permit me to be blunt. My father left a number of debts but one to yourself was not among them. So – ’

‘Well, it wouldn’t be, would it? We had a gentleman’s agreement.’

‘So your letter intimated. But I’d like to know more about it. For example, exactly what was this ‘debt of honour’? Cards? Dice? A wager? To whom did my father lose it? And why did he suppose he would be in a position to repay you in March?’

For a few moments, Grimshaw appeared to think this over but then he smiled and, with a rueful shake of his head, said, ‘Forgive me, my lord, but I can’t answer any of that.’

‘Can’t – or won’t?’

‘Can’t. All I know of the wager is the amount your father stood in need of to settle it. He didn’t say how he lost it or to whom. And I didn’t ask because, if he’d wanted me to know, he would have told me; and because, when asked for help, good friends give it without insisting on chapter and verse.’

This, Daniel knew without a shred of doubt, was true of his friends. But for some reason he couldn’t identify, he wasn’t sure it was true of the man sitting in front of him. On the other hand, he could all too easily believe that his father might have withheld the details. Secrecy had been a habit with him.

He said slowly, ‘Granted. But there is a problem with this that raises doubts in my mind. My father may have gambled as a very young man but neither I nor my mother have known him do so in later years. And, being already in financial difficulties, it isn’t likely that he suddenly started doing so in the months before his death.’

‘Aren’t the difficulties you mention exactly why he would have done so?’

‘No. Since you knew him so well, Mr Grimshaw, you must have known that he was not a stupid man. And only a very stupid man gambles with money he doesn’t have,’ replied Daniel, praying that he was right about that but by no means certain of it. ‘For this reason, I’d need better substantiation of both the debt of honour and your own loan for the repayment of it. Nothing amongst my father’s paperwork supports it – so at present, all I have is your word.’

‘And the note of hand bearing your father’s signature,’ countered Grimshaw.

‘Which merely states a sum of money to be loaned by you to my father – and nothing anywhere to prove the loan was actually made .’

‘Are you trying to squirm out of this by claiming that it wasn’t?’

‘I’m not claiming anything. I’m merely asking for more detailed information before being willing to add your loan to the others already outstanding. None of these debts were created by me … but at least there is documentation to support their existence. And, though I’d need to seek clarification on this point, I have a suspicion that debts of honour cannot be inherited.’

Grimshaw’s colour rose. ‘You are splitting hairs, young man. Your father paid the debt of honour with money loaned to him by me. And that debt can be inherited.’

‘I don’t deny it. But I want proof, sir.’ Daniel rose, holding both his nerve and the other man’s eyes. ‘Since I doubt you keep such large sums by you, doubtless your bank will be able to supply that. Feel free to contact me again when you have it. Meanwhile, I will bid you good day.’

He was half-way to the door when Grimshaw caught up with him and grasped his arm. ‘Don’t think I’ll let you get away with leaving me four thousand out of pocket!’

‘Show me some firm evidence of that and we’ll talk again.’ He shook the other man’s hand off. ‘For now, this conversation is over.’ And he walked out.

***

Daniel spent most of the homeward journey going back over his meeting with Grimshaw, weighing up what had been said and wondering why he’d suddenly felt so certain that something wasn’t right – or if that had only been born of wishful thinking and his own desperation. He told himself that, if something underhand was going on, there was a chance the debt didn’t exist at all. And even if there wasn’t and it did, at least he had bought himself some time in which to use the money he already had in his hands. He would redeem the debt to Henderson the latter retained greater wall area for eye-level shelving but would still offer room for at least one large, island cabinet for the scent bottles.

She was vaguely aware of her coachman shouting something and then the coach slowed and came to a halt. Anna let down the window and looked out. There were two men on horseback in the middle of the road … one well-dressed, the other clearly a groom.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ she demanded imperiously. ‘Clear the way, sir.’

Leaving his groom still blocking the way, the gentleman – if, thought Anna sourly, he could be called a gentleman – rode to address her through the window. He said, ‘You’re a hard lady to meet, Miss Hawthorne.’

Immediately guessing his identity, she replied coldly, ‘Not for people I wish to meet, Mr Harvill. How dare you accost me like this?’

‘You’ve given me no choice, have you?’

‘For which, I had my reasons. However, state your business and keep it brief.’

He touched the brim of his hat in token courtesy. ‘Simeon Harvill, ma’am. And you know my business. You just won’t –’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake!’ she snapped. ‘How many times must you be told? Hawthorne’s is not for sale. Not to you, not to anyone . Now get out of my way!’

‘I offered your man twelve thousand. I’m prepared to go to fifteen for a quick conclusion. It’s a fair offer. More than fair.’

Anna drew a long breath and held on to the remaining shreds of her temper.

‘Mr Harvill … listen very carefully, for what I am about to say will not change – neither do I intend to continue repeating myself. My pottery is not for sale. Not at any time, nor for any price. You could offer twenty-five thousand or a hundred and the answer would remain the same. I will not sell! Now tell your man to clear the way … and don’t try this again unless you want a visit from the magistrate.’ And she called out, ‘Drive on, Hawkins. He’ll move fast enough when he realises you won’t be stopping.’

She slammed the window shut and the carriage jerked forward, forcing Harvill to pull his horse back. Breathing a little too fast but otherwise perfectly composed, Anna leaned against the squabs and thought, This is ridiculous. Why does he persist? Surely he must realise by now that he’s wasting his time? And then, But what if he doesn’t? I’d rather not go through that again. Perhaps I should consider speaking to Squire Cranford anyway … just in case .

By the time she got home, however, she had talked herself out of it. Now he’d had his answer from her own lips, Harvill would surely give up. And if he didn’t … well, time enough to report him for harassment then.

Inevitably, her mind drifted back to the viscount. Four days left now. Just four. And still all she could do was wait. She couldn’t contact him – and neither should she have to. It was up to him to contact her. A civil little note; something along the lines of, Thank you for your kind offer, Miss Hawthorne but, after due consideration, I fear I must decline.

If she knew what he was going to do, surely he must know too? In which case, why was it taking him so long to do it?

~**~** ~