Mary Nichols - Working Man, Society Bride

This was greeted by a resounding cheer and the barrel was rolled down the hill back to the inn and manhandled back on its stand.

Two hours later, the men, in various stages of inebriation, returned to their homes, until only Myles, Joe, Edward and Victor were left. Victor had tried his best to persuade Edward to leave but he would not go. The whole barrel had been bought and, as it still had some ale left in it, he was of a mind to try to drink the navvy under the table. Joe decided to go up to bed and advised Myles to do likewise.

‘I can’t leave him like that,’ Myles said, pointing at the comatose Gorridge. ‘How did he get here?’

‘In his gig,’ the publican said. ‘It’s in the backyard.’

‘He’s in no fit state to drive it.’ Myles had taken a few more than he was wont to do, but he was still reasonably in control of his faculties.

‘No, and neither is his friend.’

‘Nothing for it, I’ll have to see he gets safely home.’

‘Why?’ Joe demanded. ‘It’s not your fault he can’t hold his ale.’

‘Nevertheless, I feel responsible. You go to bed.’ He bent down and threw the drunken man over his shoulder and marched out with him, followed by Victor, who was just able to stand, though he rolled all over the place when he tried to walk and giggled like a girl.

One of the inn’s servants lead the gig out of the yard and Myles deposited Edward on the seat, helped Victor in and squeezed in beside them. Both men began to sing a bawdy song as they trotted down the street and took the turn on to the lane leading to Linwood Park.

Lady Gorridge was leading the ladies out of the drawing room towards the stairs, when they heard the sound of a carriage arriving and loud singing. They looked at each other in surprise that anyone should arrive so late at night, and Lady Gorridge looked embarrassed. They had not reached the foot of the stairs when whoever was on the outside beat a loud tattoo with the door knocker. The duty footman opened the door and a man marched in with the Gorridge heir slung over his shoulder like a sack of coal.

‘Where shall I put him?’ he demanded of the footman, and then, catching sight of five ladies standing in the hall with expressions of horror on their faces, checked himself. ‘I beg your pardon, ladies. The gentleman is a little under the weather. I think the other one can make it under his own steam.’ As he spoke Victor staggered into the hall.

‘So I see.’ Lady Gorridge moved forward, her face a mask of barely controlled fury. ‘Follow me.’ And to the ladies, ‘Please excuse me. If you need anything, I am sure Dorothea will be able to help you.’ She started up the stairs with Myles and his burden behind her. Victor, looking sheepish, bowed to the ladies and almost fell over in the process and then followed the little cavalcade, leaving the rest of the ladies looking from one to the other.

‘I think I had better inform Papa,’ Dorothea said and disappeared in the direction of the billiard room.

‘I think, girls, we had better go to our rooms,’ their mother suggested. ‘And tomorrow we will behave as if nothing has happened and not mention it. It is only youthful high spirits, but Lady Gorridge was clearly embarrassed and the sooner it is forgotten the better.’

‘I wonder who that man is,’ Rosemary murmured. ‘He did not look like the sort of person Mr Gorridge would associate with.’

Lucy did not answer, but she had recognised the navvy and, though she had tried to hide behind her mother, she was quite sure he had recognised her. It was only a glance, an exchange of messages. From him a kind of ‘Well, well, so we meet again,’ which was accompanied by a slight twitching of his lips that looked as if he might break into a broad smile if she gave the slightest encouragement. Her message was simple: ‘Do not, I beg you, betray the fact that we have met before.’ He must have understood, for he had quickly turned away and followed Lady Gorridge.

‘No, but it is nothing to do with us and we must forget all about it,’ the Countess said, preceding her daughters up the stairs to their rooms. She kissed them both goodnight outside her own room and disappeared inside. Rosemary and Lucy moved on and were standing outside Rosemary’s door saying goodnight, when Myles came out of Edward’s room and made for the head of the stairs. To do so, he had to pass the girls.

‘Good evening, ladies,’ he said, maintaining his navvy persona. ‘Fine evening, don’t you think?’

‘You may think so,’ Lucy said. She was unaccountably angry with him, as if he had somehow affronted her. That Mr Gorridge was drunk was clear and it was his fault. She had never seen Mr Gorridge even slightly inebriated the whole time they were in London and attending balls and parties, so he must have been plied with drink by the navvy. Everyone knew they were hardened drinkers and hardly ever sober. She ignored the fact that the man had been perfectly sober and polite when she had met him before and did not appear to be more than a little tipsy even now. And how had the two men met? She wished they had not, though she could not have said why she wished it, unless it was her own strange, mixed-up emotions that wanted them kept apart. She did not want to find herself comparing them, mentally listing the faults of each against their virtues. It was a futile exercise, anyway.

Myles compounded his unpopularity by smiling broadly. ‘It is indeed a fine evening when a man is privileged to meet two such charming young ladies.’

Rosemary giggled and Lucy pushed her into her room, hoping he had not noticed, but she knew he had. ‘Goodnight, sir,’ she said and turned on her heel to leave him.

He reached out and caught her arm, making her turn back to him. ‘I am sorry,’ he said contritely. ‘I had no idea you were here and I would not have subjected you or any of the other ladies to the spectacle we must have presented when we came in.’

She looked down at his hand on her arm. It was a large hand, brown and tough from the work he did, but surprisingly neatly manicured. It was not gripping her tightly; in fact, there was a gentleness about him that decried his size. She knew she should stand on her dignity, and demand to be unhanded, but found herself tongue-tied. He was so close to her, close enough for his legs to be brushing against her skirt. And for a second, discomforting time, she found herself wondering what it would be like to be held in his arms. Unable to look at him, she turned away and he released her.

‘Goodnight, sir,’ she said and disappeared into her room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

He went downstairs and met Viscount Gorridge and the Earl of Luffenham in the hall, apparently on their way to find out what was happening. ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ he said cheerfully, as the footman opened the front door for him.

‘Who are you?’ Lord Gorridge demanded.

‘Myles Moorcroft, my lord. Your wife will explain my business here. You will find her with your son.’ And before he could be detained further, he hurried from the house.

He wished he had never become involved with Gorridge. He certainly would not have done so if he had known the Earl of Luffenham’s daughter was staying at Linwood Park…. She had been disgusted with him and who could blame her? Carefully nurtured, she could know nothing of drunkenness and the japes working men got up to to amuse themselves. And he had made matters worse by maintaining his pretence of being a navvy and teasing her. His apology had been too little and too late. And how to redeem himself he did not know.

But, oh, the pleasure of besting that young pup was not to be denied. The villagers would have sore heads in the morning, but he did not doubt they had enjoyed their evening and, when the navvies came to work in the vicinity, they would remember it with pleasure and there would be no trouble between the two communities, as there so often was when the railway builders arrived in a district. That would not be for some time because the survey had yet to be completed and approved, the legal side to be concluded with any landowners along the way, sub-contractors employed to do the work and a labour force assembled. When all that was done, he would make a point of inspecting the work at regular intervals and then he might meet the young lady again.

Seeing her tonight, he realised she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was as lustrous, her eyes as lively, her figure as perfect and that green dress, simple as it was, had been just right, setting off creamy shoulders and a long neck. She had been angry, though. He smiled as he let himself in through the back door of the Golden Lion; he would meet her again, he was convinced of it, and perhaps in more favourable circumstances. And he would do his best to win her round. It was a question of pride, though. If anyone had suggested he was falling in love, he would have hotly denied it.

Edward did not appear for breakfast. Nor did Victor. Lady Gorridge, who felt some explanation was called for, told the Countess, in Lucy’s hearing, that her son had been taken ill while conducting some business with the railway engineer, a Mr Masters, who was staying at the inn in the village, and Mr Masters had asked one of his men to drive him home. She was sure that he was not to know that dear Edward would be so brutally manhandled. Of course they had been obliged to thank the man, but had made their disapproval clear.

‘I felt sure it was something of the sort,’ murmured the Countess, lying just as nobly as Lady Gorridge. ‘It can hardly have helped his recovery to be carried in that way.’ She frowned at Lucy, who was doing her best not to laugh. ‘I hope he is better this morning.’

‘Yes, indeed. I asked his valet, who assures me he will make a full recovery by luncheon. I am sorry that you will be deprived of his company this morning, Lucinda. No doubt he will make it up to you this afternoon.’

‘Oh, please do not worry about me, Lady Gorridge,’ she said. ‘Rosemary and I can amuse ourselves, I am sure.’ They were in the breakfast room, a small, sunny room looking out on to the park, which was dotted with fine specimen trees and grazing deer. In the distance she could see the sparkle of water. ‘Perhaps we will take a stroll in the grounds.’

‘Oh, yes, go wherever you please. You will find the path through the park to the lake a particularly pleasant one when the weather is hot. I would ask Dorothea to accompany you, but she has a music lesson this morning and her teacher is a little temperamental. He will not accept excuses.’

Thus it was that Lucy and Rosie found themselves dressed in pale muslin with a parasol apiece, wandering across the short grass of the park. The conversation naturally turned to the events of the previous evening.

‘Do you think Mr Gorridge was drunk, Lucy?’ Rosie asked her.

‘His mother said he was taken ill.’

‘She would have to make excuses for him, wouldn’t she? I am sure he was drunk.’

‘If he was, I expect it was because that navvy plied him with drink and he is not used to it. It is well known that navvies are great drinkers.’

‘How do you know he was a navvy?’

Lucy was caught out for a moment, but recovered quickly. ‘Lady Gorridge said the man worked for the railway engineer, so I guessed he was.’

‘He was magnificent, wasn’t he? I never met such a strong man, and the way he had Mr Gorridge slung over his shoulder, it was so funny, I wanted to laugh.’

‘It is as well you didn’t. It would have affronted Lady Gorridge.’

‘And he was so bold, wasn’t he? Later, I mean, when we met him in the corridor. He did not seem at all overawed.’