Mary Nichols - Rags-to-Riches Bride

‘Stephen wished it,’ Mrs Harecroft said. ‘And it is time we met, I think.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Miss Bywater is worn out, Mama,’ Richard said. ‘She has been sitting up with her father all night. Can you not leave the questions until later, when she has rested?’

‘I ought to go to work,’ Diana said.

‘Certainly not!’ the dowager put in. ‘Time enough for that on Monday. Richard, ring the bell for Mathilde.’ She turned to Diana as Richard obeyed. ‘Mathilde is my maid. She will show you to your room and look after you. Poor thing, you look done in. Have you had any breakfast?’

‘No, but I am not at all hungry.’

‘I will have something sent up to you,’ Mrs Harecroft said as a maid entered the room and bobbed to Lady Harecroft.

She was of middle years, very thin and upright. ‘My lady, you rang?’

‘Yes. This is Miss Bywater. She has had a very trying night and needs to sleep. I believe a room has been prepared for her.’

After expressing her gratitude, Diana was conducted up another flight of stairs and along a corridor to a bedroom. ‘Here you are, miss.’ The maid pushed open the door to a large well-furnished room. It had a Turkey carpet on the floor and heavy silk curtains. Diana recognised the material from the stock at the shop. ‘This room is next to her ladyship’s. Where is your baggage?’

‘I do not have any. I have not come to stay beyond a few hours. I shall just remove my outer garments and lay on the bed a little while. Wake me at noon, will you please?’

‘Very well, miss.’ The expression on the woman’s face would have made Diana smile had she not been too tired and worried to do so. The maid was obviously not used to such strange behaviour. Guests sleeping in the middle of the day and turning their noses up at a stay at Harecroft House was probably unheard of!

After the maid had gone, Diana took off her dress and sank on to the bed. She was almost too tired to sleep and there was so much going round and round in her head that it felt woolly. What was she doing here? Had she become so weak willed that she could not say no and mean it? It was Mr Richard Harecroft’s doing. He had as good as abducted her, taking the place of Stephen, so he said. As for their father, why did he favour one over the other? Was Richard really a black sheep? What had he done? What had she done to merit the attention she was receiving?

There was a knock at the door and a maid entered with a tray of food which she put on the table near the window. ‘Do you need anything else, miss?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘The mistress says to sleep as long as you like. Mr Hare-croft and Mr Stephen will not be back before three.’

It was a clear instruction to stay out of the way until the rest of the family arrived home and Diana managed a brief smile before sitting at the table to eat the scrambled eggs and bacon, the bread and butter that had been provided along with a pot of coffee. She had not had such a luxurious breakfast for years. It made her realise how much her life had changed since her mother died. And it was all here for her, if she accepted Stephen.

The food eaten, or as much of it as she could manage, she returned to the bed and flung herself across it. To her own surprise, she slept.

Diana did not wake until a maid brought hot water and told her Mr Harecroft and Mr Stephen had returned home and it was time to dress for dinner, which would be taken at five o’clock, in deference to the dowager who hated eating late in the evening. Diana sprang up in dismay; she had asked to be woken at noon, fully intending to return to St Thomas’s hospital to see her father and then go home without troubling the Harecroft family again. She was overset with guilt; poor Papa would think she had deserted him.

It took only a few minutes to wash, put on her dress again and scrape her hair back, then she ventured downstairs, carrying her cape and bonnet. She stopped outside the drawing-room door, knowing she must express her gratitude before leaving and trying to frame the words that would convey her appreciation without bowing and scraping. After all, she had her pride, it was only ill fortune that made it necessary for her to work.

‘You could have gone yourself.’ It was Richard’s voice coming from beyond the door. ‘Papa would not have prevented you.’

‘Unlike you, I choose to work. I cannot take time off when the fancy takes me.’ This was Stephen.

‘Fancy, eh? Is that what she is?’

‘No. I am seriously inclined to marry her.’

‘You cannot mean it.’

‘Why not? I have much to offer…’

‘Oh, indeed you have, brother. Have you told her exactly what it is you are offering her? Apart from your name and a stake in the Harecroft business, I mean.’

‘Is that not enough?’

‘It might be for some. I do not know the lady well enough to judge, but if you want my advice—’

‘I do not. Just because you helped me out of a hole does not give you the right to tell me what to do.’

‘Of course not. I leave that to Papa. Was it his idea?’

‘Not at all. I am perfectly capable of making up my own mind. And it has nothing to do with you.’

‘I spoke with no other motive than brotherly affection, but if you disdain my advice…’

‘You would not take it upon yourself…’

‘Me? Good Lord, no! I will say nothing, I promise you, but you have a moral obligation to do so.’

‘You are a fine one to talk of moral obligation, Richard.’

Diana had no doubt they were talking about her, though she was puzzled, she could not stay there eavesdropping. She crept halfway back up the stairs and then turned and came down again, clattering her shoes on the marble of the floor, before entering the room.

They both turned towards her. ‘Good evening, gentlemen.’ She took a certain pride in knowing her voice was light and even.

‘Hallo, Diana,’ Stephen said. It was only the second time he had used her Christian name, no doubt to impress his brother. ‘Are you rested now?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘I was sorry to hear about your papa. I hope he is being looked after.’

‘Yes. I must go and see how he is.’

‘Of course. After dinner, I will take you.’

‘I had not planned to stay here that long. And there really is no need to inconvenience yourself or your family.’

‘It is no inconvenience. Work is done for the day and we are dining early on account of Great-Grandmama. I will have the tilbury brought round at six-thirty.’

‘Miss Bywater is about to say she can easily walk,’ Richard said, giving her a sardonic smile that annoyed her. ‘It is her panacea for everything. You will have to persuade her that you desire her company above everything.’

Stephen glared at his brother. Richard turned away as a bell sounded somewhere in the house. ‘The dinner bell. I am going to fetch Great-Grandmama down.’

He left the room and Diana turned to go too, only to find her way blocked by Mr John Harecroft and his wife, who had just entered. ‘There you are, Miss Bywater,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘How is your father today?’

‘When I left him this morning, he had rallied, but I am anxious to return to see how he is.’

‘I am sure you are. Stephen will take you after dinner. Ah, here is Richard and my grandmother. We can go in now.’

Diana had caught a glimpse of Richard and the old lady through the open door. He had carried her down the stairs as if she were a child and was setting her on her feet, ready to escort her into the dining room. Mr and Mrs Harecroft followed and Diana found herself walking beside Stephen.

Still in the clothes she had been wearing the day before and in which she had spent the long worrying night, she felt dishevelled and untidy and could not bring herself to take part in the conversation with any animation. Mr Harecroft, busy talking about something that had happened in the shop that morning, did not seem to notice or if he did, hid it very well. Stephen was not so good at hiding the fact that he would rather have introduced her to the household in different circumstances when she was suitably attired. Richard was silent except for such comments as politeness demanded. The air was charged with tension and Diana was glad when the meal came to an end and Stephen told her the tilbury was at the door.

‘We missed you at work today,’ he said as they set off.

‘Yes, I am sorry about that. I will endeavour to make up for lost time when I come back. If I come back.’

‘Whatever do you mean? Of course you will come back.’

‘I may have to spend more time with my father. I am told he will need nursing.’

‘Then a nurse will be found for him.’

‘Mr Harecroft, you cannot think my wages will stretch to a nurse?’

‘No, of course not. It will be my privilege to provide the necessary.’

‘I cannot expect you to do that. I would never be able to repay you.’

‘Nonsense! Have you so soon forgotten that I asked you to marry me? When that comes about, your father’s well-being will be one of my chief concerns. After your own happiness, that is.’

‘Mr Harecroft, I have not agreed…’

‘I know, but I can be patient. I said so, did I not? And do you think you could call me Stephen? At least when we are away from the shop. It would not be appropriate there.’

‘That would imply I had accepted you.’

‘But you are going to, aren’t you?’

‘I do not know. I cannot think of anything but my father at the moment.’

‘Of course. I understand. St Thomas’s, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why choose that hospital?’

‘It is the nearest to my home and Mr Harecroft said there was not a moment to lose.’

‘Good in a crisis, is my brother Richard.’

She was not sure if it was said with irony or not, but decided to take his words at face value. ‘Yes, he was. I could not have managed without him.’

‘I did not know you were still at work when I left last evening or I would have been the one to take you home. In future when you work late, let me know and I will wait for you.’

‘Thank you, but I do not want to be treated any differently from the other clerks.’

‘They are men. And I am not going to marry them.’ It was meant to raise a laugh and she dutifully obliged.

He paid the toll and took them over the river and they were soon at St Thomas’s. He helped her down and accompanied her into the hospital, following her as she made her way to her father’s room. He was awake and had a little more colour than when she had last seen him.

‘Papa, how are you today?’ She bent over to kiss his cheek, noting with relief that his face had lost some of the contortion that had accompanied the seizure. ‘I am sorry I did not come back sooner, but I overslept.’

His smile was a little lopsided and he did not speak, but it seemed he had understood her.

‘Papa, I have brought Mr Stephen Harecroft to see you.’ She turned and indicated Stephen, who was standing behind her. He came forward and held out his hand but the patient could not take it. Instead of reaching for it, Stephen dropped his own hand back to his side, while Diana sat on a chair by the bed and told him everything that had happened since she left him.

‘Everyone has been so kind,’ she said.

He struggled to speak, but his words seemed to be a muddle of incoherent sounds and his frustration was evident. ‘Hush,’ she said. ‘Do not distress yourself. You are being well looked after here and as soon as you are well enough I shall take you home and look after you myself.’ He tried to speak again and this time she understood the word ‘Toby’. ‘Mr Harecroft took Toby home last night, Papa. Mrs Beales is looking after him.’ This was followed by more mumbling on his part.