So the landlord set himself to please. His wife could serve an adequate meal for them in the parlour—in an hour, if that would suit. They did not keep late hours in the country. If they would care to sit in the downstairs parlour until all was in readiness? And perhaps some refreshment for the lady, who looked a little tired after her long day? Lord Henry accepted. It was now far too late to return to London, having waited on the affairs of Sam Potter. And the burden of the Reverend Broughton’s information pressed heavily on Eleanor.
They were soon ensconced in the promised private parlour, dusted more adequately than the public room, probably by the lady of the house. A fire warmed the room which was low beamed and whitewashed, provided with an array of old country-made furniture, which had seen better days but was not uncomfortable. Mrs Abbott was able to produce a raised game pie and a roasted chicken with various side dishes, more than sufficient for their needs, as promised, and a platter of fruits stored from the previous season.
‘I hope it will be acceptable.’ Mrs Abbot added logs to the fire, then, stopping to wipe her grimy hands on her apron, ‘Not expecting your honour and the lady,’ she apologised. And won Eleanor’s heart by producing a dish of tea, albeit somewhat bitter, as well as the jug of ale. She smiled and thanked their hostess with real warmth. They would do very well.
Eleanor shed her coat and bonnet, determined to do justice to the simple meal provided for them and to banish the depressing outcome of their conversation with the priest until later. But there was no hope of her achieving either. In the event she picked at her food and Henry did not have the heart to remonstrate with her. Even so, by the time she had tried the pie and sampled the chicken, the food and the warmth from the fire had returned colour to her cheeks and her eyes were less bleak.
Henry disappeared through the door that led downstairs to the public rooms, returning with a dusty decanter of port. Without comment he poured two glasses and sat, beginning to pare one of the wizened pippins from the dish. He quartered it neatly and pushed the pieces to Eleanor. She thanked him with a smile and ate.
‘Tell me about your life in America,’ she asked suddenly, deliberately breaking the silence, pushing her chair back from the table. ‘What is it like? What are you doing with your life there? Is it what you could have wished for?’
And so he told her. Watching her eat the sweet apple. Not so much to tell her about the momentous changes in his life since leaving England, but to distract her mind from the developments of the day.
‘I live in New York. I rent rooms there, but it is in my mind to build a house for myself in the future. It is a thriving place and growing by the day. There is money there and it hums with energy. It is difficult to imagine unless you have experienced it for yourself.’ He frowned down at the rings of apple peel as he let his mind return to his new life. ‘One day New York will be as elegant as London. There are new people arriving every day. Different languages. Different customs. It has an excitement that stirs the blood.’
‘Are you making your fortune—as you planned?’
‘I am trying hard.’ His face was lit by a sudden sardonic smile as a thought struck home. ‘Your mother would sniff in disgust. I have become engaged in trade! She would certainly not approve! But there is money to be made, businesses to invest in, and I intend to make my mark. I would be a fool not to. Birth is less important than energy and initiative. I like it. It is novel to be addressed as Mr Faringdon.’
‘So you will be a big name there?’ She smiled a little at the subtle tension that gripped him, the shimmering ambition that she had not seen since he had left her two years ago.
‘With good fortune.’ His eyes now held hers, alive with subdued excitement. ‘I am in partnership with Nathaniel Bridges—Faringdon and Bridges, no less. He is another young man of ambition and useful contacts—and a little capital, which he is willing to sink into the business, like myself. Now that the war with England is over our trade will expand. The treaty was made just before I landed, and it made expansion possible. This year we have a tariff to protect our own manufactures from foreign imports. We aim at self-sufficiency, which can be nothing but good for those prepared to invest in the future.’
She noted his casual identification with the new world, even if he did not. There was no doubt that he would return to New York when the inheritance was settled one way or the other. London, even Burford Hall, held nothing for him now except for memories of the past. She tensed against the pain around the edges of her heart when she acknowledged that he would leave again. Not that it should matter to her, of course. She turned her face away so that she could not see Henry’s burning desire to be gone from England, away from her and the hideous complications left by his brother.
‘Roads and canals are being developed,’ he continued, unaware of her disquiet. ‘And we are looking to develop trade routes further with Iberia and southern Europe. There is certainly a demand for wheat and we can produce it in huge quantities.’
‘So you are making money, it seems.’ She brought her thoughts back into line.
‘It seems very possible—and we only pay a quarter of taxes compared to English tax payers. So it will leave us with more money to plough back into the business and into a comfortable lifestyle. But not yet! We are ploughing all our profits back until the company is more secure so there is little money to spare. Hence the rented rooms over a shop.’
‘And when there is money to spend? What will you do then?’
‘I intend to build a large house as befits my new status as successful entrepreneur and businessman!’ Henry stretched back in his chair as he envisioned the future. ‘There is plenty of timber and prime sites to be had. The Commissioners in New York have drawn up plans to rebuild the city on impressive lines. Nothing like London, all congestion with narrow streets and winding roads and dark alleys. It will be very splendid with wide avenues crossing each other into a grid. If fortune smiles on us—and a little business acumen—Faringdon and Bridges will be part of it.’
Eleanor watched him as he spoke, assessing the new Hal compared with the one she had known. All the old enthusiasm was still there, but now tempered with experience and knowledge and an edge to his maturity that had been missing when he was still enjoying a life of moneyed leisure in London. His eyes glowed, dark and vibrant, as he outlined the plans of Faringdon and Bridges, probably forgetting to whom he spoke. Her smile was a little sad as she realised that he might have been addressing Nicholas or the unknown Nathaniel Bridges. She had no doubt, no doubt at all, that he would be successful.
‘We think we might invest in our own shipping.’ His thoughts drifted through the endless possibilities for men with money and the willingness to take a calculated risk. ‘And then there is the prospect of the opening up of the west. A lot of migration is under way and new states being added every year. And where people settle, they need goods and commodities. So much opportunity for those prepared to supply them. Forgive me.’ His lips twisted in a grimace. ‘I did not intend to bore you for so long. If you are unwise enough to ask, I am afraid that you pay the penalty.’ The curl of his lips was apologetic.
‘You did not. I would not have asked if I was not interested.’ Eleanor looked at him consideringly. ‘Will you marry?’ Why she had felt the need to ask so personal a question, she did not know, but waited for his reply.
Henry regarded her with a quizzical look. ‘Do you mean have I a lady in mind? No, I do not. But one day I shall marry.’
‘Do you have a mistress?’
‘Yes.’ His brows arched at her question, perhaps a little amused at her directness.
‘Is she pretty?’
‘Rosalind. Yes. She has dark hair and green eyes.’
So now she knew. Eleanor reprimanded herself for initiating the subject. All she had achieved was a sore heart and a leap of jealousy that sank its claws into her flesh, even though she knew that she had no right or claim on him. But she envied the unknown but pretty Rosalind, with her dark hair and green eyes, with all her heart. He had smiled