She carried the dishes to the sideboard and began to stack them on the tray, wondering how long she could tolerate living in this house, and the terrible people who occupied it. She wished she could run away with Winston, but she knew that was not possible. They did not take girls in the Royal Navy and there was certainly no other place she could go. And anyway, her mam needed her, and her dad, and little Frankie. Panic gripped her and a fine sweat broke out on her forehead and ran down between her breasts. She must get away from this house. From Fairley. Before something dreadful happened. She was powerless in this house, and she knew, with sinking dread, that all sorts of wicked acts could be committed against the poor by the rich. Money. She must get money. Not just a few extra shillings for sewing and mending clothes in the village, but lots of money. Yes, that was the answer. She had always known it was. She must find a way to make a fortune. But how? Where? It was then that she remembered Blackie O’Neill and his tales of Leeds, the city whose streets were paved with gold. That was the key, and there she would find the secret of making money, so much money she would never be afraid or powerless ever again. And then the tables would be turned on the Fairleys. Slowly the fear began to slip away.
The tray was filled to overflowing and Emma picked it up, almost staggering under its weight. She gritted her teeth and glided out of the room in silence, her head held high, a proud look on her face, rigid determination in the set of her shoulders. And for all of her youth and inexperience there was a certain regality in her carriage.
Edwin had begun to fidget in his chair. Eventually he said, ‘May I be excused, Father? I have to keep up with my schoolwork, otherwise I will be behind when I return to Worksop.’
Adam’s glance was approving. ‘Why, that’s very diligent of you. Go ahead, old chap. But do get some fresh air this afternoon.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Edwin stood up and went to the door with his usual grace.
‘Oh, Edwin.’
‘Yes, Father?’ The boy stopped, his hand on the doorknob.
‘I think it would be nice if you dined with your Aunt Olivia and myself this evening.’
‘Gosh! Thank you, sir. I’d enjoy that!’ Excited by this unexpected invitation, Edwin forgot himself and exuberantly slammed the door behind him so hard that the gas fixtures on the wall rattled and trembled precariously.
His father smiled. Edwin was growing up to be a nice boy and Adam was delighted he was beginning to show a little independence of spirit. Perhaps his mother’s sickly influence had not been so damaging after all. Adele. He should go up and see her. He had many matters to discuss with her, which, as usual, he had been avoiding for weeks. If he was honest with himself he had to admit that he was avoiding it now. He thought of his wife. Fragile, pretty, vain, brittle Adele. Smiling her sweet smile. That perpetual smile that had begun to horrify him. Adele with her iridescent blonde beauty that had so captivated him years ago. How quickly he had discovered it was a chilly beauty that camouflaged selfishness and a heart that was as cold as marble. It also apparently disguised mental instability as well. They had not had any real contact or communication for years. Ten years to be exact, when Adele had retreated gratefully into a shell of vapourish semi-invalidism. Smiling sweetly, as ingenuous as always, she had closed her bedroom door firmly, locking it pointedly against him. At the time Adam had been startled to find that he accepted her termination of her connubial duties with a resignation that bespoke his own profound relief.
Long ago, Adam Fairley had come to accept that his lifeless and loveless marriage was by no means unique. Many of his friends were bound in similar bleak and fruitless unions, although he doubted that they had to contend with disorders of the mind as well. With abandon, and without a second thought, his friends took solace in other comforting feminine arms. Adam’s fastidiousness, and his innate sense of taste, precluded casual affairs with women of easy virtue. For in spite of his sensuous nature, Adam Fairley was not essentially carnal or given to fleshly pursuits, and he required other attributes in a woman as well as a beautiful face and body. And so, over the years, he had learned to accept celibacy as a permanent condition, and it bordered now on asceticism. He did not understand that this was a state of being that held its own attractions for the women he came into contact with socially, who found him irresistible. In his misery with his life he was blind to the flurry he created, and if he had noticed he would not have cared.
Adam went to the window, parted the curtains, and looked out. The dark rain clouds had scurried away, leaving a sky that was a vivid light blue, and so sharp and polished it was like the inside of an upturned enamelled bowl, and the pale yet bright sun intensified the cold lucency of the northern light. The black hills were as stark and barren as always, but for Adam they held an overpowering and enigmatic beauty. They had been there for aeons before he was born and they would be there long after he was dead. Always the land remained, changeless and everlasting, the source of the Fairleys’ power and their strength. In the scheme of things, he was just a droplet in the vast universe and suddenly his problems seemed of little significance, and even petty, for he was just a transitory being on this rich and splendid earth and, being mortal like all men, he would die one day. And what would it matter then? What would it have all been about? And who would care?
His reflective mood was shattered by the sound of horses’ hooves, as Gerald drove rapidly across the stable yard in the trap on his way to the mill. Adam thought then of Gerald and Edwin. He had become aware of so many things this morning, not only about himself but also about his sons. By reason of primogeniture, Gerald would inherit the Fairley lands, the Hall, the mill, and all the other Fairley holdings, with the understanding that he would take care of his brother for his lifetime. But Edwin would receive nothing of real worth and would have to rely solely on the bounty of Gerald. Not a very pleasant prospect, Adam thought. He now recognized that it was imperative that he make proper provision for his younger son in his will. He determined to see his solicitor at the first opportunity. He did not trust Gerald. No, he did not trust Gerald at all.
The Fairley family fortune, now controlled by Adam Fairley, was founded on two sound principles – the acquisition of land and the making of cloth.
The land came first.
Adam Fairley could trace his lineage back to the twelfth century and one Hubert Fairley. A document drawn in 1155, and still in existence in the vault at Fairley Hall, states that Hubert was given the lands of Arkwith and Ramsden in the West Riding of Yorkshire by the Crown. The document was drawn in the presence of Henry II and signed by fourteen witnesses at Pontefract Castle, where the King used to stay on his visits to Yorkshire. With Hubert’s continuing prosperity and growing renown as a ‘King’s man’, Arkwith eventually came to be known as Fairley. It was Hubert who built the original Fairley Manor on the site where the present Hall now stands.
Succeeding Fairleys received more land and favours from their grateful sovereigns. Staunchly Royalist, many of them took up arms in defence of their Crown and country and were admirably rewarded. It was Henry VIII who granted to John Fairley the adjoining land of Ramsden Moors at the time of the Dissolution of the Monasteries, for services to Henry during the King’s ecclesiastical reforms. Later Henry’s daughter Elizabeth Tudor sold ‘the valley of Kirkton on the banks of the river Aire to William Fairley, Squire of Fairley Manor and Hamlet’. Elizabeth I, always desperately striving to replenish the royal coffers, had long resorted to selling off Crown lands. She looked with a degree of favour on William Fairley, for his son Robert was a sea captain who had sailed with Drake to the Indies. Later his ship was part of the great English fleet, led by the intrepid Drake, which sailed into Cadiz harbour and defeated the Armada in 1588. Consequently, the Queen sold the Kirkton land at a fair price. It was the procurement of this particular parcel of land on the river Aire that was a decisive factor in the development of the Fairley fortunes, for the river was to be the source of power for the original mill.
Robert’s son Francis, named after Drake, had no seafaring or military ambitions and, in fact, from this time on there were no more