A Christmas Wedding Wager (3 page)

'Have you seen all that you need to?' The number of men standing forlornly by the brazier had diminished slightly. One or two had started to half-heartedly work.

'I do hope you will keep in mind what I said about the castle. At this stage plans are easily changed, but once we begin to lay the foundations in the river...'

'A building site is much like any other on a Saint Monday. Newcastle does not change.'

'It is good that you are aware of the difficulties we face.'

Jack permitted a smile to touch his lips. He disliked mysteries, but this one appeared easily solved. Her tour, although exact, showed she was hiding something.

Seven years ago Emma and her elder sister had appeared every so often, a tantalising glimpse, but her father had never allowed them to remain on site for long. The mother had seen to that.

This time Emma's words and manner seemed to indicate she knew where every last piece of stone was. Jack's eyes narrowed. At present she appeared to be in charge of the bridge-building. That foreman had deferred to her. The navvies appeared more intent on moving the stone when she was about.

She wielded power here.

An idea so preposterous he nearly laughed. Emma Harrison was a woman.

How would she cope when the foundations needed to be laid in the river? Or when the first iron rails were attached?

He could not see any female up on the scaffolding, making sure everything went according to plan. Would not want to see any woman put herself in that sort of danger.

Such a situation would be disastrous for the bridge and the future of Newcastle as an industrial power. The high-level scheme had to be completed on time. Already Brunel had nearly completed the rail link to Scotland on the western side of Britain. He could not allow it to happen. Newcastle could not fall behind.

'Everything seems to be in good order except for one small detail...your father.'

'My father is absent from the site today, but it has no bearing on the progress.' Her knuckles were white against the tartan of her shawl. 'It is a problem, but there is little to be done. I am hopeful of getting the foundations for all the piers laid before spring. The main construction of the nine piers can then begin in the summer, as scheduled.'

'It is what my company desires as well,' he returned smoothly.

He waited, watching Emma's eyelashes blink rapidly. A snowflake landed on her cheek and hung there sparkling for an instant before melting. Impatient fingers brushed it away but she said nothing.

Jack counted to ten twice. He had given her enough time and opportunity. He was through with her games. During the last seven years he had learnt how to play as well. This time they played according to his rules.

'Precisely how ill is your father, Miss Harrison?'

Emma blinked as her mind reached for a plausible answer. Something that would explain about her father's illness without telling the whole truth about his condition. She took an involuntary step backwards from the tall figure and mumbled a few polite words about a chill.

'You fail to reply, Miss Harrison.' Jack Stanton pressed remorselessly onwards. His dark eyes ice-cold, boring into her soul. 'Your father has not been here for a while, has he?'

'He was here on Saturday,' Emma said, too quickly and too brightly. She had to remain calm.

She took a breath and forced the words to tumble more slowly from her mouth. 'If you had arrived when you were expected, you would have seen him hard at work.'

'And before that?' Jack tapped his cane against his calf. He gave a half-smile. 'Come, come, Miss Harrison, enough of this flim-flam. You have been overseeing the construction for quite some time. You possess a certain familiarity with the site that does not come from casual visits.'

'My father and I have become close since my mother's death.' Emma put her hand to her throat and hoped.

'With the greatest respect, Miss Harrison, you have failed to answer. The question was straightforward.' His harsh tone gave the lie to his polite words.

She swallowed hard. She had no intention of revealing any more private matters. Exactly how much did he know? It had to be an educated guess, no more. She had been careful. Mudge was sworn to secrecy. He would not betray her father; she knew that. She filled her lungs with air. She had to keep her head and think around the problem.

'He has missed a few days, but I come here every day to advise Mudge on what needs to be done, following my father's orders.' She gave a small laugh, a little self-deprecating wave of her hand. 'I am the go-between, as it were. You know what a stickler my father is. He wants to know everything that happens, even when he is confined to bed.'

'You, Miss Harrison?' Jack's eyes widened. 'What do you know about torque and the positioning of stone? What if you muddled the message? The consequences could be disastrous.'

'I am my father's daughter. I grew up living and breathing railways, engines and bridges.'

Emma lifted her chin and stared directly at him, daring him to say differently. It had only been in the last seven years, to save herself from the tedium of the sickroom, that she had made any real effort, struggling at first but determined, and gradually relishing the precise work, but he did not need to know that.

'That may be so, but what of the men? How do they respond to a woman issuing orders? How do you command their respect?'

Did he think her incapable of supervising the men? She knew as much about building bridges as most men--more, even. She had helped her father with the early drawings for this bridge, done the calculations for torque while her father took to his bed. This was her project and her father's dream. Possibly her last chance. Her only chance. She took a deep breath. 'The bridge will be completed as per the contract. Harrison and Lowe have never been late before. We have our reputation to think of.'

'That is not an answer.'

'It is the only one required.' She gathered her skirts in her hand. She did not owe this man any explanation. It was obvious he had already made his judgement. Like most men, he believed the female mind incapable of understanding the complex calculations required. Thankfully, she had finally convinced her father otherwise. 'Your concern is about whether or not the firm can do an adequate job. I assure you that Harrison and Lowe will.'

A scream rent the air. Jack's face froze, and Emma felt a pit open in her stomach. The noise was too close, far too close. She heard the sound of people running.

'Someone has been hurt,' Emma said. 'I need to go.'

'A building site is a dangerous place, Miss Stanton.' Jack put out his hand, held her arm. 'I may be of some small use.'

Emma nodded as her mind raced. Where had the scream come from? She tried to reassure herself that no one could be seriously hurt. The men were not working on anything dangerous, not in this fog. But the cries were alarming. Panic never served anyone.

They hurried in the direction of the moan. Mudge was already there, peering over the precipice and shaking his head.

'I don't know how this happened, Miss Emma.'

Emma winced. Near the spot where she had almost fallen earlier there had been a landslip.

One of the young lads lay under several stones. His face was ashen and his eyes shut. Part of the castle wall had collapsed on top of him. Her mouth went dry as she saw another stone on the top of the wall tremble.

'We have to get him out of there, Mudge.'

'The wall's about to crumble, Miss Emma!' Mudge shouted. He made a clucking noise in the back of his throat. He shook his head. 'The weather's against us. Better to shore it up first, rather than risk another injury. Nasty piece of work. We shall have to go around from the back. Slowly, like. The sooner this here castle is razed to the ground, the better for the men. It ain't nothing but a death trap.'

Emma's mouth was dry as she peered down, trying to see what line the men should take.

Mudge was right. The safest way was to circle around from the back, rather than going straight down the slope. But in the uncertain light it would take hours--hours that the lad might not have.

'We need to get someone down there. To pull him away from the wall. If more stones should fall...' Her voice trailed away.

She looked at Mudge and the other men, but no one met her eye or moved. She willed them to say something. One man shuffled his feet.

'A block and tackle! Now!' Jack barked as he made his way down the slope, half sliding as the soft mud gave under his feet. 'Why weren't the basic safety precautions taken?'

'It is dangerous work, like,' one of the men commented, rubbing the back of his neck but making no move to help him.

'Go and get what Mr Stanton requires,' Emma said firmly. Finally a man set off, trudging through the mud. 'Hurry!'

'What he's doing--it's bloody dangerous,' Mudge moaned. 'We lost one man today. We don't even know if he's alive. I have to think of the others.'

Jack made an exasperated noise and continued downwards, reaching the boy.

'He's alive.' He put his fists on his hips. 'Now, you men will help me to move him from here.

I need rope and wood. Working together, we can save his life.'

Emma started to climb down, picking her way through the rubble. Her foot slipped slightly and she was unable to stifle a small gasp. She froze, her hand digging into the clammy mud.

'You had best stay where you are, Miss Harrison. This is no job for a lady. God help us all if you faint.'

'Mr Stanton, I have never fainted in my life and have no intention of ending that habit,' she said, but she checked her movement and looked for a better route down the steep embankment.

'As you wish.' He shrugged out of his frock coat and stood looking at the fallen lad. 'Once I free him from the stones it should be a straightforward operation. We will lift him out of here.'

'Is he badly injured?' Emma called, fear clawing at her stomach. She disliked the way the stones were lying on the boy's leg. She moved around slightly and saw his distinctive blue shirt. 'That's young Davy Newcomb.'

'It appears to be his leg that is trapped.' Jack bent down and tried to shift the stone with his shoulder, but it didn't budge. Behind him, two more stones crashed down. 'Miss Harrison, you will cause problems. The wall is far from stable.'

Emma reached the bottom and wiped her hands against her skirt. 'You see--nothing to it. I am perfectly safe.'

Jack gave a grunt and his eyes assessed her, but he said nothing. Emma knelt by the boy's side, using her handkerchief to wipe some of the mud from his grey face.

'I'm sorry, Miss Emma.' Davy opened his eyes. 'I took a shortcut, slipped in the mud and fell.

Them stones tumbled down on top of me. I didn't mean no harm. I know you said that it weren't safe, like, but it were the quickest way.'

'Hush, hush, young Davy. You need to save your strength,' Emma replied. She held the boy's hand between her gloved ones. The boy nodded and a tear ran down his cheek. 'You are being very brave.'

The men threw down the block and tackle, which Jack caught. Once he had fastened the rope he worked quickly, lifting the stones. Davy Newcomb's leg lay twisted at an odd angle.

'You have been lucky, young man,' Jack said. 'By rights that leg should have been crushed.

You may escape with only a bad sprain.'

'That will be something for the doctor to decide,' Emma said.

'As you wish...'

They worked together to lift Davy onto the plank. Jack gave a nod and the men slowly pulled him to safety. Emma gave the lad's fingers one last squeeze before several men hauled him up and out.

'Take him to the hospital,' Emma said, staring at Jack, daring him to say differently. Harrison and Lowe always looked after their men in such cases. It was one of the reasons they commanded their loyalty. 'The company will pay for the setting.'

'Bless you, Miss Harrison,' Davy called.

She turned to face Jack, who was glowering at her, hands balled on his hips.

'I had to help,' she said quietly. 'Someone had to.'

'You should have sent one of the men. You put yourself in danger for no good reason.'

'I saw an easy way down.' Emma dared him to say differently. 'It was important to get his leg freed as quickly as possible.'

She bit back the words condemning Mudge and the other men. He lifted a quizzical eyebrow and his gaze slowly travelled down her body.

'And how do you propose getting back up the slope? In a dress? Weighed down by petticoats?'

'I shall go around the back of the keep. It is an easy enough walk, but straight down was quicker.' Emma adjusted her bonnet so it sat firmly on her head. The sleet appeared to be coming down heavier than ever. She had lost feeling in her fingers. 'You may join me, if you wish. The keep is stunning close up. It is more than the pile of stones Mudge claims.'

'It will give me an opportunity to refresh my memory.' He gave a short laugh. 'You do need to remember, Miss Harrison, this bridge has been a dream of your father's for a very long time. We often used to discuss where it should go.'

Jack put on his frock coat, becoming once again the austere businessman. They walked through the misted grounds of the castle, skirting bits of fallen masonry with the keep rising above them.

'I want to thank you for saving Davy's life,' Emma said.

'I did what any man would have done.'

Emma swallowed hard, but, taking a look at his intent face, decided not to mention that none of the workmen had helped. She bit her lip and concentrated on walking.

'Now you see why the site is a dangerous place...for a woman,' Jack remarked when the office appeared through the mist.

'I always knew it was. I know what the risks are. The outer walls are not safe. If you had read the latest survey...'

'I can read, Miss Harrison.' He turned. His eyes became hard. 'Your father and my partners will have to be informed.'

'I fully intend on informing him. No doubt he will write a letter to Robert Stephenson.'

'This accident should never have happened.' Jack Stanton's voice allowed no compromise.