A Scandalous Arrangement (31 page)

“No, sir. So I though best not to, well, if I had accessed your estate, there would have been Miss Wynne…”

“Yes, indeed. And how is Miss Wynne?”

“She is in excellent health, sir. Or she was, when last I saw her.”

“Which was?”

“Just a month ago, sir. I meet with her once a quarter as a rule. She comes here to sign documents, and to provide me with any instructions. She is a most astute individual, I find.”

Adam smiled. He’d always known that. “I see.” He paused, then, “Horace, you would have been officially notified of my death, I assume?”

“Yes, sir. That was a dark day indeed.”

“So, you executed my instructions, as set out in my will?”

“Of course, sir. Exactly as set out.”

“So, Victoria now owns Wynne’s mill?”

“She does. Or did. I will need to consult colleagues as to the status of your bequests, given this astonishing turn of events.”

“There will be no need, at least not on that score. I want Victoria to have her mill. I gather she also accepted guardianship of Julia then?” He tilted his head, uncertain.

“She did, sir, though your request came as something of a surprise to the young lady. She has been good to the child though, and I believe Julia to be happy and thriving in Yorkshire.”

“In Yorkshire? Julia lives with Victoria?” This he had not expected.

“She does, sir. I gather there was a… difficulty… with the Reverend Winters, and Miss Wynne removed the child from his care.”

“I see.” Adam let out a breath, the weight of his anxiety lifting. He had known from the outset that Violet’s husband would be an unsuitable guardian for a small child, and had had no intention of leaving her there following Violet’s marriage. It had been his plan to bring his daughter to live with him, probably at his London home, but events had overtaken him. It seemed Victoria, his beautiful, wise, capable Victoria, had stepped in anyway.

He chose well. He may have hardly known her when he amended his will, but his instincts so far seemed to have been impeccable. If he could not bring his daughter up, the next best person for the task was Victoria Wynne.

“Has Miss Wynne been informed of my—miraculous resurrection?”

Horace shifted in his seat, his discomfort evident. “No, Mr. Luke. I hope it was not over-presumptuous of me given that she is your executor, and guardian to your daughter, but I deferred doing so until I had actually met with you, talked with you. If, for any reason at all, the news had turned out to be untrue…”

“I know, seeing is believing, right?” Adam grinned at the man opposite him, who had produced a miracle of his own in the form of a fine bottle of single malt.

“Something of that sort, sir. If the person who telegraphed me had been a fraud, and I did acknowledge that possibility all the while I was hoping it to be true, I would have lost a considerable sum of money. But I could have managed that. You need to understand though, Miss Wynne took the news of your demise very hard. Very hard indeed. She was quite distraught, in fact. I could not risk raising her hopes again just to…”

“I do understand, Horace. So, she was upset then?” This news pleased him, though he knew it should not. Or at least, not quite as much as it seemed to.

“That is an understatement, sir. For a business associate, she did seem extremely fond of you.”

Adam leaned closer to the solicitor to accept the glass of whisky he offered. “Horace, I think we both know Miss Wynne is not merely a business associate.”

The man bowed his head in silent acknowledgement. He cleared his throat, then, “In that case, sir, I believe I should inform you that Miss Wynne has another child also. A boy. The child was born in May of last year, I understand.”

Adam rarely choked on fine whisky, but this occasion was the exception to that rule. As the solicitor dabbed at the liquor sprayed over the polished mahogany table Adam digested that latest snippet. He should have known, really, he supposed. His capable Victoria would always succeed in what she set out to accomplish.

A baby. A son.
His
son.

“Horace, I need to leave for Yorkshire immediately.”

“Yes, I anticipated that, sir. You will recall I do not doubt that Julia’s birthday falls this week.”

“Of course, yes. She is eleven.”

“Yes, sir, I believe that is correct. Miss Wynne is holding a birthday party for her tomorrow. I am invited to this function and it is my intention to take the train up to Leeds this afternoon. I took the liberty of purchasing an additional ticket, in the hope that you might be here in time to make use of it.”

“Horace, you are indeed an incredible individual.”

Adam broke all the rules of protocol when he took the man in a strong hug. Horace stiffened, then tentatively patted his client between the shoulder blades. “Thank you, sir. I have always endeavoured to be of service.”

Victoria laid down her pen and leaned back in her chair.

Oliver Timmins glanced up from the paper he was studying to regard her from his desk on the other side of the office. “You should be getting off. I can finish these contracts.”

“I will, in just a moment. But you must not be late either. Julia wants us all to be there when she blows out the candles on her cake.”

Her mill manager grinned. “I would not miss it for the world. Especially if a generous portion of Mrs. Bridger’s fine strawberry jelly could be negotiated as a part of the deal.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Oliver.” Victoria rose and straightened her skirts. “I’m going to attempt to round up Julia and make her presentable before her guests arrive.”

“I fear it is too late for that as most of her guests are already here. The children from the school will not be going home to change before the party. Indeed, I would be astonished if most of them are not already rampaging through Mrs. Wynne’s dining room at this moment.”

Victoria smiled. “I expect you are right, though Violet will have them under some semblance of control. She possesses an air of authority I cannot entirely muster.”

“Somehow I doubt that. But you are right; Mrs. Winters does have a way with children.”

And with middle-aged mill managers.
Victoria did not miss the slight flush that had appeared on the back of her colleague’s neck at the mention of her sister-in-law, if that was the correct term for Violet.

She was not entirely sure what their connection was, but Victoria had meant what she said when she offered the woman sanctuary as they parted in Farley two years earlier. It had taken just six months before the overbearing bully Violet had so unwisely married managed to sprain her wrist when she attempted to defy him over the choice of meat for their Sunday lunch. Six weeks later he pushed her so hard she found herself sprawled across the dining room table, and a week after that he landed his first real punch to her face.

And his last. Violet decided enough was enough. She waited until the reverend was ensconced in his study working out the finer points of his next sermon and took the opportunity to collect together as many of her belongings as she could carry. She slipped out of the back door and two days later she presented herself at Wynne House to apply for a position as housekeeper.

Victoria was unable to accommodate her in that regard since Mrs. Jenner had arrived from London to manage their domestic affairs. Between Adam Luke’s old housekeeper and their own Mrs. Bridger, Wynne House ran like one of Seth Ackroyd’s well-oiled machines. There was no vacancy.

Violet refused to simply remain as a guest, despite Victoria’s urgings, so a compromise was arrived at. Violet took over the running of the mill school, and had demonstrated some considerable aptitude for the work. A naturally gifted teacher, she had expanded the range of subjects so children now learned all the sciences as well as the rudiments of French. Victoria was delighted with the progress and was considering extending the school to provide a small gymnasium.

Of the Reverend Winters, they had heard no word at all.

Voices in the outer office heralded the arrival of the birthday girl. Moments later Julia bounced into the room, her hair splattered in oil and her rough wool trousers smeared with the grime of the mill floor. She was closely followed by Seth Ackroyd, his apologetic expression telling Victoria all she needed to know.

She was careful not to raise her voice. “Julia, I asked you to remain clean. I was most specific. Your party starts in less than an hour.” Victoria surveyed the child, and dismissed at once the remotest prospect of rendering her even vaguely respectable by three o’clock.

“I’m not very dirty.” The note of defiance was always there in Julia’s tone, however gently Victoria spoke to her.

Victoria shook her head. “I beg to differ, but it is done now. Would you run home straight away and ask Mrs. Jenner to draw you a bath? A good, hot one, I think. And we will be requiring extra soap…”

Thank goodness for the indoor plumbing.
Victoria reflected that Georgina was absolutely right to insist upon modernising Wynne House as soon as their fortunes became stable once more. It had been a Godsend in the relentless task of keeping Julia fit to be seen among decent folk.

“I’m sorry, Miss Wynne. I told the lass she had to go straight home after school, but she sneaked back in as soon as I turned my back and the next thing I knew she was scrambling about under the loom. I pulled her out as soon as I spotted her an’ brought her here.” Seth’s tone was gruff; he was attempting to be stern but failing.

Julia knew it, as she had from the moment she first met her friend and idol and wound him firmly around her little fingers. She grinned at the chief engineer, oblivious to his words of criticism. “The loom was broken. It hasn’t worked for three days. I fixed it, like you showed me, Uncle Seth. I replaced the pins in the combing mechanism, all of them—”

“Aye, an’ it works fine now, lass. But like your mama says, you look a right state.”

“Julia, home, now. Bath.” Victoria managed to inject a note of authority of her own, and at last the child seemed suitably impressed.

“Yes, I’m going. But I won’t use extra soap.” She stomped off down Victoria’s private stairs as those remaining in the office managed to conceal their grins.

“Well, at least the loom was not operating.” Victoria was thankful for small mercies, though she knew her ward had far too much sense to endanger herself in such a manner. Seth had taught her well.

“She’s a handful, yon lass. But a born engineer.” Seth’s observation was delivered with a note of astonishment tinged with pride.

“Yes, perhaps. But you have refined any natural talent she may have had. I owe you my thanks, Seth, for your patience with her.” Victoria turned to her chief engineer. “I trust you will be available to join us for a slice of birthday cake this afternoon?”

“Aye, I wouldn’t miss it. Me an’ one or two of the other lads might pop across for a half hour.” He wiped his hands on the back of his stained work trousers. “You may need to be orderin’ in even more soap.”

“Excellent, I will survey our stores, just to be certain.” The pair exchanged a grin as Victoria tidied her desk ready to leave for the day. “Now if you will all excuse me, I must check that Mrs. Bridger has all she needs. And make sure Harry is ready for the party. Until three o’clock then.” Victoria took her leave and followed Julia down the stairs.

* * *

It had been a difficult couple of years in some respects, Victoria mused as she made her brisk way along the lane toward Wynne House. Julia was a demanding child, and whilst the Reverend Winters’ attitude and actions were reprehensible, she could understand how matters had degenerated so quickly as soon as Julia moved into the vicarage at Farley.

The first confrontation between Victoria and her new ward had been over what constituted suitable clothing. Julia loathed wearing dresses, and Victoria soon learnt that those that could be coaxed onto her had to be quite devoid of frills and lace. Julia was happiest in her old clothes, plain shirts, and boys’ trousers of all things. Victoria had tried her best to cajole her ward into more proper attire, but the child just shouted and screamed and stomped off to her room.

“She is testing us, my dear. Let us not forget, she has had three homes in her short life already. We must be patient, allow her to settle here, and to trust us that this is to be her permanent home.” Hester Wynne, wise as ever, had spoken sense and Victoria had decided to let the matter drop. She and Julia compromised on plain dresses, and agreed that trousers, if worn, must be clean. And Julia was to dress nicely for company, which included her own birthday party. Despite her defiance earlier, Victoria had no doubt the girl would do her best to keep her side of their bargain. Even now she was probably scrubbing at her grime-encrusted knees.

That was how it worked between them. Julia respected Victoria, and the feeling was mutual. They dealt honestly with each other, and had arrived at a place that suited them both. Victoria had quickly grown fond of her strange little charge, and she knew Julia loved her, in her own belligerent way. Theirs was not a relationship built on cuddles and sentimentality. Julia remained reserved with her new guardian, and whilst perhaps not ideal, Victoria felt that this was a situation they could live with because her ward received all the overt affection she required from Mrs. Wynne and Violet.

From the outset Julia had adored Hester, and Victoria was glad of it. It was her mother who seemed to understand the small, shy girl who covered up her fears with a show of boisterous, noisy mischief. When her aunt Violet unexpectedly appeared at their door, her suitcase in hand, the child was overjoyed. This was one of the reasons Victoria was so determined to find a place for the newcomer in their home. In her short life Julia had lost first her mother, then her father. She had lost Violet once, and Victoria had no wish to see that happen to her again. It was clear the pair were close, theirs an easy affection based on years spent just the two of them.

Victoria had always been uneasy at the apparent ease with which Violet allowed her to remove Julia from the vicarage in Farley. Violet had made no attempt to dissuade her from leaving. Indeed, she seemed unable to chivvy them from the house fast enough.