Angels at War (2 page)

Ignoring the outstretched hand Livia half turned to again address the solicitor. ‘I do not recall issuing any instructions to appoint a manager.’

‘Mr Grayson has excellent credentials, and, as
I have explained, dear lady, the business needs a firm hand of experience if it is to survive.’

Despite his bluster, Blamire quailed slightly beneath the frost of her glare. Livia was thinking fast. Was he right? It was certainly true that she had absolutely no experience in running even a small shop, let alone a whole department store, and the situation was precarious. Yet she was struggling to damp down the disappointment that burnt deep inside her.

‘You may well be right to make such an arrangement,’ she managed. ‘At least for the moment.’ Livia was making every attempt to be gracious, her gloved fingers tapping thoughtfully together.

Blamire expelled a long breath of relief, while the gentleman himself said, ‘Perhaps you would care to examine my references.’

‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary. I should welcome your input, Mr Grayson,’ she icily informed him as she at last accepted the proffered hand. His grip was firm and warm, taking possession of hers as if he owned the right to it, and Livia felt a strange regret when he let it go.

‘Perhaps later, after you have partaken of your lunch, you may care to view the changes I have made already, now that we are again open for business.’

Livia had been about to snap that she was
not at all the kind of person who had little to do with her day beyond partake of lunch, even when it was not her wedding day, when his last words registered. ‘Open? The store is already open and no one has thought fit to inform me?’

The old solicitor, looking decidedly flustered, quickly intervened. ‘My dear lady, I didn’t wish to trouble you. You were busy with your wedding arrangements.’

‘I’m sure I could have found the time to attend such a momentous occasion.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ Grayson smoothly apologised, plucking a stray rosebud that had escaped the confines of her sensible hat and was lolling by her ear. ‘I’m surprised you have time to discuss business at all, in the circumstances. Isn’t a wedding day the highlight of a woman’s life?’

Livia snatched the flower from his hand, feeling a burst of irritation at his evident amusement. She could tell by the suppressed laughter in his eyes that he was enjoying her discomfiture. ‘For some women, perhaps. You should appreciate, Mr Grayson, that your job is but temporary until Angel’s reaches firmer ground.’

‘He is on a two year contract,’ put in Blamire hastily. ‘With an option to renew for a further year, naturally. By which time I predict the business should be on its feet. I trust that is satisfactory to you both?’

Livia glared at the solicitor as if it were anything but. ‘I shall visit tomorrow and …’

Grayson’s eyebrows shot up into his unruly hair. ‘The day after your wedding? Do you not have better things to do?’

Livia ignored the remark. ‘… and would naturally welcome any suggestions you may have.’ She wanted to make it absolutely clear from the start that she had no intention of being sidelined.

‘I understood I would be working alone, and fully in charge.’ The teasing tone had vanished, the voice now dangerously low, with a timbre to it which indicated he was a man used to getting his own way.

Livia looked away, not quite meeting his gaze, which was alarmingly direct. But if he thought he could order her about, he would soon realise his mistake. The arrogance of the man, opening the store –
her
store – without so much as informing her, without even issuing an invitation for her to attend.

‘I fear you have been misled,’ she caustically informed him, forcing herself to look at him. ‘Perhaps Mr Blamire misunderstood, but I intend to be fully involved in the business, and take control of it myself just as soon as I can.’

The iris of his eyes were rimmed with green around the dark grey, she noticed with surprise,
but did not in any way warm his gaze as they now matched her own for frost. ‘And what experience do you have, Miss Angel?’

‘None whatsoever, but I’m a quick learner. I’m quite sure I won’t find it difficult to get the hang of things, at which point your services will no longer be required.’

He laughed, and the sound shocked her even more than the challenging glitter in those beguiling eyes.

Mr Blamire, she noticed, was frantically pouring coffee into china cups, desperately attempting to offer her one. She made no move to take it. ‘Have I said something funny?’

‘Not at all. I do, however, have a suggestion to make. If you are to learn the business, may I suggest that you begin, as does everyone else, on the shop floor. I believe a Miss Caraway is responsible for recruiting the female shop assistants. I recommend you speak to her about a job.’

‘
Shop assistant
?’ Livia repeated, in the kind of tone she might use to describe a woman of the streets.

Twin brows rose in quizzical enquiry. ‘Too grand are we for menial work? Not quite what you had in mind?’

Livia was instantly ashamed, and furious with herself for making the slip. She hadn’t meant it at
all as it had sounded. ‘I was surprised, that’s all. I rather anticipated a more … administrative role, since I do own the store after all. Nevertheless, I’m more than ready for the challenge.’

‘I think you’ve made your status very clear, although ownership could easily change, of course, if the business fails to thrive.’

A long, breathless silence as she glared at him. ‘Is that meant to be some sort of threat? Are you planning a takeover?’

He was smiling at her again with that air of quiet amusement, and gave a slight shrug, almost as if he couldn’t care less what the outcome was. Livia wasn’t fooled by this show of unconcern. He was as sharp as a drawer full of knives.

‘I shall look forward to watching your progress,’ he said, holding that infuriating smile. Then turning his back, he politely declined the cup of coffee saying he had work to attend to, and graciously thanking the solicitor, presumably for securing him the post in the first place, he strode from the room without a backward glance. Livia watched him go, open-mouthed.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘Well! What an insufferable man.’

‘But highly qualified, dear lady, as I said. I’m sure he will do all he can to save Angel’s Department Store.’

‘We shall see, Mr Blamire. We shall see.’

By the time Livia returned to the house on Gooseholme, Ella was in a lather of panic, running hither and thither in her smart powder blue two-piece costume, fussing and fretting over the children, the food, the carriage waiting at the door, but most of all the fact that Livia was going to be late for her own wedding. She pounced upon her sister the moment she walked through the door.

‘There you are, at last!’

Livia glanced at her fob watch. ‘There’s ample time yet, a whole—’

‘Fifteen minutes. You have fifteen minutes to get dressed,’ Ella scolded, pushing her up the stairs.

Livia went, albeit with a heavy heart. What
was the matter with her? What was it she wanted? The wedding was to be a small, quiet affair, as they had little in the way of family, although there would be quite a few friends present. The excited squeals of the children told her that someone at least seemed to be in a mood to celebrate.

‘Is Mercy here yet?’

Ella helped Livia into her bridal gown, smoothed the close fitting sleeves, fluffed out the ruched swirls of skirt and began fastening the long row of pearl buttons down the back. ‘She’ll meet us at the church, with George. They’ve stayed home as long as they could to look after the farm, then they’ll leave it in Tom Mounsey’s capable hands for the rest of the day.’

Mercy was their half-sister, being the illegitimate child of Joshua Angel’s one-time mistress, a fact that had resulted in a huge chip on the girl’s shoulder, not least because he had banished her to the workhouse for a time. Livia was rather fond of the girl, difficult and prickly though she undoubtedly was, but wondered if her gloom meant she was still in mourning for her other, beloved sister.

‘Oh, I do so miss Maggie. There should be three Angel sisters here today.’

‘There are.’

‘You know what I mean. There should be four of us then.’ Livia’s eyes filled with a sudden rush
of tears. ‘How can I possibly be getting married without darling Maggie?’

Ella put her arms about her. ‘Because she would expect you to go on, to look forward and not back. Maggie will live in our hearts forever, even if she did tragically choose to end her own life. We can still love her, and remember her.’

‘How could we ever forget? Our father drove her to do what she did.’

‘This isn’t the moment for such morbid thoughts, dearest. Now wipe those tears, brides are expected to look radiant.’

More guests arrived with yet more hugs and tears, Ella’s stepchildren racing around and a great deal of noise and commotion, love and good wishes. Livia was deeply relieved when they all went off to the church and left her alone with Amos, who was to give her away.

She felt oddly awkward and over-dressed in her lace wedding gown with its fussy frills and long train, being the kind of person who much preferred to be in her old gardening skirt, or out on her bicycle in bloomers. And her spirits hadn’t lifted. What was she doing? Why was she even thinking of giving up on her dream? How could she build a modern, vibrant business if she became Jack’s wife, expected to keep house and be the mother of his children, which he would undoubtedly want?

Amos, her usually stoic brother-in-law, sensed this fear in her but misinterpreted it. Taking her hand, he very gently kissed it. ‘My dear, you look absolutely stunning. If Jack isn’t already in love with you, he’ll fall head over heels at first sight of your incomparable beauty.’

‘Oh, stop your flattery! You are making me blush.’

Amos smiled. ‘Good, a bride should be
rosy-cheeked
and happy on her wedding day.’

Livia’s heart twisted with fresh doubts. ‘Oh, please don’t, Amos. Let’s go. The sooner this whole stupid performance is over, the better.’

The carriage drew up outside the parish church in Kirkland, to be met by a small group of
well-wishers
, all with smiling faces, seemingly much happier than the bride herself. She could smell autumn leaves and that indefinable churchyard smell that so reminded her of death. Maggie had lost the will to pursue her dreams once she’d found herself pregnant by her own father, and who could blame her? She was the victim of a tragedy not of her own making. The horror of that traumatic time had left its mark on Livia. It was true what Ella said. Maggie would want her to be happy.

Livia thought of the meeting she’d just had with the solicitor, and the new manager who had so arrogantly taken over.

In that moment the certainty came to her that she couldn’t yet relinquish her freedom. Livia knew instinctively that when Jack slid the ring onto the third finger of her left hand, it would feel as if it were a shackle of iron instead of a band of gold.

‘Please, Amos, I would like you to ask Jack if he would step outside for a moment. There’s something I need to say to him.’

Patiently waiting to help her down from the carriage, Amos looked shocked, as well he might. ‘It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony.’

She looked at him with sadness in her eyes. ‘There isn’t going to be any ceremony. I can’t do this, Amos. I’m sorry.’

‘Oh, my dear girl.’

‘Don’t say another word. Fetch Jack.’

It was perhaps just as well that her would-
be-husband
showed no sign of being overwhelmed by her ‘incomparable beauty’ as he hurried to meet her at the church gate. But then Jack Flint wasn’t the romantic type. After Livia had said her piece, he stared at her thunderstruck. ‘Say that again.’

Livia wiped away a tear that had rolled unchecked down her cheek. ‘I’m so sorry Jack, but I can’t marry you. It’s not that I don’t love you, or want us to part. I would simply prefer for us to carry on as we are.’

Two heartbeats passed before he responded, his face pale. ‘I thought you wanted to be respectable, and to start a family.’

She began to unpin her veil, the rosebuds that Ella had so carefully pinned in place falling out onto the church path. The sight of the flowers brought to mind another face, one that was pale with a wide brow and long straight nose, quizzical grey eyes rimmed with green, and a shock of unruly dark brown hair. A face she shouldn’t even remember after so short an acquaintance.

Livia took a shaky breath, all too aware of curious onlookers hovering close, deeply engrossed by this small drama. ‘You were the one wanting a family, and why should I care what people think of me when I’ve already been the subject of gossip for years? Everyone sees me as eccentric and unconventional, so why disappoint them? Some even see me as immoral, but then they probably never met my father so don’t properly understand the meaning of the word.’ She half laughed, but Jack didn’t join in. He didn’t seem to find her comments in the least amusing.

‘You’ve made a fool out of me.’

‘No, of course I haven’t. Perhaps I’m saving us both from what could be a dreadful mistake. Marrying to please convention is not a good reason.’

‘I thought you loved me.’

‘I do.’

‘Just not enough.’

Livia felt panic crawl over her skin like cold sweat. ‘I don’t want to lose you, Jack. I’m just not ready for all of this – this family stuff that Ella so adores. What do I know of happy families? Think of the example set me by my own parents.’

‘You’re likening me to your devil of a father now, are you?’ His fury was palpable, but then she’d hurt his pride badly.

‘No, no, but please try to understand. We’re both radicals, you and I. Free spirits with a strong desire for independence.’

‘I’m entitled to feel that way, as a man.’

‘Why should being a woman make me any less entitled?’ Aware of the rage building in him, she quickly changed tack. ‘But this isn’t the moment for politics. I just know I need more time.’ She put out a hand to touch him but he brushed it away.

‘People will say you jilted me, right at the altar.’

‘No, that’s not true. That’s why I asked you to come outside. I’ve no wish to leave you, Jack, or break your heart. I still love you. We can go on exactly as we were.’ The lace veil was screwed into a ball in her hands as she desperately tried to
make her point. ‘Can we go home now, please?’

He glared at her for another long moment. ‘No, we damn well can’t go home. There’s a couple of dozen people inside that church expecting a wedding. The least we can do is feed them.’ And turning on his heel he strode furiously away.

A cold collation was provided for the somewhat subdued guests in the church hall, although surprisingly Jack’s friends didn’t seem in the least concerned by the unexpected turn of events. They grew louder by the minute, singing and carousing as they became ever more tipsy. Livia went over to tenderly kiss his cheek.

‘Don’t imbibe too much, sweetheart.’

He looked at her, somewhat bleary-eyed. ‘Why? Are you suggesting I’m not man enough to satisfy my wife after a pint or two? Ah, but you’re not my wife, are you? I was forgetting.’ He hiccupped loudly, then added with a sly wink, ‘I’ve not been a laggard in that direction so far, have I? And if you’re still willing, I certainly am.’ He laughed, rather crudely, then pulling her on to his knee, captured her mouth in a kiss that went on for so long all his mates were clapping and cheering. By the time he released her Livia was left hot and breathless, and deeply embarrassed.

He smacked her backside. ‘Now go and refill
my tankard with good strong ale, and bring my friends another slice each of that expensive wedding cake before the toffs eat it all.’

‘Jack—’ she half protested, but he interrupted her.

‘Begone, woman … mistress … whatever you are. We’re still allowed to enjoy ourselves, aren’t we, even if you won’t wed me? You could try smiling a bit more yourself.’

Cheeks burning with shame, Livia relayed these instructions to a passing waiter. And even if the smile on her flushed face became increasingly fixed as the afternoon progressed, she dutifully mingled with her guests, politely thanked them all for coming, apologised profusely for the inconvenience she had caused them, and promised to speedily return their generous gifts.

Livia had been striving to avoid Ella for some hours, but her sister finally caught up with her, grabbed her firmly by the wrist and dragged her outside. ‘Let’s walk by the river. You and I need to talk.’

‘There’s nothing to say, Ella dearest. My mind is made up. Besides, it’s too late. The decision is made.’

Ella’s blue eyes glittered with anger in the pale afternoon light, the distant mountains shrouded in mist, looking as cold and miserable as Livia
felt at heart. ‘What
do
you think you’re doing? Have you run mad? You love Jack. You’ve lived with him for how long? Over a year?’

Livia shrugged. ‘Something of the sort. Look, I’ve no excuses to offer, except that it didn’t feel right. You know I’ve had reservations all along. I’m happy with things the way they are. I just want everything to stay the same. What’s wrong with that? Now let’s get back inside. It’s about to rain.’ She half turned away but Ella grabbed her arm and gave it a little shake.

‘You realise you’ve broken his heart.’

Livia managed a laugh. ‘Don’t be silly. Jack is a strong, independent man. His feelings for me occupy only a small part of his life. Besides, as I say, I’m not leaving him. We’ll carry on exactly as we were.’

‘I think you’ll find that impossible. Jack wouldn’t have agreed to a marriage in the first place if he wasn’t keen on the idea. He wants a family and—’

‘Not that again, Ella. Babies are your passion, not mine.’

Livia had heard enough and began to walk away, just as the rain started to fall. Ella ran to catch up with her and both sisters were
half-soaked
by the time they reached the church hall. Even so, Ella put a staying hand on her arm. ‘Be warned, things will be different between you.
This decision will change everything. Nothing will be the same ever again.’

‘No, you’re wrong.’

Livia marched back inside, head held high, and glanced across the room at the man she had just refused to marry. He still stood propping up the bar with his chums, and in that moment Livia wondered if perhaps her sister might be right. Had she hurt more than his pride? Would he ever forgive her? He would certainly be well in his cups by the time they got home this evening. But then she hadn’t expected romance, not after rejecting him at the last moment like this. He mightn’t even wish to share her bed, then she would be the one left hurting. Livia could hardly bear to contemplate losing him.

Dear lord, what had she done?

As suspected, by the time Jack arrived home, having sunk his anger and disappointment with rather more beer and wine than he should, Livia had been fast asleep. Now it was morning and while she was up and about early, fetching water, riddling some heat into the fire, and preparing sandwiches for his snap tin, Jack was still snoring his head off. So much for his deciding not to take an extra day off work, she thought. She glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf, its fingers almost at seven o’clock, and dug him in the ribs.

‘Get a move on, lad, or you’re going to be late for work.’

Jack was a labourer on a building site, having lost his job some time ago at the stocking factory, and even this work was hit and miss, very much dependent on the changeable Lakeland weather.

‘Look sharp about it.’ She tickled his nose with a feather, then when that failed, kissed him tenderly on the lips. He smelt of stale beer and cigarettes but Livia didn’t mind. He was her man and she loved him still, despite what some might call her odd decision yesterday.

One eye opened, then another as slowly he focused on her gaze, then grabbing her around the waist, he pulled her onto the bed with him, making her squeal. Livia laughingly struggled to free herself even as she showered his face with kisses, delighted he still wanted her.

‘There’s no time for that now. It’s gone seven. You’ve less than half an hour to get to the building site on the other side of town.’

Ignoring her protests Jack kissed her long and deep. A warmth spread through her, deep in her belly, and she forgot all about his needing to go to work, or her annoyance over his drinking too much. Maybe he had good reason. It even flickered across her mind that her decision yesterday may have been a bad one, after all. But the kiss ended all too soon, and he was giving her
one of his rueful grins. ‘I messed up in some way, didn’t I? Not good enough for you. Too stupid. Too poor. That’s why you wouldn’t go through with it.’