Copper Kingdom (36 page)

As the time had passed since that beautiful day they'd spent together on the beach, Dean had become more and more convinced that there was something he didn't know. It had been all very well for Bertha to say that Bea and Sterling Richardson had quarrelled but there must have been a damned good reason for her to turn against the man so completely that she had shut him out of her life.

His hands clenched into fists as he thought of what he'd like to do to Richardson. He'd become cocky of late, his hopes raised no doubt by the small success he was having with this zinc wire. In all probability, it was simply a flash in the pan and would not bring any lasting profit to the company.

Dean drank a mouthful of whisky and put his glass down on the stained surface of the table with an impatient gesture. It had indeed been a mistake to meet Rickie in this grimy public bar, he mused. Here they would stand out like a boil on a flea. He glanced at the large clock on the wall telling himself that if the young man did not show up in the next few minutes he would leave.

The huge fire roaring in the grate beside Dean's chair flared up in the draft from the suddenly opened door. Dean sighed and glared up at the new arrival.

‘About time you came,' he said briskly. Then he noticed the boy was not alone, Glanmor Travers was with him and a young dark-haired fellow who by the cut of his clothes was one of the copperworkers.

‘Not late, are we?' Rickie spoke pleasantly but Dean would not trust him as far as he could see him. He might find it expedient to throw in his lot with the younger of the Richardson brothers for the moment but that did not mean he would harbour the viper in his bosom.

Rickie took a chair and drew it gratingly towards the table. ‘This is Will Owens, the one my brother thought was his songbird but he was working for me all along.'

‘Is that so?' Dean looked away from the boy with complete lack of interest. The young whippersnapper was the sort you could buy for ten a penny, not worth a light.

Travers the chemist was a different kettle of fish, he thought with some satisfaction. Although the man had his own personal axe to grind, at least he would use a little intelligence in working out his revenge. He was pleased now that he'd waited, this promised to be a very interesting meeting.

‘You know of course that Sterling is branching out into coal?' Rickie said, leaning back and folding his arms. ‘Already taken possession of the Kilvey Deep and it won't stop there, believe me. He's got his teeth into something that will pay, not only as a sideline but to provide coal for the copper and steel works.'

Dean stared at the boy with raised eyebrows. ‘So?' he said, impatient with the histrionics, wanting to get down to the real reason for such an unlikely crew getting together.

Rickie smiled slowly and leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘I've thought of getting the men out against him but they're past that now, they can see that the new foundry is paying out good wages. And so, more drastic action is needed. I think I'll leave it to Glanmor to outline the plan.'

There was a sudden silence at the table while Travers looked at Dean as though trying to get his measure. Around them, the sounds of the public bar ebbed and flowed like the tide, there was the chink of glasses and the raucous voice of the landlord and Dean waited, wondering what sort of ideas this chemist might have to offer.

Travers leaned closer and his voice was so low that Dean had to strain to hear it.

‘The Kilvey Deep is the mine with the Cornish beam engine,' he said slowly. Dean shook his head, resisting the urge to tell the man to get on with it. Travers narrowed his eyes and leaned even closer.

‘If there was to be an unfortunate accident, say the beam became jammed or exploded because of a blocked valve? The result would be that the entire chain of pits from the Kilvey Deep down through the Landore Copper Pit and the Big Andrew would be flooded in a matter of hours.'

Dean put his elbows on the table and pressed his fingertips together, displaying an outward calm while his mind raced, trying to gauge the effect this action would have on Sterling Richardson. Rickie was there ahead of him.

‘Without coal, the works could not operate, no one can make copper or zinc without furnaces. At the moment, the stocks of fuel are fair but they would be used up long before the mines could be made operational again.'

Dean stared at him. ‘And what good would that do us? We both stand to lose if the profits fall.'

‘Only for a time,' Rickie said triumphantly, ‘then we could buy Sterling out at a very low price.'

Dean suddenly saw why he was being allowed to participate in this little scheme of Rickie's. The boy did not have the necessary sheckels to buy out an empty beer barrel.

‘There's one flaw,' he said. ‘What would we use for coal ourselves?'

Rickie smiled, though there was no warmth in his eyes. ‘Strange you should ask, did you know that the small slants just outside the town boundary are being outclassed by the larger pits and the owners are desperate for capital investments? Small the seams may be but rich enough, and all ours for the asking.'

‘And what if Sterling decides to import coal from another area?' Dean challenged. Rickie shook his head.

‘Time is of the essence. When my brother realises how low his stocks have become it will be too late to do anything about it. If he fails to deliver his orders on the due date, he will be out of business.'

Dean was silent for a long moment, staring at the men seated around him, and they waited anxiously, as well they might, for his reaction.

‘It seems to me that I'm taking the entire financial risk here,' he said slowly. ‘What if your plan fails, I'm down in the gutter while you, Rickie, will be still sitting pretty.' He shook his head. ‘I don't know, this needs thinking about.'

Rickie smiled and folded his arms across his chest. ‘We can go ahead without you, Dean,' he said softly, ‘and we will if we have to. Don't forget, you stand to make more than any of us. If we are successful, you'll have the biggest share of the copper company.'

The prospect was a pleasing one, Dean thought to himself, and he could well afford to put out a little cash for his shops were doing well. He wasn't really going to risk a great deal, all he would actually be doing was to buy into some of the smaller mines, nothing illegal. This man Travers would shoulder the blame if anything went wrong.

‘All right,' he said at last, ‘I'll finance the deal.' He saw Rickie exchange relieved glances with Glanmor Travers and knew that in spite of his brave words, Rickie had been worried in case the funds he needed would not be forthcoming.

‘There's been some heavy rainfall of late and the pump has been working overtime trying to keep the pits clear,' Travers said. ‘And so I suggest we go ahead as soon as possible.'

Dean nodded. ‘Fine by me, I'll leave all that to you.' He glanced at the three men, bags of wind all of them though perhaps Glanmor had a little more backbone than the others. Dean rose from his chair abruptly.

‘I'll leave you to it, gentlemen.' His voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘But keep me informed, won't you Rickie?'

He went outside and the wind gusted around him, lifting the brim of his hat, but Dean scarcely noticed the cold, he was exultant, he must go to visit Bea at once. Yes, he would enjoy telling her that Sterling Richardson was going to get his comeuppance.

While Dean was thinking of visiting Bea, she was sitting on the edge of her chair in the drawing room, making a pretence of drinking tea. Seated on the long scroll sofa was Victoria Richardson, her hair slightly dishevelled by the wind that whined and moaned in the branches of the trees outside. The room was silent for neither of the women could think of anything to say and Bea was too weary and too low in spirits to make a great effort at small talk. Victoria put down the fine bone china cup and sighed softly.

‘I do hope, Bea, that you don't object to your father and me becoming . . . close?' She drew her skirts round her legs and her eyebrows were raised anxiously as she waited for a reply.

‘You and Daddy have your own lives to lead,' Bea said softly. She did not add that it was time the couple were married, for it might help right the wrong that had been done so many years before.

She would probably never reveal to Victoria that she knew the truth, knew that Sterling was James's son and her own half brother. Nor would she ever be able to forgive, she thought bitterly.

She still ached to be in Sterling's arms and even after the awful events that had taken place since, she could not forget the times she had lain with Sterling and known his love.

Her one great sorrow was that she had been forced to forfeit the joy of bearing his child and she still suffered nightmares about her visit to Mrs Benson.

‘I know we are old enough not to need approval,' Victoria continued, ‘and yet I would like you to be pleased for us, Bea.' She pushed back a dark strand of hair. ‘Of course, we shall wait a while before we marry, at least a year, for I must abide by the period of mourning for poor, dear Arthur.'

‘Yes, of course,' Bea agreed though inside her there was a jeering voice that said concern for the proprieties was surely misplaced in such a situation. Mrs Richardson and James Cardigan were only resuming a relationship after all, not entering into a new one.

It was with relief that she saw her father come into the drawing room. She rose from her chair, trying to conceal her eagerness to escape, and kissed his cheek as she passed him by.

‘I think I'll go down onto the beach for a while,' she said lightly. ‘I'll take Bertha with me so there's no need to worry.'

James looked at her anxiously. ‘But I do worry about you, Bea, you are still very fragile. I'm sure you don't realise how badly that fever you contracted affected your health.' He came to her and pressed his lips against her hair. Bea closed her eyes, feeling that old familiar guilt wash over her. It had not been a fever, her mind cried. But how could she put into words the truth of her illness? She would break her father's heart and he would never get over the fact that his folly as a young man had resulted in such tragic consequences for his daughter.

She smiled at her father reassuringly before entering the hall and calling to Bertha to bring her outdoor clothes.

‘Where are you off to, Miss Bea?' The young maid held out Bea's good woollen coat and helped her to do up the buttons.

‘Just down to the beach for some air, perhaps you'd like to come with me?'

Bea had always been grateful for Bertha's help and support when she needed it so badly. She'd contemplated telling Bertha the entire truth but the fear of Sterling learning the secret of his birth always held her back.

‘Here, Miss Bea, put on your hat and then I'll tie a scarf around your head. We must keep you warm, no good getting a chill is there now?'

Bea came back to the present and smiled down at the young maid. ‘I'm tougher than you think, Bertha. Come along, let's get out of this house, it's beginning to give me claustrophobia.'

It was cold on the beach, the wind whipped the sand into small dust storms and Bea wondered at the wisdom of her decision to take a walk in such inclement weather. All the same, the rolling pewter sea gave her a sense of peace and she stared outwards, absorbing the wash of the waves, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

It was a bitter pill she was being asked to swallow, accepting Victoria as her stepmother. Once her father and Victoria were married, the house would not be Bea's domain any longer. No doubt changes would be made in the decor for a new broom always brushed clean. But worse, Victoria would always be present, there would be no escape from her unless Bea virtually became a recluse in her bedroom.

She took a deep breath of the salt, tangy air and thought of Dean. He did truly love her, and though she would never feel for him the way she did for Sterling, at least he would be good and kind to her. They had a great deal in common, she told herself, he was a fine man underneath the blustery front he assumed.

‘What would you do, Bertha?' Bea spoke her thoughts out loud. ‘Would you marry one man while you were in love with another?' She glanced at the maid who was struggling to keep her hat on her brown curls.

‘I'd forget that Mr Richardson for a start,' Bertha said explosively, ‘no good that man, treated you cruel he did and if I was to see him I'd tell him so to his face.' She picked up a stick from the sand and snapped it between her fingers vengefully.

Bea pressed her lips together to prevent herself from leaping to Sterling's defence. Of course, Bertha thought Sterling had simply left her to her fate, she had no idea of what the real truth was and never would have.

Bertha's excited voice broke into Bea's unhappy thoughts. ‘Look, there's Mr Dean now, he's coming to find you.' She took off her hat and waved it wildly. ‘He's seen us, he's coming this way, how romantic. See how big and handsome he is, marry him why don't you, Miss Bea, he loves you and he's rich too.'

Bea smiled. ‘Don't be mercenary, Bertha.' But she watched Dean carefully as he drew closer. His hair was blowing over his brow for he had given up the unequal struggle to keep his broad-rimmed hat upon his head.

‘Come here, you silly goose.' He wrapped his arms around Bea, holding her close to his warmth. ‘You shouldn't have been allowed to come down here, not in this cold wind, come along, I'm taking you home.'

Bea smiled up at him as he wound the edges of his topcoat around her thin frame as though to protect her from the soft drizzle that had just begun to fall.