Hope for Tomorrow (3 page)

His father yelled, cajoled, threatened and finally gave up when it became clear that Lucien was determined to be grumpy.

Everyone gave him a wide berth since you never could tell these days when his temper might flair for the slightest of reasons. Among the servants, only Mrs Lassiter dared to brave his moods and frequently did so when he had reduced a housemaid to tears.

She felt for him, really she did but that was no excuse to make her girls cry! On one occasion he had even made Barry the stable boy cry! Of course Mr Lambert, the butler, handled problems with the male servants, though even he was unwilling to face Lucien's ire.

Lucien began taking out classified advertisements in local papers, offering a reward for any information on Martha, complete with a description and her name.

He didn't know where she might have ended up so he tried all the local papers in turn. Unfortunately he received nothing in reply; which is to say that he got a lot of useless letters seeking the reward but no genuine information. Still, he would ride out at least once a week, seeking out the author of a more promising letter.

Finally his father tired of these secret errands and letters and while Lucien was in Sale checking on a lead, he opened his son's post. It didn't make an awful lot of sense to him but he could tell that it was a reply giving details about a possible sighting of their former housemaid, Martha.

Being a man of the world, he immediately put the pieces together. Her sudden departure, his son's mood which, now that he though about it, coincided with her leaving and finally these letters, meaning that Lucien must be searching for her and most likely his bastard child too.

It would not do!

When Lucien returned he was either going to give up this obsession with the housemaid or have his allowance cut off. If that didn't work, he would be sent away.

The argument that ensued when Lucien returned could be heard even out in the barn and despite Mrs Lassiter's discretion, everyone now knew exactly why Martha had left.

The gossip spread like wildfire both through the gentry and the working classes. Most of the men understood of course, because men have urges but on the whole the women disapproved because no decent woman gives it away before marriage. And what an idiot she must have been to suppose that a relationship with a future Earl could work out! Oh, how they laughed at her foolishness.

The owner of the mill at which Martha worked was not upper class but as he was extremely wealthy and since many of the aristocracy were feeling the pinch these days, he had been welcomed into higher circles and it was at one such dinner party that Mr Wilson learned the story of Martha Dawley and Lucien Beaumont.

Something struck him as familiar about the story but he couldn't think what it was. The next day as he read his morning paper, he paused to peruse the classified advertisements and came across one that looked like Lucien Beaumont's.

Missing, young girl age 16 from Marchwood. 5'2”, chestnut brown hair, green eyes and with child. £10 reward offered. Please write to...

Mr Wilson remembered reading a letter from someone near Marchwood, now who on earth could have written to him from there? He certainly didn't recall having any friends in that area.

Then he remembered a glowing reference from the housekeeper of Marchwood Hall, whoes estate came under the postal address of Marchwood town. Now he recalled the letter and the woman who had showed it to him. She had brown hair and green eyes; could she be the missing housemaid that Lucien was searching for?

He didn't want to believe it for he had liked that woman but then if she was in fact the same Martha Dawley then she was no woman; at sixteen she was still just a girl.

Was it her he wondered? He would check his files when he got to the mill later today to see if she was among his employees.

She was.

Following his father's ultimatum, Lucien had no choice but to tone his temper down and try to act normally. He didn't give up his search however, he simply had the letters sent to Mrs Lassiter now.

He couldn't ride out as often as before either and so he was forced to correspond with possible witnesses.

Life at the estate went back to normal for most, save for Lucien; he was still obsessed with finding her and correcting his mistake.

Finally he received a letter from a cotton mill owner which baldly stated that he had a Martha Dawley in his employ. Lucien concocted an excuse for his parents, that he was going to attend a lecture, then rode to Eastham to find Martha.

Mr Wilson came out to the mill gate to greet Lucien and ushered the gentleman into his office, clearly eager to make a good impression. That was the trouble with these merchants, Lucien thought, they had money but not status and were inclined to cosy up to their betters and Lucien didn't like that.

Martha had never been like that. She had worked to improve herself while she worked for his father but she never pretended to be anything other than a working class girl, nor did it seem that she wanted to be.

They made small talk while they headed to his office; about Lucien's journey and the weather today but Lucien's eagerness to be reunited with Martha made him curt with the other man.

Although Mr Wilson was obviously wealthy judging by both his mill and his clothes, he accepted the £10 reward that Lucien offered him, clearly more worried about money than making a good impression. As he handed the notes over, Lucien heard a noise from the doorway and turned to see Martha glaring at him.

Chapter Three

Martha was actually starting to enjoy her life in Eastham. The work was hard and the wages low but she was managing and that was what mattered.

When one of the overlookers tapped her on the shoulder one day and gestured for her to follow him, she was surprised but not worried, for she knew that her work was good.

They left the factory floor and headed across the courtyard to the offices on the other side and Martha wondered what on earth the bosses could want with her since she had never heard of anyone but the overlookers being summoned to the offices before.

He led her down a short corridor to the door at the end and opened it without knocking; clearly they were expected.

Martha's blood ran cold as she saw Lucien standing in the centre of the office, handing money over to the Master. She glared at him, still hurt from the words that he had said that day in the barn.

“
Come in!” the Master told her sharply, so she stepped into the office. “Miss Dawley, it has been brought to my attention recently that you are not in fact a married lady but an unmarried girl of sixteen. I'm afraid that I cannot have someone with such loose morals on my workforce.”

The master handed her an envelope.

“
These are your wages to date, please leave quickly and quietly once your business with Lord Beaumont is concluded.”

The master and the overlooker left the office then, closing the door behind them.

Martha was feeling rather faint. They knew the truth about her; she had been fired. Soon everyone would know the truth, that she was a fallen woman and her friends would disappear, unwilling to be associated with someone of loose moral character.

Her dream was over and the man standing before her was to blame.

“
How are you?” he asked, his voice full of the warmth and tenderness that she remembered from the early days in their relationship. She saw his gaze drop to her swollen belly before returning to her face.

“
I've just been fired, how do you think I am?”

“
You don't need this job,” Lucien tried to comfort her, for he could see that she was upset. “I will rent a home for you and our child, somewhere nice where you can be happy; perhaps a cottage with a small garden.”

Martha looked at him, confused, as though he had just spoken in another language.

“
Please, Martha,” He stepped closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You must know how sorry I am about what I said that day. Can you ever forgive me?”

Martha found it hard to process his words, for in her mind they didn't make any sense. She shrugged his hands off her shoulders.

“
Your way of apologising for calling me a whore that day is to get me fired and make it publicly known that I am a fallen woman?”

Lucien knew her well enough to realise that he was on shaky ground.

“
You don't need this job,” he reassured her. “You don't ever need to work again.”

“
Except as your whore,” she spat. “What did you think, that you could come in here, ruin the fragile life that I've built for myself, pay my master off and offer to make me your mistress for the rest of my life and that I would somehow be grateful?”

Lucien hadn't thought of it that way.

“
I just want to look after you,” he assured her.

“
No, what you're talking about is possession, not care.”

“
Surely you don't want to work in a cotton mill for the rest of your life?”

“
I don't care where I work, as long as it's good, honest labour and I don't have to be anywhere near you.”

Lucien dashed a hand through his dark hair and sighed. His instinct was to argue and pressure her into coming with him but he knew her well enough to realise that wouldn't work so he tried to calm down.

“
The baby is due soon, at least let me take care of you until it arrives.”

“
Then what?” she asked.

“
I don't understand.”

“
After the baby comes, then what? Have it adopted? Give it to the workhouse? Try and convince me to become your kept woman? Or maybe you'll just take it from me and raise it as your ward.”

“
I don't know, Martha! All I know is that I can't bear my life without you in it and-”

“
Well I actually quite like my life without you in it,” she interrupted him. “So please turn around and go home.”

“
That's my child in there,” he said, pointing at her stomach. “I have rights.”

“
No, you don't,” Martha gave a wry laugh. “Had you done the unthinkable and married the housemaid, you would indeed have the rights of ownership that you so dearly crave over both me and the child but as you rightly pointed out, how do you know this child is yours? If you try and force my hand or interfere in my life in any way, I will deny that this child is yours until my dying breath. Do you understand?”

Once again, Lucien looked perplexed. He had prepared for her being difficult because after all, he had said some nasty things; what he had not counted on was her flat refusal to accept his help.

“
Martha, I love you?”

“
Love seeks to nurture, not to own.”

“
Please.”

“
Goodbye, Lucien. I hope that you and your title will be very happy together.” She turned to leave.

“
Wait,” he pleaded, reaching out and grabbing her hand. “How can you just walk away? Did I really mean so little to you.?”

Her expression softened for a moment as she frowned.

“
No, Lucien. You meant the whole world to me; I would have done anything for you,” she answered honestly, her voice soft as for a moment as she allowed herself to remember just how very much she had cared for this man. “Then you made it clear that I would never be more than a dalliance to you, a youthful fling. You killed any feelings that I had for you that day and you will never again have the power to wound me as you did then. Let me go, Lucien.”

“
But I love you!”

“
And I no longer love you. Go home; you are making a fool of yourself.”

“
Do you need money?” he asked.

“
No, I'm not for sale.”

As the implication of her words hit home, his fingers slipped from her arm. She didn't love him and she thought that he was trying to buy her. He had turned the pure, sweet, kind girl that he had fallen for into a cold and unfeeling shrew. He had lost her forever.

She walked from the office and he went to the window so that he could watch her for as long as possible. Her back was ramrod straight as she walked out of the mill courtyard, then by the gate she paused briefly and looked back, her eyes quickly focusing on him where he stood. He wondered if she was having second thoughts but her expression was inscrutable. Then she turned away once more and disappeared through the gate.

Lucien felt winded and staggered over to the desk chair to sit down.

It was truly over.

He didn't know how long he sat there but it seemed many hours until he somehow found the strength to stand up and leave.

The ride home was long as he had no need for haste on the return journey. Indeed he was dreading returning home, to his cold and indifferent parents and his life of duty and responsibility. He would be pressured into finding a good wife, someone respectable, preferably from the nobility, someone he could parade around at dinner parties and balls but who had no real thoughts of her own, for his class trained independent thought out of their daughters and turned them into pretty ornaments. 

His mother and father never discussed business or politics, they never showed any affection to one another, never smiled when the other entered a room and they even had separate bedrooms. Married but forever alone.

He didn't want that and he wouldn't have had that with Martha for she knew her own mind. She wasn't afraid to venture opinions or offer advice on subjects that she understood and even though she lacked the expensive education that he had, she was keen to learn and was always asking him to explain things that she didn't understand.

He had always been happy to teach her, whether it be about estate management or the classics, for her insights were keen and she often gave him a unique perspective, enabling him to see things in a new way.

That was all gone now and he was a lone vessel again, docking only occasionally and destined to sail through life forever alone.

What an incredibly cold and miserable life that seemed.

Martha managed to hold her tears at bay until she got back to her room, at which point she broke down and sobbed.

For a moment today, in between his autocratic proclamations on her future, he had been the man that she had fallen in love with, the man who cared for her more than any other person ever had.

As she lay on her bed she allowed herself to remember him as he used to be for a while, wallowing in her misery.

When she had first joined the Beaumont household she had worked below stairs and rarely saw the family. Even if she had worked upstairs, Lucien had been away at school and then away at university for most of the year. As he grew older he returned less and less often, preferring to spend his free time with his friends and so when he returned home, 21 years of age and brimming with confidence, she had been taken aback by the sight of him, for he was quite the most handsome man that she had ever laid eyes on.

When his grey-blue eyes looked at her, she felt as though she could see into his soul, and he into hers. His jawline was square and strong and his dark hair framed his face beautifully, providing a perfect contrast with his light blue eyes. She was enamoured with him.

Consequently she did her level best to avoid him but it almost seemed that he sought her out for wherever she worked, he would come upon her. He would ask her questions while she worked and although she was supposed to remain invisible while above stairs, it was rude not to answer him when directly addressed.

When she said something that pleased him, his whole face would light up as he smiled and Martha's heart would skip a beat. What was most attractive about him though, was the fact that he listened and seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. Sometimes he would ask her about a book, which seemed odd at first since most housemaids wouldn't know how to read, let alone have read a classic. She always sought out the books that he mentioned though and read them each night before bed.

He quickly realised that she was borrowing books from the library and so he had started getting the books and gave them to her so that she couldn't get into trouble should his parents discover that she was borrowing books from their library.

Finally, after she had read a book that he had given her, he suggested that they meet to talk about it, somewhere private where they would have time for more than just a few sentences. She had been hesitant but he had persuaded her to meet him in the stables one Sunday morning while the others were at church. She pretended to be unwell so that she could stay behind. They made their way up to  the hayloft where he had placed a blanket over a bed of hay and they sat there and talked for hours.

Even when she was clearly wrong in her ideas, he didn't shout or call her stupid but rather he took the time to explain why her reasoning was faulty and usually tried to help her find the right conclusion rather than just telling her what to think. Her confidence had grown thanks to his belief in her and it wasn't many weeks before she realised that she was madly in love with him.

Still, she refused his advances because her only knowledge of intimacy came from her parents hurried and inexperienced fumblings. Her mother never seemed to enjoy them and her father grunted as if he were in pain.

Slowly though, he broke her defences down. She knew that relations between men and women lead to babies but Lucien assured her that he could protect her from that; he had a sheath that he used to prevent pregnancy. Eventually she had given in and agreed.

Their first time was quick and painful but for some reason Martha had still enjoyed it. Not when he entered her, for that had hurt but the bit leading up to that, when she had this warm and tingly feeling in her lower belly, that felt good and so she let him do it again the next time they met. This time was different from the first; he took his time so the pleasurable feelings were even better than before and when he entered her there was no pain.

After that he began asking her what she liked; did she like it when he stroked her like this, or like this? Did she like being touched here, or here, or what about when he kissed her here? She had been shy and hesitant at first but he drew the answers from her slowly until one day she experienced what he had called an orgasm. It was the most pleasurable feeling she had ever known and when it faded, she felt so relaxed and languid.

At the same time he taught her what he enjoyed and where he liked to be touched and she was happy to return the favour, though some acts she was doubtful about at first.