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Chapter 15

Rory made his way through the winding streets of Liverpool, the late August breeze carrying the fishy, salty smells of the docks along with him. He had left Emily behind in the care of her father – she’d looked very green after their journey across the Irish Sea, so Mr McGovern had suggested that she get some sustenance at an inn (a proposal which Jack and Gus, or rather their bellies, had thoroughly supported) while Rory went about his business. Once he returned from his visit to the solicitor, they would see about getting the train to Bedfordshire.

Jennie and Mr Varley had travelled with them from Ireland, although Polly had remained with Lady Bridget, who had arranged to stay a couple of months longer at Oakleigh. Rory could tell that Mr McGovern hadn’t been enamoured with that plan, but his and Lady Bridget’s essential responsibilities compelled them to be apart for the time being. Rory wondered glumly what it would be like if he and Emily were also obliged to follow separate paths in the name of duty – what if, in the distant future, he had to continue to fulfil his role as deputy land agent at Bewley Hall, while she was required to go to Oakleigh when she became the Lady Courcey? Then it occurred to him that they might be separated much sooner than that, depending on the responses she received to her applications to the art academies. He pushed the dispiriting thought aside for now. After spending several weeks sharing a bedchamber with her family, his chief ambition was to get back to Bewley Hall and ravish her in their private suite as soon as possible.

But first, he had to call upon Martins instead, he had the same brown hair as Rory, which they had both inherited from Brian Mór.

As soon as he saw Rory, his countenance filled with a suspicion that matched his little sister’s. ‘What’s brought you here?’ he demanded.

‘Don’t fret, Alfie,’ said Maud. ‘The lease needs to be renewed on the house so he called by to check that all’s in order before signing it.’ She turned her expectant gaze to Rory. ‘And now you know everything’s fine, you’ll go back to the solicitors’ office, won’t you?’

He had just opened his mouth when the door opened again and this time Maud, Alfie and May all flinched. A short, stocky man marched in, his face and clothes filthy with soot. For a third time, Rory found himself on the receiving end of a suspicious glare.

‘Who’s this?’ the man barked.

Maud crossed the smoky room to him and put a placating hand on his arm. ‘This is Rory, Tommy,’ she told him. ‘Rory Carey. Our landlord.’

Tommy Jones’s face cleared at once and he grinned at Rory, revealing a large, misshapen tooth that jutted out from the right side of his mouth. ‘All right, mate? Good to finally meet you.’

He strode forwards and stuck out a sooty hand, black grime buried deep underneath the fingernails. Rory stood and shook it.

‘Nice to meet you too,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind me calling by?’

‘Not at all! I’m sure my wife’s been treating you well.’

Tommy gave Maud a wink and she flushed. ‘He’s not here long,’ she said. ‘I didn’t get a chance yet to offer him anything.’

‘I don’t need—’ Rory started to say as Tommy exclaimed, ‘Well then, why don’t I take him up the road for a pint?’

‘No, honestly, ’tis fine,’ said Rory, putting up his hands in polite refusal.

Tommy flung a friendly arm around his shoulders, their differences in height making the movement a little awkward. ‘Why not? Is my money not good enough for you?’ He let out a boisterous laugh.

Rory forced a smile. ‘I’m just short on time. My family’s waiting back at the docks—we’ve got to catch a train to Bedfordshire.’

‘Ah, fair enough,’ Tommy said, clapping him on the back and dropping his arm. ‘Whereabouts do you live in Bedfordshire?’

‘The Bewley Estate,’ Rory replied, hoping Tommy would assume he lived as a tenant on the land, rather than at Bewley Hall itself. He had no desire to get into an explanation about how that extraordinary set of circumstances had come about.

Tommy just nodded and said, ‘And do you have other business in Liverpool apart from signing the lease for this place? I suppose that’s squared away already?’

Rory swallowed. ‘I, uh, just wanted to call by first. Make sure all was well with the house and…everything.’

Tommy darted a glance from him to Maud and back. ‘And have you found that all is well?’ he asked lightly.

‘Of course he has,’ Maud said, her own voice equally light. ‘Although now that I think of it,’ she carried on, swivelling towards Rory, ‘we’ve been having trouble with the fireplace—it’s smoking more than it should be, as you can no doubt tell. The flue is probably blocked.’

‘That’s an excellent point, my lovely wife,’ Tommy said, throwing Rory a smirk. ‘You can take care of that, right?’

Rory didn’t object, in spite of Tommy’s smugness; it was the landlord’s responsibility to ensure that the house was habitable for his tenants.

‘For sure,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave instructions with Mr Martins to arrange a chimney sweep to fix it, and to send the bill to me.’ He looked around. ‘Is there anything else? Do the youngsters have all they need? Do they get any schooling?’

This went beyond the level of concern expected from a landlord, but he genuinely wished to know. They were his kin, after all, even if he didn’t like the way that fact had come about. Alfie and May both stared at him, their suspicion supplanted by astonishment.

‘Schooling?’ Tommy whistled, his large tooth vanishing momentarily behind his pursed lips. ‘No time for that. There are more important things to be doing, like putting food on the table. Right, Alfie?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Alfie mumbled. He was still holding the plate and he gripped it tightly in both of his hands as he peered up at Rory. ‘I deliver newspapers every morning. The printer expects them to be out by dawn, so I start early. When I’m done, I come back home and help Ma.’

‘You’d better not be helping your ma with any more of that sewing,’ Tommy said. ‘That’s women’s work.’ He tousled Alfie’s brown hair, a bit more roughly than was necessary.

‘No, sir,’ Alfie murmured, discreetly stepping out of arm’s reach.

Maud made no comment on this exchange, although her lips tightened. Rory eyed her, doubt coiling in his gut.

‘I’ll head back to the solicitors’ office so,’ he said, ‘…if that’s what you want me to do?’

She blinked and then beamed at him. ‘That would be terrific.’

‘Appreciate it, mate,’ Tommy added cheerfully. ‘Glad we got to meet in person.’ He gestured to his stepdaughter. ‘May, love, help this old man get his boots off, there’s a good girl.’

He dropped heavily onto the stool Rory had vacated and stuck out one of his legs. May knelt in front of him and began to unlace the boot, her fingers blackening from the soot at once.

Maud accompanied Rory to the door. ‘Thanks for coming,’ she said, her eyes not quite meeting his.

He lifted the latch, crossed the threshold and turned back to bid her farewell. She was already reaching out to close the door and, as she did so, her cuff shifted up her forearm. For the briefest moment, he caught a glimpse of a dark bruise circling her wrist, stark against her pale skin. His stomach clenched. She quickly tugged her cuff back down.

‘Goodbye,’ she said hurriedly and shut the door.