Chapter Nine

D on’t look for her.

Colin lectured himself as he and Joey kicked the ball back and forth while warming up for the exhibition match that had been scheduled for this weekend.

He knew that the club committee was disappointed that they were no longer playing Kent, but he had played many of the men on the Ironworkers team before, and they were not to be dismissed.

He wondered whether Lord Harcourt would allow his daughter to attend again.

He wondered how serious her injuries had been.

He wondered if she would forgive him for allowing her to be injured on the factory floor.

When he looked up, he didn’t see the carriage or any women in fine clothing. However, he saw his mother and sisters cheering and waving as loudly as the rest of the crowd.

He kissed his fingers and raised them toward the three of them, their presence a reminder of why he was doing what he was doing and what this meant to him and to them. For his family, this was so much more than a game, and he couldn’t let a pretty face interfere with his ability to play football.

Especially when that pretty face was proving to be more of a distraction from the game and his job than anything else.

He still couldn’t fall asleep without the horror of the moment when she had been trapped by the machine crossing his mind.

She had been so close to losing her life.

Colin knew that he should be most concerned that it would have destroyed his own life as well, but the world losing her would have been even worse.

He would have to put that aside and not consider the implications until after the match because, right now, he needed to focus.

This game might not mean anything, but he still needed to prove his worth.

They lined up around the field as Rhys went to take the coin toss, and the game was soon underway.

As Colin had guessed, the Ironworkers were as formidable a team as they would be playing against in the Cup, even if they wouldn’t have the same opportunity to vie for it as their Manchester team would.

They were only about ten minutes into the game, his team up by a goal, when there was a cry from across the pitch. He looked over to see Joey on the ground, folded over with his left leg stretched awkwardly in front of him.

One of the umpires called a stop to the game, and they all ran over to see what the matter was. The moment Colin saw the pain on Joey’s face, he knew it would be a bad injury.

“What is it?”

“My knee,” Joey said, gasping for air. “My foot got caught in a hole, and my entire leg twisted.”

A man ran out from the crowd, telling them he was a surgeon before he crouched and began looking at Joey’s leg. As Colin backed away, giving him space, he nearly fell over himself as his heel dipped downward.

He looked down to see the hole that Joey must have stepped in.

It wasn’t uncommon for these fields to have the odd divot. But they were back at Pomona Gardens, so it should be better cared for than the practice field they were used to.

This hole, however, looked almost like it had been deliberately dug. The sides of it were even and clean, as though they had been made by a trowel and not by an animal.

“Tommy,” he called out, pulling his friend over to his side and pointing to the ground. “Look at this. What do you make of it?”

“Looks like it could cause a nasty injury. As it did,” Tommy said.

“Yes, but do you think it was made accidentally or intentionally?”

“You think someone deliberately sabotaged us?”

“I don’t know,” Colin said, lifting his cap and pushing back his hair before reaffixing it to his head.

The idea sounded crazy as Tommy repeated it, but was it?

It seemed like one accident after another was befalling the Harcourt Mill and team.

Was it all just a coincidence or was someone out to get them?

He only hoped they could discover what was happening before it was too late.

Lily’s mother kept heaving grand sighs from across the carriage.

She was the reason they were late. Lily felt that if it were up to her mother, they would not be here at all, but someone had to chaperone Lily and Emmaline, and Lily’s mother didn’t trust Emmaline’s family to do so – not here.

Between the cheering crowd and the two young women sitting on the opposite side of the carriage, they could converse in low voices without Lily’s mother hearing them.

They had been distracted when a player was hurt, and Lily didn’t like how his knee looked. Not only did they now have to play the rest of the game short a player, but she wondered how long it would be until the man returned to the team after such an injury.

Of course, her eyes were on Mr. Thornton as he looked around the field after the man was carried off, and she wished she knew what had captured his attention.

“Just think,” Lily’s mother said from across the carriage. “We could be playing Kent right now, but you had to go and deny Lord Nathaniel again.”

“A marriage between us is not an option, Mother,” Lily said between gritted teeth. “Father agreed that a marriage to the man would be catastrophic.”

“Would it really, though?” her mother said. “He would most likely leave you alone most of the time.”

Lily rolled her eyes before exchanging a glance with Emmaline. Thank goodness her father cared enough not to push it forward.

“We all know that you are not interested in Lord Nathaniel,” Emmaline said, leaning in and speaking softly to Lily. “But what about certain footballers?”

Lily shook her head furiously, even as her heart began beating faster, denying the truth of her words. “I am not interested in any footballers,” she said quietly.

“Not even a certain Colin Thornton?” she said, raising a brow. “Your exchange with him last game was rather heated, and I see how you watch him as he moves about the field.”

“He often has the ball!” Lily exclaimed.

“The lady doth protest too much,” Emmaline quipped once again.

“Emmaline, have you ever read Hamlet? You are not even using the quote in the proper context.”

“I was never much interested in my studies.”

Lily rolled her eyes. That was an understatement. The only studies Emmaline enjoyed were regarding football, most sports, and tall, broad, athletic men, who, she said, made her feel delicate and womanly in ways other men did not.

“Even if I were – which I’m not – it would never be an option,” Lily said. “My father would never allow it.”

“Even if he didn’t know about it?” Emmaline said, and Lily bit her lip, enjoying the idea more than she should.

“That would hardly be how to thank my father when he is protecting me from a most unfortunate circumstance,” she said. “He also allows me to work for the team against his better judgment. I wouldn’t want to cause him any concern at this point.”

“So, you are interested!” Emmaline crowed, and Lily sighed.

“That is not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to,” Emmaline grinned. “Your face said it for you.”

Before she could tease her any further, however, there was a collective gasp in the crowd as the Ironworkers scored, tying the game.

“Blast it!” Emmaline hissed quietly enough to avoid censure from Lily’s mother.

It seemed that this would be a closer game than anyone realized.

Colin looked around the changing room of the bathhouse as the players were all moving much slower than before the game.

One thing could be said about the Ironworkers – they didn’t let up. Not for a moment.

They would all be nursing bruises tonight, that was for sure, although none would be in as much pain as Joey.

“What do you think, Rhys?” Colin said, turning to the captain, who was stripping to make his way to one of the bathtubs. “Will Joey be back?”

“I hope so,” Rhys said. “We need him. If he can’t return, we’ll need another player. The man also supports his wife and children as a cloth merchant. He needs to be on his feet.”

It was one reason many a talented footballer didn’t play any longer – because he couldn’t afford to get hurt. Colin knew that all too well firsthand.

“Will the club do anything for him?” Colin asked, and Rhys gave a short bark of laughter.

“I doubt it. This is the same club that always shorts us for our travel costs and our uniforms.”

“I haven’t heard of that before.”

“No,” Rhys said, flinging a towel over his shoulder. “You haven’t. I’ve taken care of it.”

He turned to go, but Colin called out his name. “You don’t have to do that. We’re a team, and we can look after this together.”

Rhys sighed. “Yes, but I’m in a fortunate enough position to make up the difference. I can take it on.”

“Why won’t the club give us our due?”

It didn’t make sense. Why would Harcourt offer to pay Colin a pound a match, but the committee not provide enough for the team to travel?

“Take it up with the team’s treasurer,” Rhys said, shrugging. “I’ve tried, but the man brushes me off. Maybe he’ll be different with a player who brings so much value to the team.”

He turned around again, effectively dismissing Colin, although Rhys’s parting words told Colin that he was well aware of his little deal with Harcourt and, from the sounds of it, didn’t enjoy the same benefits as Colin would have assumed.

That didn’t sit well with him, and he wondered how many on the team had a similar deal. If nothing else, it left him with a nagging feeling that he had a responsibility to this team, and to his captain.

Yes, he needed the money for his own family.

But perhaps he could help ensure that the rest of them also received their fair dues.

Lily spent the next working days trying to make sense of the ledgers, but they did not add up, no matter what she tried.

When she broached the topic with her father again, he waved her away, telling her that the bank had not errored, and he had so many pressing concerns with the mill that the minor discrepancies in the club accounts were unimportant to him.

The club’s treasurer would figure it out once she submitted the ledgers to him.

“You did not think to introduce me to him yet?” she asked her father as she stood in the doorway of his study, her voice low so her mother wouldn’t overhear her. She hadn’t been especially pleased about Lily’s interest in the club’s bookkeeping, having thought she would tire of them much quicker.

“You have no need to see him,” her father said, not even looking up at her from the ledgers in front of him. “And it would not be proper for you to do so anyway.”

“Why not?”

“He works out of the club offices.”

Lily’s mouth dropped open.

“You never told me that the club had offices.”

Her father finally looked up.

“Because you have no reason ever to be there.”

“Would you care to enlighten me as to where they are?”

“Upstairs above The King’s Head. It’s a pub not far from here. The players go there after most matches. So do the mill workers, actually,” he said, and Lily nodded, a plan already forming.

She was halfway out the door when her father called out, “Do not go there! Send a note to Pritchard at the office. He is usually there Monday to Thursday afternoons.”

Lily stopped, turning around.

“And just who is this Pritchard?”

“The treasurer,” her father said, rubbing his forehead, answering her without much attention. “Samuel Pritchard. He’s a retired banker and football fan who looks after the club’s finances now. Does a fine job.”

“I’m sure,” Lily said before returning to her writing desk in the drawing room.

A fine job, indeed. She had questions about that.

Questions she was going to get answered.