Rags-to-Riches Bride

The trouble was that, even sober, he was difficult to handle, rather like a truculent child determined to have his own way. And yet, like a child, he was warm and loving and he never meant to hurt her. For her dead mother’s sake she persevered with her effort to help him to help himself.

From his corner seat he saw her and waved his full glass at her, slopping the contents over his fingers. The strong weatherbeaten seaman was gone and in his place was a shabby middle-aged man with an empty sleeve and brown stains on his cravat. His dog, Toby, sat patiently at his feet, waiting to lead him home because that was what had frequently happened in the past. ‘Diana, what are you doing here?’ She was thankful his speech was not too slurred.

‘Looking for you, Papa. I was hoping you would be at home. I have brought someone to meet you.’

He looked past her to where Richard stood. ‘Your young man?’

She felt the colour flood her face. Just lately he had been talking to her about making a good marriage, telling her to encourage her employer’s son, as if that would solve all their problems. ‘You would be well set up there,’ he had said. ‘No more scrimping and trying to make ends meet and we could leave this sordid place.’

‘No, Papa, this is Mr Richard Harecroft.’

James shrugged as if it was all one to him. ‘Join me in a drink, young feller.’

‘Thank you. I’ll have a pot of ale.’

Diana gasped. She had been relying on Richard’s help to extricate her father, and here he was encouraging him. ‘Papa—’ she began.

‘Sit down.’ Richard spoke quietly, but it was a command and she found herself obeying, even as she opened her mouth to protest that she did not frequent taverns and had only ever stayed long enough to haul her father out and that had not happened for nearly a year. ‘Say nothing,’ he murmured. ‘He has a full glass and he will not come away until it is empty, so be patient a minute.’

That was all very well, she thought as Richard beckoned a waiter. Papa would not want to leave even when his glass was empty; they would still have a fight on their hands. It was nerve-racking and exhausting and all she wanted was to go home and hide and never have to face the world again.

‘You work at the shop with your father?’ James asked. The two men who had been with him had disappeared at a nod from Richard and the three of them were alone at the table.

‘No, trade is not for me. I am a writer.’

‘Writer, eh? What sort of writing?’

‘Papa, you should not quiz Mr Harecroft,’ Diana said.

‘Oh, I do not mind it,’ Richard said. ‘I only wish more people were interested. I write about the common soldier and the trouble he faces finding employment when his services are no longer required.’

‘Not only soldiers,’ James said meaningfully. ‘Sailors too.’

‘True, but I know very little about the navy. You could perhaps enlighten me, tell me about the men and their children. Particularly the children.’

‘Like children, do you?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you have none of your own.’

‘I am unmarried.’ He began to wonder who was quizzing whom, but he was also aware that he was playing right into his great-grandmother’s hands.

‘Time enough to remedy that.’

James finished his drink, but before he could suggest ordering another, Richard drained his tankard and stood up. ‘Time to go home.’

‘Later, let us have one for the road first.’

‘Papa.’ Diana stood up and bent to take his arm, but he pulled himself roughly from her grasp.

‘Do not rush me, girl. You know I hate to be rushed.’

‘Papa, please come home.’

Richard turned to Diana. ‘You take his arm and I’ll take the other side and off we go. Do not give him a chance to struggle.’

It worked like a charm. Diana held firmly on to his one arm and Richard put his hand on his shoulder on the other side and more or less propelled him out to the street. Diana marvelled at his sheer strength and command of the situation. When anything like that had happened before, she had had to plead with her father, but because her strength did not match his, even when he was drunk, she had not been able to drag him away before he wanted to come. He was always sorry afterwards and begged her forgiveness, promising not to let it happen again. And for nearly a year he had kept that promise. Until tonight.

With Toby trotting behind, he walked fairly steadily between them; though he did not appear to need their support, neither released him. He was not as bad as Diana had thought at first, hardly more than slightly tipsy. At any rate the two men were chatting quite amiably. She began to revise her opinion of Richard. Although he was firm, he did not appear to condemn, he simply accepted the situation, almost as if he were used to it. She could not imagine Mr Harecroft senior or Stephen imbibing too much or even condoning it in others, but Richard had been in the army and no doubt that accounted for it.

‘How long were you in the army?’ the older man asked the younger.

‘Six years, most of it in the colonies.’

‘I am a naval man myself, man and boy, never knew any other kind of life—’ He stopped suddenly and buckled between them, and taken by surprise, neither could hold him. He sank to the ground at their feet.

‘Papa!’ Diana cried, bending over him. ‘Do get up, please.’

Richard gently pushed her to one side and crouched beside the unconscious man, bending his head to listen to his chest and then leaning back to look at his contorted face. Diana stood looking down at him with her hand to her mouth while the dog whined round them in agitation.

‘Stay with him, while I fetch the tilbury,’ Richard said, straightening up. ‘He is not drunk, he has had a seizure. We must take him to hospital.’ They had attracted a small crowd. He turned to them. ‘There is nothing to see, my friends. The gentleman is ill. Give him air, if you please.’ He ushered them away and then sprinted up the street, leaving Diana to kneel beside her father and lift his head on to her lap. She was angry with herself for the unkind thoughts she had been having about him and wished he could hear her apologising.

Richard returned with the gig very quickly and, hardly appearing to exert himself, lifted the unconscious man into it and propped him in the corner, then helped Diana up beside him. There was now no room for a driver, and so he led the horse, breaking into a run as they reached the end of the street. Diana, cradling her father, called out to him. ‘Where are you taking us?’

He called back over his shoulder. ‘St Thomas’s. It is the nearest. We must not waste time.’

He did not want to take them there, but he could see no alternative. Hospitals catered for the poor whose purses and living conditions precluded them from being treated at home. People who could afford to pay for their treatment expected nurses and doctors to visit them, not the other way about. If that were not possible, there were private nursing homes. He would have had no hesitation in paying for the captain’s treatment, but realised that would not be appropriate, and in any case speed was important.

He turned back to look at Miss Bywater. She was very pale, but appeared calm. He was full of admiration for her courage. To live as she did, looking after a difficult parent in conditions only one step above squalor, and yet put in a day’s work at Harecroft’s showed a strength of character that was at odds with her femininity. He wondered how much Stephen had told her about himself. Or how much Stephen really knew about her. He had a feeling the party at Borstead Hall would bring everything to a head. Would she come? She had declined the invitation even before this had happened. But Great-Grandmama was a strong character and if she wanted the young lady there, she would find a way of bringing it about.

He pulled up outside the hospital and lifted the older man down and carried him into the building, leaving Diana to follow. In no time, because the Harecroft name was known and they had given generous donations to the hospital in the past and because Richard promised more, Mr Bywater was put into a small room on his own and a nurse was delegated to his care.

The next few hours were a nightmare to Diana. She moved like an automaton, sitting when told to, drinking endless cups of tea that Richard sent out for, unaware of anything except her concern for her father and her own feelings of guilt. She had misjudged Papa and if Richard had not been there, she might have been slower to realise that his condition was caused by illness and not drink. Telling herself that on past performance she could be forgiven for it did not make her feel any better, nor the fact that it was Mr Richard Harecroft, of all people, who was on hand to help her.

At dawn she was still sitting on a bench outside the room where her father lay fighting for his life. Richard had left to take Toby back to Mrs Beales and then he was going home himself. ‘I will tell my father what has happened,’ he had said before leaving. ‘You will not be expected to go to work today.’ She wondered what else he would tell his father and the rest of the family. She was thankful that it was Saturday and there was all the next day before she need worry about her job.

If her father lived, she would devote herself to him and try even harder to help him overcome his problem and she would put all ideas of marrying Stephen out of her mind. In any case, as soon as he knew her circumstances, Stephen would make excuses not to take her out again and the subject of marriage between them would be tacitly dropped. It was not that she minded about that. She was not in love with him and had only been considering it because her father had told her not to dismiss the idea out of hand. But Stephen’s strange way of proposing had made her wonder if he too might be having pressure put to bear on him. Though why? She was no catch. She had no dowry, no fortune and no more than average good looks.

Thinking about that set her thinking about Lady Harecroft’s party. In normal circumstances she might have been thrilled to be asked, would have anticipated it with pleasure, but the circumstances were far from normal. What was going on in that old lady’s head? She did not appear demented, but perhaps she was, perhaps she was mistaking her for someone else, someone far more suitable as a bride for her great-grandson. And from those thoughts it was a simple step to thinking about the other great-grandson.

Mr Richard Harecroft had shown himself to be masterful and completely in charge of the situation. He had not turned a hair at having to go into that low tavern, nor shown any kind of disgust, either at their dismal lodgings or the state of her father. And he had known at once that Papa was ill. He had saved both her life and her father’s in the space of a couple of hours, and he had paid for the private room. She owed him more than she could ever repay.

She looked up and jumped to her feet as a nurse approached her. ‘How is he?’

‘He is a fighter, I will give you that. We think he will pull through.’

Diana let out a long breath of relief and scrubbed at her eyes with an already sodden handkerchief. ‘Thank God. Can I see him?’

‘Yes, you can go in and see him for a few minutes, then I suggest you go home and rest. The worst is over and now only time will tell how far he will recover.’

‘What do you mean, how far?’

‘He will need careful nursing and a great deal of help and patience. He will have to learn to manage his disability…’

‘You mean the loss of his arm. He manages that very well.’

‘No, I mean the paralysis of his left side and not being able to speak properly. We do not know how permanent that is. He might recover some speech and movement in time. It is in God’s hands. We have done all we can.’ She pushed open the door of the sickroom. ‘Captain Bywater, here is your daughter, but she must not stay too long and tire you.’ She turned to Diana, who had followed her. ‘Take his hand and squeeze it now and again,’ she murmured. ‘You never know, you may arouse a response.’

Diana moved towards the bed. Her father’s normally weatherbeaten face looked grey and still had that contorted look, which had so frightened her. She sat in a chair beside the bed and took his hand. ‘Papa, it’s me, Diana.’ He turned to stare at her, but she was not sure if he had taken in what she said.

His lips moved slightly, trying to frame a word, but he gave up and she realised he could not speak and that made her want to cry again. ‘Do not try to talk,’ she said, determined not to let him see her tears. ‘Just squeeze my hand.’ But he did not; his own hand lay limply in hers.

‘Mr Harecroft took Toby home,’ she said, making herself sound cheerful. ‘He said he would make sure Mrs Beales looked after him. You remember Mr Harecroft? He came home with me last night. I do not know what I would have done without him. I will go home when I leave here and see how he is.’ She forced a laugh. ‘Toby, I mean, not Mr Hare-croft. I expect Mr Harecroft has gone back to Harecroft House and I did not have a chance to thank him properly.’ She prattled on. He neither moved nor spoke and only his eyes seemed to have any life as they searched her face.

The nurse came in. ‘Time to go, Miss Bywater. Your father needs to rest and so do you.’

Diana bent over to kiss her father’s forehead. ‘I must go now, Papa, but I will come back soon.’

He moved his lips and she heard him utter the word, ‘Kate’. It was her mother’s name and she turned away blinded by tears.

In the corridor the nurse asked, ‘Did he say something?’

‘Only “Kate”. He thinks I am my mother.’

‘Do not let it worry you. Saying anything at all is a good sign. Now off you go. He is in good hands.’

‘I know and I cannot begin to thank you.’

‘You do not have to. It is our job.’

It was more than just a job, Diana thought as she made her way out of the hospital, it took courage and dedication, both of which would be required of her in the next few days and weeks. Or perhaps it would be months and years. How was she ever going to manage?

‘Miss Bywater!’

She looked up and was surprised to see Richard Harecroft striding towards her. And suddenly she felt more cheerful, simply because he was there. ‘How is he?’ he asked.

‘Comfortable. He is being well looked after and I have been sent away to rest.’

‘Quite right, too. I have brought the gig to take you home. Stephen would have come, but he has gone to work, so I have come in his stead.’ He took her elbow to usher her towards the patient pony. ‘I know, you are going to say you can easily walk…’

‘No.’ She managed a smile. ‘I am glad you came, I wanted to thank you for what you did for my father last night. And for me.’

‘I did nothing.’ His tone was brusque, dismissing her gratitude.

‘All the same I am grateful, and I am sure Papa will be too, when he understands what happened.’

He helped her into the gig, climbed in beside her and set the pony off at a trot. She was silent, too tired to make conversation, until they came out of the end of the street and turned towards the river. ‘Mr Harecroft,’ she said, sitting forward in dismay, ‘this is not the way. You have taken a wrong turn.’

‘I do not think so. Great-Grandmama instructed me to take you home and that is what I am doing, taking you to Harecroft House.’

‘Your home! Oh, no. I cannot go.’

‘Why not?’

‘I am unkempt, my father is in hospital and I must be on hand to visit him; besides, you could not have told her ladyship the whole sorry story.’

He knew what she meant. ‘No, that is between you and me and no one else’s business unless you choose to tell them.’

‘Oh.’ She paused to reflect; she could not keep her job and look after her father at the same time, and yet she needed to earn if they were to live. It was a problem that would have to be faced, but at the moment she was too exhausted to think about it. ‘Would that not be dishonest?’

‘I do not see why. Your father is ill and he is not going to be in a position to go wandering off on his own for a little while, is he? Why stir up more problems for yourself?’ He turned to look at her. She was very pale; there were dark circles under her troubled blue-grey eyes and her hands were shaking in her lap. He put one hand over hers. ‘Our secret, eh?’ Even as he spoke, he wondered what he would say to the dowager if she asked him what he had discovered? What had Great-Grandmother seen in her that had made her so anxious to probe? The whole business was on the way to distracting him from his main purpose, being elected to Parliament and having his book published. He thought becoming an MP ought to come first, but he had heard nothing from Peel or Chadwick.

‘Thank you.’ She looked down at his strong brown hand covering hers and it felt so comforting and so right, she did not withdraw it as she ought to have done, but a minute later he was obliged to put both hands on the reins to steer the pony to a stop in order to pay the toll over Waterloo Bridge and the moment of intimacy was gone. ‘But I still do not think you should take me to Harecroft House. I am an employee, it is not fitting…’

‘That makes no difference as far as the old lady is concerned. When she says do something, we all jump to obey.’ His voice softened. ‘Do not be alarmed. She will not eat you. You will be given a room where you can rest and refresh yourself and later someone will take you to visit your papa. It is better than going back to those dismal rooms and the uncouth Mrs Beales, is it not? You could never rest in the daytime there.’

‘Yes, but…’

‘I suggest you accept, it will be easier in the long run.’

‘Thank you.’ She leaned back and shut her eyes and let him carry her forward, though she could not help feeling she was being manipulated, losing control. Accustomed to directing her own life, of looking after her mother before she died and her father since then, she was not sure she liked it. But she was too tired to argue, much too tired…

Chapter Three

Harecroft House was an imposing residence, four storeys high with a porticoed porch to its front door reached by a short flight of steps. Richard pulled up outside, jumped down and handed Diana down. By the time they were walking up the steps, the door had been opened by a footman.

‘Tell young Johnny to take the tilbury round to the mews, will you, Braithwaite,’ Richard said, ushering Diana into the marble-tiled hall. Then, to Diana, ‘Come, I expect Mama is in the drawing room.’

He took her arm and guided her up a magnificent cast-iron staircase, turned along a short corridor, and ushered her ahead of him into a large room whose windows looked out on to the square. The dowager and a younger woman were sitting on sofas, one on either side of the hearth. The younger woman’s erect posture was due, Diana surmised, to stiff corseting that diminished her waist and emphasised her bosom, now clad in forest-green taffeta. ‘Here she is,’ Richard said. ‘Mama, may I present Miss Diana Bywater?’

Diana, still feeling bewildered, bowed her head. ‘Mrs Harecroft.’

‘Miss Bywater, you are welcome.’ It was said with rigid correctness and made Diana wonder if she really did welcome her. She turned to the old lady, who was smiling like a child who had got her own way. ‘Lady Harecroft.’

‘Sit down by me,’ the dowager said, patting the seat beside her. ‘I was very sorry to hear of your father’s illness. Richard tells me he has had a seizure. How is he?’

‘They think he will pull through, but it is too soon to talk of a full recovery.’

‘Oh, dear, I am very sorry to hear that, very sorry indeed. I hope he has been made comfortable?’

‘Yes, thanks to Mr Richard Harecroft. I do not know what I would have done without him.’

‘I did nothing,’ he said. ‘It was fortuitous I was there.’

‘Why were you there?’ his mother demanded.

‘Father asked me to escort Miss Bywater home last evening. She had been working late and Stephen had already left or he would have taken her.’

‘I told them it was not necessary.’ Diana felt she had to explain. Already she had a feeling that Mrs Harecroft disapproved of her and, remembering Richard’s expression when he had come upon her and his father in the office, she certainly did not want her to think there was anything untoward going on. ‘But in the event I was very glad Mr Harecroft was there.’ She paused. ‘I did not expect to be brought here today and would not, for the world, intrude—’

‘Stephen wished it,’ Mrs Harecroft said. ‘And it is time we met, I think.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Miss Bywater is worn out, Mama,’ Richard said. ‘She has been sitting up with her father all night. Can you not leave the questions until later, when she has rested?’

‘I ought to go to work,’ Diana said.

‘Certainly not!’ the dowager put in. ‘Time enough for that on Monday. Richard, ring the bell for Mathilde.’ She turned to Diana as Richard obeyed. ‘Mathilde is my maid. She will show you to your room and look after you. Poor thing, you look done in. Have you had any breakfast?’

‘No, but I am not at all hungry.’

‘I will have something sent up to you,’ Mrs Harecroft said as a maid entered the room and bobbed to Lady Harecroft.

She was of middle years, very thin and upright. ‘My lady, you rang?’

‘Yes. This is Miss Bywater. She has had a very trying night and needs to sleep. I believe a room has been prepared for her.’

After expressing her gratitude, Diana was conducted up another flight of stairs and along a corridor to a bedroom. ‘Here you are, miss.’ The maid pushed open the door to a large well-furnished room. It had a Turkey carpet on the floor and heavy silk curtains. Diana recognised the material from the stock at the shop. ‘This room is next to her ladyship’s. Where is your baggage?’

‘I do not have any. I have not come to stay beyond a few hours. I shall just remove my outer garments and lay on the bed a little while. Wake me at noon, will you please?’

‘Very well, miss.’ The expression on the woman’s face would have made Diana smile had she not been too tired and worried to do so. The maid was obviously not used to such strange behaviour. Guests sleeping in the middle of the day and turning their noses up at a stay at Harecroft House was probably unheard of!

After the maid had gone, Diana took off her dress and sank on to the bed. She was almost too tired to sleep and there was so much going round and round in her head that it felt woolly. What was she doing here? Had she become so weak willed that she could not say no and mean it? It was Mr Richard Harecroft’s doing. He had as good as abducted her, taking the place of Stephen, so he said. As for their father, why did he favour one over the other? Was Richard really a black sheep? What had he done? What had she done to merit the attention she was receiving?

There was a knock at the door and a maid entered with a tray of food which she put on the table near the window. ‘Do you need anything else, miss?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘The mistress says to sleep as long as you like. Mr Hare-croft and Mr Stephen will not be back before three.’

It was a clear instruction to stay out of the way until the rest of the family arrived home and Diana managed a brief smile before sitting at the table to eat the scrambled eggs and bacon, the bread and butter that had been provided along with a pot of coffee. She had not had such a luxurious breakfast for years. It made her realise how much her life had changed since her mother died. And it was all here for her, if she accepted Stephen.

The food eaten, or as much of it as she could manage, she returned to the bed and flung herself across it. To her own surprise, she slept.

Diana did not wake until a maid brought hot water and told her Mr Harecroft and Mr Stephen had returned home and it was time to dress for dinner, which would be taken at five o’clock, in deference to the dowager who hated eating late in the evening. Diana sprang up in dismay; she had asked to be woken at noon, fully intending to return to St Thomas’s hospital to see her father and then go home without troubling the Harecroft family again. She was overset with guilt; poor Papa would think she had deserted him.