Copper Kingdom Read online

  ‘Things have changed now, Mammy,’ she said. ‘It’s different to when you were a girl back in Ireland.’ And yet within her was the unwanted thought that the only time she actually possessed William was when he lay in her arms, wanting her.

  Jess smiled thinly. ‘Men do not change their nature, Katie.’ She returned to her seat and resumed rocking to and fro, her eyes more heavily shadowed than ever. ‘You must learn that for yourself no doubt, but just believe this, what a man gets easily, he does not value highly and that’s the truth an’ I’ll swear it by all the saints in heaven, so I will.’

  Katie made the tea and as she stared down into the fragrant liquid, her spirits had never been lower and she wanted only to crawl into her bed and hide, hide from the truth that was clamouring inside her heart, body and soul that William only wanted one thing from her and that he could buy from any flossy in the street.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sterling sat in the office staring out, into the soft spring sunshine. He had just received an order from Smithson’s, a large manufactory just outside the town, for two tons of zinc wire and at the competitive price of a hundred pounds a ton it was a very gratifying start to his new enterprise.

  Once he’d had the idea, it had taken only a matter of weeks to convert the old outhouse into a small foundry, equipping it with moulding boxes, cores and sand at very little expense. It was more difficult finding a skilled pattern maker and a fettler but in that too he had been successful.

  He had struck lucky because the production of zinc wire, which had such tenacity and strength that a cable one tenth of an inch in diameter was capable of supporting a weight of around twenty-six pounds, was not being produced at all in the vicinity of Sweyn’s Eye.

  ‘Morning, Mr Richardson, you’re in early today.’ Ben entered the office and ambled towards his desk, shrugging off his topcoat. In spite of the sunshine the day was sharp and cold.

  ‘Look at this, Ben.’ Sterling waved the order sheet at him. ‘We’re in business, the demand for zinc wire is increasing. I feel more than justified in turning that old building into a foundry.’

  Ben stared down at the paper, reading it with agonising slowness. He plucked at the ends of his moustache, his lips pursed thoughtfully, his bushy eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

  ‘Very good,’ he said at last. ‘But this order won’t cover the cost of the main alterations you plan for the sheds. If you mean to go over to zinc processing in a big way then you’ll need a lot more orders like this.’

  ‘Let’s walk before we can run, Ben,’ Sterling said reasonably.

  Ben dropped the sheet on the desk before him. ‘The workmen don’t like it you know, don’t like it at all,’ he said. ‘They feel that their own jobs in the copper are threatened and you can’t blame them.’

  Sterling leaned forward in his chair. ‘I’ve heard nothing,’ he said. ‘But then I don’t suppose I would. You should have told me about this sooner. I expected some resistance of course but there’s no need for any man to fear dismissal.’

  Ben tapped the red ledgers on the desk before him. ‘This is my responsibility, Mr Richardson,’ he said stiffly. ‘If you want someone to play the part of a spy then get someone more suited to the job.’

  Sterling held up his hand. ‘You’re right Ben, of course, and I take it all back.’ He chewed thoughtfully at the end of his pen. ‘Still, it’s just as well to be informed of what happens in my own works and your suggestion might be a good one. Who would prove the most useful of the men in that direction?’ Ben shook his head, his mind almost visibly ticking over.

  ‘If you’re serious then I think that young pup Will Owens might be the one,’ he said at last. ‘Most of the workers are too proud to spy on their fellows, not a respectable job to give to anyone, if you’ll excuse me saying so, but a keen, ambitious chap like Owens, he might just take it on.’

  Sterling’s first reaction was to discard out of hand the idea of asking anything of Will Owens but when he paused to think about it, Ben was right, no decent hardworking copper man would go cap in hand to the boss in order to tell tales on his fellows. It needed someone unscrupulous for that.

  ‘It looks as if you have visitors, Mr Richardson.’ Ben’s voice brought Sterling back from his reverie and he looked up in time to see James Cardigan and Dean Sutton striding along the yard towards the office.

  ‘I’d forgotton they were coming,’ Sterling said. ‘I suggest, Ben, that you go and check on the new furnaces, anything that will keep you out of the office for half an hour.’

  Ben rose with as much alacrity as he could muster, and swung open the door, allowing the two men to enter before beating a hasty retreat. Sterling rose slowly to his feet.

  ‘Gentlemen, this is indeed a pleasure.’ His irony was not lost on his partners, Dean’s face flushed even redder than the cold had made it and James shook his head, seating himself on the chair Ben had just vacated.

  ‘We haven’t come here to quarrel with you, Sterling,’ he said reasonably. ‘It’s just that we would like to know more about your proposed innovations, you’ve told us very little so far.’ He coughed uncomfortably and looked at Dean who was pacing to and fro before the tall stove, holding his hands out to the flames in an absentminded gesture.

  ‘All I can do is to apologise,’ Sterling said affably. ‘It’s just that I didn’t think you would be overly interested in my small plans.’

  Dean swung around and stared directly at him and Sterling was surprised at the dislike in the American’s eyes. Surely the changes he’d so far made could not have upset Dean that much?

  ‘We are partners in the firm.’ Dean sounded aggressive. ‘Of course we are interested. You seem to think it enough to feed us titbits of information but it’s not. My money isn’t yielding very much profit at the moment and I’d very much like to know why.’

  ‘Sit down,’ Sterling said smoothly, ‘and then I’ll try to explain the situation to you.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me, boy,’ Dean said, frowning heavily.

  Sterling shrugged, where Dean Sutton was concerned it seemed he could do nothing right.

  ‘It’s just that over the past years the company has steadily gone downhill,’ he said. ‘My father was doing his best, I’m sure of it, but it wasn’t enough. Countries like Chile and Australia have caught us up and passed us in the art of smelting. We have been too insular, keeping our process a secret, forcing other countries all over the world to find their own methods of production. Unfortunately they have proved quicker than our own.’

  ‘I understand that, Sterling.’ James’s tone was pleasant. ‘I’m sure you mean well but can we afford to make big changes here at the present moment? That’s the question.’

  Sterling turned to him quickly. ‘I’ve made no big changes yet, all I’ve actually done is to convert an old building into a foundry at little cost.’ He tapped the paper on the desk before him. ‘This order for wire more than justifies those modest changes.’

  Dean was not to be mollified. ‘Well I don’t think you are experienced enough to go ahead with any big plans for converting to zinc,’ he said. ‘Keep your little foundry by all means but forget any major developments.’

  Sterling forced down the anger that was growing within him. Dean was being deliberately awkward and unpleasant.

  He rose from his chair and moved over to the window. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said at last, ‘if I risk anything it will be my own capital.’ What he didn’t say was that the money was raised by mortgaging Plas Rhianfa.

  ‘Well in that case, I think we must let you go ahead with your plans, Sterling,’ James said encouragingly.

  Reluctantly Sterling turned to face him. It was clear he had James’s sympathy but Sterling needed to say what was on his mind.

  ‘I must point out that if you take no risks, you gain nothing of the profits, either.’

  James shrugged. ‘That sounds fair enough to me.’ He put on his hat and made for the door. ‘Come along Dean, we’ve
taken up quite enough of Sterling’s time, let’s go and have a hot toddy at the Mackworth Arms.’

  Sterling watched them go then returned to his desk, and nothing could change the small glow of triumph he felt as he looked down at the order in front of him.

  Bea entered Sterling’s room in the Mackworth Arms and took her customary seat near the window, the same one she’d occupied when she had first ventured into the hotel six weeks ago. Since then she had come to love Sterling more fiercely than ever before and she shivered now as she remembered the hours of happiness they had shared, lying together in the large bed, stealing whatever moments they could without arousing suspicion. It was not altogether satisfactory but it was the best arrangement they could make, for the present at least.

  They had spent one glorious afternoon last week, making love until dusk had touched the room with shadows. Sterling had raised her to heights that she could never even have begun to dream of.

  She had enjoyed a blissful few days after the event, telling herself that it could not be wrong to give herself to the man she loved and hoped one day to marry, but then her euphoria had worn thin as the days passed and there was no sign from Sterling that he wanted to see her again. Indeed when they did meet at her instigation, it was amongst a crowd of workmen at his new house where she had been hard put to speak to him at all let alone have a private conversation. And the longing to ask him if he cared for her, even a little, had gone unappeased.

  The room was growing dim and with a sigh, Bea rose and lit the gas lamp that jutted from the wall. She had bribed one of the chambermaids to let her into the room just as she’d done before and she had not been insensitive to the way the girl had looked at her. But by now it had become imperative to speak to Sterling alone.

  Her heart seemed to turn over with fear and her hands shook as she arranged the folds of her skirts around her knees, sitting near the window once more, watching for his return.

  It had not been difficult to send Bertha on another visit to her sister’s house on the docks. Indeed her maid had been all too anxious to accept the unexpected break in routine but now, sitting alone, Bea hoped and prayed that Sterling would not be long for she could scarcely endure the fears and uncertainties that had raged within her ever since the morning she had spoken with Dr Thomas. She must confide in someone and soon.

  She closed her eyes for a moment in pain and shame and yet beneath all the tension there was a small glimmer of happiness and hope. If only Sterling would marry her then all would be well. But what if he despised her once he knew the truth?

  ‘Oh, God.’ She covered her face with her hands, she had no one to blame for what had happened but herself, after all it had been none of Sterling’s doing, she had seduced him, a woman desperate for affection. And her own description was much kinder than any that other people would apply to her if the truth should come out. She rose to her feet once more and stared through the window. She could see the tall pointing masts of a sailing ship and the lights from the harbour flashing over the water like jewels cast aside.

  Sterling was late, what if he did not intend coming back to the hotel tonight? Fear held her in its dark grip and she rested her head against the window, fighting back the tears that threatened to course down her cheeks. What a sorry sight she must be, an unmarried lady bearing within her an illegitimate child. It was so ridiculous as to be absurd; people like her were the subject of music-hall jokes. At last, in resignation, she picked up her gloves and drew them on. She could wait no longer, Bertha would be returning from her sister’s house and might even now be pacing the pavement outside the hotel.

  Once in the street, she looked along the empty roadway and felt bereft. If only she could see Sterling, tell him of her dilemma, he would surely not allow her to suffer alone? He was young it was true but he had at least some regard for her, if not love, and he was possessed of a man’s strength and confidence. God, how she needed that now.

  ‘Miss Bea, I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting.’ Bertha was staring at her anxiously and Bea forced a smile to her stiff lips.

  ‘You haven’t kept me waiting at all, so don’t look so worried.’

  ‘Is the carriage coming to fetch us, Miss?’ The young maid was peering at her in concern. ‘You’re not looking at all well, there’s pale you are.’

  ‘I’m all right and we’ll take the tram home.’ Bea realised her tone was abrupt but how could she explain to the maid that she didn’t want her father knowing she’d even been in the vicinity of Sterling’s hotel? James was not a stupid man and it would not take him long to put two and two together.

  She scarcely remembered the journey home, she was numb, lost in her own world of despair where she saw herself cast aside, perhaps sent away to the country in disgrace. She clenched her hands together in her lap but that must not happen, would not, for Sterling would take care of her once he knew about the baby.

  It was good to be inside the brightly lit house feeling the warmth and familiarity of her childhood home settling around her. She felt secure here but she knew her feelings were false; once her condition began to show then all her security would vanish.

  She became aware of raised voices coming from the direction of her father’s study. She could tell that her father was more angry than she had ever known him to be but his words were indistinguishable.

  ‘Go on back to the kitchen, Bertha.’ She drew off her gloves calmly, knowing that the maid wanted nothing more than to stand in the hallway listening. ‘Off with you now, you must be ready for your supper. Tell Mrs Bevan I’d like a coddled egg and perhaps some pears and cream to follow. Hurry along Bertha, don’t just stand there staring.’

  The maid bobbed a curtsey and reluctantly moved towards the doorway leading down into the kitchen. Bea glanced round her quickly, almost guiltily, before moving towards the study. Her heart was beating absurdly fast, there was a fear low in the pit of her stomach that somehow her father had found out about her condition – was Dr Thomas with him now, perhaps?

  But the other voice was young, not ponderous and heavy like that of the old doctor. It was difficult to identify the speaker for the words were spoken low but at last, Bea, hearing a sudden familiar inflection, recognised Rickie’s voice.

  Her fears subsided. He could know nothing about her and Sterling for the two brothers scarcely spoke to each other. No, he was here on business and even though it was something that was not at all to her father’s liking it need not concern her.

  She moved away towards the drawing room and stood for a moment staring into the flames of the fire. She had still not accomplished her task of seeing Sterling and yet in some strange way she was relieved for she could still hug her secret to herself for just a little while longer.

  Some would no doubt say that she was unfortunate to have conceived a child so early in her love affair. She put her hands up to her cheeks, she still could scarcely believe that it was all happening and yet here she was thinking about making another assignation with Sterling. Was she past shame?

  And yet a soft smile upturned the corners of her mouth, her hands slid along the flat planes of her stomach and her features softened; she was carrying a child, hers and Sterling’s child, and she could not be altogether unhappy in spite of the circumstances in which she found herself.

  The sound of the study door springing open startled her and she moved swiftly towards the hallway. Her father was hurrying up the stairs and once at the top, he turned and looked down at Rickie with as much hate in his face as though he was seeing the devil incarnate.

  ‘Get out of my house and don’t ever let me set eyes on you again or you will be facing the business end of my gun, do you understand?’

  That he had failed to notice Bea was patently obvious. He strode along the gallery and went into his bedroom, closing the door with a bang.

  ‘What on earth has happened?’ Bea followed as Rickie made his way outside into the great porch of the building. He turned to look at her and there was such bitterne
ss in his eyes that she drew back in fear.

  ‘Do you want to hear something funny?’ His words fell from his lips like chips of ice. ‘I have learned something that I imagined to be of great importance and yet no one, God damn it no one, takes any notice of me.’ He rubbed his hair back from his face and he seemed distraught.

  ‘Rickie, what is it, you look so strange?’ Bea reached out a tentative hand but he seemed not to see her.

  ‘I showed this letter to my solicitor,’ Rickie waved a paper under her nose, ‘and he said it proved nothing, nothing at all, because my brother was born in wedlock. And your father, that bastard ram who had been fishing in another man’s pond, he tells me to do my worst. Here take it, see what sort of parents we’ve got for ourselves.’

  He thrust a paper into her hands and moved off into the darkness before she could stop him. Slowly Bea returned indoors and seated herself before the fire in the drawing room. Carefully she smoothed out the creased sheet and began to read the words written in her father’s hand, scarcely understanding what they meant. And then pain like she had never known exploded within her, she fell to her knees clutching her stomach while soundless retching sobs shook her. Horror hung over her like the touch of death itself.

  ‘Sweet Jesus it can’t be true.’ Although the words seemed to rage within her they came out as nothing more than a hoarse whisper. She wished that she could swoon, faint away into an overwhelming darkness, but her mind was crystal clear. This then was her punishment, she was carrying within her the blood of her blood, for Sterling Richardson was her father’s son, her own half brother.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was late spring and the blossoms had come to the trees so swiftly that one day the branches stood out stark against the sky and the next were heavy with flower.

  Mali stood staring through the kitchen window, willing the morning to come up fine and sunny for this was the day of the fair. Mali, along with the other women from the laundry, had been given a holiday and an extra shilling to put in her pocket and she felt like a child about to go to a birthday party.