family is.’ Lily got to her feet, too agitated now to sit still, hands on hips, hazel eyes flashing fire. ‘Did I tell you how Mrs Clermont-Read spoke to me? As if I were dirt.’
Rose sighed and nodded. ‘Only hundred times or so. You can tell me again, if you want to, but it won’t make no difference. They have money and you don’t. And with money comes power. Don’t you ever forget that, Lil.’
If Nathan’s ears had been burning while the two girls discussed him, he gave no indication of it as he studiously performed his duties at the ticket office. He clipped and handed out two tickets with his most winning smile to a couple of middle-aged maiden ladies. It was their fourth cruise this week, largely due, Nathan was sure, to his own flattering charm.
Trade this afternoon was slack, but he prided himself on the positive efforts he was making to encourage business. He’d displayed two new posters, and sent a young lad round town carrying a sandwich board announcing a short evening cruise around the lake.
The proprietor of the Steamship Company, Captain Swinbourne, had certainly made no efforts in that direction, nor ever would, if Nathan was any judge.
At four the man himself opened the ticket office door and nodded to Nathan. ‘That’s the afternoon run over. We can take a break now.’
‘We’re not full yet for the evening cruise. Don’t you want me to stay open, see if I can get a few more?’
Swinbourne shook his head. ‘Waste of time. There’ll be nowt doing for an hour or more while everyone has their tea. We’ll do the same. Get the kettle on and I’ll find the cards. See if I can win back some of yesterday’s losses.’
‘Right,’ said Nathan with a smile. ‘Whatever you say, governor.’
Margot Clermont-Read sat in the little drawing room with her diary on her knee, making plans. They concerned her precious son and heir, Albert Frederick Clermont-Read. Despite an agonising pregnancy and traumatic childhood years in which poor Bertie had been sickly and ailing, he was now proving to be worth all their efforts, in Margot’s eyes at least. She found him sweet and charming, with a rakish sense of humour. And if he didn’t work quite so hard as his father would wish, why in truth should he? There really wasn’t the need for it, not any more. The family riches had been made, the future could take care of itself, could it not? Style was the necessary requirement now, gracious good manners and position in society, rather than driving ambition. All the former assets Bertie possessed in abundance.
Edward had always been a bit hard on him because of the boy’s greater degree of sensitivity, but Margot knew that all her beloved son needed was a good wife to care for him, and provide her with grandchildren.
Selene was making little progress in this direction so all her hopes rested on Bertie. And it looked as if her efforts might be paying off.
The summer season had been most satisfactory. Several young ladies had caught his eye, though admittedly none quite suited, for one reason or other.
Millicent Gowdrey, for instance, was completely lacking in grace. Felicia Morton-Cryer talked in too loud a voice, and Sophie Dunston seemed a positive recluse. The one thing they all had in their favour, however, was money. Without exception their parents were quite comfortably off, the Dunstons positively rich.
Margot chewed on the end of her pencil, then added Sophie’s name to her list. The girl might cast off her excessive shyness in time. And if she stopped squinting behind those spectacles, might even become less plain.
Which left poor dumpy Dora, the girl’s only claim to charm, and therefore inclusion on this exclusive list, being her parentage. The Ferguson-Walshes were one of the richest families in the district.
Margot had missed out on an alliance with the Lindens for poor dear Selene, but the Ferguson-Walshes would make a very good alternative for darling Bertie. If she
Rose sighed and nodded. ‘Only hundred times or so. You can tell me again, if you want to, but it won’t make no difference. They have money and you don’t. And with money comes power. Don’t you ever forget that, Lil.’
If Nathan’s ears had been burning while the two girls discussed him, he gave no indication of it as he studiously performed his duties at the ticket office. He clipped and handed out two tickets with his most winning smile to a couple of middle-aged maiden ladies. It was their fourth cruise this week, largely due, Nathan was sure, to his own flattering charm.
Trade this afternoon was slack, but he prided himself on the positive efforts he was making to encourage business. He’d displayed two new posters, and sent a young lad round town carrying a sandwich board announcing a short evening cruise around the lake.
The proprietor of the Steamship Company, Captain Swinbourne, had certainly made no efforts in that direction, nor ever would, if Nathan was any judge.
At four the man himself opened the ticket office door and nodded to Nathan. ‘That’s the afternoon run over. We can take a break now.’
‘We’re not full yet for the evening cruise. Don’t you want me to stay open, see if I can get a few more?’
Swinbourne shook his head. ‘Waste of time. There’ll be nowt doing for an hour or more while everyone has their tea. We’ll do the same. Get the kettle on and I’ll find the cards. See if I can win back some of yesterday’s losses.’
‘Right,’ said Nathan with a smile. ‘Whatever you say, governor.’
Margot Clermont-Read sat in the little drawing room with her diary on her knee, making plans. They concerned her precious son and heir, Albert Frederick Clermont-Read. Despite an agonising pregnancy and traumatic childhood years in which poor Bertie had been sickly and ailing, he was now proving to be worth all their efforts, in Margot’s eyes at least. She found him sweet and charming, with a rakish sense of humour. And if he didn’t work quite so hard as his father would wish, why in truth should he? There really wasn’t the need for it, not any more. The family riches had been made, the future could take care of itself, could it not? Style was the necessary requirement now, gracious good manners and position in society, rather than driving ambition. All the former assets Bertie possessed in abundance.
Edward had always been a bit hard on him because of the boy’s greater degree of sensitivity, but Margot knew that all her beloved son needed was a good wife to care for him, and provide her with grandchildren.
Selene was making little progress in this direction so all her hopes rested on Bertie. And it looked as if her efforts might be paying off.
The summer season had been most satisfactory. Several young ladies had caught his eye, though admittedly none quite suited, for one reason or other.
Millicent Gowdrey, for instance, was completely lacking in grace. Felicia Morton-Cryer talked in too loud a voice, and Sophie Dunston seemed a positive recluse. The one thing they all had in their favour, however, was money. Without exception their parents were quite comfortably off, the Dunstons positively rich.
Margot chewed on the end of her pencil, then added Sophie’s name to her list. The girl might cast off her excessive shyness in time. And if she stopped squinting behind those spectacles, might even become less plain.
Which left poor dumpy Dora, the girl’s only claim to charm, and therefore inclusion on this exclusive list, being her parentage. The Ferguson-Walshes were one of the richest families in the district.
Margot had missed out on an alliance with the Lindens for poor dear Selene, but the Ferguson-Walshes would make a very good alternative for darling Bertie. If she
Similar Books
