Haunted by the Earl's Touch - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,40
sopping up beer with whatever came to hand. ‘‘Pon rep, what a dreadful hullaballoo.’
‘Free beer will do that,’ the young man said.
‘Why,’ Mrs Hampton said, smiling, ‘it is Mr Trelawny, is it not?’
He bowed. ‘My condolences on your loss, madam.’
‘Thank you. Let me introduce you to the new Earl of Beresford,’ she said, gesturing to the earl. ‘And his ward, Miss Wilding. My lord, this is Mr Trelawny, manager of the Beresford mine.’
The earl’s expression eased a fraction. ‘Well met, Trelawny, even if the circumstances are not ideal. I had planned to visit the mine later in the week.’
The young man shook his hand. ‘I would be delighted to show you around, my lord.’
‘And me, too,’ Mary said. ‘After all, I am the owner.’
The earl’s face darkened.
Trelawny’s cheeks reddened. ‘It is not really a suitable place for a lady,’ he said. ‘It is much too dangerous.’
‘I will view it on your behalf,’ the earl said.
Mary smiled sweetly at the foundry manager. ‘Do you employ children, Mr Trelawny?’
He swallowed. ‘A few.’
‘Then I will definitely want to see for myself.’
The earl looked as if he was biting back the urge to argue. ‘We will discuss this later,’ he said finally. ‘Right now I am more concerned with getting you ladies off this street before a riot breaks out.’
Indeed, the men and women crawling around in the road looked ready to come to blows over the rivulets of beer running down the hill, as they jostled and pushed each other.
A burly individual joined the fray. ‘Get back from there,’ he yelled. ‘That’s my beer.’
‘Let ’em be, Jack,’ a man shouted. ‘You can’t pick it up. Don’t be a dog in the manger.’
The man swore.
‘Bridges, you fool,’ Trelawny called out. ‘That barrel could have killed someone. It knocked this lady down.’
‘No,’ Mary said. ‘It didn’t. But it would have if you hadn’t acted so swiftly.’
Trelawny coloured. The earl glowered.
The publican, an apron tied around a belly as round as the barrel, wandered down to join the milling scene. ‘I ain’t paying for that ’un, Bridges,’ he shouted. ‘It were still on your cart.’
Bridges rounded on him. ‘A barrel can’t just fall off. One of your men dropped it.’
‘Did not.’
‘Did.’
‘My men weren’t nowhere near it. They were rolling old barrels out. Someone give it a push.’
Mary recoiled. Had that outstretched hand been pushing, rather than trying to hold the barrel back? She glanced up at the earl to find him watching her face, his eyes narrow, his jaw tight. A band seemed to tighten around her chest. Was he worried about what she had seen? Was that the cause of his earlier anxiety?
‘Who is to pay for it, then?’ the carter asked, putting his fists on his hips. He glared at the thinning crowd, snatched his hat off his head and waved it at the people still sopping up the last dregs. ‘If I finds out one of you did it on purpose, I’ll have you in front of the beak, so I will.’
The crowd jeered and then melted away.
Jeffrey sauntered up to them, his hat at a rakish angle. ‘What is going on?’
‘Never mind,’ Mrs Hampton said. ‘Where is Gerald? It is time we headed home.’
‘I don’t know where he is,’ Jeffrey said. ‘He decided not to come with me to the gunsmith’s shop.’
Gerald emerged from a nearby alley. ‘Here you all are.’ He gave them an angelic smile.
It seemed the whole party was now back together and the earl was still glowering. At her. ‘Why were you out in the street alone?’
She felt her face heat as she remembered her mortification at the quay. ‘I went to look at the harbour and was making my way back to meet Mrs Hampton.’
‘She was never out of my sight,’ Mrs Hampton declared.
Mary had no intention of giving her the lie. Indeed, she felt grateful that the widow had decided to support her story even if it was only to protect herself.
‘If you will excuse me,’ Mr Trelawny said, ‘I have an appointment. I will look forward to your lordship’s visit,’ he said to the earl. ‘And Miss Wilding. Please send word to the mine as to when I should expect you.’ On that he bowed and strode off.
‘Good man, Trelawny,’ Mrs Hampton said. ‘According to the earl.’ She bit her lip. ‘The late earl, that is.’
The current earl said nothing. He was still looking at Mary with suspicion in those slate-grey eyes. But the throbbing in her ankle was growing worse.