Stay with Me (13 page)

‘Then you shall have it, Miss Carnforth. As I said, your wish is my command.' He put the horse into a gallop, threw his hat down beside him and let his laughter join hers. Lena was swept away by his carefree attitude, flung her own bonnet down and let the cool wind sweep through her hair. Their eyes met, each revelling in the joy of sharing these exhilarating moments.

The beat of the horse's hooves reminded Lena that she was seeing a different person now from the one she had met the evening before. Here, Peter was free from his father's scrutiny. Was this the real Peter Hustwick or was it only a momentary illusion? Would he ever free himself from his father's dead hand? When the time came, could he make his own mark on the firm, create his own thriving concern?

Then she cast aside these thoughts to enjoy the ride. Peter Hustwick's future was no concern of hers.

After another two miles, with the outskirts of Hull in sight, he slowed the horse to a walking pace. He looked at her and smiled. ‘Enjoy that?'

‘Wonderful. It sent life coursing through me.'

‘I suppose we had better behave with a little more decorum in Hull. Who knows who might see us?'

Lena picked up her bonnet, grinned and looked at him coyly as she said, ‘Then I will be prim and proper.'

He chuckled and watched her adjust her hair and tie her bonnet. ‘Now for your tour of Hull, or at least the parts that are suitable for you to see.'

‘I hope that includes the business section and the dock area?'

‘Indeed! Well, most of it. There are parts I would not take a lady.'

‘You sound as though you know them,' she said, with a twinkle in her eyes. In a short space of time this man was beginning to intrigue her.

He chuckled. ‘Not intimately, only by reputation.'

‘I think it is the same in every port. I hear about them in Whitby too. I imagine you have seen many changes in Hull.'

‘Most certainly. The old town developed where the River Hull flows into the Humber, an excellent position for a port. It was small, cramped, enclosed by stone walls, and it was not until these were knocked down that real expansion took place. Three main docks were built; more and more people moved in from the country seeking work. Houses were built in a similar pattern to those in the old town to accommodate these people, while the better-off built houses befitting their status in new areas within the town or else moved into the countryside.'

‘Or did both, as your father has done?'

‘Thank goodness he did! It provides me with an escape.'

From him or from Hull? The question sprang to Lena's mind but before she could voice it she realised she would be overstepping the boundaries of decorum. After all, she should not probe into family matters. She should not invade Peter's privacy.

‘Do you not like the work of a merchant and ship-owner? '

‘I like it well enough but I'm content with the way things are. It brings us a more than comfortable living, so why change things? Why risk undermining what we have? There's always a chance that new enterprises could go wrong.'

‘But your father . . .?'

‘He runs the business and will have his way. It's easier to go along with him than try to oppose him. All I can do is to keep an eye on what is happening and make sure our established contacts remain steady.'

‘Not easy for you.'

‘It isn't, but so far I have managed to tread the right line and hope my father does nothing to the detriment of the business overall. But enough of my worries, you are here for a pleasant time.'

They had reached the first houses and Lena, knowing it was wisest not to probe any further into Peter's private life, contented herself with gaining knowledge of the busy port.

Pointing out interesting buildings on the way, he drove her to Nelson Street where he drew the horse to a halt beside the wide pavement. ‘Shall we take a stroll?'

‘That would be pleasant,' Lena agreed, and accepted his hand to help her alight from the chaise.

‘Yonder is the Victoria Pier. See, the ferry is coming in from New Holland on the Lincolnshire side of the Humber.'

They watched it dock amidst hustle and bustle, then strolled past the cab-stand where carriages for hire awaited passengers disembarking from the ferry, the coachmen hoping to be hired in preference to the horse-drawn tram that was also waiting nearby.

‘I'll make a circular tour of the docks before returning you to your hotel,' Peter said as he helped her back on to the chaise.

‘The hub of Hull's trade.'

‘True, but they need the nearby offices where all the transactions are carried out otherwise business would die and the docks be useless.' He drove along Wellington Street across the lockpit between the Humber Dock and the dock basin then turned into Railway Street from which Lena could see several trading vessels at the quays in the Humber Dock.

‘You'll see this dock is linked to the next one, Prince's Dock, which in turn is linked to Queen's Dock, so vessels can sail through the docks from the Humber to the River Hull,' Peter explained.

‘And trade can flow more readily,' commented Lena.

‘Most certainly, Miss Carnforth. The men who built it had an eye to the trade that could be attracted to Hull, with its easy access to the Humber and closeness to the Continent.'

Lena stored this away in her mind, realising Hull's future potential was greater than that of Whitby.

All three docks and the River Hull buzzed with activity. Ships were being laden with goods for all parts of the world while others were being relieved of their cargoes. From the end of Humber Dock Street, she saw horse-drawn vehicles being loaded with barrels.

‘Those rullies look to have a consignment of sugar being stacked on them,' Peter pointed out.

‘Rullies?' she asked.

‘Yes, that's what the flat wagons on the railway lines are called.'

The lines passed close to covered open-sided sheds lining the quay where stevedores were rolling barrels to other waiting rullies.

Lena became fascinated by the scene of activity as labourers strained under the heavy goods they were moving. The air was filled with shouts as overseers urged them on, and owners and merchants sought the latest information on the trade they were pursuing.

She had no doubt that such trading went on behind the closed doors of many of the buildings they passed, while the warehouses were stacked with the goods they were trying to buy and sell. She had been, and still was, fascinated by the quays and trade that made Whitby such an important port, but here the facilities she saw presaged a much greater opportunity to move ahead in the mercantile world. Lena realised her father would have been fascinated and wished he could have been by her side now to see it all. She felt an urge to do something about it, for his sake.

As he drove along Prince's Dock Street, Peter pointed out St John's Church, the Wilberforce Monument, the Dock Offices and Monument Bridge that spanned the lockpit between Prince's Dock and Queen's Dock, the longest of the three docks. Vessels with captains eager to be about their business, for time meant money, manoeuvred in all of them. From their vantage point Peter indicated the warehouses lining the sides of the River Hull, and these convinced Lena even more of the potential of this thriving port.

‘Holy Trinity Church,' he informed her when she admired its architecture. ‘The largest parish church in area in England. The statue in the middle of the road is King William III, known around here as King Billy.' So his tour went on, informative but never boring, angled to keep her interest, not that he needed to work hard at that because she found she wanted to know as much about Hull and its commercial life as possible.

Finally Peter drew the chaise to a halt outside her hotel. ‘Here we are, Miss Carnforth.'

Lena turned to him with a smile. ‘Mr Hustwick, I am so grateful to you for such an enjoyable day.'

‘It has been my privilege, Miss Carnforth. It has truly been a delight to escort you and show you so many aspects of Hull. I look forward to the evening ahead.'

‘So do I, Mr Hustwick.'

‘I will call for you and your brother at six.'

‘We are not dining here then?' asked Lena, with a hint of surprise crossing her face.

‘Oh, no, Father has arranged for us to meet him at his rather exclusive club.'

‘And what might that be?'

Peter smiled. ‘Ah, you must wait and see.' He jumped down from the chaise and came to help her to the ground.

‘Now I'll be playing a guessing game with myself until you reveal our destination.'

He led her into the hotel where Lena thanked him again.

‘Until later.' He bowed and was gone.

Many thoughts raced through her mind as she went upstairs to her room without calling on James. Whitby, Hull, Alistair, Peter . . . so much potential, so many possibilities. Were new horizons beckoning her? Should she allow them to do so and find herself in a world she longed for, or should she resist and join a world of tea and lace overlaid with illness and poverty?

James, examining his cravat in the mirror, adjusted it to his liking, straightened up and grabbed his jacket. He was sure he had heard Lena's door close. He strode briskly along the corridor, tapped lightly on her door and, on hearing her call, entered the room.

‘How did you get on with Peter?' he asked, going to the chair near the window.

The urgency in his tone betrayed that his interest lay in what she might have learned about the Hustwick business rather than in what sort of a day she had passed.

‘We had a very pleasant time. He took me along the banks of the Humber to their country house . . .'

‘Oh, they have a country house too?' James interrupted, surprised.

‘Yes. Not grand but big enough - in a beautiful setting with the grounds running down to the Humber. Then we had luncheon at a favourite place of Peter's before returning to Hull where he showed me round the town.' Lena sat down on the stool in front of the dressing-table.

‘And?' prompted James when she stopped talking.

‘He showed me the three docks. There is great potential in trading from Hull. If you seal a deal with Mr Hustwick, it could give you a valuable foothold in this port.'

‘Interesting to hear you say that,' mused James. ‘Mr Hustwick hinted that, if the timber deal is handled to his satisfaction, there is every possibility he will hire our vessels frequently.'

‘Good,' replied Lena. She could tell he was being guarded in what he told her. ‘You got on well with Mr Hustwick then?'

‘Oh, yes, I played him like a fish without its being obvious. He is not too interested in expansion but content to keep the firm running as it is, showing a profit that keeps him comfortably off.'

‘I gathered the same from Peter.'

‘Doesn't he have any ambitions of his own?'

‘I think his father's attitude has rather brushed off on him. He's charming, considerate and . . .'

‘Handsome?' prompted James as Lena let her voice trail away.

‘Oh, yes, certainly,' she replied without giving away anything about her own feelings. ‘He has little say in the running of the firm but I believe he knows more about it than he lets on. However, he won't go against his father's wishes.'

‘But some day the firm will be his. I wonder what he will do then?'

Lena shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don't know. He didn't say.'

‘Not even a hint?'

‘No. Now off with you! I want to get changed.'

James stood up and headed for the door but stopped halfway across the room. ‘Lena, I'm going to invite them both to the launching. After all they have an interest as the
John Carnforth
will be carrying their timber. So back up my suggestion if necessary.'

‘If they accept, as I have no doubt they will, I can regard the offer made to me by Peter as a return for your invitation. '

James looked curious. ‘What's this?'

‘Peter and two friends renovated an old coble and use it for pleasure to sail on the Humber. He suggested I might like to sail with him.' Lena left a slight pause then said, ‘Not very lady-like, I know.'

‘Whenever did you miss the opportunity to cock a snook at convention?' Her brother grinned. ‘Why not accept? It could help cement our trading relationship with the Hustwicks.'

‘You think I should?'

‘Why not? There's no harm in it,' James called over his shoulder, and was gone.

Lena sat for moment, smiling at her own thoughts. Harm? No harm at all unless . . .

She drove the thought away, but then the vision of a handsome considerate man, who would one day inherit a mercantile company with great potential, came back to mind. She sat still for a few minutes, her thoughts moving in flights of fancy until one sobering one halted them in their tracks. Alistair!

 

‘Thank you, Olivia, for coming with me to see Old Peg Peart. I know she appreciated your presence when I examined her,' Alistair said as they made their way out of Harpooner's Yard into Church Street.

‘I read your notes saying that the case was hopeless.'

‘I'm afraid it is, but I saw no sense in telling her that.'

‘Has she no family? No one to look after her during her last days?'

‘No. Maggie Morton next-door looks in, but she has her hands full with six kids in a house no bigger than Peg's.'

‘What?' Olivia gasped.

‘And those houses are better than many in the town. How folk exist in them, I don't know. I wish I could do more to persuade the authorities that conditions on the east side need bettering - fast. Peg has been lucky in a way, she's had a long life, but there are many hereabouts who won't live half her years.'