The Shoemaker's Daughter (12 page)

Sophie regarded Emily steadily for a moment. ‘I know you were promised to Craig, but no-one would blame you for trying to forget him.’ She lifted a gloved hand to fan her hot cheeks. ‘Craig is my first-born son and I love him dearly,’ she paused, ‘but, after what he’s done, Craig must consider himself disowned by the entire Grenfell family.’

Emily felt angry words rise to her lips but quickly suppressed them, this was neither the time nor the place to argue Craig’s innocence.

Emily glanced through the curtains; outside in the driveway stood a group of her kinsmen, come to pay their last respects to Thomas Grenfell.

She could see Spencer quite clearly, he appeared to be holding court among the elderly distant relatives who had travelled from all parts of the country to be at the funeral. Spencer lifted his arms in a flamboyant gesture and Emily felt physically sick at the mere thought of marrying him. She turned away and rubbed her eyes wearily.

After the first shock of her father’s death, Emily had felt a searing anger against him, furious with him for leaving her to face her misfortune alone. Then came the terrible sense of disbelief and at last the dawning realization that she would never be held in his embrace, breathe in the scent of his cigars or hear his kindly voice ever again.

And yet she had not cried, not even now, when the coffin was to be taken from Summer Lodge and carried to the graveyard on the hill overlooking the sea, could she give way to tears.

If only Craig was at her side it would be so different, she needed his strength to see her through the ordeal, not only of the funeral but of the days and weeks that were to come.

Emily felt a momentary sense of panic, she had no means of supporting herself, her father’s business was in ruins, he had left great debts that she could not meet.

Then, an iron resolve began to grow within her, she would fight to make a future for herself, she wasn’t stupid or helpless, the problems would be tackled and every effort made to save the business.

‘Come along, Emily, dear,’ Aunt Sophie was at her side, catching her arm, leading her back into the centre of the room where the vicar stood over the coffin, ready to pay his last respects to Thomas Grenfell.

Emily did not listen to the emotion-filled words, she would not allow her grief to show, it would be a sign of weakness. She must conduct herself as though she was in complete control. And so she would be she vowed, as she stared stony-faced at the gleaming brass and the glowing wood of the coffin.

She lifted her head and though her eyes burned and her throat ached with unshed tears, outwardly, she was a picture of perfect composure.

Craig Grenfell stood on the hilltop looking down at the scene in the graveyard below. He had been fond of his uncle, Thomas had been a bluff hearty man but unfortunately he did not have a head for business.

The leather trade was one which did not take a great deal of effort to run successfully but then Craig believed that his brother had a hand in the unprofitable deals Uncle Thomas had made and had profited from them.

Craig’s hands tightened into fists as he saw his brother, flanked by his mother and Emily, step forward and throw a little earth into the grave.

‘Blasted hypocrite!’ he said savagely. Well, let brother Spencer enjoy his ill-gotten gains while he may, the day was coming shortly when his fraud would be exposed for all to see.

Craig watched as Emily, stiff backed, moved away from the grave. Her face was a white blur under the dark cloak and hood she wore as protection against the fierce wind coming in off the sea. He felt his heart contract in pity, Emily was a fine woman, he admired her composure and he knew how much the façade must cost her, she had loved her father dearly.

He made his way from the hilltop and down into the valley, this was an ideal opportunity to search his mother’s house.

He walked quickly. Glancing at his fob watch, he had at least an hour before Spencer returned with their mother to the family home. Funerals in Wales meant a large feast after the burial and knowing Emily, she would present a good face to the world in spite of her misfortunes. There would be a table groaning with smoked ham, with thick succulent slices of cold beef and crusty fresh bread. Hunger gnawed at him, he had not eaten properly for days.

He had spent his time in a lodging house on the Strand, eking out the small amount of money Edward Morris had been able to lend him.

He entered the house by the front door and was confronted by a flustered maidservant. She bobbed a curtsy to him as he handed her his topcoat and if there were any questions at the appearance of a man who should be in prison, they were not voiced aloud.

Craig made his way at once to the study, the desk was locked as he had expected. He took up the brass paper knife and with a turn of his wrist had the drawer open, his stay in prison had served some useful purpose.

As he expected, he found nothing incriminating, Spencer would be far too careful for that. Quickly, Craig made his way upstairs to his brother’s room. He stood for a moment, looking around him. Spencer would hardly keep important documents in the mahogany chest of drawers or the huge wardrobe.

Craig drew back the carpets and examined the floorboards inch by inch. He saw a fresh cut mark on a board near the fireplace and, quickly, he lifted it.

The books and papers were wrapped in a silk cloth and, smiling, Craig knew he had found what he had been looking for. He heard the front door being opened even as he unfolded the cloth and began to read.

After a moment, there was the noise of voices in the hallway and then footsteps pounding up the stairs. Craig tucked the books inside his coat and as the door was flung open, he strode past his open-mouthed brother and down towards the drawing-room.

Spencer hurried after him and as Craig flung wide the doors, he felt himself being grasped from behind.

Craig shook his brother off easily and moved towards the fireplace.

‘Hello, mother,’ he said, ‘and Mr Cummings, our respected solicitor, too. Isn’t it fortunate that you should be here.’

‘Get the constable,’ Spencer said hastily. ‘There’s no knowing what this lunatic will do or say.’

‘Yes, bring the constable by all means.’ Craig brought the books from his coat and looked down at them thoughtfully. ‘I’ve just found these under a board in your room, Spencer, I think they will prove that I am not the one who’s been defrauding the company.’

‘What rubbish!’ Spencer said quickly. ‘It was not I who interfered with customers’ accounts, taking out large sums of money.’

Craig smiled. ‘Then how did you know which way the fraud worked?’ He flicked through the pages of the book. ‘The Honourable Charles Griffiths, for example, has lost, over a period of time, quite a lot of capital.’

‘I know nothing about it, nothing at all,’ Spencer protested. But his mother was staring at him strangely.

‘Continue, Craig, if you please,’ she said sternly.

‘My dear Sophie,’ Cummings stepped forward, ‘I don’t think you should listen to all this, your eldest son has been tried and convicted of the fraud, that should be enough proof for you that he is guilty.’

‘You are in this too, then, Cummings,’ Craig said with deceptive gentleness. He looked down at the book again.

‘I see that the method used was to divert large amounts of money into a fund under the name of another firm, a non-existent firm I imagine.’ He paused as his mother stared at him in bewilderment.

‘I don’t understand, Craig, can’t you explain more clearly?’

‘Look, mother,’ Craig held the book towards her, ‘Mr Faraday’s account is short by several hundreds of pounds, this loss has partly been made good by taking money paid in to the company by General Webber. That way no-one misses too much money at one time.’

Sophie Grenfell looked at her youngest son in horror. ‘Spencer, explain yourself, what does all this mean?’

‘It means, mother, that Craig is trying to put the blame on me for the thieving he’s done.’ Spencer turned to Craig and said challengingly, ‘How do we know you found those books in my room? You could have just planted them there.’

Craig smiled. ‘Oh, I think an investigation into the bogus account will be very revealing, I don’t see how I could have managed to go on robbing the customers from inside Swansea Jail, you should have stopped when you were ahead, Spencer.’

‘You fool, Cummings!’ Spencer was breathing heavily, ‘I told you we should hang fire for things to cool off.’

‘Be quiet!’ Cummings said angrily. ‘You don’t have to say anything.’

Sophie looked at both her sons and then sank into a chair. ‘I can’t see Spencer go to prison for this,’ she said brokenly. ‘Craig, can’t you do something?’

Craig shook his head. ‘Mother, you amaze me,’ he said. He thrust his hands into his pockets and moved to the window, staring out into the sun-dappled drive flanked by swaying trees.

‘But Craig, you know Spencer has never been strong like you, he could not survive in prison, his health . . .’ Her words fell away into silence.

After a long moment, Craig turned to face his mother. ‘Send one of the servants for Edward Morris,’ he said, ‘and for a solicitor, an honest one.’

Craig stared directly at his brother. ‘The best I can offer you is a head start, get out of here and don’t ever come back.’

Spencer stared at Craig with venom in his narrowed eyes. ‘Don’t think you’ve heard the last of this matter,’ he said through his teeth, ‘you won’t get away with it, taking from me my home and my birthright, I should have been the eldest son, I am more worthy of the position. I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done to me.’

He stood before his mother. ‘I’m innocent, believe me, Craig has fooled you but he can’t fool me, he wanted it all, the property and land, the business and every penny of the money. Well, he won’t get away with it, one day I’ll have my revenge.’

He swung out of the room and after a scared glance in Craig’s direction, Cummings followed him.

Craig looked into his mother’s white face and saw lines of pain etched around her mouth. ‘What have I done?’ she said, her voice trembling, ‘my baby, I’ve lost him for good and it’s all your fault, Craig.’

Craig took a deep breath, controlling his anger. He moved forward and pulled at the bell rope, it was about time he put the wheels into motion, the wheels that would prove his innocence. And Spencer would be caught, there was no doubting that, and then he would learn what it was like to be imprisoned behind grey walls and iron bars.

Emily sat in her father’s study, staring at the mass of figures that danced before her eyes. The first thing she would have to do was to raise some capital so that she could rescue something from the dregs of her father’s business.

It was clear that Thomas Grenfell had made more than his share of mistakes, it seemed that The Fine Leather Trading Company had been overspending on labour and without the expected turnover in goods moved and sold.

Poor prices had been asked, ridiculously low prices for expensive imported French calf so that losses on the leather had been sustained. It was clear that her father had been wrongly advised and Emily thought she knew exactly who was responsible.

A great deal of Thomas’s trade had passed through the hands of Spencer Grenfell who seemed to have trouble bringing in payment to her father on time. In short, Thomas Grenfell had been gulled.

‘Spencer Grenfell, you have a great deal to answer for,’ Emily said bitterly. She picked up the stock records, she had studied them for so long that her head ached. In the warehouses there were still some bales of fine leather and if sold to an honest dealer, they would bring in enough at least to pay off some of her father’s debts.

She pushed away the papers and rubbed at her eyes, she would have to visit the creditors, pay them a little of their money and then beg them for time to pay the rest. If most of them accepted her terms, then she might just survive.

Then there were the contents of Summer Lodge, fine antique furniture, exquisite china, carved marble figures, all would have to be sold.

Emily covered her eyes, it would be so humiliating, selling everything she held dear, but there was nothing else for it, it would have to be done. When it was all over, she would rent rooms in some small lodging house with perhaps one maid. And from the sale of the contents of the house, she could buy in more leather to keep the suppliers happy.

She felt tears blur her vision, she was weary and the grief of her father’s death hung over her like a dark cloud. A great silence filled the house, the servants were asleep, not knowing that tomorrow they must find themselves other positions. It would be hard saying goodbye to the servants, some of whom had been around since she was born, but it was something she would have to do, she simply had no choice.

Slowly, Emily rose from the chair where she had seen her father seated many times, not knowing the problems he faced or understanding how troubled he was. She was at fault for not taking a hand in the business before now, she could have helped him, been her father’s right hand. At least with her young, keen eyes she would have seen that he was being duped by his own nephew.

Emily felt a sudden anger against the Grenfells, they had allowed this to happen to her father, even Craig had not been innocent, he should have seen what was going on in his own business. Instead of spending most of his time shooting game and striding about in the parks of his estate, he should have stopped Spencer from ruining Thomas Grenfell’s life and casting a shadow on Craig’s own business.

She moved to the stairs and stood for a moment in the silence of the hallway, the candle flickering in her hand. She felt so alone, so very frightened of the future and all the challenges it held. Slowly, she mounted the stairs and went into her room and, sinking down on the bed, she began to weep.

In the morning, she rose early and already the fires were lit and breakfast cooking on the range. She had taken it all for granted for so long, her creature comforts had been assured and she had not given a moment’s thought to how they were provided.