The Shoemaker's Daughter (15 page)

In her room, she sat on the bed and opening her travelling bag carefully took out the satin-lined box. Opening the lid, she stared down at the emeralds glinting up at her like cat’s eyes, her mother’s emeralds and her grandmother’s and many generations of Grenfell women before her.

She closed the lid with a snap of finality. Tomorrow, she would go to the finest jeweller in London and sell the gems for the best price she could get. She was determined not to look on it as the ending of a chapter but the making of a new beginning. Why then were tears burning against her closed lids?

Emily sat in her small room in the lodging house in Chapel Street working over the books and she rubbed her eyes tiredly. A slight chill the day after the sale had delayed her journey to London and so she had been forced to leave Summer Lodge with her few possessions in a bag and watch as the cab carried her from the large estate on the hill to the cramped rooms of the house in Chapel Street.

Almost immediately, she had written to her father’s supplier in London and made an offer to pay off some of the debt he owed. Now, she held the letter of reply before her and sighed; it seemed that Croydon and Cooper, Leather Importers, wanted more than she was able to offer.

There was nothing for it but that she visit the company directors in person and see if she could persuade them of her determination to rebuild the business.

Emily hated travelling by train, the noise and the steam and the cinders made her head ache and the feeling of not being able to control the iron monster frightened her. But go to England she would for she was determined to make the directors of Croydon and Cooper see sense. And at the same time she could sell the emeralds, a task she had been dreading.

She glanced at the clock, it was barely eight thirty and the train would be leaving within the hour. She might as well get ready for the journey.

‘Letty!’ she called, ‘check my overnight bag, see that I’ve got all I need, there’s a good girl.’

Letty appeared from the kitchen and looked at Emily with concern. ‘Going off to London today, are you, miss, and on your own too, won’t you let me come with you?’ Letty said coaxingly.

Emily sighed. ‘You’ve no reason to worry, I’m not a child and anyway the fare is dear enough for one of us, let alone two. But I will have a cup of tea, Letty, please.’

Emily had become accustomed to taking her meals with Letty; there was no dining-room in her lodgings, only one small sitting-room apart from the two bedrooms and it was convenient to eat in the kitchen, keeping the sitting-room as an office.

‘There’s some cold beef and a nice fresh loaf I brought from the bakers early this morning,’ Letty said. ‘Shall I make you up some nice sandwiches?’

‘That will do nicely.’ Emily thought ruefully of the sumptuous meals she used to eat at Summer Lodge, the tempting courses of meat and fish and then a carefully concocted pudding that melted in the mouth. It was a wonder she had not grown fat.

Letty disappeared and Emily turned her attention to the letter on the table before her.

‘Well, Croydon and Cooper, you shall see me face to face soon enough and then you will know that Emily Grenfell is not a woman to be trifled with,’ she said grimly.

The station was practically empty of people and Emily felt so alone as she stepped on to the train. She watched as the town moved past the grimy train windows and Emily felt that she was tugging up her very roots.

She must have dozed a little and the train grew stuffy as the sun hit the windows. When she woke it was to the incessant chattering of the wheels against the rails and Emily thought she would never arrive at her destination.

It was hot in London, the pavements seemed hard beneath her feet. People passed by without a glance in her direction and it was as though she had suddenly become invisible.

Not so long ago she had been loved and cherished with the world at her feet, now she was a woman alone. Emily shook back a stray curl of hair and held herself upright, she must stop feeling sorry for herself. Before papa died she had been a child, spoiled and cosseted and it was a pity she had not grown up a bit more quickly.

As she made her way to the modest Grenfell town house, Emily felt the beginning of a headache coming on. The house was no longer papa’s property, although she still held the key; it rightly belonged to Craig, just as Summer Lodge did.

Nevertheless, she meant to make use of it. Emily unlocked the door and moved into the cool of the hallway, putting down her bag gratefully. She went into the drawing-room and sank down into a chair. The silence hung round her like a shroud and, looking around, her feeling of resentment against her cousin burned into a fierce anger. Where was he when she needed him most? Her fiancé, the man who was supposed to love her, had not come near her since her father’s death.

But that was wholly unreasonable for when papa had died Craig was still under suspicion of fraud, how could he come to her? She rose and moved to the window and stared out into the silent square. The hot sun fell between the buildings throwing great shadows, the trees dotted along the road waved greenly reminding Emily of home.

But home was Summer Lodge with its lawns and flower-beds, not the cramped lodgings in Chapel Street.

Suddenly Emily was weeping, she put her hands over her eyes fighting the feelings of pain and frustration. She had lost everything, first her father and then her home, to a man who cared nothing for her.

A sudden sound in the doorway startled her and she looked up in fear.

‘Emily!’ The voice was gentle. ‘Emily, I’m here, everything is going to be all right.’ Craig was suddenly in the room, moving towards her, holding out his arms to her as though he had never been absent.

‘What are you doing here?’ Emily realized that she sounded hysterical. Quickly, she wiped away the tears.

‘Come to claim the town house have you? Having a wonderful time in London I don’t doubt and at my poor father’s expense.’

Craig’s expression hardened. ‘I’m in London trying to sort out my own affairs,’ he said gently, ‘I’m making an effort to repay customers who have been cheated.’ He paused staring at her with half-closed eyes so that Emily could not read his expression.

‘And what about me!’ Emily demanded. ‘I suppose now that I’m penniless I’m no longer suitable for the wonderful Craig Grenfell. Your firm might have problems but you are still solvent, that’s more than I am.’

‘I’m sorry, Emily, I know I should have been there to help Uncle Thomas with his business long ago.’ He shrugged. ‘I suppose I was careless but in any case your father never welcomed interference in his affairs, he was his own man.’

‘That’s an easy thing to say now, isn’t it? It was your precious brother who stole customers away from papa, took the profits to put in his own pocket. You are a fine pair, you and Spencer.’

Craig’s jaw tensed. ‘And why should you care about
my
customers, is that it? Why should you worry if they are losing much of their investment?’ He paced around the room. ‘You always were a selfish little madam, wrapped up in yourself to the exclusion of everyone else. Just see how you’ve walked into this house without a thought for if I wished to use it.’

He looked down at her. ‘However bitter you may feel about it, the properties were entailed and I am the heir to them, like it or not.’

He sighed. ‘And I have a great many debts to repay before my affairs are sorted out. I am sorry for your problems, Emily, and I’ll try to help, of course I will, but I have worries of my own too.’

‘What worries?’ Emily said, her voice hard, ‘Paying back a few paltry debts. I have watched my most treasured possessions being sold to strangers, I have moved out of my home to accommodate you, my precious cousin.’

She rose and faced him angrily. ‘I am here to plead my case with my father’s creditors and to sell the family jewels, I suppose it
is
selfish of me to be concerned with such trifles when you have such pressing concerns like where you shall live, in the London home or at Summer Lodge.’

‘Emily,’ Craig said suddenly, ‘why are we quarrelling? We should be helping not blaming each other.’ Craig made to put his arm around her shoulders but she held up her hand.

‘I don’t want your pity!’ She picked up her bag, ‘And I don’t want your charity either, keep your house, long may you enjoy the fruits of my father’s labour.’

She was out in the street before she knew it, walking along the hard pavements beneath the swaying trees. She longed to cry, to dissolve the hard knot of tears that was inside her but pride would not allow her to make a show of herself in the street.

She waved her hand to call a cab and when, at last, one stopped, she leaned towards the driver.

‘Where can I find decent lodgings for the night?’ She heard her voice tremble but could not control it.

‘Don’t worry, misses,’ the driver said staring at her in open curiosity, ‘I’ll take you to a very respectable lodging house run by a real lady. Mrs Simons will look after you.’

With a sigh, Emily sank back in her seat and closed her eyes, listening to the clip clop of horseshoes ringing against the roadway with a feeling of unreality closing in on her. This was all a nightmare from which she must one day awake. But for now, she would not allow herself to think, she would rest for a few hours and then make arrangements to deal with business matters.

It was early the next day that she was ushered into the offices of Croydon and Cooper. Mr Cooper was not present but Mr Croydon sat behind a huge desk, a bland smile on his face.

‘My dear Miss Grenfell, this is a surprise,’ he said jovially. He was a big man with a fine moustache about the same age as her father had been, Emily guessed, but it was quite apparent that he considered himself quite a dandy. He wore a richly coloured waistcoat beneath a fine linen jacket and in his cuffs were large gold links.

Emily smiled, she knew instinctively that here was a man who thought of women as merely creatures of decoration and, if it would serve her purpose, it was a view she would exploit to the full.

‘Please help me out of my problems, Mr Croydon,’ she said softly, despising herself for the wheedling tone in her voice. ‘If you will only accept the offer of payment I made to you earlier, then the rest of the debt will be paid very shortly.’

‘And who, my dear lady, is handling your business interests and why are you here in person on such an unladylike errand?’

Emily looked up at him from beneath her lashes. ‘My cousin is indisposed, he will, of course, handle everything once he is well again.’

‘I see,’ Mr Croydon stared at her shrewdly. ‘Isn’t there talk of some sort of scandal involving your father’s nephews, some . . . dubious business dealings?’

Emily looked down at her hands, she knew it was useless to deny it, the man was no fool. ‘Alas,’ she sighed, ‘there’s one black sheep in every family, I suspect.’ She smiled again and Mr Croydon leaned towards her over the desk. ‘But fortunately,’ she continued quickly, ‘the rest of the Grenfells are honest, upright citizens.’

‘Quite so.’ He shuffled some papers before him and regarded the figures in silence for a. moment. Then he looked up and met Emily’s eyes.

‘Your father does owe us rather a lot of money, you know, will your cousin meet the obligations?’

Fat chance! Emily thought, Craig was too wrapped up in his own schemes to care about her father’s debts. ‘Once he is quite well, he will take up the reins and the business will be booming again,’ she said out loud.

Mr Croydon leaned back in his chair and smiled ruefully. ‘Right now,’ he said abruptly. ‘Let’s be done with the play acting, what is really going on, Miss Grenfell?’

Emily sat up straighter in her chair feeling the colour rise to her face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she smiled ruefully, ‘I shouldn’t have tried to fool you.’ She twisted a scrap of lace handkerchief between her fingers. ‘I’m going to run the business myself, I have plans for paying off the bills of each creditor in instalments and then trying to build up the business again.

‘First thing I must do is to sell the emeralds I inherited from my mother, they will bring me in enough to buy in leather and begin to trade again.’ She stared hard at Mr Croydon. ‘But I must have your good will.’

He remained silent for a long time, staring at Emily as though summing her up. At last he spoke. ‘Very well, you have it,’ he said. ‘Now that you are being honest with me, I think I can help you.’

He leaned forward. ‘Let me see your jewels, I might be able to find you a buyer who will give you a good price. Then, we will talk again.’

He rose to his feet and extended his hand. ‘I can’t say I approve of it, young lady, you going into business, but I admire your courage and any help and advice I give willingly.’

He led her to the door and opened it for her. ‘One hint, don’t be so coy with the men you deal with, they might misconstrue your intentions and try to take advantage of you.’

He smiled as she walked past him her cheeks burning. ‘And get yourself a good shoe designer and a good cutter, make your own shoes, begin an emporium instead of just importing and selling the leather, at least then you would not find yourself out on a limb in a man’s world.’

Emily took a cab back to Mrs Simons’s house and went directly to her room. She sank on to the bed and closed her eyes, ideas racing through her mind.

Mr Croydon was right, she must open her own shop, have shoes made to order at first and then perhaps import goods from the English shoemakers such as Mr Clark of Somerset.

She would need the services of a talented shoemaker and the best one she knew of in Swansea was Hari Morgan. Emily swallowed hard, how could she lower her pride so far as to approach the girl she had been so scornful of?

And yet she knew that swallowing her pride was something that must be done, she would offer Hari Morgan the inducement of her own premises, a free hand in design and the services of experienced boot and shoemakers to work under her direction. But would Angharad Morgan be willing to give up her own independence?