Mr Fairclough's Inherited Bride. Georgie Lee

Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

      Baltimore—September 1842

      ‘Gentlemen, listen.’ Silas rapped his knuckles on the polished top of the rosewood dining table, bringing the boisterous men in their black dinner jackets and white waistcoats surrounding it to attention. ‘If we can manufacture iron rails in America instead of relying on England, we could dominate the competition.’

      ‘But the English rails are far superior to ours,’ Mr Penniman answered, resting his hands on his round stomach. ‘As are their engines.’

      ‘They’re cheaper, too,’ Mr Baxter added, flicking away a small crumb sitting beside his plate.

      ‘The prices will shoot up if the government changes the tariff rates or something interrupts the English supply,’ Silas reminded them, determined to win these investors over to his idea. ‘If we build our own foundries and hire the best iron workers, buy from the best domestic suppliers, we can produce our own rails and lay them ten times quicker than the competition. It’ll ensure that the Baltimore Southern Railroad is the most impressive in America and at the forefront of innovation and development. We could even manufacture our own locomotives.’

      The table erupted in a cacophony of disbelief and amazement with Mr Penniman and Mr Baxter astounded by the idea while Mr Wilson and Mr Farrow marvelled at the possibility.

      At the far end of the table, Richard Jackson, Silas’s business partner and mentor, remained silent where he sat beside Lady Mary Weddell, his ward and hostess for tonight. He allowed the men to argue among themselves and left it to Silas to convince the wealthy investors to part with more money than they’d already supplied to the Baltimore Southern. Silas would not disappoint Richard or himself or allow other men’s lack of vision to dry up his income and keep him from sending home the money his family relied on for their upkeep. The Baltimore Southern would grow and succeed. He’d make damn sure of it.

      ‘America is heading west, gentleman.’ Silas raised his voice to gather the men’s attention. ‘When her boundaries reach the Pacific Ocean, new ports and trade routes with South America and the east will open up and provide untold opportunities. The railroads will be key to bridging the continent and reaping the benefits of those new opportunities.’

      ‘You can’t imagine the railways will stretch that far?’ Mr Penniman leaned forward to see past the other men to Silas. ‘It would take an engineering feat of immense proportions to traverse the Sierra Nevada.’

      ‘In time we’ll have those engineers and the equipment capable of conquering mountains. Already we’ve made it so that a man travelling from Kentucky to Washington, D.C. can do it in four days by rail instead of three weeks on horseback. Imagine being able to cross the county in a matter of weeks, of goods and raw materials reaching factories and markets as quickly. With your investment in the foundry we can take the first steps towards claiming this magnificent future.’

      The men nodded and mumbled their agreement. Even those who’d been hesitant tilted their heads in thought at Silas’s proposal. Silas shifted in his chair, determined not to betray the excitement surging inside him. He’d won them over. He could feel it.

      ‘You do dream big, Mr Fairclough,’ the balding Mr Penniman said before leaning over to take the last sweet from the platter in the centre of the table.

      ‘His big dreams will overshadow all of us one of these days,’ Richard added, finally making his presence as the senior partner and the owner of this house felt. He held a handkerchief to his mouth and coughed as quietly as he could before sliding it back into his pocket. ‘The smart man would buy into the future while it’s still affordable.’

      ‘I assure you, gentleman, we aren’t the only ones having this discussion, but we must be the first to put our plans into action.’ Silas motioned for his valet, Tibbs, to instruct the footmen silently waiting along the periphery of the dining room to refill the brandy glasses with the fine vintage Silas had procured from one of his best English sources. None of the servers made a move to top up Silas’s glass, though. Tonight required a clear head.

      Mr Penniman covered the top of his crystal glass with his hand, glancing at Lady Mary Weddell to say that it was in deference to her that he exercised restraint. ‘No, thank you, I think I’ve had enough for the evening.’

      ‘Don’t deny yourself the pleasures of Mr Fairclough and Mr Jackson’s generosity on my account, Mr Penniman,’ Lady Mary encouraged, offering him and a number of the other gentlemen a smile that saw them sit back and allow their glasses to be refilled. ‘I refuse to let my presence parch a gentleman, especially while discussing matters that require a robust thirst.’

      She motioned for a footman to place a new tray of sweets on the table in front of Mr Penniman. She’d been so sly in her ordering of the extra treats that not even Silas had noticed their arrival in the dining room. Clever girl.

      Mr Penniman didn’t hesitate to select the largest chocolate dusted with white sugar. ‘You’re a very smart woman, Lady Mary. You’ll make some man very lucky one day.’

      Lady Mary’s smile remained as beguiling as before but the sparkle she’d turned on Mr Penniman dulled. He was oblivious to the change in her as he savoured the chocolate, but Silas noticed it. It was the same painful regret that used to mar the drawn faces of the women who regularly appeared on the doorstep of the Fairclough Foundation, begging for help. He doubted Lady Mary shared that sort of misery, but the nagging feeling that something unpleasant had brought her to America was as difficult to ignore as her help in wooing the investors.

      Silas motioned for Tibbs, who leaned down beside him. ‘Send Lady Mary a nice gift, something to thank her for her assistance tonight.’

      ‘How nice a gift, sir?’ The mental tally of Tibbs’s contacts at various Baltimore shops and goldsmiths was almost visible in his light grey eyes.

      ‘Ladylike exquisite.’ Silas raised his half-drunk glass of brandy to Lady Mary, who nodded serenely. She was a plain young woman he guessed to be about three or four years younger than his twenty-five, with lively and intelligent brown eyes which seemed to miss nothing about her surroundings. She wore her blonde hair in a more mature fashion without the barrel curls most young women