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  ‘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?

  Chapter Eight

  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.’

  Olivia heard the distress in his voice and placed her hand on his arm. ‘You can only do so much. I admired the way you were with Peg, she quickly trusted you.’

  Alistair gave a little smile. ‘I think it was the soup you brought her.’

  ‘I’ll bring her some more tomorrow, if you think it helps.’

  ‘I’m sure it will comfort her.’

  ‘Alistair, I’ll do what I can to help, you only have to ask.’

  He blessed his good fortune in having such an understanding and generous sister. ‘I could not presume on your time.’

  ‘You can. Well, until . . .’ Olivia left her statement hang in the air but Alistair saw a light in her eyes that prompted him to grab her arm and propel her out of the throng of people near the bridge. He searched her face for an answer to the query that had instantly risen in his mind.

  ‘James? Has he . . .?’

  Her laugh rang out ‘No, not yet, but he certainly hinted.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There might soon be more to celebrate than the launching of the John Carnforth!’

  ‘And you believe he meant a betrothal?’

  ‘Well, how else would you interpret it?’

  ‘Just like you.’ Alistair’s eyes shone with delight. ‘I can think of no better match for you.’

  ‘Unless it be you and Lena?’

  He laughed. ‘That’s a nice way of putting it.’

  ‘Then ask her.’

  ‘I can’t while she’s in mourning. Then I would like her to ease her way back into society before we move on. Besides, I don’t want to take away any of the excitement for you and James.’

  ‘You are a very considerate man.’ Olivia glanced around. ‘I think we had better move on. People are looking at us, standing here in earnest conversation.’ They resumed their walk. ‘Oh, Alistair, not a word. James hasn’t proposed yet.’

  He put a finger to his lips and said, ‘Sealed.’

  Lena cast aside her thoughts of Alistair to concentrate on choosing a dress for the evening. After taking particular care over it and finding herself doing the same with her toilette, she wondered why and for whom? To make an impression on Mr Hustwick, for James’s sake? To lighten what could degenerate into a dour, uneasy male-centred evening? Or was it to impress Peter who she now believed had more to him than had appeared on first meeting?

  Satisfied with her appearance when she surveyed herself in the mirror, Lena picked up her cloak and was about to make for the door when there was a knock upon it. Opening it, she found James outside, top hat in hand.

  ‘Are you ready?’ he asked.

  Lena spun around to show herself off. ‘What do you think?’ she asked with a smile.

  ‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘You’ll be the talk of everyone.’

  ‘It’s good to get out of those drab mourning clothes,’ she said as she linked arms with him, wanting his assistance down the stairs.

  ‘Then why go back to them?’

  Surprised by his attitude, she stopped and looked him in the eye. ‘You think it will be all right if I don’t?’

  ‘Why not? The end of the recognised mourning period is not five weeks away.’

  ‘But what about folk in Whitby?’

  ‘Do you really care at this stage?’

  ‘No,’ Lena replied lightly. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Then that is settled.’

  They fell into step and kept their pace steady as they went downstairs. Lena squeezed his arm in appreciation of his support of an end to her mourning. James read not only thanks but also sensed the joy in her whole bearing and aura. Lena would impress tonight and he was pleased about that; it would help in his dealings with Mr Hustwick, and who knew what might come of them?

  With the pall of conventional mourning gone from her mind, Lena felt she could give her full attention to Peter and what the future might hold. Tonight could bring her a greater insight into the Hustwick family and their mercantile business.

  She knew they had caught the eye of several people in the hall but was disappointed not to find Peter among them. Barely had the thought entered her mind when, as if on cue, the door opened and he walked in, his step brisk as if he were trying to make up time. He caught sight of them both and stopped. His eyes fixed on Lena and did not move until she and James reached the bottom step. That final movement seemed to break the spell and brought him forward to greet them.

  ‘Sorry not to have been waiting for you,’ he apologised. ‘I was held up.’

  ‘Think nothing of it, Mr Hustwick.’ James spoke for them both.

  Peter bowed to Lena. ‘May I say how exquisite you look, Miss Carnforth?’

  She inclined her head in acknowledgement of his observation. ‘Thank you, Mr Hustwick.’

  ‘Now, the carriage awaits you. May I help you with your cloak, Miss Carnforth? There is a nip in the air.’ Peter took the garment from her and slipped it on to her shoulders.

  ‘Thank you.’ Both men watched Lena’s nimble fingers fasten the clasp. Satisfied, she looked at them both with a smile and said, ‘Ready.’

  Peter escorted them to the carriage where a coachman sat waiting. When the three of them were seated comfortably, Peter called to him, ‘You know where, Giles?’

  ‘Indeed I do. Your father’s club, sir.’ He flicked the reins and the carriage rumbled forward, only gaining greater momentum when Giles deemed it wise to do so.

  Lena felt very happy to be sitting between two young gentlemen. One was her staunch ally whose consideration and brotherly love she found uplifting, giving her confidence to face whatever the future held; the other was handsome if practically unknown to her, yet he held an attraction she found enticing even though he had observed the utmost decorum. He was also heir to the sort of mercantile company of which she had always hoped to be a part. Amidst the chatter she wondered about her future, seeing two such differing lives ahead. Did she really have a choice between them? Had a new world opened to her through this unexpected visit to Hull or would her time here show her that her destiny truly lay in Whitby?

  To distract her mind from these disturbing thoughts, she put a question to Peter. ‘Mr Hustwick, I think you said you are also a member of this club we are going to?’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t use it as frequently as my father, even though Stockley House is in the centre of town. It is very useful for entertaining clients, though.’

  ‘Like now?’ said James, amusement in his voice.

  ‘You could say that, but this occasion is graced by a beautiful young lady.’

  ‘And no such person has graced previous visits?’ asked Lena.

  Peter la
ughed. ‘You are fishing, Miss Carnforth. Well, I’ll be truthful, yes, I have brought young ladies here, generally friends of the family.’

  ‘That sounds as though none of them was special to you?’

  ‘Though I’ll bet it was not for want of trying by some of them,’ commented James jocularly.

  ‘I suppose so, but there’s been no one with whom I could have spent the rest of my life. Maybe it is my fault. Maybe I’m too particular about finding the right person. But what about you, Mr Carnforth? Does someone hold your future in her hand?’

  ‘Yes,’ put in Lena quickly before her brother could answer. ‘Olivia Nash. And I think my brother will be proposing before too long.’

  ‘Then let me be the first to congratulate you, Mr Carnforth.’

  ‘Thank you, but I have not put the question yet. I have known Olivia since childhood.’

  ‘And has she a brother?’ asked Peter.

  ‘She has. Alistair,’ put in James. ‘He’s been sweet on my sister since schooldays.’

  Peter knew it would not be right to follow up on that information now. Maybe he could glean more about the relationship later. ‘They are from Whitby too?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Lena answered.

  ‘Then I expect he is in the same trade as your brother.’

  ‘He could be, he is an only son and his father has a thriving business, but Alistair showed no interest in it.’

  ‘So what does he do?’

  ‘He’s a doctor.’

  Before any more information could be imparted the carriage began to slow. ‘We must be there,’ said Peter.

  When the vehicle came to a halt he was quickly out to help Lena to the ground. As he did so he whispered close to her ear, ‘Did I detect a certain dislike of the profession this Alistair is following?’

  Lena was startled. She had not realised her attitude could be read so easily. A sharp retort sprang to her lips, but at that moment James was out of the coach and beside them so she held back. It would have to wait until later.

  ‘Welcome to Stockley House.’ Peter’s soft voice cut through her seething thoughts.