Page 72 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“That night I was not myself. You… you…” Walter looked ready to speak of Miss Bonneville. Horace was ready for it, but Walter seemed to think the better of it, aware they had an audience as he glanced back toward Patterson. “You were talking about changing the business from the ground up. About changing the conditions for the workers.”
“There is nothing wrong with that. It’s probably the most important change I have ever wanted to make, and if I went ahead with the changes, you’d veto me every step of the way,wouldn’t you? We own the business fifty-fifty. I could not change it.” Horace met his glare stoically. “There is no other way forward, Walter. I want out of the business.”
“Then let me buy the shares,” Walter hissed. “Do not give them to another man.”
“There is nothing personal in this, Walter, though you seem to be taking it as such. I just want out.” At Horace’s words, Walter looked ready to blow again, but Horace held up a hand, silencing him. “We can discuss this again another time. I will finish my meeting with Mr. Patterson first.”
“Think carefully, Horace,” Walter warned, his tone becoming something Horace had never heard before from him. “Think carefully before you act against me.” His voice was like ice.
Chapter 21
“We’ll come back for you later,” George promised from his position driving the cart.
“Thank you.” Orla waved at George and Esther as the two moved the cart again. Esther threaded her arm through George’s, and Orla waved, in the hope that their day off together could perhaps bring George and Esther closer still.
Perhaps when I return to Ingleby, they will be courting.
Orla’s smile slipped away when she thought about Ingleby. She hadn’t thought of it as home, but as she turned to face her parents’ shop, she realized this strangely wasn’t her home either. She walked toward the shop door, intent on seeing her family as she weighed up Horace’s offer to her.
“What the…” When she reached the door, she faltered. There was a queue out of the door.
She strained to peer inside through the glass and could see numerous freshly made hats on stands and a shop so full that her father was struggling to be heard over the din of chattering ladies. Her mother was rushing back and forth, and Aisling, as she clambered up a display to collect more hats, had many ladiesaround her enthralled by the tales of how she had made these hats.
Orla squeezed inside, scarcely able to believe the busyness before her. She pressed herself into a corner of the shop as Sarah offered up tissue-wrapped hats and gloves to one customer, and Joseph wrote out a receipt for another. The cacophony of sounds was deafening, urging Orla to shake her head in disbelief.
“This is some dream.” The shop had not been this busy since she was a little girl. She even pinched her arm, believing she might wake up, but she did not. She stayed standing in the shop, in awe at just how busy it was.
“Orla!” Sarah called, recognizing her across the room. “There you are. Oh, it has been too long.” She embraced Orla tightly.
“Air, Ma. I need air!” Orla said with a laugh, as Sarah released her, giggling away.
“Well? What do you think?” Sarah asked, gesturing to the shop.
“I think it is a miracle. What has happened here?”
“When word spread that Baron De Rees had been into our shop, oh, it gave us an influx of customers,” Sarah gushed. “I even believe your employer might have put in a good word with us in certain quarters. So many people have turned up talking aboutour good reputation. One thing has led to another, and we have this many customers every day now.”
“Every day?”
“Aye. All the time!” Sarah laughed. “Now, come love. Let’s get you out the back of the shop so we can talk properly. All this noise and all these happy customers, I can barely hear myself think.”
Orla was bustled into the backroom of the shop. She only briefly had a chance to wave at her father and Aislin in passing before her mother closed the door that connected the rooms. It muffled the sounds of the customers a little, but a good degree of noise still spilled out.
“Oh, what a rigmarole,” Sarah said, still buoyantly happy as she boiled somewhat over a small fire and set out teacups and saucers. “How are you, my dear?”
“Never mind me. What about you?” Orla gestured to her mother.
On the journey, Orla had wondered if she could tell her mother everything about Horace. Perhaps not everything, but enough to show the connection between them. She was hoping for some advice on whether or not to take up his offer to go to London with him, but now it felt wrong to talk of it at all. It would somehow feel a betrayal to her mother’s happiness to speak of going at this time.
“This is how busy it has been here these last few weeks?”
“Indeed, it has.” Sarah sat back happily as they waited for the water to boil in a chair by the fire. “We have bought new clothes, new material for the shop, and oh, so much more. What joy and good fortune we’ve had. To think it is all because Baron De Rees came to visit our shop.”
“Yes, indeed.” Orla marveled at the thought. She sat down opposite her mother, remembering the day they had come to the shop.
Horace’s kindness that day was one of the reasons she had ended up kissing him in that carriage. They had held onto one another with such passion, such a longing, that now as she thought of it, her hand shook. She sat on her hand to stop that shaking from being seen by her mother.
“What a man he is.” Sarah sighed.
