The builders were finishing a new street. Howard said: ‘I’ve had approaches from three people who want to open shops here.’
‘But we have our own shops, and they make good profits.’
‘The hands say our shops charge higher prices. Some of them walk to the town centre rather than pay more.’
‘Why would we invite competitors in to reduce our profits?’
Howard shrugged. ‘No reason, really.’
‘No,’ said Hornbeam. ‘Let them pay, or walk.’
*
The May Fair was held in a meadow next to a wood on the outskirts of town. Amos was watching the rope dancing, a show in which young women in tight clothing cavorted on a tightrope ten feet above the ground, when Jane, now Viscountess Northwood, distracted him. She was a more alluring sight than the rope dancers. She wore a straw bonnet trimmed with ribbons and flowers, and carried a little parasol – the very latest fad. She looked extraordinarily pretty.
He wondered whether there was something wrong with him. He was pretty sure it was not normal for a young man to be obsessed for seven years with one woman who plainly did not return his love.
She took his arm and they walked around together, enjoying the spring sunshine, looking at the food stalls and the beer bars, pretending not to see the prostitutes.
They stopped to watch a troupe of acrobats, and he asked her how she was. The conventional question produced an unexpectedly candid answer. ‘I hardly ever see Henry!’ she said. ‘He spends all his time with the militia, training and drilling them and I don’t know what. They never actually fight. I don’t see the point.’
‘They’re supposed to defend the home country, and thereby free up regular army units to fight abroad.’
She did not want to hear explanations. ‘He insists I live at Earlscastle, where nothing ever happens. I see more of his father than of him! It will serve him right if I have an affair.’
Amos glanced around, afraid someone might have overhead this most unladylike comment, but fortunately no one was nearby.
They moved on to a boxing ring where a fighter called Pegleg Punch was offering a pound to anyone who could knock him down. Despite his disability – he really did have a wooden leg – the man looked terrifying, with huge shoulders and a broken nose and scars on his arms. ‘I wouldn’t take him on for fifty pounds,’ Amos said.
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Jane.
Mungo Landsman, one of the toughs who hung around theSlaughterhouse, paid his shilling. He was a big lad with a mean look, and he jumped into the ring eager for a fight. Before he could put his fists up, Pegleg moved in close, punching his head and body so fast it was hard to follow the blows. When the lad fell down, Pegleg kicked him with his wooden leg, and the crowd cheered. Pegleg grinned, showing that he had lost most of his teeth.
Amos and Jane walked away. Amos wondered what a woman such as Jane was supposed to do with herself after she had married a rich but busy man. ‘I expect you’d like to have children,’ he said.
‘It’s my duty to produce an heir,’ she said. ‘However, the question is academic. There’s not much chance of children given how little time Henry and I spend together.’
Amos mulled that. Jane had got what she wanted, marriage to Henry. People had said he would never marry someone so far beneath him socially. A more suitable marriage had been arranged for him, and he must have had serious opposition from his father when he decided to repudiate that plan. She had overcome all the obstacles. But it had not made her happy.
They came to a stall where Sport Culliver, wearing a red top hat, was selling madeira by the glass. They were walking past, but he called out to Jane. ‘My lady viscountess, don’t drink the ordinary madeira – that’s for the common folk. I have a special brand for you.’ He bent down and took a bottle from under the table. ‘This is the best madeira ever made.’
Jane said to Amos: ‘I’d quite like a glass.’
Amos said to Culliver: ‘Two, please, Sport.’
Culliver poured two large glasses and handed them over. When Jane had sipped hers he said: ‘That’ll be two shillings, then, please, Mr Barrowfield.’
Amos said: ‘What’s in it, gold dust?’
‘I told you it was the best.’
Amos paid, then tasted it. The wine was all right, but it was notthe best. He grinned at Sport. ‘If ever you want a job as a cloth salesman, come to me,’ he said.
‘Very kind of you, Mr Barrowfield, but I’ll stick with what I know.’
Amos nodded. The cloth trade was not for Culliver. There was much more money in drink, gambling and prostitution.
They emptied their glasses and moved away from the stall, following a path towards the woods. Jane turned and spoke to a young woman behind them, and Amos realized the girl had been following them, no doubt as a chaperone. Jane said: ‘Sukey, I’m a bit chilly – will you fetch my wrap from the carriage?’
