By God but summer conjunction makes life worth living, he thought. A time when he could prove himself again and again. The Tear crop had been one of the best ever; the estate had made its usual financial killing. He had tumbled nearly a dozen young girls from the grove teams. The meteorological reports were predicting a humid month ahead, which meant a good second harvest. Young Joshua’s audacious mayope proposal could only add to the family’s wealth and influence.
The only blot on the horizon was the reports coming out of Boston on the disturbances. It looked like the Democratic Land Union was stirring up trouble again.
The Union was a motley collection of reformists and political agitators, a semi-subversive group who wanted to see land distributed “fairly” among the People, the foreign earnings from the sale of Norfolk Tears invested with social relevance, and full democracy and civil rights awarded to the population. And free beer on Friday nights, too, no doubt, Grant thought caustically. The whole blessing of a Confederation of eight hundred plus planets was that it gave people a massive variety of social systems to choose from. What the Democratic Land Union activists failed to appreciate was that they were free to leave for their damned Communistic workers’ paradise as soon as the workshy little buggers earned enough cash to pay their passage. But oh no, they wanted to liberate Norfolk, no matter how much damage and heartache they caused in the process of peddling their politics of envy.
A chapter of the Democratic Land Union had tried to spread its sedition in Stoke County about ten years ago. Grant had helped the county’s chief constable round them up. The leaders had been deported to a Confederation penal planet. Some of the nastier elements—the ones found with home-made weapons—had been handed over to a squad of special operations constables from the capital, Norwich. The rest, the pitiful street trash who handed out leaflets and drank themselves into a coma on the Union-supplied beer, had been given fifteen years’ hard labour in the polar work gangs.
There hadn’t been sight or sign of them on Kesteven ever since. Some people, he thought sagely, just never learn. If it works, don’t try and fix it. And Norfolk worked.
He kissed the crown of Carmitha’s head. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow. Most of my family has already left. There is fruit-picking work in Hurst County. It pays well.”
“And after that?”
“We’ll winter over in Holbeach. There are many deep caves in the cliffs above the town. And some of us get jobs in the harbour market gutting fish.”
“Sounds like a good life. Don’t you ever want to settle down?”
She shrugged, thick hair sloshing about. “Be like you, tied to your cold stone palace? No thanks. There might not be much to see in this world, but I want to see it all.”
“Better make the most of the time we’ve got, then.”
She crawled on top of him, calloused hands closing round his limp penis.
There was a pathetic scratching knock on the caravan’s rear door. “Sir? Are you there, sir?” William Elphinstone asked. The voice was as quavery as the knock.
Grant chopped back on an exasperated groan. No, I’m not in here, that’s why my bloody horse is outside. “What do you want?”
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but there’s an urgent phone call for you at the house. Mr. Butterworth said it was important, it’s from Boston.”
Grant frowned. Butterworth wasn’t going to send anyone after him unless it was genuinely important. The estate manager knew full well what he was up to at a slack time like this. He was also wily enough not to come looking himself.
I wonder what young Elphinstone has done to annoy him, Grant thought irreverently.
“Wait there,” he shouted. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” He deliberately took his time dressing. No damn way was he going to come dashing out of the caravan tucking his shirt into his trousers and give the lad something to tell all the other junior estate managers.
He straightened his tweed riding jacket, smoothed down his muttonchops with his hands, and settled his cap. “How do I look?”
“Masterful,” Carmitha said from the bed.
There was no detectable irony. Grant fished around in his pocket and found two silver guineas. He dropped the gratuity into a big china bowl sitting on a shelf beside the door as he went out.
Louise watched her father and William Elphinstone ride up to the front door. Grooms appeared, and took charge of the horses. From the way the animals were sweating it had been a hard ride. Her father hurried into the house.
Poor old Daddy, always busy.
She strolled over to where William was talking to the grooms, both boys younger than her. He saw her coming and dismissed them. Louise stroked the black stallion’s flank as the big animal was led past her.
“Whatever is all the fuss about?” she asked.
“Some call from Boston. Mr. Butterworth thought it important enough to send me out looking for your father.”
“Oh.” Louise started to move away. Rather annoyingly, William walked in step with her. She wasn’t in the mood for company.
“I’ve been asked to the Newcombes’ bash on Saturday evening,” he said. “I thought it might be rather fun. They’re not quite our people, but they set a decent table. There will be dancing afterwards.”
“That’s nice.” Louise always hated it when William tried to put on graces. “Our people” indeed! She went to school with Mary Newcombe.
“I hoped you would come with me.”
She looked at him in surprise. Eagerness and anxiety squabbled over his face. “Oh, William, that’s jolly nice of you to ask. Thank you. But I really can’t. Sorry.”
“Really can’t?”
“Well, no. The Galfords are coming to dinner on Saturday. I simply must be there.”
“I thought that perhaps now he’s left, you might find more time for my company.”
“Now who’s left?” she asked sharply.
“Your friend, the gallant starship captain.”
“William, you really are talking the most appalling tosh. Now I’ve said I can’t attend the Newcombes’ party with you. Kindly leave the subject.”
He stopped and took hold of her arm. She was too surprised to say anything. People simply did not take such liberties.
“You always found plenty of time for him,” he said in a flat tone.
“William, desist this instant.”
“Every day, it was. The two of you galloping off to Wardley Wood.”
Louise felt the blood rising to her cheeks. What did he know? “Remove your hand from me. Now!”
“You didn’t mind his hands.”
“William!”
He gave her a humourless smile and let go. “I’m not jealous. Don’t get me wrong.”
“There is nothing to be jealous of. Joshua Calvert was a guest and friend of my father’s. That is the end of the matter.”
“Some fiancés would think otherwise.”
“Who?” she squawked.
“Fiancés, my dearest Louise. You must be aware there is some considerable speculation upon whom you are to marry. All I’m saying is that there are some Kesteven families of good breeding, and eligible sons, who would take exception to your . . . shall we call it, indiscretion.”
She slapped him. The sound rang across the lawn as her palm struck his cheek. “How dare you!”
He dabbed at his cheek with the fingers of his right hand, a look of distaste on his face. The imprint of her palm was clearly etched in pink. “What an impetuous creature you are, Louise. I had no idea.”
“Get out of my sight.”
“Of course, if that’s what you wish. But you might like to consider that should word get out, your currently enviable position may well become less than secure. I don’t want to see that happen, Louise, I really don’t. You see, I am genuinely very fond of you. Fond enough to make allowances.”
She seemed utterly incapable of movement, condemned to stand there in front of him, gaping in astonishment. “You . . .” It came out in a crushed gasp. For a distressing instant she thought she was going to faint.