“I do. Name of Telford. I remember the street with that same name.”
“We even paid the Telfords for the name, and they disappeared from the district,” she declared. “They had fallen on hard times and were only too happy to take our money.”
Douglas sat back in the sofa, knowing precisely where this tale of sudden riches and greed was heading. He had known some titled men in frigates and men-o’-war —most of them good enough at their duties, some even exceptional, but through their veins ran, in addition to blood the same color as everyone else’s, a vast superiority that had no equal in the Royal Navy. They took his skills when they needed them, and otherwise ignored men like himself.
Lady Telford was silent now, vulnerable. Douglas began to pity her, an ignorant woman shrewd and unprincipled enough to know how to make shady money, but unable to command anyone’s respect with a mere purchased title. She and coarse Dudley no longer belonged among their own kind in decidedly unfashionable Norfolk and certainly not among the titled people they so wanted to impress.
The only sounds in the room were a clock ticking and Lady Telford’s labored breathing, which smacked of congestive heart failure and not in the distant future. He considered all the angles before he spoke because he did pity her. Thank the Almighty that his own ambitions ran to becoming a surgeon second to none and not a toady of the titled. He knew his merits and his limits.
“You tried to enter their society and they laughed,” he said, keeping his voice low.
She nodded, her eyes glistening again. “Right to our faces, drat their hides,” she said, with considerable venom. Her head came up and he saw her pride. “So we moved here and bought this mansion. Dudley bought up property, and no one is the wiser about our beginnings. They believe we are Quality.”
So you think, Douglas told himself. “Do you … do you mingle at all with the people of Edgar?” he asked.
“Mercy no,” she scoffed. “After all, I am Lady Telford.”
“I don’t think you are happy,” he said, after more consideration. “Everyone needs friends. There are some fine people in Edgar.”
It struck Douglas that he had found friends aplenty in Edgar, friends he would miss, when he left.
She had no answer for him, no retort. She was too proud to admit that he was right and she needed friends. Everyone did.
“Lady Telford, would you be interested in leaving a wonderful legacy right here in Edgar?” he asked. “The kind of a legacy where word would get out to other towns and shires until no one in places like Edinburgh or London would ever laugh again?”
She gave him a suspicious stare and her hand hovered over the bell, perhaps to summon Maidie and have him shown out.
“Of course, I can understand if you have someone to leave your fortune to, or another way to be remembered with real affection, long after you are gone,” he added, sitting back.
She put her hand back in her lap and raised her head enough to look down her nose at him. He smiled inside because he no longer felt like Dougie Bowden, sent to the butcher and clutching a small coin, ready to palm his dignity for some below-standard meat. He was Douglas Bowden, surgeon, Royal Navy retired, and it suddenly felt so good.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked.
“Your unused shipyard, Lady Telford. I have some money, courtesy of Napoleon, I suppose. Every man aboard a Royal Navy ship is entitled to shares in the purchase of captured vessels and cargo. As a surgeon, I have one-eighth of a share for each such transaction. This added up to a more-than-comfortable sum.”
He glanced at Lady Telford, pleased to see he had her attention. Dudley certainly had not been the brains of their marital partnership. As repugnant as Douglas found her willingness to make money on African slaves, he had to admire her ability.
“My money resides with Carter and Brustein in Plymouth, making me more money.” He took a deep breath. “I propose that you and I form a corporation and call it the Telford Boat Works. We will build yachts and fishing vessels and employ the less fortunate folk of Edgar. This would include the Highlanders dumped here and left to rot by those titled gentry and nobility who laughed at you and Dudley Glump.”
She sat back, her mouth open. He saw the shrewd gleam in her eyes, one of which had a cataract. He knew he had her when she asked, “Why not the Telford-Bowden Boat Works?”
“I have no plans to remain in Edgar, beyond tending to some patients of mine, and seeing that an enormous wrong is righted, at least here,” he said. “All I want is a peaceful country practice in a charming village somewhere.”
She smiled then, and he was struck by how such a simple shift of muscles shed the years from her puffy face. She even leaned toward him like a conspirator, which he found a wonderful omen. “We will agree that Edgar is not charming.”
They laughed together.
Her shrewd look skewered him. “Dougie, I know that everyone wants a reward. I applaud your desire to help these people. What is it you want?”
“Am I that transparent?” he asked, deciding that he had underestimated Lady Telford.
“Perhaps,” she hedged. “I have had some experience in making money, which sometimes involves looking deep. What else do you want?”
“I intend to find other investors in the Telford Boat Works,” he said, “but I want a guarantee that Miss Grant’s Tearoom will be funded so she can feed the workers and their families, without having to dip into her inheritance, which I fear is slight.”
“You like her, don’t you?”
It was a woman’s question. He could be honest. “I do. She is charming and kind and heading to the poorhouse herself by feeding people.”
