Chapter 18
The promise of improvement hungon the drafty rafters of Alex’s new apartment in Alnwick. He took in the musty air of the small quarters and ran his hand over the thick wooden beams as Moxham unpacked the last of the carpetbag. By God’s good providence and a higher offer, Mr. Wilkinson had finally been prevailed upon to sell to Cartwright. Mr. Cartwright had been so pleased that he’d elevated Alex’s position to junior partner and asked Alex to move to Alnwick to see to it that the mine was run as Mr. Cartwright would like.
Alex felt the weight of such a promotion, but remembering the increase in his wages, he didn’t balk at the task ahead of him. As soon as they were settled this morning, he would begin by observing Alnwick’s basic operating methods. Then he’d discern what improvements and adjustments might be made to make it more profitable. That was Alex’s specialty: improvement and innovation. No matter what Cartwright said, now that Alex was in charge here, he would implement some of his ventilation ideas.
These methods would improve the welfare of the workers and translate into long-term prosperity for the mine. The question was, had Cartwright given up on obtaining the Otterburn lands? That would be for the best.
Alex turned to Moxham. “I am so sorry my inquiries last week didn’t help us learn anything about Mags. Have you heard any news since we moved?”
Moxham placed a reading primer on the shoddy mantel and turned, his face drawn. “Nothin’ promisin’.” He sighed. “I talked to the foreman, but ’e didn’t seem t’ care. But you know the type. Oilier than a snake, ’e was.”
Alex knew all too well. He remembered that fateful day with Moxham all those years ago. When Alex hadn’t been able to save Rhys, it had been shocking how many people didn’t seem affected that the man had died. He shook his head. “I’ll keep a lookout for any clues today. Now that I’m in charge here, I give you full leave to do more investigating. Get to know the workers. Someone is bound to talk.”
“I thank ye. I don’t think she’s dead, Jenkins. My Mags is a fighter.”
Alex nodded and patted the man on the shoulder. “We’ll find her.” Someone knew what had happened there, and Moxham just needed to sniff them out. There were always no-goods about, and Alex suspected they must have the answers, even if they were trying to hide them. “I’m off to the mine. Are you coming?” He went to the door to don his coat, hat, and gloves.
Moxham followed, and as they walked the streets of Alnwick, Alex was reminded of his close proximity to Otterburn. He wondered how Walter fared. Had he made a full recovery?
Being inside that castle had stirred up far too many desires. Not only did he hope Walter improved, but the deep parts of him still wished he and the Roylances could once again be the familial friends they used to be. That they could once and for all reconcile their differences. With his own parents not to return, he craved deeper connections; he wanted to be part of a family.
Dwelling on the Roylances also brought the image of Charlotte’s upset, flustered face to mind, with her gripping George’s crumpled shirt against her middle. Thinking of her, even in such a state, caused Alex’s heart to beat a little faster. Why did he feel drawn to her no matter the circumstance? He was weak letting his mind dwell on someone who was engaged, especially considering how busy he would be with this new position. He shouldn’t let any other desires or wishes impede the improvements he would make to the mine.
He and Moxham reached the mine, and Alex turned all focus to digesting the thousands of details he needed to learn. Moxham worked his way among the miners to find out what he could about Mags, but he didn’t seem too certain of any clues by the end of the day. Hours later, both men returned to their new building. When Alex reached the front corridor, the female caretaker stopped him. “Mr. Jenkins?”
“Yes?” he said, turning toward her.
“A man came by, having heard you moved here.”
“Oh.” Alex couldn’t think who would wish to call on him. “Did he leave his name?”
“No. He left this note instead.”
“Thank you,” he replied, tucking it into his coat. He waited until he was alone to peruse the single page of words, checking the signature first. George Roylance. He requested Alex’s presence at his earliest convenience. Said he’d been trying to track him down in Newcastle to no avail.
Perhaps there could be some reconciliation with the Roylances after all.
***
Nearly a week had passed since Walter’s accident, and yet the boy would not speak to anyone. Charlotte blamed herself for the change, and the strangeness of it wore on her. The already thin boy had become waifish and sallow, barely eating anything. As far as she knew, Walter hadn’t said anything, except one sentence to George, which George wouldn’t tell Charlotte.
Just last night she’d specifically asked the cook to prepare Walter’s favorite dinner and favorite fruit tarts for dessert. She’d watched him pick at his food, and when she’d asked him about it, he remained resolutely wordless. That wasn’t like him; he always gushed over good food. The change was so drastic, she could think of little else.
To take her mind off things, she’d woken early to speak with Margaret. Charlotte didn’t bother with anything more than a simple day dress she could manage herself. She’d call her maid to tame her unruly hair after she checked on Margaret to see how she was doing and whether her memory was improving at all. Charlotte walked downstairs and toward the kitchen garden, knowing the servants were usually up early and in this part of the house. She glanced through the paned glass and found Margaret hanging clothes. Charlotte let herself out through the servants’ door, and purple and gold hues of dawn streaked over the horizon, the air crisp and inviting.
“How are you today?” Charlotte asked Margaret.
“Splendid, miss.” Margaret smiled, and Charlotte noticed her improved complexion and more confident posture. “And you?”
“I am well,” she answered. “Might you leave your basket and take a turn with me?”
Margaret nodded, her eyes filling with wariness.
Charlotte tried for a conversational tone. “I’ve been thinking about my family a good deal this week, with what happened to Walter and all.”
“Yes, I’ve heard tell from the other servants that he’s improved.”
“Yes, he seems to have his energy back.” She didn’t wish to elaborate on the ways hehadn’timproved. “His accident caused me to question if you have family members looking for you. Do you think there’s anyone waiting for you to come home at night and worried you haven’t?”
