Deep down, despite the compliments, the impressions, and the attention, she was nothing but a defeated, hollow, damaged shell of who she could have been. With Alex, she’d learned to live again, but without him, every part of her shattered.
Chapter 25
The air hung hot andstuffy inside the small office on the edge of Alnwick Mine. The midday sun oppressed the wooden structure, and the temperature only echoed the weighted anger Alex felt.
“There’s been another death,” one of the foremen said as he came hastily through the door. “Lack of air in the third shaft.”
Alex looked up from his ledger as he sat behind his oak desk. He studied the man’s face, his darkened circles for eyes, and his dirty, sweat-stained clothes.
The man wiped his perspiration with his tweed hat and sighed. “Was I right to tell ye, sir? I can ’ave the body removed without sayin’ as much, if ye like.”
Alex choked back the urge to yell. “Of course you were right to tell me. I need to know about every accident that happens here.” Since Christopher had stolen away Charlotte, Alex’s internal fuse had frazzled, and any patience he’d had had snapped. “But tell me, why do so many deaths keep happening? Haven’t you done what I’ve told you to do? The additional air shafts ought to have improved the airflow.” He slammed his hand into his ledger harder than he’d meant to, sending a zing up his arm.
The man cowered. “If we take time to dig those, sir, we don’t ’ave as much time to find coal. Many of the men are afraid digging more shafts will break the mined coal into smaller pieces. And ye know broken coal is docked by the overseer. Better to be dangerous than ’ave no money, sir. The men can’t ’ave any more penalties against their wages.”
Alex rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So everyone just accepts that there will be more deaths? Do I need to come lord over you and force people to do as I say?”
“They’d mutiny against you, sir.”
“They prefer to dig in danger?”
The man glanced to the side. “All of us just pray it isn’t us the next time. Hope we be the lucky ’uns.”
Alex sighed. “Iamrecording every death.” He glanced down at his notebook detailing the mine’s accidents. “Please do right with his body and inform his family.”
The man removed his sorry excuse of a cap and bowed before exiting.
There had to be some way to fix all of this. Mr. Cartwright himself had asked Alex to reason away as many deaths as possible the last time they’d met, but Alex could not countenance such a thing. When Cartwright saw the report from the last fortnight, he would be livid. He didn’t want the death reports; he wanted only numbers and profits and certainly no proposals that would slow down the mining. Alex hoped hard numbers would somehow prick his stony heart, but how was he supposed to enact change if even the workers wouldn’t help him? He had stayed up most nights the past week drawing the ideas that had been circulating in his head, fleshing out some of the proposals he’d mentioned to Lord Ashley, and he could defy Cartwright’s wishes here little by little, but he needed the workers to at least let him try.
Alex had never dreamed there would be such resistance from the miners to implementing new methods. As he rubbed his creased brow, however, he remembered what it felt like to be so single-mindedly focused on a wage. It skewed all one thought about, and the miners’ actions in this case spoke to that truth. If Alex hadn’t had a privileged childhood, he might never have realized that there was a way to move up and beyond the status quo.
As his head slumped in his hands, thoughts of Charlotte crept back into his mind like they so often did. The look on her face before she’d ridden away with Christopher on her heels had haunted him day and night. He wanted to sneak to the castle, throw pebbles at her window, and steal her away forever, but he wasn’t sure she’d countenance such a thing. She’d be giving up a life of luxury and ease and a dowry that was likely larger than the size of several workers’ yearly salaries. He needed some way to speak to her again. He’d promised her he wouldn’t give up trying to reconcile with her family, but now he knew that to be impossible.
He’d promised himself that even without reconciliation, he would do everything in his power to free her from Chris’s tyranny. That’s why he’d asked Rebekah Laurence to visit him and had prepared a letter for her to deliver to Charlotte. As though on cue, Mrs. Laurence was the next person to walk through his door.
“I am so glad you have come.” He sighed, bowing as she curtsied. “Please, be seated.”
The woman and her maid came inside his office and settled themselves on his best furniture. At least this room had a semblance of finery, and the actual awfulness of the mines was far enough away not to offend their feminine sensibilities.
Alex was cognizant of the need for secrecy with Mrs. Laurence’s maid near, but at least he’d been able to speak candidly with the vicar and his wife yesterday in their garden. “I have the letter for you,” he said. He opened a desk drawer, withdrew the letter, and slid it across the table. “I know I made it clear yesterday, but I must stress that it be delivered directly, without anyone else seeing it.”
“I understand, Mr. Jenkins,” Mrs. Laurence replied. “My husband has always admired your hard work and pious behavior, especially despite all the misfortunes you’ve had. We are happy to help however we can.”
“I thank you,” Alex answered, and Mrs. Laurence stood.
“Good day.” She curtsied.
“Good day,” he responded, praying that the letter would make it to Charlotte, that it would make a difference, and that she cared for him as much as he ardently loved her.
Chapter 26
The week leading up tothe ball charged on of its own volition, not waiting for Charlotte to mourn privately or even allowing her anger to fester as much as it ought.
But it was defeat that consumed her. With most of her mother’s to-do list underway, her time was spent entertaining the many guests staying at the castle. Lady Eloise and her entourage of friends proved exhausting at times and petty at others, and Charlotte moved like a ghost through the gatherings, present in form but distant in feeling. The only reprieve in the endless shows of pretenses was a visit from two real friends.
“With so much going on here at the castle, Mrs. Laurence and I thought it better to come to you than request you to visit us,” Mrs. Dunsdale said as Charlotte led the ladies down a corridor from the front vestibule.
“That is so good of you.” They passed the main parlor, already full of Lady Eloise and a few other women, and Charlotte led her friends to the second, less-grand sitting room, knowing it would be a more intimate place to meet.
