“Our investments needed closer attention, and London is the best place for us at the moment.”
“We are on our way to Sheffield,” Bane explained. “We think of you often, Drake and I. We couldn’t come so close without visiting, but we had no idea whether we would be welcome.”
Lark burst into tears.
Drake exchanged a worried look with Bane. A crying woman was not something they had much experience with. Bane produced a handkerchief and went to kneel at Lark’s feet. He patted her on the shoulder, and cast another glance at Drake, shrugging his own shoulders to show how far out of his depth he felt. At least he was doing something!
“Don’t cry, Lark,” Drake said, hearing how feeble he sounded even as he said it.
“I am just so happy,” Lark sobbed. “You think of me. I thought I had no family in the world except for Phillip and the children.”
Bane patted her shoulder again, and Drake dared to approach and pat her other shoulder. Fortunately, after a moment or two, she mopped up her tears with Bane’s handkerchief. And just in time, for the manservant and a maid arrived with tea makings and a tray of refreshments. Both of them glared at Drake and Bane, and Lark had to reassure them that her brothers had made her very happy.
“I am glad to hear that,” Drake said. “You had us worried. But it is a relief to Bane and myself to know that our sister’s servants are protective.”
“Mrs. Hampton don’t need nobody upsetting her,” the maid said. “Especially not at the moment.”
“I cry easily when I am breeding,” Lark explained. “You know that, Flora. I cried for five minutes last week when Frederick counted to ten, and yesterday the sunset was so beautiful that Phillip had to loan me his handkerchief for mine was hopelessly wet. I do apologize, Drake and Bane. I did not mean to worry you. Run along, Flora, Finch. I shall pour for my brothers.”
Drake guessed that one of the servants must have sent for Lark’s husband, for she was surprised when he arrived home no more than thirty minutes later. By then, the brothers had explained their errand in Sheffield, and were making themselves known to Lark’s two children, brought down from the nursery by their nursemaid.
“Phillip,” Lark said, when Hampton strode into the room. “You are home early. Is something wrong?”
Hampton narrowed his eyes at Drake and Bane, who were on the floor building a tower with Frederick. Tabitha, who was two, took that moment to knock the tower down, and Frederick would have objected, loudly, except that Bane cheered and clapped. “Excellent, Tabitha. Frederick, say hello to your Papa, and then let us build the tower higher.”
Crisis averted, and Hampton emerged from a hug with both his children with a broad welcoming grin. “I did not know we were expecting your brothers, my dear. Are they staying?”
“Will you?” asked Lark. “I can put you up if you do not mind sharing a bedroom. Will you at least stay for dinner? And then it will be too late to go on to Sheffield, so you should stay.”
Drake said that they’d left their bags at the inn, but Hampton said that would not be a problem. “I shall send a servant witha note to collect your things. It would please my wife above all things if you stay.”
Given the gulf that time and Lark’s mother had dug between them, the evening went off very well. Lark was keen to ask about friends of hers from their home neighborhood, and to hear about what Drake and Bane were doing.
They explained about their “dowries”.
“We put half of what Father gave us into the funds, and the interest is enough to cover our living expenses,” Drake explained. Rent, food, candles and heating, clothing—they lived frugally, but well enough.
As well as their money in the Funds, they had—at least on paper—another fourteen thousand pounds, the other half of Father’s original gift having grown nearly three-fold. “Most of the rest of the money is out in various investments,” Bane said. “We own shares in several ships’ cargoes. We also hold stocks in a canal company, a venture seeking to grow tea in Ceylon, a woolen mill, and several other enterprises.”
Drake added, “In the past eighteen months, we have been using a broker to trade on a Stock Exchange.” He had been given two thousand pounds with which to trade stocks, and had grown it to more than six thousand, plus his commission.
“I imagine you have working capital, as well,” said Phillip, Lark’s husband, and the brothers both nodded. It would almost halve if they decided to support the device they had come north to Sheffield to see.
“We are heading for Sheffield to look at a new investment. An innovative, new hydraulic press particularly optimized for silversmithing.” The inventor’s prototype had already attracted several orders, and the inventor had patented the design. He was looking for investors to provide the money to allow him to build the machines.
Lark’s husband, Phillip, was intrigued, and asked many questions. The brothers discovered he was a genial fellow with wide ranging interests beyond the canal system and the cargoes on which his family were making a second fortune to go with their first—they organized boats for people with cargo and cargo for people with boats, helping to make sure that neither side was kept waiting and that everyone made a profit, including Phillip’s family.
Lark had another brief bout of tears as they parted for bed. “I have always admired you both, and I am thrilled to meet you again. Do stay in my life, brothers mine. I want my children to know that I have family, too. Until I met Phillip’s family, I did not realize how peculiar our family is. And I love Phillip’s family, but I did not understand until you came today how lonely I have been for my own.”
When Bane and Drake left for Sheffield in the morning, they were farewelled by Lark, Phillip, and the children. The children demanded hugs, and then Lark lined up for hers, and Phillip vigorously shook their hands, saying, “This has meant so much to my wife.” They promised to keep in touch, and to visit again. “Perhaps for Christmas,” Lark suggested.
They were easily on time for their afternoon meeting in Sheffield. It turned out to be not only with Silas Pentworth, but with his wife, Anne. Pentworth demonstrated the prototype, a half-size model, and it worked as well, if not better, than they expected. Drake and Ben both had questions—about the design, the function, possible issues with scaling up, and costs to potential customers of refitting their factories.
Mrs. Pentworth answered as many of the questions as her husband, Pentworth deferring to her on all issues of design as well as some of the others. Bane put his finger on the notion that had just occurred to Drake. “This is your design, Mrs. Pentworth, is it not?”
The couple exchanged glances and Pentworth replied, “We worked on it together,” he said. His nostrils flared and he looked defiant when he added, “Anne had the original idea and designed the parts.”
“Silas made the parts, and put them together. He refined the design,” said Mrs. Pentworth, sounding defensive.
