The Lady of Bolton Hill

Chapter 2





If looks could kill, Daniel would be a dead man.

Lou Hammond, the company’s lead attorney, was having difficulty maintaining a calm voice as he stood in the gilded interior of the company’s private railcar as it rolled through the Pennsylvania countryside. “Mr. Tremain, your insistence on this bizarre licensing arrangement will cost too much money in sheer profit,” he said.

Daniel quirked a brow. “We are not on our way to the poorhouse, are we?”

A glance around the impressive private railcar was proof that Carr & Tremain Polytechnic was doing just fine. Some of the country’s finest craftsmen had provided the brass fittings and highly varnished teakwood moldings that lined the car’s interior. Velvet draperies framed the view of the rolling landscape of western Pennsylvania as they sped home from New York. It would have been quicker to travel on the stretch of railroad that linked Philadelphia and Baltimore, but it was well known that Daniel would never ride on a railroad controlled by Alfred Forsythe. He would return to Baltimore by donkey cart before paying a single dime into that man’s coffers.

After this week’s round of meetings with bankers, lawyers, and judges, their company was on the verge of becoming a publicly traded corporation on the New York Stock Exchange. As soon as this deal closed, Daniel and his partner Ian Carr would be among the wealthiest men in the country.

But only if Daniel permitted the deal to go through. “As long as I am in charge of this company,” Daniel said, “I will never permit any of my patents to be licensed to Alfred Forsythe. This is nonnegotiable. Everyone in this railcar knew that before we went to New York.”

“But the company won’t be yours after it goes public,” his attorney said. “The company will belong to the shareholders. And any sort of decision that affects the value of the company will need to be disclosed to the public.”

Daniel shrugged. “Then take out an advertisement in The New York Times and tell it to the world. It is no secret that I despise Alfred Forsythe and won’t do business with him. I would rather scuttle the deal than let Forsythe use my technology.”

“Are you sure about that, lad?” Ian Carr’s lilting Scottish accent was gentle, and Daniel felt a twinge of remorse. Ian was more than just his partner; Ian was the person who gave Daniel his first leg up in the world by hiring the penniless nineteen-year-old to work the timing devices on his fledgling railroad. Within six months, Daniel had figured out a way to alter a standard timing device into one which could operate without human intervention, making the timer not only cheaper to operate but safer by removing the danger of human error. The thousands of dollars that poured into their company from licensing that invention had allowed for more innovations that helped to revolutionize the railroad industry.

The reason their company worked was because Ian let Daniel run the technical side of development without interference, and Daniel deferred to Ian’s natural business acumen to license, market, and promote their inventions. Together they controlled the railroad industry’s best timing devices, rails, and routing systems.

Daniel met his partner’s eyes. “Ian, I’ll defer every business decision in the company to you, except for this. I can’t license those patents to Forsythe. Even if it scraps the Wall Street deal, I won’t do it.”

Mr. Hammond cleared his throat. “Now, Daniel, it is no secret that you are a brilliant innovator—”

“Stop, you will make me cry,” Daniel said dryly.

His attorney held up his hand. “The reputation of Carr & Tremain will suffer if we use the company to carry out a personal vendetta. Negative financial consequences will result.”

“We’ve been paying negative financial consequences for almost a decade,” Daniel said, “but it doesn’t amount to a fraction of what Forsythe has lost. He has to replace his rails twice as often as the companies who use my technology. Every time he has to commission another set, he thinks of my father and regrets what he did. That’s exactly how I want it.” By all that was holy, it felt good to have Alfred Forsythe by the throat, and never, never would he relax that grip.

Jamie Carr, his partner’s son, shifted in his chair. “That accident was more than ten years ago,” Jamie said. “Can’t you just accept the man’s apology and be done with it?”

A silence fell over the group and tension rippled through the men assembled in the railcar. Nervous glances flew among the men, all of whom knew of Daniel’s temper when it came to Forsythe. Daniel stiffened, but he wouldn’t rebuke the boy. After all, Jamie was only nineteen years old and knew nothing of the stench of burned skin or the agony of being scalded to death. He had never witnessed the eyes of a widow turn hollow until suicide was the only way out of her despair.


Daniel forced his voice to remain calm. “But, Jamie, Mr. Forsythe has failed to offer any sort of apology, and I am convinced he never will.”

Alfred Forsythe planned on running for governor of Maryland next year, and filling his resume with charitable works and publicly funded hospitals was the sort of thing he excelled at. Taking responsibility for the careless death of his workers would not fit into the public image he had created for himself.

Daniel turned his attention back to Ian. “I am aware that my issue with Forsythe has cost you, as well, and I’m sorry for that. Do whatever you need to structure this deal, so long as it stops short of licensing to Forsythe.” Daniel knew Ian was utterly trustworthy to protect the business affairs of their company, and he would find a way to honor Daniel’s request.





Kerosene lanterns were lit as the sun dropped below the horizon. The business meeting was long over, and a few men played cards at one table, while the gentle rocking of the railcar had prompted others to nod off to sleep in the plush, overstuffed chairs. It would be at least three more hours before they arrived in Baltimore.

Daniel sat with his assistant, Joe Manzetti, and his personal attorney going over his affairs. Who would have thought back when he worked a second shift shoveling coal into a furnace that someday he would have a corporate attorney, an estate attorney, a patent attorney, and a personal attorney? But they were all necessary. A man did not rise to the heights he had without relying on attorneys to look after his various endeavors. Along with his attorneys, Daniel had Manzetti, who served as his bodyguard, business assistant, and an extra set of eyes. Daniel had never regained sight in the eye that had been blinded in the boiler explosion, and the dim light cast by the lanterns made it a strain to read once the sun had set.

“The bills for your sister’s wedding have been paid in full, but the balance has yet to be paid on the house you purchased for Miss Lorna as a bridal gift,” his attorney said. “Did you wish to pay that outright, or shall I prepare installments?”

Daniel hated being indebted to anyone, but most of his fortune was locked up in the company. It was the reason everyone was so anxious to sell shares to the public. Ready cash had not been available when he purchased a house for his sister last summer, but it would be as soon as Ian could list their company on the New York Stock Exchange and begin selling shares. “I want it paid outright, but we’ll have to wait until the funds from the public offering become available. Hopefully in September.”

“Very well.”

Certainly the biggest fringe benefit of taking his company public in the autumn would be the ability to ensure he could always provide for his sisters.

“And Miss Kate has requested that you renew your membership at the Colchester Sporting Club. Either that, or she suggests that perhaps you would consider constructing a tennis court on your own property.”

“She thinks I’m going to build her a tennis court?”

“She has hopes,” Manzetti said. “She doesn’t know you as well as I do.” Daniel and Manzetti had worked together back when they were both employed by Forsythe Industries. It had been Manzetti who had run to get him out of the scholarship exam after the boiler explosion. Although Manzetti had profited nicely from working alongside Daniel, neither one of them would ever forget the squalor and anxiety that accompanied a life of relentless poverty.

“Renew the club membership,” Daniel said. “I’m not going to spoil Kate any more than I already have.” If Kate had her way, his backyard would be consumed by a private golf course, a croquet green, and tennis courts. Spoiling his sisters was one of the few pleasures he afforded himself. For the past ten years, his life had been consumed by a voracious need to grind forward in developing his inventions. That left little time for raising his sisters, and he assuaged his guilt by bestowing little luxuries on them. He still remembered the time he had hoarded enough money to purchase the girls their first little beaded reticules. Those minor luxuries were soon followed by private schools, music lessons, trips to Washington. It was as though showering them with such opportunities somehow compensated for the death of their parents, and, essentially, the loss of their brother, as well, since he was generally closeted with business associates and attorneys most nights.

“Miss Kate assumed that would be your response,” Manzetti said. “She would therefore like access to the carriage to take her to the club to practice her tennis on days you are at the office.”

Daniel rubbed his forehead. “Truly, Manzetti, I can run my company, or I can control Kate. I can’t do both. Tell her she can’t use the carriage when I’m not there. She’ll bicker, but that’s what sixteen-year-old girls do. What’s next?”

His lawyer removed a file from the stack. “The bill for Miss Endicott’s defense last month. Shockingly high, but the attorney came highly recommended.”

At the mention of Clara’s name, Daniel jerked to attention and his gaze darted to the stack of newspaper clippings on the table. He scanned them quickly. He’d already heard of her deportation, of course. That had made the newspapers here in Baltimore. When she had proven herself as a writer in London, Reverend Endicott began publishing his daughter’s articles about the horror of child labor in The Christian Crusade. Now Clara was another glittering ornament on the Endicott family tree, just as her father had wished.

Naturally, Daniel had followed Clara’s career. He never learned why she failed to write to him after arriving in London, but he could not blame her. Or not too much, anyway. She had been surrounded by the best musicians and writers in Europe. It was unrealistic to think that a girl with those opportunities would remember the poor kid she had once let use her piano.

Still, he was proud of her. Clara had the wealth and connections to live an idle life if she had chosen. She could have taken up tennis and golf like Kate and never worried about what being stooped over in a mineshaft did to a child’s spinal column.

“So what precisely did these legal fees buy Clara? A deportation ticket?”

“It bought her a suspended jail term. Without Mr. Townsend’s intervention, it is likely she would have been required to serve a number of years in prison.”

The thought of Clara, with her bright blue eyes and sparkling humor, locked in a stark jail cell made his blood run cold. “Money well spent, then.”

As he skimmed one of the articles, he imagined her standing in a courtroom as charges were read against her. She could not have looked so bright and sparkly then.

He tossed the newspaper down. “Find out if she intends to return to Baltimore, or if she is headed elsewhere,” Daniel said.

It had suddenly become very important to discover what precisely had become of the girl who had once vowed she would be his best friend even if she lived on the moon.