been read out before the congregation. Had his own banns been published, the phrase would have unsettled Colbeck even more because of the secret he’d nursed for so many years. Helen Millington was his impediment. Until she was laid to rest, he could never give himself wholly and exclusively to Madeleine Andrews. The only way he could finally reconcile himself to her death was by catching Jeremy Oxley.
It had been a despicable murder. Colbeck had been shaken rigid when he read the details of the post- mortem. He was a young and impressionable barrister at the time, not a hardened detective who’d learnt to look on hideous sights without flinching. The manner of Helen’s death was almost as horrid as the fact of it. Such was the searing effect on him that Colbeck had abruptly changed direction in life so that he could begin the hunt for Oxley. Equally keen to arrest Irene Adnam, he was struck by the power of love to induce blindness. Irene was so entranced by Oxley that she did not apprehend his true character. Had she been aware of what he did to Helen Millington before he killed her, she would have shunned his company in disgust.
Colbeck had a contract with the shipping line, but a far more important one with Madeleine Andrews existed. It would bind him for life. He had to remove the impediment to their marriage and return to her as a free man with no ghosts to keep them apart. As he thought about Madeleine now, he felt an upsurge of love for her that flooded through his entire body and left him exhilarated. It was an elation that had to be suppressed until the proper moment for release. Helen Millington had to be his sole inspiration for the time being. Once her unquiet spirit had been appeased, there would be a blissful future with Madeleine Andrews.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The suddenness of their departure from England had given them no time at all to plan for their future in a new country. That had troubled Irene deeply at first. She soon came to see that there was no need for alarm. Long weeks at sea gave them plenty of opportunity to discuss what they were going to do once they reached New York. Oxley was quick to realise that, if they befriended the right passengers, there was a fund of valuable information accessible to them. The voyage therefore became an exercise in collecting facts.
‘Ours is a great country,’ said Herschel Finn, expansively. ‘It rewards hard work and wise investment. If he has the right qualities, any man can succeed in America.’
‘That’s not true of England, alas,’ complained Oxley. ‘Family determines everything there. If you’re born into the aristocracy, you can lead a life of idle luxury. If you’re the child of a poor family, the chances are that you’ll remain in poverty for ever.’
‘It’s the main reason my father emigrated – not that he was exactly poor, mark you. His family ran a grocer’s shop in Leicester and, in the fullness of time, he would have inherited it. But he felt that there was more to life than serving bags of sugar and jars of pickled onions to his neighbours. So,’ said Finn, proudly, ‘he saved up his money and took ship to America.’
‘How old was he at the time?’ asked Irene.
‘He was barely twenty-one.’
‘That was very brave of him.’
‘My father was a brave man, Irene. He knew it would take time to fulfil his ambitions and he knew there’d be lean years beforehand. So he gritted his teeth and bent his back. And when the opening finally came,’ said Finn, snapping his fingers, ‘he seized it and moved into the textile business.’
‘It’s an inspiring story, Herschel,’ said Oxley.
‘It’s a typical
They’d liked Herschel Finn and his wife from the outset and it was only days before all four of them were on first-name terms. Finn was the owner of a cotton mill in Beverly, Massachusetts and of a wool carding mill in Blackstone River Valley in the same state. Wealth had given him a confidence that never even approached brashness. He was a man of medium height and average build who’d kept his hair its original colour and who carried his fifty years lightly. His wife, Libby, was a short, round, genial woman with a chubby face and dimpled cheeks. She seemed to exude benevolence. Hearing that their new friends were about to settle in America, the Finns had taken Oxley and Irene under their wing.
‘When you find your feet,’ offered Finn, beaming hospitably, ‘you must come and stay with us.’
‘Yes,’ added Libby, squeezing Irene’s arm, ‘we’d be delighted to have you folks as our guests.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Irene.
‘We may well take you up on that invitation,’ warned Oxley.
Finn chuckled. ‘We’ll insist on it, Rober.’
The four of them were in the saloon, relaxing in upholstered chairs and enjoying each others’ company. The Finns had visited England so that Herschel could make contact with his surviving relatives and so that he could visit a number of textile factories to see if there were any technical improvements that he could adapt for use in his own mills. At both an emotional and business level, the visit had been highly successful but it had reminded Finn why he could not possibly live in the country that his father had left behind.
‘To begin with,’ he said, ‘we speak a different language.’
Oxley shrugged. ‘The words sound the same to me.’
‘But they don’t
‘You and Libby are perfect examples of that. Here we are, chatting happily away on the strength of a very short acquaintance. You’ve both been so wonderfully open. To reach this degree of familiarity with any English passengers,’ said Oxley, glancing around the saloon, ‘would take years. Isn’t that so, Irene?’
‘I’d have said decades,’ she put in.
Their collective laughter was interrupted by the arrival of a steward. When they’d ordered refreshments, he went off with a tray under his arm. Conversation was resumed. Irene had marvelled at the way that Oxley had selected the Finns out of all the other passengers and made sure that he got to know them early on. In fact, however, it was Irene who helped to consolidate the friendship. Hearing that Finn owned textile mills, she immediately promoted her father to the board of directors of the Manchester mill from which he’d actually been sacked. Unknown to Silas Adnam, he was rescued from the abiding squalor of Deansgate to occupy an elevated position in British textile manufacture. Irene was even able to talk about visits she’d made to the mill when she was a child.
‘So,’ said Finn, becoming practical, ‘what are you folks going to do the moment you arrive in New York?’
‘From what you’ve been telling us about it,’ replied Oxley, ‘I think we’ll just stand around open-mouthed in awe. We’ll be the country cousins visiting the big city.’
‘You’ll need somewhere to stay.’
‘Can you recommend anywhere?’
‘Sure I can, Robert.’
‘Thank you – we’d be very grateful.’
‘What about that hotel where we stay, Herschel?’ said Libby.
‘That’s one possibility,’ agreed her husband, ‘but there are plenty of others. Robert and Irene can take their pick.’
‘Money is no problem,’ said Oxley, easily.
‘Then that makes the choice much easier. New York is a city of neighbourhoods. Some are safe, others are dangerous and others again are nothing but urban jungles with gangs roaming through them. For instance, you don’t want to go anywhere near Five Points. That’s completely lawless. Like London, I guess, there are places where crime just thrives.’
‘It’s the same in Manchester,’ said Irene, thinking of her father’s lodging. ‘There are some districts where a woman would never dare venture out alone.’
‘That’s shameful,’ opined Libby.
‘It’s the fault of our police,’ said Oxley, righteously. ‘There simply aren’t enough of them to keep major centres of population under control. We have far too many places where there’s no respect at all for law and
