The Baker's Tale (17 page)

“And there is one more matter, sir. I am a bit shamed by the source of my knowledge, but I know with certainty the truth of which I speak.”

Edwin then told Mr. Joy about his study of Alexander Murd's ledgers and the payments that should not have been made.

“Last night, after returning from Lancashire, I took time to review my notes. There was reference to two earlier payments made to Samuel Shaw in the amount of three hundred pounds
each. I would expect that, before long, there will be another disbursement to Mr. Shaw.”

“From what you have told me,” Octavius Joy said, “I would be surprised if there were not.”

Mr. Joy adjusted his spectacles and, after a moment's pause, spoke.

“It is as difficult to stay a moral infection as a physical one. Greed spreads with the rapidity of the plague. Too often in the world of business, there are unlawful partnerships of convenience and mutual interest. All good ends can be worked out by good means. Any goal that cannot be so achieved should be left alone.

“I am familiar with Murd,” Mr. Joy continued. “I knew him casually when we shared membership in a club that I belonged to long ago. He is of a class of men that I do not admire. We have different visions of how the world should be. I believe in better things.”

Octavius Joy rose from his desk and paced back and forth in thought.

“I like to think of myself as a benevolent man,” he said at last. “But I am also stubborn. And I am greatly disturbed by what you tell me. Will you testify to these things in court if need be?”

“I will.”

“Give me time to think about these matters. Come back in two days. We will have breakfast together, and I will have a satisfactory answer for you. Almost always, greed overreaches itself.”

That night, Edwin was unable to sleep. He closed his eyes as if to coax himself to slumber, and tossed first on one side and then the other. After several hours of tumbling about, he concluded that it was of no use, rose from his bed, and walked about his quarters.

The quiet interval between night and morning arrived. Darkness grew pale and faded away, giving birth to another day. A
streak of light widened and spread over the horizon, turning the sky from grey to more vibrant colours.

Edwin walked about London alone with his thoughts for much of the day that followed. He was preparing dinner in his quarters that evening when I knocked on his door.

“We have received another letter from Ruby,” I told him. “It explains everything.”

CHAPTER
11

W
hen the Inland Office in Liverpool receives correspondence from a foreign country that is addressed to a recipient in London, it forwards the correspondence to the London Office.

London, in 1853, was divided into seventeen postal sections, then into subdivisions, and finally into districts. Once a letter arrived in a district, it was handed over to one of many carriers, who arranged it with other letters as he saw fit and delivered it on a walk.

I will always remember the emotions caused by the arrival of Ruby's first letter from America. But those feelings were trivial when compared to the emotions roused by the arrival of her second letter. Marie and I agreed that I should bring it immediately to Edwin.

Edwin took the letter from my hand and, with his own hands trembling, began to read. He had not gone far when his colour changed. To describe the look that passed over his face would
require a new language. He read slowly, hearing Ruby's voice in every word.

The cause of Ruby's flight was now fully understood. Edwin's anger over Murd's grotesque conduct toward her was no small matter. But it was miniscule when set against his sadness for Ruby's hardship. He saw now the sacrifice that she had made and the suffering that she had endured in what she believed was the service of his happiness.

He read the letter through several times.

“That I should love her is no wonder. But that she should love me . . .”

He put the letter to his lips and kissed it, then turned to me and asked, “May I keep this?”

“Certainly.”

Edwin folded the letter carefully and put it in his pocket.

“I am appointed to see Octavius Joy tomorrow,” he told me. “It is about another matter, but this will take precedence. Ruby's address is on the envelope. We know now where she is. Rest assured, I will spare no effort to ensure that she is brought home safely.”

The following morning, as planned, Edwin met with Mr. Joy. As the first order of business, he gave him Ruby's letter.

It would require a painter—and no common painter at that—to depict Octavius Joy's face as he read what had transpired. It is a wonder that the indignant flames flashing from his eyes did not melt his spectacles.

“It sets my whole blood on fire,” he said when the reading was done. “Murd has tampered cruelly with an innocent young woman, and he shall be called to account for it. We will deal with Ruby's well-being later today. But there is another matter that we must tend to first.

“I have set up a meeting with Murd,” Mr. Joy continued. “By letter that a messenger delivered yesterday, I requested to speak with him. He responded that I should visit him at his home at noon today. I doubt that his choice of venue is an expression of hospitality. Rather, he knows my views on matters of ethics and would prefer to keep me away from his business office. He is unaware of our relationship, but I would like you to come with me.”

Octavius Joy folded his spectacles into their case and put them in his pocket.

“Let us go see Mr. Murd. Once we are there, allow me to dictate the order of the conversation.”

A servant brought Edwin and Octavius Joy to Murd's study when they arrived at his home. Murd was seated at his desk, encased in the cold hard armour of his arrogance. He did not rise to shake hands, offering instead a nod of his head that rustled his stiff cravat.

He could not have been pleased to see Edwin with Mr. Joy.

“It has been many years since we were in each other's company,” Murd said to Octavius Joy, beginning the conversation. “I hope that you are well.”

“I am,” Mr. Joy answered.

Murd ignored Edwin and gestured for Octavius Joy to sit. Mr. Joy took a chair opposite the desk. Edwin sat beside him. He wondered if this was the chair in which Ruby had sat when Murd and Isabella crushed her heart.

“You asked for a meeting,” Murd began. “And I have obliged you.”

“I appreciate your finding time in your busy schedule to accommodate me. I believe that you know Mr. Chatfield.”

“I do. He was dismissed from my employ several days ago. I assume that this is not a social call, so let us dispense with pleasantries. What business brings you here?”

“I will be brief.”

“I am delighted to hear it. It will save us both the wear and tear of a long explanation.”

There was no anger in Octavius Joy's face. But his look was one of determination, and he spoke with an air of authority.

“I am concerned first with the operation of your mines.”

A modicum of concern flickered across Murd's face. His command of expression could not suppress it. He looked steadily at Mr. Joy, but did so as one is wont to do when he has doubts that what he is about to say will be fully accepted as truth.

“Your statement implies dishonour, and I reject it.”

But he seemed to shrink a bit from Octavius Joy's cold, hard eye.

“There are women and children working underground in your mines, some of them for as much as twelve hours a day. That clearly violates the law. Indeed, all of your miners labour under conditions that are unlawful.”

“Do not tell me how to run my business. It is mine, not yours.”

“The common welfare is my business.”

“Exquisitely noble,” Murd mocked. “My dear Mr. Joy. You are a wealthy man and deservedly held in high esteem by some of the less fortunate men and women of London. But I am the best judge of my own affairs. Do not be so audacious as to trifle with me.”

“I do not trifle. You know me better than that. I am also aware of a pattern of bribery that you have engaged in.”

Murd rose from his desk and crossed to the door to make certain that it was shut, then returned to his chair.

“I am not sure that I understand what you are saying.”

“I will put the case in a perfectly plain way,” Octavius Joy responded. “Illegal payments have been made to agents who contract on behalf of various entities such as hospitals and
schools for the purchase of your coal. Illegal payments have also been made to agents who represent the sellers of services that you buy and to certain judicial authorities. I will be more specific with regard to names, dates, and the amounts of payment at an appropriate time.”

For the first time since the meeting began, Murd looked at Edwin. Then he returned his attention to Octavius Joy.

“There are times, sir, when honest indignation will not be controlled. I do not know what child's tale Mr. Chatfield has told you. But if this is his plot to ruin me, I shall not sit idly by. I will tell you frankly that the reason for Mr. Chatfield's dismissal was the discovery of financial improprieties on his part.”

“I doubt that very much,” Mr. Joy replied. “I am sure that Mr. Chatfield brought credit to your company and, I dare say, improved your reputation.”

Murd cast as evil a glance at Edwin as could come from his dark eyes.

“And he made inappropriate advances toward my daughter, Isabella, in the hope of working his way up the ranks of society.”

Octavius Joy reached out and put a steadying hand on Edwin's shoulder.

“Later,” he told Edwin. Then he turned back to face Murd. “Let us proceed with the business at hand. I have stated my concerns. What is your response?”

“We are both men of business,” Murd said, seeking a common ground. “We need not publish our disagreements.”

“You and I are not alike.”

“All men are fortune hunters to one degree or another. The law, the church, the stock exchange, the royal drawing room, Parliament. They are all crowded with fortune hunters, jostling each other in the pursuit of gold. I have my opinion of you, and you
have your opinion of me. It is not necessary that our opinions collide at the present time.”

“I am giving you the opportunity to explain your conduct in a way that satisfies me that you had no intention of wrongdoing and have conducted yourself within the boundary of the law. If you are unable to do so, I will bring these matters to the attention of the authorities at the highest level.”

Murd put his hand to his throat and moved his neck from side to side as though his cravat were troubling him.

“This is a foolish game. Where is the good in it? Come, let us arrive at a settlement. Perhaps a generous contribution to your learning center.”

“I have no inclination to bargain with you. And since I advocate the interests of others, I do not have the right.”

“Come, we must make a treaty of this. The payments of which you speak were, at worst, lapses in arithmetic.”

“Lapses in judgment are more likely. I have seen much business done on sharp practices in my day. But this is a particularly unflattering and unlawful portrait.”

There was perspiration now on Murd's brow and an anxious look in his eyes. He turned and spoke directly to Edwin.

“There is no case without you. What sum of money will you set against your silence?”

“No amount is large enough,” Edwin answered. “You may read the Lord's Prayer backward if you wish. It will not change what you have done.”

Octavius Joy smiled. “You are accustomed to dealing with men who are for sale. This young man cannot be bought.”

“A word of reason, sir. This young man, as you call him, tried to extort money from me.”

Octavius Joy put his hand again on Edwin's shoulder.

“Perhaps you would like to respond to that allegation and speak to other matters.”

Edwin looked directly at Murd and chose his words carefully.

“I would not mind your hypocrisy half so much if you had done wrong only to me. I might even believe that you found justification in your mind for your exploitation of the miners on the thought that you are as immoral as you think you need be in matters of business. But there is more. We know now what you did to Miss Spriggs. The whole sordid scheme has been revealed.”

Murd sat silent.

“I wish to know, sir, whether you destroyed letters that were entrusted to you by Miss Spriggs and myself for delivery between us.”

Murd looked down with his eyes fixed on his desk.

“You have heard my question, sir. What answer do you make?”

There was more silence.

“Which chair did Miss Spriggs sit in when you tore her heart apart? Your cruelty is enough to embitter Heaven itself. I know your true character now, and I despise it.”

Now Murd heard Octavius Joy speaking.

“I have known Miss Spriggs since she was three years old, and I am exceedingly fond of her. No punishment that our laws provide is worthy of being set against the outrage that you perpetrated against her. I doubt you thought for even a moment what that innocent young woman's suffering would be.

“I have tried to separate in my mind your business dealing from your conduct toward Miss Spriggs,” Mr. Joy continued. “I have thought of what I would do if you took this course with regard to
our discussion of the mines. What remains now is for me to do it. I am not easily diverted from a task. When I say I will do a thing, I do it. There is truth and justice to be found in this matter. I will urge the authorities to find it.”

A touch of arrogance returned to Murd's face.

“My legal advisors, as they have done in the past, will prepare my defense against any charges that you make. I will fight you with every resource at my command. I am not a man to be taken lightly.”

“Nor am I, sir. Nor am I. You will find that my resolution is as hard as marble.”

Octavius Joy rose from his chair. Edwin followed his lead. There would be no handshake in parting. But one more matter remained to be addressed.

Edwin looked scornfully at Murd.

“I would be remiss, sir, if I did not say one thing more. There is a matter you alluded to earlier that I wish to discuss. I believe you suggested that I made inappropriate advances toward your daughter with an eye toward elevating myself through marriage.”

“That is correct.”

“It is not correct. It is false. Your daughter is an ungainly, stupid, unattractive beast. I view her with loathing and disgust, and have since I first set eyes upon her and heard her whining, unpleasant voice.”

“That is quite enough.”

“I will finish the thought. You and your daughter are the falsest, meanest, cruelest, most sordid, shameless creatures that crawl upon the face of the earth. You are supernaturally disagreeable and the most grotesque pairing of father and daughter that I can imagine.”

Murd ground his teeth together.

“The fertility of your mind in finding ways to insult me is astonishing.”

“I am not finished. There is more. The most abject poverty and most wretched condition of human life would be happiness compared to what I would endure were I to marry your daughter and have you—I gag at the thought—have you as my father-in-law.”

“The less we say, the better, I think.”

“No! The more we say, the better, I think. Of all the women on the face of the earth, your daughter is the last that I would choose to be with. I have not one wish or hope connected with her other than to never lay eyes on her again. Miss Spriggs may not be your daughter's equal in birth according to the customs of society. But she is worth a million of you and your odious, vile daughter and would remain so if she swept the streets for her daily bread while you and your daughter splashed mud upon her from the wheels of a chariot made of pure gold.”