dwin Fairley’s face was grim and there was a cold anger in his eyes as he said, ‘You put the noose around your neck all by yourself, Gerald. There is absolutely nothing I can do to help you.’

Gerald gaped at his brother in stupefaction. His sly black eyes, narrowing in the bloated face, appeared smaller and more evil than ever. ‘Are you telling me that Procter and Procter are really within their legal rights? That they can take over the mills just like that?’ he asked fearfully.

‘Yes, I’m afraid I am, Gerald. A noncontestable note is just that—noncontestable. And since you attached the deeds as collateral you don’t have a leg to stand on if you can’t pay off the note. That was most foolhardy. Why did you do it?’

‘I needed the money,’ Gerald muttered, unable to meet Edwin’s direct stare.

‘To pay off your blasted gambling debts! I know that. I mean, why did you hand over the deeds to the mills without seeking legal advice first? If not from me, at least from the family solicitor.’

‘There would have been no point to that. I needed the money desperately. I had nowhere else to go and those were the only terms acceptable to Proctor and Procter. My talking to the family solicitor wouldn’t have changed their minds. I had no option, and anyway I thought Alan would be reasonable. Give me time to repay the loan.’ A bitter look slid on to Gerald’s face. ‘As it is, Alan Procter has turned on me. He’s a bloody thief! He’s stolen my mills!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Gerald,’ Edwin countered impatiently, staggered at his brother’s lack of business acumen. ‘Alan hasn’t stolen the mills. You handed them to him on a plate. I’m appalled by your lack of foresight. Furthermore, from what you have just told me, Alan has been very understanding. The note was for six months. It’s been extended three times, for an additional period of eight months all together. I would say he has been exceptionally considerate under the circumstances. After all, it was a company loan. Alan has a board of directors to answer to.’

Gerald dropped his head in his hands, overcome as always by self-pity. After a few minutes he looked up and said in a demanding voice, ‘You have to lend me the money, Edwin.’

Edwin sat bolt upright on the Chesterfield and stared at Gerald in amazement. ‘Are you joking! I don’t have two hundred thousand pounds, plus the interest due. You must be mad to think I do.’

‘Father left you a trust, Edwin. You must have it. You don’t want to help me out of a jam,’ Gerald whined.

‘The income from my trust is meagre and you know it!’ Edwin cried, infuriated. ‘Father lived lavishly all of his life and spent lavishly, particularly after he married Aunt Olivia. What he left me was negligible compared to what you received, and you’ve thrown most of it down the drain.’ Edwin glared at Gerald with disdain. He then said, ‘Besides, as little as it is, I need the income from the trust. I have a wife and son to provide for and a household to maintain.’

‘But you’re doing well in your law practice—’

‘Yes, but not well enough to support your bad habits!’ Edwin snapped peremptorily.

‘Father left you the majority of his shares in the Yorkshire Morning Gazette. You could borrow against them,’ Gerald said, scowling at his brother.

‘I could, but I have no intentions of doing so. I promised Father I would hold on to them and take an active interest in the newspaper and I will not renege on my promise,’ Edwin responded with firmness. ‘I can’t understand how you could get yourself into such a predicament—’

‘Don’t start giving me another bloody lecture!’ Gerald shouted, lumbering out of the chair. He began to pace up and down the library, his cringing fear palpable.

He is a coward and a fool, Edwin thought, scrutinizing his brother. Gerald’s gluttony had only increased over the years and he was now elephantine and gross in his ugliness, and the dissipation of his life was revealed on his ravaged face. To Edwin, Gerald appeared obscene and he looked away in revulsion.

Gerald plodded over to the black-walnut chest and poured himself a large neat whiskey. ‘I don’t suppose you want a drink, do you?’ he mumbled without looking around.

‘No, thank you,’ Edwin snapped. ‘I have to be going.’

Seating himself opposite Edwin, Gerald pinned his crafty eyes on him. ‘You believe yourself to be the brain in the family, so you tell me what to do, brother,’ he said scornfully.

‘Listen to me, Gerald. Things could be worse for you. After all, you still own the mill here in Fairley and the brickyard. I suggest you tighten your belt, cut down on personal expenditures, stop gambling, and retrench in every way. Devote your attention to the one mill you still have. I don’t know much about the woollen business, but only a fool could fail to realize the cloth trade is booming. Actually, I don’t understand why the Fairley mill isn’t going better. Surely you can turn it around.’

Always full of self-justification, Gerald countered in a defensive tone, ‘Things are different than they were in Father’s day. You don’t know the burdens I have to carry. There’s a hell of a lot more competition now, Edwin. Thompson’s makes the same cloth as us and they’ve swiped many of my customers of late. So has your bloody Emma Harte. She owns Layton’s mill, in case you didn’t know, and she’s giving me a run for my money as well. If the truth be known, she helped to ruin me. My problems started when she stole Ben Andrews and some of the best workers away from Thompson’s in 1914.’ Gerald’s voice echoed with invective as he declared, ‘Yes, your bloody whore has been a thorn in my side for a long time. The bloody little whoring bitch. She’s—’

‘Don’t let me hear you call Emma a whore ever again! Do you hear me, you filthy bastard!’ Edwin cried, clenching his hands and leaning forward threateningly. His face had whitened and his eyes blazed.

Gerald grinned derisively. ‘Still carrying the torch for the servant girl, eh, Edwin? Whatever would the Lady Jane say if she knew you had an itch in your crotch for that bit of working-class—’

‘That’s enough, you rotten swine!’ Edwin shouted, springing up. It took all of his self-control to restrain himself from hitting Gerald in the face. ‘I drove over to Fairley with the best of intentions, hoping to help you with legal advice. I did not come to listen to your obscenities about Emma,’ he said furiously. He glowered at Gerald and his contempt was so clearly written on his face Gerald shrank back in the chair. Edwin went on, ‘I happen to be very proud of Emma. She’s made something of herself and she’s a damned sight better than you. You—you—piece of scum!’ Edwin stepped away from his brother abruptly, conscious that he was prepared to inflict bodily damage on him if further provoked. ‘Goodbye. You won’t be seeing me for a long time.’

Gerald taunted, ‘You’re too transparent, Edwin. So Emma Harte’s in your blood, is she? My, my my! She must have something sweet between her legs to hold your interest all these years. Tried to make it with her myself once when I found her living in Armley—’

‘You did what!’ Edwin, who was halfway to the door, spun around and shot across the library. He lept at Gerald, clutched his lapels, and shook him fiercely, his rage exploding. ‘If you so much as rest your eyes on Emma I will kill you! Kill you! I swear to God I will!’ Edwin’s face, so close to his brother’s, was twisted with a mixture of loathing and deadly intent, and this registered forcibly with Gerald, who flinched, suddenly afraid.

Edwin let go of Gerald’s lapels and wiped his hands on his trouser legs with the utmost distaste, his lip curling. ‘I don’t want to soil myself by touching you,’ he hissed. ‘You are a foul specimen of humanity! You are contemptible!’ He turned on his heel and walked out, his limbs shaking, his head spinning with unbridled hatred and disgust.