The Iron Road Read Online Free Page B

hat, he saw a massive embankment of dark earth lying like a giant scab across the undulating hillside. It lay about half a mile away beyond the flags marking the boundary of the works and the scattered debris of felled trees.
    How could the directors expect anyone to condone this wanton desecration? No wonder the chairman had preferred to send him to explain the problems to Sir Gerald. Still, much of his reputation had been built on his ability to redeem apparently irreparable situations. How else, at twenty-seven, would he have gained such a wealth of experience? He was going to need every bit of it. Instinct told him the battles hadn’t even started.
    A little further on, James caught his first glimpse of Trewan. A handsome country house built in the Georgian style, it had wide shallow steps leading up to a white-pillared porch. New tendrils of Virginia creeper had begun their annual pilgrimage across the stone frontage and around the side. Tidy lawns edged the gravel drive, and he could see the roofs of several outbuildings tucked away behind neatly boxed hedges.
    Dismounting, he handed the reins to a stableman with skin like seamed leather and legs so bowed he rocked from side to side as he led the animal away.
    Removing his hat and gloves, James tugged the bronze bell-pull. While he waited for someone to come he glanced around. Porches were usually a haven for spiders, cobwebs, and dead leaves. This one was spotless. Nor was there any trace of dried mud on the boot scraper beside the bottom step, and the wide sweep of granite chips in front of the house had been freshly raked. Sir Gerald Radclyff maintained high standards. Little wonder the directors preferred to delegate their excuse-making to someone else.
    The glossy black front door opened and a butler, portly in striped trousers and cutaway coat, raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘Sir?’
    ‘Good afternoon. My name is James Santana. I’m the Railway Company’s newly appointed engineer. Would you ask Sir Gerald if he could spare me a few minutes?’
    The butler stepped back, both bow and expression a perfectly judged blend of civility and aloofness. James bit back a smile. ‘If you’ll step inside, sir, I’ll see if Sir Gerald is available.’
    The spacious hall smelled faintly of beeswax and lavender. On twin marble plinths, matching porcelain vases were filled with dried Rowers and grasses. A red lacquered cabinet inlaid with ivory stood between two panelled doors. And around the edges of a Chinese car-pet dark wood gleamed with the rich patina of age and polish.
    After showing him into a drawing-room the butler withdrew, closing the door quietly. Sunshine poured in through tall windows framed by moss-green drapes looped back by gold and green braided silk with tassels. James swiftly scanned the room. A man’s possessions frequently revealed more of his character than he might choose to volunteer. The paintings, the delicate statues, the glass-fronted cabinet containing exquisite porcelain, and the Louis XIV furniture reflected the tastes of a connoisseur.
    Wandering across to the nearest window James looked out. The earthworks scarring the landscape were clearly visible. Yet what had Sir Gerald expected? Building a railway meant altering geography.
    Hills had to be demolished, tunnelled under, or cut through; valleys bridged or filled in, swamps drained, inclines levelled. It was a colossal undertaking. As well as having received a very good price for his land, no doubt Sir Gerald would be only too pleased to adopt a mode of travel faster, more convenient, and certainly more comfortable than any horse-drawn carriage. Progress meant change. A certain loss of privacy and a restructured view were small prices to pay.
    Hearing the door open behind him, James turned, his mouth already stretching into the practiced smile that tempered confident professionalism with courtesy.
    ‘Mr Santana, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.’ She was young, no more than