Master of His Fate: The gripping new Victorian epic from the author of A Woman of Substance

James Lionel, an ambitious young businessman on the rise.

Rosalind, known as Rossi, a seamstress.

Edward Albert, assistant to his father on the stalls.

Their daughter-in-law

Maude Falconer, Matthew’s wife and mother of his children; a seamstress.

THE VENABLES

Clarence Venables, Esther Falconer’s brother-in-law, great-uncle of James Falconer. Owner of a shipping company in Hull.

Marina Venables, Clarence’s wife and younger sister of Esther Falconer. Great-aunt of James Falconer. A noted artist.

Their children

William, eldest son and heir, working at the Hull shipping company.

Albert, second son, working at the Hull shipping company.

Their daughter-in-law

Anne Venables, Albert’s wife.

THE MALVERNS

Henry Ashton Malvern, owner of the Malvern Company, a big business enterprise and property company.

Alexis Malvern, his only child and heir; a partner in the business.

Joshua Malvern, Henry’s brother and business partner in London.

Percy Malvern, his cousin who runs the wine business in Le Havre.

THE TREVALIANS

Sebastian Trevalian, head of the Trevalian private bank.

His daughters

Claudia, his eldest daughter and heir.

Lavinia, a debutante.

Marietta, a debutante.

His sister

Dorothea Trevalian Rayburn, an art collector and member of the bank’s board.

His son-in-law

Cornelius Glendenning, Claudia’s husband, a banker.

THE CARPENTERS

Lord Reginald Carpenter, publishing tycoon and proprietor of The Chronicle.

Lady Jane Cadwalander Carpenter, his wife.

Their daughters

Jasmine, a debutante.

Lilah, a debutante.

PART ONE (#u4a2557b4-49ee-597d-953b-380be9a6d9ad)

ONE (#u4a2557b4-49ee-597d-953b-380be9a6d9ad)

James Lionel Falconer, commonly called Jimmy by everyone except his grandmother, was out of breath. He came to a sudden stop in the middle of the road going towards Camden Lock. The wheelbarrow he was pushing was heavy and grew heavier by the minute, at least so it seemed to him. He rested for a few seconds, leaning against the barrow, trying to catch his breath.

It was Thursday 12 June 1884, and last month, in late May, he had celebrated his fourteenth birthday. He felt very grown up now. After all, he had been working with his father at their stalls in Henry Malvern’s covered market in London’s Camden Town since he was eight. That was part-time until he was ten, when he began to go there every day. He loved the haggling, the negotiating, the wheeling and dealing about prices, just as much as his father did.

His father called him ‘my clever lad’, which pleased Jimmy. He admired his father, endeavoured to emulate him. Matthew Falconer, who was thirty-seven, dressed neatly to go to work, and so did Jimmy. His father never forgot to ask his regulars how members of their families were, and neither did Jimmy. It had been inculcated in him.

Even his grandmother, Esther Falconer, had noticed, since his early childhood, how he copied his father in most things. It frequently brought a smile to her face, and sometimes she even gave him a threepenny bit for being a good boy. She told him to save it for a rainy day. He did. He paid great attention to her.

Straightening, blowing out air, Jimmy picked up the two handles and started pushing the barrow once more. He walked at an even pace, knowing that this main road got a bit higher after it branched off on both sides.

He stayed on the main road, puffing a bit harder, perspiring; it was a warm day. He was almost at the market when he experienced a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest, and came to an abrupt stop, startled by the intensity of the pain.

Holding onto the handles of the barrow tightly, he kept himself upright even though he thought he might fall over anyway. Slowly, the pain subsided. He was still short of breath; sweat covered his face. He couldn’t imagine what was wrong with him. What had just happened?

‘Jimmy! Jimmy! Are you all right, lad?’

He recognized Mrs Greenwood’s voice and turned around. She was a neighbour, a cook who worked in a big house in a terrace near Regent’s Park.

‘I’m fine,’ he answered, and he did feel better. Whatever the pain had been about, it had gone away. He just felt a bit warm on this sunny day, and breathless.

When she arrived at his side, Mavis Greenwood peered at him intently, her warm, motherly face ringed with concern. ‘You stopped suddenly, and looked a bit odd. I can’t help thinking something is wrong.’

‘No, it isn’t. Not really. I just got out of breath and felt hot.’

She nodded. ‘Let’s not complain about the weather. It’s been raining cats and dogs for days.’

Jimmy laughed. He liked Mrs Greenwood. She often brought them some of her baked goods, as she called her marvellous concoctions, and he was especially partial to her gooseberry tart.