Chapter One
Minnie breathed in the energy crackling in the wind as she stepped out of the carriage, her mother at her side. The Manchester docks bustled with activity as the salty sea air whipped a sense of freedom at her face, carrying with it the shouts of dock workers and the creaking of ships.
As much as she would have liked to have dallied and enjoyed the docks, her mother tugged her along, into the looming red brick building beneath the sign reading Hanson & Draper Shipping Co., welcoming them in.
Inside, the cavernous warehouse buzzed with activity, clerks scribbling furiously at their desks while laborers hauled crates to and fro.
Minnie's keen eyes darted around the commotion, taking in the towering shelves stacked high with goods from far-flung corners of the empire. Her father's business was thriving, a testament to his tireless work ethic and excellent choice in business partners.
Minnie had always been curious about the countries where those goods had originated, but as vast as her father’sshipping empire was, her own life had been relatively confined to Manchester and a few countryside retreats. It wasn’t the place that trapped her, however. It was the people – the same people, wanting the same things from her, day after day, suffocating her with their demands and expectations. It was why she had loved the new company she kept with Lily, Emmaline, and the football club. They appreciated her for who she was and not what she looked like or for her family connections.
“Now, just where is your father?” her mother said with a frown, craning her neck from one side to the other. “He said he would be waiting at the door of the warehouse for us to travel to dine together. We most likely should have waited in the carriage, but…”
But she had been too concerned with who might approach them if they had.
“I don’t mind,” Minnie murmured. “I like to see where he works, where all of the business is accomplished.”
“It is not that,” her mother said, eyeing her. “Do you not see the way the men are looking at you?”
“I hardly think men look at me anymore here than they do elsewhere,” Minnie said modestly as she looked at her mother. She had inherited her mother’s curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin, and rosy cheeks.
While she appreciated the gifts her mother constantly reminded her about, gifts her mother was convinced could help her find a husband above their station, Minnie considered them as much of a curse as a blessing, for it was seldom that any man cared about anything beyond her looks.
“But these aredock workers,” her mother hissed, and Minnie rolled her eyes.
“Trust me, Mother, that does not make them altogether different from any other men of my acquaintance.”
“Be that as it may, let us find your father’s office,” her mother said, looping her arm through Minnie’s andleading her across the warehouse floor. As they approached the office, raised voices caught Minnie’s attention.
A red-faced supplier was gesticulating wildly, his booming voice overpowering the flustered clerk attempting to placate him.
Minnie paused mid-step, her mother’s arm still looped through hers, as the argument carried across the warehouse floor.
“The shipment was due Tuesday,” the clerk stammered. “Mr. Draper said?—”
“I don’t give a fig for Draper’s schedule,” the portly, bearded supplier snapped. “I’ve my own customers clamouring for goods. You’ll take what I give, when I give it, or see your warehouses empty next month.”
The clerk swallowed hard, his fingers trembling over the ledger.
Minnie drew in a quiet breath, feeling her mother’s grip tighten in silent warning as she tried to tug Minnie toward her father’s office, for she anticipated Minnie’s reaction. She wasn’t going to stand around and listen to the kind-faced clerk being treated like this.
“Pardon the interruption,” Minnie said, pulling her arm out of her mother’s grasp, ignoring the barely disguised groan as she stepped forward, her voice carrying with unexpected authority. “But Mr. Draper’s schedule is what ensures your payment, is it not?”
The supplier blinked at her, frowning. “And who might you be, miss?”
“Minnie Draper.” She inclined her head and shot him what she knew was a disarming smile. “Mr. Draper’s daughter – and, today, his representative. Now, let us discuss how we can resolve this amicably.”
The supplier eyed her warily, but Minnie's confident demeanor gave him pause. With a curt nod, he followedher to a nearby table and reluctantly began to negotiate. Minnie’s mind raced as she made sense of the supply and demand in this instance. Slowly, with her practical suggestions, the man calmed and eventually agreed to her proposition, which was not so different from the original terms of the agreement.
A grudging smile had replaced his scowl. "You drive a hard bargain, Miss Draper," he conceded, inclining his head toward her. "But a fair one. We have a deal."
Minnie watched him walk away with a triumphant gleam in her eye. As the supplier took his leave, she turned to find her father watching her, arms crossed over his chest, a mixture of pride and concern on his face.
"Minnie, my dear, that was... remarkable," he said, shaking his head in wonder. "You have a gift, although I would prefer that you use that gift in negotiations less… transactional."
Even as he praised her skills, Minnie could sense the unspoken reservation in his tone and prepared herself for the chastisement to come during the luncheon – that she was meant to be seen and not heard. No matter her talents, her ultimate fate was to be a wife and mother, not a businesswoman in her own right.
Her father was leading them along the docks toward the waiting carriage when her ears perked up. Was that group of men discussing Manchester Central? It wouldn’t be unheard of, not with football growing in popularity among all the classes, but Minnie herself had picked up a new interest in the club after her friends had become so involved. She slowed her step as she tried to listen.
