The Master of Liversedge

by Ley, Alice Chetwynd

  ‘No doubt about it, that girl of mine’s a flirt. She likes men, and makes no bones about collecting a host of admirers wherever she goes. Means nothing by it, of course,’ he said meaningly. ‘Just a game; like lottery tickets — only not so tame.’

  Arkwright nodded, realizing that this unusual burst of confidence was not without purpose.

  ‘Tell you the truth, that’s why I brought her here,’ continued the Colonel. ‘Don’t trust that Foster woman — like to keep an eye on the chit myself.’

  ‘And does Miss Grey like being in Halifax?’ asked Arkwright, politely, refusing to be drawn.

  The Colonel shook his head. ‘Doesn’t think it a patch on York. She wouldn’t, of course. Plenty going on there; balls, assemblies, masquerades — anything you can think of — plenty of beaux, too, and gossiping females. Lord, she carried on alarmingly about how she’d miss it all, when first I told her she was to come here with me for a few months.’

  ‘Yet even in Halifax one needn’t live quite like a recluse, Colonel Grey.’

  ‘No fear of Lucy doing that anywhere. However, that’s not what I came to see you about. Are you aware, Arkwright, that there’s disaffection in your own mill?’

  ‘Disaffection, sir?’

  The Colonel nodded. ‘I had a report today from the intelligence agent stationed in your mill. It seems some of your men go over to Jackson’s workshop to hear this young whatsisname — the clergyman’s son? — reading aloud from the Leeds Mercury.’

  ‘Oh, that!’ Arkwright’s frown cleared. ‘My overseer has mentioned to me that one or two of the men do go to these readings — but I’d scarcely call that disaffection, Colonel.’

  ‘Then what would you call it, eh?’ asked the Colonel, sharply. ‘We all know what a damned seditious rag that journal is. It carries full and lurid accounts of successful Luddite activity in other parts of the country. Personally, I am of the opinion that it’s bound to incite its readers to similar acts of violence.’

  ‘Perhaps it might affect some in that way. But not my men, that I’ll wager. I dare say it’s curiosity that takes them over there, and nothing more sinister. You must understand, sir, that most of these men — and their fathers before them — have worked for my family as long as the Arkwrights have been in the textile business.’

  ‘Do you know the names of those who go?’

  ‘No, but I’m certain Nick Bradley will.’ He paused. ‘Do you wish to know their names, Colonel?’

  ‘No need for that — I have them here.’ Colonel Grey drew a paper from his pocket, and unfolded it. ‘Jonas Crowther and John Hirst are occasional visitors to the readings. The most frequent is a man named Samuel Hartley.’

  ‘Hartley.’ Arkwright frowned. ‘Yes, Nick told me that he was one who protested at the time when I took the spy McDonald into the mill. That says nothing, of course. Any man might resent the employment of one from what the workmen would consider foreign parts — especially as I had only just been obliged to turn off several local fellows through a depression in trade.’

  ‘I imagine,’ said Colonel Grey, with the hint of a sneer, ‘that you are master in your own manufactory, and may do as you please without accounting for it to your labourers.’

  ‘You would be in the right of it, Colonel. And yet — they have a point of view.’

  The Colonel coughed. ‘May I suggest that you bear those names in mind, nevertheless? And now — what about this crank who gives the readings? What can you tell me about him?’

  ‘Young John Booth?’ replied Arkwright, thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I suppose you could call him a crank — he’s only nineteen, but he’s very much taken up with the doctrines of Robert Owen.’

  ‘Of whom?’

  ‘Robert Owen — a manufacturer in Scotland who believes in education for the workers, among other things.’

  ‘Good God! I tell you, Arkwright, it’s no wonder we have all this trouble with the labouring classes, when there are so many cranks about who seem set on giving them ideas above their station in life. Is this fellow Booth a practising Luddite, do you suppose?’

  Arkwright laughed shortly. ‘Most unlikely! If you knew him you’d realize that he was the last to have any stomach for violence — when he was younger, he’s taken many a thrashing from other lads for refusing to join in the more full-blooded forms of sport. He’s as sensitive as a girl.’

  ‘Then it should be simple enough to influence him, and get a stop put to this business. I wonder at his father for permitting it — a man in holy orders cannot be anxious to see his son hobnobbing with labourers.’

  ‘That’s because you don’t know the Reverend’s own story. He was once a cropper himself; the Vicar of Huddersfield happened to notice his scholarly disposition, and helped him to become ordained.’

  ‘Good God!’ exclaimed the Colonel, again. ‘One does at least expect the clergy — ’

  He stopped, aware of being perilously close to a breach of civility.

  Arkwright gave a dry smile. ‘I fear we’re a rough lot in the north, Colonel Grey — not a true-blooded gentleman among us.’

  The Colonel began a halting reply; but it was drowned by a sudden outbreak of noise from outside the house.

  Arkwright jumped to his feet, and strode across to the windows, which looked on to the drive. Unfastening the shutters, he drew them back and stood peering into the darkness outside. After a moment, the Colonel joined him.

  They both turned from the window with a start as the door of the library was wrenched open, and a dishevelled figure lurched into the room without ceremony.

  Arkwright strode forward with a startled oath. ‘Nick! Lord man, what ails you? Is all safely managed? Well, speak out, can’t you?’

  For a moment, Bradley struggled to obey; then he shook his head. His whole attitude was one of dejection.

  ‘What’s amiss?’ repeated his master, sharply. ‘For God’s sake, if there’s anything wrong, out with it!’

  ‘There’s nowt reight, lad,’ Nick Bradley found his voice at last, hoarse and shaking. ‘T’ machines is all finished — smashed to pieces by them damned Ludds — and poor ol’ Ben Turner’s finished, too, God rest ’im.’

  FOUR: A WARNING

  ‘Good morning, Miss Lister. I trust you slept well? Please be seated.’

  Mary returned the greeting, but did not bother to answer the question. Four years as a governess had taught her that employers did not really wish to know how you did, or how you slept. She slipped into the chair which Mr. Arkwright indicated, and sat facing him across the desk. She reflected that he was grimmer of aspect than she had remembered from their first meeting: the dark eyes had a steely look, and his mouth and jaw were set as though his teeth were tightly clenched. She was conscious that she herself was not appearing at her best. The mirror in her bedchamber had reflected a pair of dark-ringed brown eyes and an unusually pale face.

  The man glanced keenly at her. ‘I see that you did not,’ he said, abruptly. ‘Perhaps it would be surprising to find that you had been able to enjoy a good night’s rest after your experiences of last night.’

  An involuntary shudder shook her. ‘No, I must confess that I slept very ill, sir.’

  ‘I am sorry.’ His tone expressed no sympathy. ‘You will, of course, be excused from your duties for a day or two, so that you may recover from the shock you’ve suffered.’

  ‘Thank you, sir, but that will not be necessary.’ Mary’s tone was low, but firm. ‘I should prefer to begin at once, if you please.’

  The black brows shot up, and he nodded, as though in approval.

  ‘Just so — although I must say that you look in remarkably little case for it. Instead, I suggest that you spend today and tomorrow with your relatives, and return here to take up your duties on Monday morning.’

  ‘If that is what you wish — ’

  ‘It is. I sent a message last night to your uncle, telling him of your safe arrival and that you would be with him at some time this morning. So that is se
ttled. And now I have some questions to ask you, Miss Lister. I’m afraid I must take you back over the events of last night, painful though it may be to you.’ He leaned forward in his chair. ‘Can you help me at all in identifying any of the men who took part in this attack?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Think carefully, ma’am. Anything may help — a mannerism, a tone of voice — ’

  ‘I don’t think you quite understand, Mr. Arkwright. I was asleep when the attack began, concealed in the back of one of the waggons. As soon as I realized what was happening. I ran away. I heard a fearful uproar — shouting and hammering — but I saw no one at all.’

  ‘Are you telling me that no one noticed you, or tried to stop you?’

  She nodded. ‘They attacked the leading vehicle first, and I was in the second one. By the time they must have reached it, I was safely hidden in the trees. I’m sorry — I can’t help you at all, sir, for I never caught sight of the attackers.’

  ‘Then how did you know what all the noise was about?’

  ‘Something that your man — Nick Bradley, I think he’s called — something he said to me before we started on our journey. He told me that great secrecy was necessary, because if the Luddites knew what his cargo was, they would try to destroy it.’

  ‘He did, did he? It’s a pity he couldn’t hold his tongue. No doubt those d — ’ he paused — ‘those scoundrels found out about the business in just that kind of way — through someone talking out of turn. I’d have given Nick credit for more sense. He’s been with my family all his life — he’s my overseer in the mill.’

  ‘Please don’t be vexed with him.’ She leaned forward, her brown eyes soft with pleading. ‘He was so kind — and I was tired, hungry, and would have been stranded in Huddersfield until the next day, without his help. I am sure you wouldn’t wish him to suffer for yielding to a kindly impulse.’

  ‘Are you, Miss Lister?’ he said, in a dry tone. ‘But then, you don’t know me very well, yet, do you?’

  She studied his expression for a moment, unsure of her ground.

  ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But I have no reason to suppose that you would do anyone an injustice.’

  ‘Let me tell you, ma’am,’ he said forcibly, ‘that I am prepared to ignore a good many high-sounding principles to find the men who smashed my machines and murdered poor Turner. You may not have thought of it, but he leaves a wife and family without a breadwinner.’

  Mary made an inarticulate sound. Once again, she saw the tragic scene of yesterday in vivid recollection.

  ‘As for the machines,’ he continued, pushing back his chair and beginning to stride about the room, ‘they were bought with God knows how many sacrifices on the part of my family and myself, and would eventually have brought prosperity to the neighbourhood — if only those poor fools could see it. Fools, did I say? Lunatics — murderers — mad dogs who must be shot before they infect others with their madness!’

  His tone was now so ferocious, and his look so forbidding, that she flinched involuntarily. He noticed it, and came back to his seat opposite her.

  ‘Very well,’ he said, in a quieter tone. ‘I’ve no wish to alarm you, and you need have no fears for Nick. He’s the one man I know I can trust of them all. But I must give you a warning, all the same, Miss Lister.’

  She started. ‘I, sir? What have I done?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not you. The warning is for your cousin, John Booth. How long is it since you last saw him?’

  An apprehensive look came into her face. ‘Two years, I believe. Why, Mr. Arkwright? You do not — surely you cannot think that he is in any way concerned with this?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He frowned, and was silent for a few moments. ‘Yesterday, I would have said that he is the last person to become involved with the Luddites — a gentle, sensitive boy with no more stomach for violence than a girl! But now — I’m not sure, and I’m taking no risks.’

  ‘There was something Nick Bradley told me about John,’ Mary said, hesitantly. ‘I didn’t understand it at the time — something about reading a newspaper — ’

  ‘Yes. That’s it — he’s in the habit of reading aloud to a number of workmen who gather on a Saturday at one of the local workshops. The newspaper’s the Leeds Mercury, and it carries full reports of Luddite activities. One or two of my own men go there, I know, but I thought no harm of that — until now.’

  ‘But I’m sure John would do nothing to hurt anyone,’ put in Mary, quickly. ‘As you say yourself, he is gentle and feels things so deeply — if anything, he feels too much for others. He can’t have changed so greatly since last I saw him that he is prepared to encourage violence such as I saw yesterday’ She paused, and again she shuddered — ‘Indeed he can’t. You must believe that, Mr. Arkwright — you must!’

  She raised her voice on the last few sentences; her pale cheeks were flushed. For a moment, his glance lost some of its steely indifference.

  ‘Your loyalty is very natural, and does you credit,’ he said, with more feeling than he had shown so far. ‘But do not forget, ma’am, that kind-hearted people can sometimes be worked upon by unscrupulous ones to further their own dishonourable ends. Their very humanity make them susceptible.’

  ‘That’s possible,’ she replied, slowly. ‘It’s more likely than that John has turned Luddite. He always had notions of trying to better the lot of the working people — ’

  ‘Maybe he’s not the only one, Miss Lister, though some of us haven’t our heads stuck in Cloudland, as he evidently has. If he wants to better the lot of the workers, then he should see that they understand the benefits this new machinery can bring — more trade, more work, more money in their pockets! It’s a long term plan, of course — and like to be longer, if the muttonheads persist in this obstructive policy of machine-breaking.’

  She hesitated for a moment, then looked up at him with a puzzled expression.

  ‘Try as I will, I cannot really understand what all this is about,’ she confessed. ‘As you may remember, my home is in a country town, and there we have no such troubles. I’ve heard vague talk, of course, of the Luddites, and how they go about breaking the new machines which are being used in the textile trade; but I am not at all clear as to the reasons — ’

  ‘That part of it’s simple,’ he said, interrupting her with a gesture of impatience. ‘The men hereabouts are mostly croppers — that’s to say, they are concerned with one of the finishing processes in the making of cloth. Their business is to cut the nap off the cloth, and for this purpose they use a huge pair of shears. You will not be here long, ma’am, without noticing the callous which every cropper bears on his right hand — a trade mark of his craft.’ He broke off, and looked inquiringly at her. ‘You may have noticed it already, in Nick Bradley?’

  ‘No, I don’t think — wait, though; yes, now that you mention it, I did. It was after he had lifted me into the waggon. I wondered at the time how he had come to have such a nasty mark — it looked painful.’

  ‘Not nowadays, though it is always painful to acquire. But to return to your question — these machines are capable of working several pairs of shears at once and at greater speed than the most experienced cropper can manage. Only one man — nay, a boy — is needed to tend the machine, which does the work of four men.’

  ‘So that means, sir,’ said Mary, her eyes on his face, ‘that every machine you install in your mill will replace three workers.’

  He nodded. ‘Just so — oh, I know that there are bound to be hardships at first! But later, when the machines are helping manufacturers to produce a greater quantity of cloth in a shorter time than formerly, when our export trade isn’t crippled by the present war — a great trade boom will come, you mark my words! Why, it isn’t difficult to foresee a time when machinery will take all the drudgery out of the textile trade, and leave the workers leisure such as is only enjoyed now by the wealthy.’

  A great change came over his face during this speech; the da
rk eyes kindled with enthusiasm, and his mouth lost its grimness. Mary Lister realized with surprise, that her employer was, after all, a handsome man: such a thought had never before entered her head. His animation encouraged her to answer him more freely than she might otherwise have done.

  ‘But in the meantime, Mr. Arkwright, they will be without work and consequently without money. How will they contrive a living?’

  He shook his head, and the light died out of his eyes.

  ‘I don’t know — I tell you I can’t find all the answers. What I do know is that my own course is clear. Man finds new ways of achieving his ends, and we must march with the times. The machinery will be a benefit to both master and men — but when we make changes in human affairs there must always be a period of transition which will be uncomfortable for some.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mary slowly. ‘Perhaps that is so. But I do see now why they smash the machines that take away their bread; I think I see, too, why John — ’

  She stopped abruptly, afraid of saying too much.

  ‘I cannot be sure what his part in this affair may be,’ he interrupted, his mouth taking on its former grim line, ‘but I have spoken to you thus freely in the hope that you will use any influence you may possess over him. Try to show him something of my ultimate purpose; tell him he’ll do better to educate the croppers in the notion that these machines will one day bring real prosperity to the West Riding.’

  ‘You have not spoken to him yourself, sir?’ she asked, hesitantly.

  ‘Until today, I never took his activities seriously,’ he replied, frowning. ‘Well, perhaps that was my error.’ He broke off, and looked her over appraisingly; without offence, but in a way which brought a faint blush to her cheek. ‘I imagine he will yield to your persuasions more readily than to mine — in any event, I should most likely lose my temper with him. See what you can do.’

  ‘I will certainly try, though I don’t know yet that he is in any way to blame,’ Mary said, slightly on the defensive.