‘It would do no good,’ she replied sadly.
‘How do you know?’ he countered. ‘I suppose I am right in thinking that it is something that concerns my household — myself, perhaps?’
She nodded slowly. ‘In a way, yes.’
‘Then tell me,’ he urged.
She shook her head. ‘You would not want to know. It might even — ’
‘Might even — what?’ He placed his hands upon her elbows again, and looked earnestly into her face. ‘Are you afraid of me, lass?’ he asked gently. ‘You needn’t be, you know — I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.’
Again their eyes met, and this time it was Mary who felt a faint stirring of some indefinable emotion. She pushed it quickly away, her mind too taken up with thoughts of Sam Hartley’s predicament and her cousin’s sense of guilt. Should she speak? Was it possible that in his new, gentler mood, Mr. Arkwright might be worked upon to give Sam back his place in the mill? Could she succeed where John had failed, and bring comfort both to Hartley’s family and her cousin? She made up her mind in an instant.
‘I will tell you,’ she said, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice. ‘In a way, it does concern you, though you have not done me any injury. It — it’s about Sam.’
‘Sam?’ He repeated the name, puzzled.
‘I mean Sam Hartley,’ she explained.
She saw a change come over his face. It tightened a little, and he relaxed his hold on her arms.
‘What have you to do with the labouring folk?’ he asked, abruptly.
‘It’s not that,’ she answered, and quickly told him the story, stumbling a little here and there as she noticed how his expression gradually hardened.
When she came to the end, he was silent for a moment. ‘We’d best walk on,’ he said shortly. ‘You’ll get cold, lingering here.’
They stepped out together in silence, Mary’s feelings far from easy. She had hoped to influence him, but now his mood had changed completely. Perhaps she had done harm rather than good.
‘Your cousin is an emotional young man,’ he said, at last. ‘You mustn’t allow him to upset you too much.’
‘But it’s not only that!’ exclaimed Mary, stung to protest by this cold comment. ‘Of course, I do not like to see John distressed, but it was not the thought of his sufferings which — which — ’ She faltered, and stopped.
‘Which made you cry,’ he interrupted promptly. ‘I recollect now what I was saying that must have set you off — I was talking of my horse being a faithful servant. That is right, isn’t it?’
She nodded, eyeing him warily but saying nothing.
‘Well, Miss Lister,’ he continued, ‘Sam Hartley was not a faithful servant, and so I got rid of him.’
She turned to him impetuously. ‘What did he do wrong, Mr. Arkwright? I have never heard of anything.’
‘Perhaps you may not always be so well-informed as you seem to imagine,’ he said, dryly. ‘I can think of no reason why I should account to you, ma’am, for my actions; but for once you may as well know the facts from an authoritative source. Sam Hartley’s a trouble-maker, and a suspected Luddite. Even you and your philanthropic cousin cannot expect me to employ a Luddite in my mill. You surely cannot have forgotten so soon what they are capable of.’
She stared at him, and gave a quick shiver. ‘But are you sure? John didn’t seem to think — ’
‘I can’t help but feel,’ he said, with a sneer, ‘that my affairs would benefit considerably if they received less attention from your young fool of a cousin. You must really allow me, ma’am, to conduct my business in my own way.’
‘There could be a mistake — ’ she faltered, unwilling to relinquish her point, yet not daring to say too much, for fear of angering him.
By now, they had reached the gates of the house: he opened them a little way, and guided her through with a firm hand placed beneath her elbow. He did not speak again until he had closed the gates behind them, and they were walking up the drive. She stole a sideways glance at him, and her spirits sank as she saw his hard, inexorable expression.
‘Possibly — possibly not. It’s a risk I can’t afford to take, with things as they are in the West Riding at present. There have been other matters in connection with Sam — I’d have sent him packing long ago, if it hadn’t been for his brother, Jack, who’s a good workman and a keen member of the Volunteers, into the bargain. No, he’s brought this on himself, and must take the consequences.’
They had reached the steps leading up to the front door. He paused before mounting them, and looked searchingly into her face.
‘Well, mustn’t he? What do you say?’
She shook her head, close to tears again.
‘For God’s sake,’ he said angrily, ‘take that look off your face! Why the devil should I account to you for my actions — tell me that?’ Still she said nothing. ‘I’m fighting a rearguard action here,’ he continued, bitterly. ‘If I lose, I’m done for — my livelihood’s gone, and that of my dependents. But the irony of it is that, even if I win, it will be a hollow victory. I must forfeit the good opinion of my workmen, and of people like your cousin and yourself.’
He waited for a moment, as though expecting an answer. When she remained silent, he turned away and began to mount the steps. He raised the knocker, and beat a tattoo that brought Nellie scampering to the door.
‘Very well,’ he said, before she had time to open it. ‘Very well, Miss Lister, confound you! I’ll see what can be done for his family. I’ll send Nick Bradley round there later on. Now are you satisfied?’
TEN: TWO WOMEN
It was some hours later that William Arkwright set out for Halifax. He had important business with his banker, business on which the whole future of the Arkwright mill could well depend. In such circumstances, it might have been expected that his mind would be occupied solely with the coming interview; in point of fact, he did not give it more than a passing thought. He was too busy trying to obliterate a mental picture of a tearful pair of brown eyes. Damn the female, why did she have to concern herself with the troubles of the labouring folk? Had she not worries enough of her own — a fatherless girl, the eldest child of a large family, with her living to earn? She would get her desserts, he thought grimly, if she found herself with an additional problem — that of looking for another post. She seemed to forget that he had the power at any time to send her packing, or she would not defy him as she sometimes did. Undoubtedly these Booths were of the stuff of the Martyrs; though thank goodness Mary Lister was much more controlled than her young fool of a cousin. Indeed, her self-control at times was admirable, he decided, thinking back to the night when she had first arrived in Liversedge. How many women would have survived that ordeal without either falling into a deep swoon, or being seized by a violent fit of hysterics? But she had been calm, though pale and dark eyed, and commendably silent on the subject of her personal sufferings. He reflected that it was only when the interests of others were at stake that she took fire, and leapt to their defence. He smiled, his eyes softening. She barely came up to his shoulder, and he could have lifted her from the ground easily with only one arm; but she had as stout a heart as any man who had ever served alongside him. In spite of that, she was completely feminine. It might be agreeable, he thought, to try out his theory of being able to lift her with one arm …
He pulled unexpectedly on the rein, causing his horse to swerve suddenly. With a muttered oath, he checked the animal, and turned his thoughts to more practical matters for the remainder of the journey.
The interview with his banker proved successful, and it was in a decidedly optimistic mood that he made his way to Colonel Grey’s lodging on the outskirts of the town. He was shown into the parlour, where the Colonel met him with a grave face.
‘More incidents, Arkwright,’ he said. ‘They’ve broken into a mill at Rawdon, and smashed ten shearing frames. There’s worse news from a named Foster, at Horbury. You’ll mind that a while back the magis
trate there urged owners to get rid of their machinery, for fear of attack?’ Arkwright nodded. ‘Well, it seems this man Foster had some spirit to him, and ignored the advice. He received one of the Luddite warning letters soon afterwards — you know the kind of thing? — signed by General Snipshears. He ignored that, too, except for bringing it to me, and setting his four sons to sleep nightly in his mill as a guard.’ He broke off, and shook his head. ‘It didn’t suffice. The Ludds attacked in force, overpowered the four men, tied them to their beds and proceeded to wreck the place from end to end — frames, shears, benches, everything. There’s not a whole window left in the mill. That was two days ago, and since then I’ve had several of the other manufacturers roundabout pestering me for troops to guard their property. The fact is, I can’t do it, Arkwright, as you very well know — between you and me, I’m pretty well at a stand in this business, for lack of men.’
‘It’s bad,’ agreed his visitor. ‘But there’s always the Militia.’
Colonel Grey shook his head. ‘You’re not going to pretend that you think them the equals of the Regular Army? Besides, often as not they’re involved with these people — relatives or friends of theirs.’
‘I know the difficulties, of course, sir. But the manufacturers themselves must take a firmer stand.’ He paused for a moment, then continued. ‘I suppose it’s no use, then, bringing you my request?’
The Colonel raised his eyebrows. ‘Never tell me that now you’re demanding troops to guard your place! I must say, I thought better of you, Arkwright.’
‘Not exactly.’ Arkwright’s mouth set in a grim line. ‘I fancy if need be I shall make do with a small band of picked men from among the Volunteers in my own command. No, what I am after is to borrow two or three of your men just for a few hours one night in order to escort my new machines from the manufactory in Huddersfield to my own premises. I won’t trust any local men, after what happened before.’
Colonel Grey chuckled. ‘So you’re not put off by the fate of your previous consignment? B’Gad, Arkwright, I like your spirit! It’s a thousand pities you ever left the Service — we could do with men like you in the Peninsula at present.’
A shadow crossed the mill-owner’s face. ‘Believe me, sir, I myself had rather be there than here — but my duty lies here, if my family is not to suffer.’ He broke off, and shrugged — ‘However, I don’t mean to burden you with my personal affairs. Can you lend me the men, Colonel?’
The older man considered for a moment. ‘For that length of time, yes. How many d’you want? Armed, I suppose?’
‘A dozen should suffice,’ replied Arkwright. ‘Yes, armed — and prepared to shoot almost on sight. I haven’t forgotten that last time the Ludds killed one of my men.’
‘Queer we never found out any more about that,’ mused the Colonel. ‘In spite of the notices which were posted everywhere proclaiming fifty pounds reward for information.’
‘It doesn’t surprise me, sir. Someone knows something, of course, but they keep their mouths shut through either loyalty or fear.’
‘A bit of both, I dare say,’ said the Colonel. ‘This Oath the Luddites take is a damned fearsome thing. We’ve had the gist of it from a spy who was working in Nottingham at one time. He’s dead now.’
Arkwright looked a question; Colonel Grey nodded.
‘Yes — their work, of course. Still, he was useful — while he lasted.’
‘I should never be surprised to learn that the same fate had overtaken the spy who’s in my own mill. Whether anyone yet suspects what he is, I can’t say; but he’s caused some trouble already.’
‘Trouble?’
‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ replied Arkwright, firmly, and rose to leave. ‘I can count on your men, then? I’ll let you have full details tomorrow.’
As he was leaving the house, he met Miss Grey and her companion in the hall. Lucinda was wearing a cherry coloured travelling dress trimmed with white fur; she stood out in cheerful contrast to the sombre furnishings which surrounded her.
‘Well, who could have guessed,’ she greeted him, with an arch smile, ‘that you would have taken the trouble to come in person to escort me to Liversedge?’
‘Do you go to Liversedge, Miss Grey?’
She looked reproachful. ‘Surely you cannot have forgotten that I promised to take luncheon with dearest Caroline on the first fine day?’
He looked out of the windows. ‘You call it a fine day, do you, ma’am?’
‘Well, there is sun, and it is not quite so cold. What more do you want, sir? Or perhaps you do not wish me to come?’
Her blue eyes mocked him. He smiled slightly.
‘On the contrary, I cannot imagine anything more delightful for my sister.’
The last words were added after a scarcely perceptible pause. She pouted.
‘Oh, that does not sound very convincing! Will you not like to have me there, too?’
‘Lucinda, my dearest,’ interrupted her chaperone, all of a twitter. ‘Pray recollect — ’
Miss Grey turned a cold look upon the plump lady. ‘Do not be so stupid, Cousin Lottie,’ she said, repressively. ‘That is, if you can help it.’
Arkwright frowned a little. ‘We shall all be honoured,’ he said, bowing slightly. ‘May I ride with you? I have finished my business in Halifax.’
She graciously gave permission. ‘Though I do not undertake,’ she concluded, ‘to keep the window down all the way so that we may converse.’
‘I wouldn’t ask it,’ he replied, laughing, ‘otherwise you might contract the toothache, or some such malady.’
It was her turn to frown. She did not care to be associated in any man’s mind with aches and pains. She said no more until the carriage was at the door, and then she allowed him to help the plump Miss Foster and herself up into it, with an almost regal air of condescension.
As he mounted the horse which had been brought round for him, he reflected that Miss Grey could do with a sound smacking. It was a pity that, in spite of this, he should find her such an unsettling female.
He had ample time to develop this theme on the ride home. Having once briefly let down the window in order to speak to him, Lucinda decided that the air was too cold for Cousin Lottie, and hastily shut it again.
Arkwright was considerably amused by this remark. He was willing to hazard a fair sum that concern for others did not often govern Miss Grey’s actions. The brief insight turned his thoughts for a moment towards that other female who had occupied them during his ride to Halifax. Each had her own attraction, he reflected, although in character they were very different. He was quite used to the Miss Greys of this world: he had met and enjoyed the company of a good many of them in his days as a young Army officer. They promised everything, and meant nothing. His sister’s governess was the more dangerous of the two, for whatever she did was meant in earnest. He shrugged, smiled, and, catching a glimpse of Lucinda’s perky bonnet through the window of the carriage, drew nearer. She turned her head, and rewarded him with a sunny smile.
They continued side by side in this way until Liversedge was reached, when Arkwright reined in to follow behind the carriage. When they came to the gates of the house, the coachman swung round into the drive, finishing the last few yards at a spanking pace.
They had almost reached the house, when without warning a figure stepped out from the concealment of the thick laurels which bordered the drive, and stood right in the path of the oncoming horses.
The coachman shouted, swerving his horses violently and missing the pedestrian by inches. The ladies screamed in terror as the coach swayed perilously, remaining upright by a miracle. Arkwright, following close behind, was caught off his guard by the unexpected movement of the vehicle. He reined in sharply, his horse reared, and he was almost thrown. Jumping from the saddle, he spared only a moment to try and quieten the animal before leaving it to find its own way round the back of the house to the safety of its stable. Then he strode angrily towards the cause of the t
rouble.
It was a man. He stood there clutching a bundle wrapped in a tattered blanket, and he neither moved nor spoke as Arkwright approached him.
‘Are you mad, fellow?’ stormed Arkwright. ‘Jumping out in front of us like that! Someone might have been killed!’
The man spoke then. ‘Someone ’as been killed, Maister Arkwright.’ He moved forward a few paces, and in spite of his wild eyes and dishevelled state, the mill-owner recognized Sam Hartley. ‘Ay, someone’s been killed, reight enough, an’ ’tis thy doin’, think on — thine, I tell thee! Look — look ’ere — look at thy work, and feel proud on ’t!’
He held out the bundle, and with shaking fingers began to uncover it.
Arkwright recoiled in horror, and cast a quick glance behind him. The ladies had alighted from the carriage, and were just coming over to see what was the cause of the trouble. He shouted to them to stay where they were.
‘For God’s sake, man, cover it up again!’ he urged. ‘The ladies — ’
Sam laughed wildly. ‘Oh, ay, t’ ladies mustn’t set eyes on a dead child,’ he mocked. ‘But my Bess could watch it die, afore she went herself — tha reckons that’s a’ reight, Maister bloody Arkwright? Two on ’em,’ he went on, his voice rising hysterically. ‘Two on ’em — mother and baby — an’ both can be laid at thy door — murderer!’
‘Hold your noise!’ Arkwright spoke sharply, knowing hysteria was close. He glanced behind him, Miss Foster had obeyed his order, but Miss Grey was standing close at his elbow. His glance told her what he thought of this action, but he had no words to waste on her at that moment. He turned again to Sam.
‘Go home, Sam,’ he said, quietly. He reached out, and pulled the blanket back into place. ‘You’re overwrought at present — small wonder. But this will do no good, as you’ll realize when you’re calmer.’
He plunged his hand into his breeches pocket, and held it out towards the man. ‘Take this. It may help. I’ll send Nick Bradley round later to see what can be done for you and your family. Go now.’
The Master of Liversedge Page 9