The Master of Liversedge

by Ley, Alice Chetwynd

  Somewhat surprisingly, the Greys had accepted William Arkwright’s invitation. When she set eyes on Lucinda, Mary wished heartily that they had not. Miss Grey always looked lovely: tonight, in a blue satin shot with gold, she certainly surpassed herself. She wore a narrow sequined ribbon threaded through her shining golden curls, and this enhanced her usual regal air. At the side of her, Mary felt positively dowdy.

  Lucinda greeted her with a nod of immense distance, which prompted Mrs. Shaw, an old friend of the Arkwrights, to ask Mrs. Arkwright who was that beautiful, stuck-up girl in the blue.

  ‘That’s Miss Grey — I’ll present her to you just now, my dear,’ promised Mrs. Arkwright, resplendent in purple and lace. ‘She’s Colonel Grey’s daughter, and, of course, they move in the best society in York, so it’s a great honour to have her here at all.’

  ‘Happen it is,’ said forthright Mrs. Shaw, with a sniff. ‘But she means us to know it, don’t she? Myself, I reckon more to that little lass in yellow — Caro’s governess, isn’t she?’

  Mrs. Arkwright nodded. ‘Yes; you must meet her, too. Oh, here come the Websters! I must go and welcome them.’

  ‘I’ll come, too,’ replied Mrs. Shaw. ‘I don’t need to stand on ceremony with Martha Webster, for I’ve known her ever since I can remember. I wonder when that boy of theirs means to take a wife? He’s five and twenty now, and no sign of anything serious. I don’t know what ails the lads nowadays — take your Will, for instance.’

  ‘Oh, Will’s not the marrying kind,’ said Mrs. Arkwright, bustling towards the newcomers.

  Mrs. Shaw shot a shrewd glance at Arkwright, who was at that moment talking to Lucinda Grey with earnest attention.

  ‘All men’s the marrying kind — think on,’ she said, meaningly.

  But fortunately, Mrs. Arkwright was too involved in her duties as a hostess to heed the words of a very old friend.

  Altogether, they numbered sixteen at the dinner table, including the family. The Colonel and Lucinda sat one on each side of Arkwright, who was in his place at the head of the table. Mrs. Arkwright sat at the foot with Caroline on one side of her, and Mr. Booth and his niece on the other. Mary found that Arthur Webster had been placed on her right; he was a pleasant, easy-going young man who looked after her diligently, and soon coaxed her into laughing.

  ‘You’re not from Yorkshire, are you, Miss Lister?’ he asked her, after a time.

  ‘No — how did you guess?’

  ‘You haven’t the twang — and your voice is softer. Our women have loud voices, for the most part.’

  ‘But warm hearts,’ retorted Mary.

  ‘Oh, as to hearts, ma’am, I can’t say. I’ve no experience in such matters, more’s the pity.’

  ‘Indeed?’ she smiled incredulously.

  ‘I see you don’t believe me, but I assure you it’s true. I’m still hoping to meet someone who will instruct me. Now, you’re a governess, Miss Lister — ’

  ‘You’re absurd,’ she said, smiling faintly. It was impossible to take him seriously, but she did not quite like him to flirt with her so openly on such a short acquaintance. ‘Mrs. Arkwright is trying to catch your attention.’

  While Arthur Webster was talking to his hostess, Mary let her glance wander to the other end of the table. She was surprised to find that Arkwright was staring straight at her, a disapproving frown on his brow. For a moment, their eyes met; Mary’s dropped before his, and to her discomfiture, she felt a blush rising. What was wrong? Did he think she was forgetting her place in chatting too freely with one of his guests? Or did he disapprove of the interest which Mr. Webster was showing in her, believing that she had encouraged it? Either way, she thought ruefully, he evidently judged her conduct unbecoming.

  ‘You’re very quiet,’ teased Arthur Webster, returning to the attack as Mrs. Arkwright turned her attention elsewhere. ‘A penny for them.’

  ‘They wouldn’t be worth it,’ returned Mary, with a quick glance down the table again.

  He noticed the movement, and looked in the same direction.

  ‘Don’t let our friend Arkwright put you off,’ he said, guessing her thoughts with uncomfortable precision. ‘After all, he’s been amusing himself until this very moment in the most enviable way.’

  ‘I — I don’t know what you mean,’ said Mary.

  He gave her a quizzical glance. ‘Don’t you, ma’am? But just wait a moment — there, look now! What did I tell you?’

  She looked again, and was unable to take her eyes away for several minutes. Arkwright was bending over to talk to Lucinda Grey; the dark head and the fair one were very close together, their attitude suggestive of a tender intimacy that brought a quick pang to Mary.

  In that moment, she made a surprising and most unwelcome discovery.

  ‘Well, don’t stare them out of countenance,’ whispered her lively neighbour. ‘Have some fellow feeling, eh?’

  Mary bestowed a brief, vague smile on him, and forced herself to ignore what was going forward at the head of the table.

  The meal was drawing to a close, and the final course was laid before the guests. A babble of talk and laughter filled the room; eyes were bright, and faces animated. Mrs. Arkwright looked around her with a complacent smile, and thought how pleasant it all was, and that they must certainly do it again soon.

  And then the smile froze on her face.

  A sudden crash of shattering glass broke into the cheerful buzz of conversation: it was followed by a dull thud as something landed on the carpet underneath the windows, not far from the dining table.

  The chatter died away. Several of the women uttered half-stifled shrieks. Arkwright jumped up from his seat, brushing past Lucinda almost roughly as he made his way to the spot where the object lay. He stooped and picked it up: it was a heavy stone.

  He pulled back the curtain from the unshuttered window, releasing a shower of glass splinters. There was a large jagged hole in the window pane where the stone had passed through.

  He dropped the stone, and dashed from the room. Colonel Grey threw down his napkin and followed him almost at once.

  An uneasy murmur of voices arose, and one of the younger lady guests, Louisa Shaw, burst into tears. Her husband bent over her, whispering words of comfort in her ear. Caroline looked for a moment as though she might follow young Mrs. Shaw’s example.

  ‘What is it, Mama?’ she asked, in a frightened whisper.

  ‘Nothing, love,’ asserted Mrs. Arkwright, with a stoutness of heart she certainly did not feel. ‘Just some lads playing about, I dare say — your brother’ll soon teach them a lesson, you mark my words.’

  ‘Do you really think it’s that?’ demanded Caroline, doubtfully.

  ‘Well, I don’t, for one,’ said Arthur Webster quietly to Mary. ‘When my father told me that Will Arkwright had got some more shearing frames, I knew there’d be trouble.’

  ‘You don’t think — ’ the colour receded from her cheeks.

  ‘Nay, who can say? All the same, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll just see if I can lend a hand out there.’

  It seemed that several of the men had formed a similar intention, for they began to rise.

  This brought an immediate outcry from their womenfolk. ‘Don’t go and leave us alone!’

  Doctor Webster took charge. ‘You young fellows go,’ he directed. ‘The rest of us will stay with the ladies, unless you call for us.’

  Pretty little Louisa Shaw began to cry with renewed vigour at the threat of losing her husband: but her mother-in-law took her firmly but gently in hand, while she signalled quietly to Tom to do as the doctor suggested. He and Arthur Webster went quickly from the room.

  ‘Well, there’s no sense in the rest of us sitting here,’ said Mrs. Arkwright, trying desperately to rally the party. ‘Our pudding’s spoilt, so why don’t we all go into the parlour, and Nell will bring us a few of her cheesecakes, and some sugared plums. The gentlemen can bring the decanter along with them, and we shall all be comfortable again
. Louisa, my dear, perhaps you would be the better for a very little — just a spot, you know — of port wine in some warm water — ’

  Louisa thanked her hostess tearfully, but said she really could not bring herself to take anything of that nature.

  ‘Oh, well, you know best, child,’ replied her hostess. ‘Shall we move, then?’

  Everyone seemed agreed on this, and the change was quickly made. But the spirit had gone out of the party. Mrs. Arkwright did her best, ably aided by Mary; but the tempting sweetmeats which they pressed on the guests were refused, and only the level of the decanter showed signs of appreciation.

  ‘I’ll have the tea-tray brought in,’ whispered Mrs. Arkwright to Mary. ‘It’s too early, really, but the ladies need a stimulant more than the men do, I reckon, and they’re punishing the port handsomely.’

  ‘Should we try some music?’ suggested Mary.

  Mrs. Arkwright brightened. ‘A good idea, Miss Lister! I’ll ask Miss Grey to sing to us; for, upon my word, she’s as cool as a cucumber — not a bit put out.’

  Lucinda was willing, in her calm, assured way, to oblige the company. Mary offered to play for her; and, after the usual preliminaries of selection were over, they both applied themselves to the task of entertaining a more than usually difficult audience.

  After a time, the atmosphere grew calmer. Young Mrs. Shaw, fortified by tea and the smelling-bottle, dried her eyes, and was able to listen to Miss Grey’s song with the appearance of attention. It was just finishing when male voices were heard in the hall, and a moment later the party of men, headed by Arkwright, burst into the room.

  ‘Any luck?’ asked Mr. Shaw, senior.

  Arkwright shook his head. ‘Whoever did it has either got clean away, or is in hiding somewhere close at hand. I’m inclined to favour the first — he had five minutes’ start of us, and knew where he was making for, which gave him a decided advantage.’

  ‘Hiding somewhere?’ echoed Mrs. Webster, nervously; while Louisa Shaw showed signs of breaking down again.

  ‘No, I don’t really think so,’ replied the mill-owner, looking around at the ladies with a reassuring air. ‘In any case, I’ve set the men on to keep a sharp look-out, so you’ve nothing to fear.’

  Colonel Grey added the weight of his opinion to this pronouncement, and Mr. Tom Shaw went to sit by his wife’s side.

  ‘Well,’ continued Arkwright, ‘we mustn’t allow this unfortunate incident to spoil our whole evening, must we? Miss Grey, we seem to have interrupted your song. If you will pardon our somewhat dishevelled state, perhaps we can prevail upon you to favour us with another?’

  Mrs. Arkwright seconded this appeal, and several of the men also took it up: but it was evident that a mood of uneasiness had settled over the party, particularly among the women. Excuses were brought up which made an early start for home desirable; some mentioned the fact that there was a good deal of cloud tonight obscuring the moon.

  At last, Miss Grey did give one more song in a style that was faultless, yet failed to make much impression on her audience. No one seemed inclined to follow her example; and once again, the excuses began to be heard.

  Arkwright applied to young Mrs. Shaw, but she shook her head, begging in a faint voice to be excused, as she feared her nerves were too greatly overset at present.

  ‘We’d best get her home,’ said Mrs. Shaw, senior. ‘Bella, love’ — to Mrs. Arkwright — ‘you’ll forgive us, I’m sure.’

  ‘Oh, but you can’t go yet, Mrs. Shaw!’ protested the incorrigible Arthur Webster. ‘Miss Lister will sing for us, won’t you ma’am? I’m sure you’ll not wish to go until you’ve heard her,’ he added, turning to Mrs. Shaw again.

  Mary declined hastily, not at all happy at being thrust into notice. But Arthur Webster, faced with the prospect of an abrupt ending to what he had found a pleasant evening, was determined. He picked up a book of duets from the pianoforte, and handed it to Mary.

  ‘There, ma’am, you choose one, and I’ll sing it with you. I know most of these.’

  ‘Ay, a capital notion!’ approved Arthur’s father.

  ‘As you say, Webster,’ remarked Arkwright, dryly, ‘capital.’

  Mary glanced quickly at him, and was surprised to catch a flash of anger in his dark eyes. It was gone in a moment.

  She had no choice but to sing, however, for several people pressed the pair: and the next half hour or so was agreeably passed by everyone except Louisa Shaw and Mary herself. She found Arthur Webster’s liveliness a constant source of embarrassment. His part in the song frequently had an amorous tone, and he put plenty of expression into it, causing her to be thankful for the need to keep her eyes on the music. She felt, rather than saw, her employer’s disapproval.

  At last, it was over; and now all efforts to keep the party going were useless. A general exodus began.

  Waiting on the step for the doctor’s carriage, Mary saw William Arkwright take his leave of the Greys. He seemed to linger unnecessarily over the business of handing in Lucinda, and stood looking after the carriage as it drove away. In contrast, he took a very curt leave of herself, barely acknowledging her softly spoken goodnight.

  Her spirits were low on the homeward journey. It was fortunate that no one else felt in the mood for conversation, or her silence must have been noticed. The doctor deposited her uncle and herself at the Vicarage gate, and they walked silently up the path together.

  As they reached the door and Mr. Booth raised the knocker, Mary chanced to look back towards the gate. While she watched, a figure glided out of the shadows, and through the gate into the road. It was too far away for her to see more than an outline, but she recognized it at once, with a quick alarm.

  It was Black George Mellor.

  FOURTEEN: THE LETTER

  Arkwright was early at the mill next morning. He summoned Nick Bradley.

  ‘You had a quiet night, I suppose, Nick, or I should have had warning?’

  The overseer nodded. ‘Not a sound, after tha looked in. Didst cop t’ chap who flung t’ stone?’

  His employer shook his head. ‘No. He got away, whoever he was. Any ideas, Nick?’

  Bradley pursed his lips. ‘Reckon it might’ve been Hartley — but, then, again, could be any o’ t’ Ludds, for that matter. There can’t have been more nor one of ’em, or they’d have done more damage, think on.’

  ‘Yes, that’s my own view. I look on it as an isolated gesture of defiance — as you say, possibly from Hartley. But once I realized that the miscreant wasn’t anywhere around the house, I thought it best to come over and make sure that you hadn’t had an attack on the mill. I don’t mind admitting, Nick, that I had a nasty moment thinking of the machines, when I saw that stone come through the window.’ He paused, and Bradley nodded. ‘We must continue to mount guard here, for the time being, I’m afraid. Can you arrange to sleep here again for the next couple of nights? We’ll take it turn and turnabout. And I’ve another idea — I’ll borrow one of the dogs from my friend Shaw’s farm. You can turn it loose in the mill after dark, and it should give warning if anyone’s about. How are the machines going?’

  ‘T’ machines is a’ reight,’ replied Nick, darkly.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s t’ lads,’ admitted the overseer, after a struggle. ‘Some on ’em tries to go slow on t’ machines, so’s not to show up t’ hand croppers.’

  ‘If anyone tries that, he’s to go at once, do you hear?’ snapped Arkwright, rising hastily. ‘I’ll go in there myself.’

  Bradley shook his head. ‘Reckon tha’d best not turn off any more chaps, at present, Maister Will. ’T would do a power o’ harm, what wi’ machines, and all.’

  ‘I may have to,’ returned his master. ‘For a time, at least. Later on, of course, when we get more work into the mill — as we shall, now that we’ve got the means for tackling a greater quantity — I hope not only to keep the numbers, but to increase them. But I can’t afford to pay idle men, Nick, even for a short pe
riod. You know that as well as anyone.’

  ‘Ay. All t’ same, Maister Will, it might turn out cheaper in t’ long run. Bide tha time; and if go they must, let it be one by one, not all at once.’

  ‘It goes against the grain, b’God!’ said Arkwright. ‘Why, in my grandfather’s time — ay, and my father’s — a man had the running of his own manufactory, and would no more have thought of pandering to the notions of his workmen than he would have of taking wings to the moon!’

  ‘Times is changin’,’ replied Bradley, shaking his head. ‘And when all’s said, they’re human beings, think on. A cropper’s proud o’ his skill, an’ now wi’ t’ coming o’ they machines, his work’s not wanted. How’d tha like that, thysen? Reckon their pride hurts ’em nigh as much as bein’ out o’ work — there’s more things can pinch a man nor his belly, think on.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Arkwright, thoughtfully. ‘I know.’

  For the rest of the morning, he was fully occupied. At midday, he began to feel hungry, and decided to return to the house for a meal. This was not usual: often he would work throughout the day, returning home only as daylight began to fail, when work in the mill had to stop.

  His arrival set the house in a bustle. Nellie rushed away to hurry the meal on to the table, while Mrs. Arkwright deplored the fact that they had been about to sit down to nothing more interesting than a slice or two of cold ham.

  ‘I want nothing more, ma’am,’ he said, laughing. ‘I often manage on less, as you very well know.’

  ‘Yes, but — if only you had said, this morning, that you meant to return, Will! I could have got Nellie to bake a mutton pie — ’

  ‘I imagine we shall eat a good dinner as usual, this evening?’ he asked.

  ‘To be sure, Will — but — ’

  ‘Very well, then. And now, ma’am, I would like to read my newspaper. Perhaps there is something you should be doing?’

  She took the hint, and was about to leave him alone; but at the door she paused, suddenly remembering something.