The Master of Liversedge

by Ley, Alice Chetwynd

  ‘Oh! Will’ — she said, picking up a folded note which lay on a side-table, and taking it over to him — ‘I nearly forgot. This came for you — at least, it didn’t exactly come — ’

  He stared at the note, not heeding her words. It bore his name in rough capitals, and nothing else. He frowned, and unfolded it in one swift, impatient movement. His eyes came to rest on the brief message it contained, and seemed as though fixed. His face turned first red, then white. Mrs. Arkwright looked at him in alarm.

  ‘What is it?’

  He jumped to his feet, screwed the paper into a ball, and flung it away from him across the room. His eyes were blazing. He turned fiercely on her.

  ‘How did this come here? Who brought it? Who brought it, d’ you hear?’

  ‘Why, I was telling you, Will,’ she stammered, taken aback by his vehemence. ‘We don’t rightly know. Miss Lister found it in her pocket, not long since — I thought of sending one of the lads down to the mill with it for you, but then it didn’t seem all that important — a nasty, dirty bit of paper, and such a scrawl on it as I never did see — I thought — ’

  ‘Miss Lister? Miss Lister, you say? Found it — in her pocket?’

  He repeated the words incredulously, as though he thought her mad.

  She nodded, half afraid of his wild look.

  ‘Send Miss Lister to me,’ he ordered, peremptorily.

  ‘What is it, Will?’ she ventured to ask. ‘What is it that’s put you about so?’

  ‘Later.’ He waved her away. ‘Send Miss Lister here.’

  She went, not knowing what to make of it, but realizing that this was not the moment for questioning him. He would tell her in his own good time.

  A few moments later, Mary entered the room, looking slightly puzzled. She had not been able to make much of Mrs. Arkwright’s gabbled explanation, but she had gathered that Mr. Arkwright was upset over something to do with the letter.

  ‘This note.’ He strode across the room, retrieved the paper, and held it towards her, clenched in his fist. ‘How did it get here?’

  ‘I found it in my pocket,’ replied Mary, steadily. She knew that it sounded absurd, but it was the truth. ‘I took off my pelisse this morning when I arrived, and felt in the pocket for a handkerchief. It was then that I found the note.’

  ‘Why did you not notice it before — when you first put on the garment, for instance?’

  She looked curiously into his pale, set face. It was evident that he was keeping a tight rein on what she guessed was a white-hot anger. What could be wrong?

  ‘I can’t really say. I had no occasion to feel in my pocket, then. It is not a very large piece of paper.’

  ‘And you seriously expect me to believe that you found it in your pocket?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ She took slight exception to his tone. ‘It happens to be true — though I know it sounds ridiculous. I cannot imagine how it should come to be there.’

  ‘I must confess I can think of only one way, Miss Lister.’ She looked a question. ‘That you put it there yourself,’ he finished, with biting emphasis.

  ‘But I did not!’ she cried, indignantly. ‘Haven’t I told you so, Mr. Arkwright?’

  ‘Oh, yes. But you can’t suppose I am fool enough to believe it.’

  For a moment, she was deprived of speech.

  ‘What are you saying?’ she demanded, at last, her anger rising. ‘Are you suggesting that I am — lying to you?’

  He nodded curtly. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m suggesting that — exactly.’

  ‘Upon my word, I think you must have run mad!’ she retorted, flinging caution to the winds. ‘Why should I lie to you about such a — such a stupid matter?’

  ‘Do you know what is in this note?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘I neither know nor care! What concerns me, is that you should credit me with — ’

  ‘Stuff!’ he said, fiercely. ‘Injured innocence will not carry this off, ma’am! You have brought me a warning letter from the Luddites — now tell me you found it in your pocket!’

  She fell back a pace, and stared. ‘Was that what it was?’ she asked, in an awed whisper.

  ‘Ay, that’s what it was. Get rid of my machines, or they’ll do it for me — that’s what they threaten. And it’s signed “General Snipshears”! A friend of yours, no doubt, since he leaves his billet doux in your pocket?’

  His mouth was twisted into a sneer. She looked at him in bewilderment; anyone less angry than he was at that moment must have seen that she knew nothing of the letter.

  ‘I suppose that damned cousin of yours gave it you to deliver,’ he went on, unpleasantly. ‘He wrote it most likely.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘No?’ he mocked. ‘But I dare say you know who did?’

  ‘Of course I do not!’ She was angry again. ‘I know nothing whatever about it, except what I’ve already told you. As for John — that’s not his handwriting, as you can surely guess. That is a rough, untutored hand — ’

  ‘Such things would be written in a disguised hand. No man in his senses would betray himself like that.’

  ‘Well, I tell you, sir, that John had nothing whatever to do with this. He is opposed to all violence, and threats of violence. Why, when he agreed to head the deputation of workmen that came to see you, it was only on condition that it should be a peaceable mission — ’

  ‘Did you know about that beforehand?’

  ‘Why, yes, I did. It was purely by chance — ’

  She stopped, realizing that it was unwise to say more. He noticed her hesitation, and pounced on it.

  ‘If you knew of that, then it’s odds on you know something about this. Come, Miss Lister!’ He drew nearer to her, looking down on her threateningly. ‘We will have the truth now, if you please, and no more beating about the bush.’

  She drew herself up to her full height, and gave him back look for look, though her knees trembled a little.

  ‘You’ve had the truth!’ she flung at him. ‘If you think to browbeat me, you are very much mistaken, sir! Neither I nor my cousin can tell you anything more about that letter.’

  She made such a spirited picture, standing there with flushed cheeks and eyes that sparkled with anger, that a flash of admiration came into his eyes. It was gone in a moment.

  ‘It’s no good, ma’am. You may play off all those pretty feminine wiles with which you were beguiling young Webster yesterday evening — ’

  ‘How dare you insult me so?’ She was almost speechless with indignation.

  ‘Did you suppose I hadn’t noticed?’ he asked, sneering again. ‘As far as that goes, I dare say all the company must have done so — it was plain enough.’

  ‘How could you?’ Her voice broke a little. ‘It is ungentlemanlike of you — ’

  ‘You forget, Miss Lister — I am not a gentleman. And if you may act in an unwomanly way, I feel at liberty to act in an unmanly one.’

  ‘I did not! Mr. Webster is one of these gay, light-hearted people — he meant nothing, as I very well know — ’

  ‘The more shame — ’

  But this was too much for Mary. ‘I will not be catechized by you!’ she said, stamping her foot. ‘You may be my employer, but you have no right to question my behaviour in personal affairs. I — I will not tolerate it, sir!’

  ‘You won’t, eh?’ He seized her suddenly by the arms, and glared down into her face. ‘Then, b’God, I’ll not tolerate you in my house any longer! You can go now, Miss Lister — this very minute!’

  His words had the effect he desired. The fire died out of Mary’s face, leaving it pale.

  ‘Do you mean that?’ she asked, in a whisper.

  ‘I’ve never meant anything more. I consider you an undesirable influence for my sister. Not only is your behaviour unmaidenly, but it’s also plain to me that you and your cousin are as near to being Ludds as makes no odds. My house will be the better for your going.’

  For a moment she said nothing, staring
at him with a stricken look which began to pierce his anger. Then she turned away, moving unsteadily towards the door.

  ‘Very well, sir — if that is your wish. I will go now.’ She paused for a moment. ‘You — perhaps — you will — explain to Caro’ Her voice broke on the name. She put her hand quickly in front of her face, and ran from the room.

  She did not quite know how, but she managed to leave the house without meeting anyone. She made her way blindly home, and, entering the empty parlour, flung herself down on the sofa. Then, at last, she could give way to the tears that were choking her.

  ‘Mary! Why, Mary, my dear girl, whatever’s amiss?’

  It was her cousin’s voice. She answered him with a low moan. He came to her side, and put his arm about her. For a few moments, they clung together as they had done in childhood over a shared sorrow.

  ‘Poor little love!’ he said, presently. ‘Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?’

  Between sobs, she began to tell him: but she had gone no further than the letter, when he stopped her with an exclamation.

  ‘In your pocket? A letter from the Ludds?’

  She nodded, mopping her eyes with her soaked handkerchief.

  ‘Mary, I think I know how it came there.’ He began to stutter. ‘G-George was here last n-night. He brought that letter, and w-wanted me to — to — ask you — ’

  She raised her tear-stained face, and stared at him. ‘Not to ask me to deliver it?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. And I refused, of course. He t-turned nasty, then, and said I must t-take it myself. We — we argued, and must have made t-too much noise, for Mrs. Duckworth came down to see what w-was wrong. George hid in the c-closet where w-we hang our outdoor things — I expect he did it then.’

  ‘Yes, my pelisse was hanging in there. But’ — she was calmer now, as her mind began to grapple with the present problem — ‘so was Mrs. Duckworth’s. How could he be sure — ’

  ‘Oh, Mary!’ He gave a little laugh, the absurdity of what she had said breaking through his distress. ‘Why, any garment of Mrs. Duckworth’s would go around you twice! There could be no mistaking yours.’

  ‘I suppose not.’ She sighed heavily. ‘What a dreadful man that is! I wish — oh, how I wish, John — that you’d never become involved with him.’

  ‘He’s not so bad, you know, only — desperate, and determined to do something for the workers. In his own way, he’s been a friend to me.’

  ‘Not my notion of a friend,’ said Mary bitterly. ‘All your troubles — and now mine, too — come from him.’

  ‘Why, Mary? What happened when you found the letter? Did you give it to Arkwright? You have not told me.’

  ‘Yes, I gave it to him.’ She was able to talk calmly now, though her face still showed the ravages of emotion. ‘You can imagine how angry he was — he said all kinds of hurtful, unkind things — ’

  ‘Don’t heed them, love.’ He patted her hand. ‘Arkwright’s a hasty man, but he’s not bad at heart. Tomorrow he’ll realize that he’s done you an injustice, and beg your pardon — you see if he doesn’t.’

  ‘There’ll be no tomorrow,’ replied Mary, pressing her lips firmly together to stop them trembling. ‘He has dismissed me.’

  ‘Dismissed you!’ John jumped to his feet, his expression indignant. ‘Dismissed you — you! But this is — is — rank injustice!’

  ‘I told him that. But he said that he thought I was a bad influence on Caroline, as both of us — you and I — are close to being Luddites ourselves.’

  ‘Not as close as we could be, though!’ John replied, slowly.

  He stood still for a moment, lost in thought.

  Presently, he roused himself. ‘George is right,’ he said, in a determined manner. ‘I must either be with them or against them — there is no middle way. At present, I’m trusted by neither side — I scarce can trust myself, at times.’ He paused. ‘There’s a meeting tonight at the St. Crispin Inn, in Halifax. He told me of it last night, and wanted me to go. I think I shall.’

  ‘No!’ Mary rose hastily, and took his arm. ‘Don’t, I beg you, John! Don’t do anything you will regret — especially not on my account.’

  ‘It’s not only you, lass, it’s everything. Poor Sam Hartley, and others like him — and Arkwright secure in his autocracy, refusing to heed others or to negotiate with anyone — ’

  ‘Please, John. For my sake, don’t go,’ she pleaded. ‘What is this meeting? Is it — ’

  ‘Never mind what it is, Mary. You’d best know nothing more.’ He paused, then continued, ‘What will you tell my father?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She had been wondering about this, herself. ‘What can I tell him? I daren’t mention the letter, or he must learn of that man’s visit last night. And whatever I tell him, he will most likely go and see Mr. Arkwright about it, in any case. What can I do, John?’

  ‘Leave it for the present,’ he advised. ‘Is there anywhere you can go for this afternoon, so that you would return at the usual time?’

  ‘I could go for a walk,’ she said, doubtfully. ‘It is quite mild today. Why don’t you come with me, and then we can talk things over, and decide what I had best do? I suppose — ’ she gulped — ‘I suppose I must look about me for another post.’

  ‘My father may know of someone.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not here — I want to go away, nearer to my own home. Not that I am ungrateful — ’

  She could not finish the words.

  ‘It is infamous!’ declared John, moved by her attempts to conceal her distress. ‘I begin to feel that Arkwright is no better than the Ludds think him, after all.’

  She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, with difficulty. ‘He — oh, you cannot understand. Whatever he may do, I can never think ill of him.’

  FIFTEEN: BRADLEY BRINGS A WARNING

  Apart from saying curtly that Miss Lister had been obliged to go home because she felt indisposed, Arkwright ate his meal in silence and speedily returned to the mill.

  There he summoned the spy McDonald, locked the door of his office, and questioned the man closely. Afterwards he sent for Nick Bradley.

  He told him briefly about the letter. The overseer shook his head.

  ‘Reckon ’twas bound to happen, Maister. They’ve sworn to smash all t’ machines in t’ neighbourhood.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ returned Arkwright grimly.

  Nick scratched his head. ‘I’m in a rare puzzle to know how yon letter got into Miss Lister’s pocket. She’d have nowt to do wi’ it, as we well knows.’

  ‘Do we?’

  Nick stared. ‘Nay, lad, surely tha don’t think — ’

  ‘Why not? Both she and that precious cousin of hers make no secret of their sympathy with the working folk.’

  ‘Ay, but sympathy’s one thing, an’ threatenin’ folks wi’ violence is another, lad. That little lass! As soon suspect my Annie o’ it.’

  ‘Well, capable of it or not, I can’t risk having Luddite sympathizers under my own roof. She’s gone.’

  ‘What? Tha’s never given her t’ push?’ asked Nick, incredulously. ‘An,’er not long come, an’ like as not short o’ brass, too? An’ all for a letter which anyone might ’ave shoved in ’er pocket? I’d not ’ave thought it o’ thee, Maister Will, I tell thee straight!’

  Arkwright had the grace to look a trifle hangdog.

  ‘I can’t afford to take risks, Nick, as you know only too well.’

  ‘Ay, risks — but yon lass — ’

  ‘That’ll do. You’re an old servant, but you can’t manage my affairs for me. Enough of that. Tell me, do you know anything of a so-called Democratic Club which is held at the St. Crispin, in Halifax?’

  Nick hesitated for a moment. ‘Ay. Leastways, I’ve ’eard tell on ’t.’

  ‘What kind of organization is it — could it be a cover for the Luddites, think you?’

  Nick shook his head. ‘Nay, don’t ask me, Maister. I tak’ my ale in Liversedge at t’ She
ars Inn, same as most lads.’

  ‘But you must have heard some talk in the mill,’ insisted Arkwright. ‘McDonald has just been with me, and he reports that he overheard some of the men talking about a meeting of this Club to be held in the St. Crispin tonight at eight o’clock. When he asked them about it, they said he’d been mistaken — there was no such Club in existence nowadays.’

  ‘Sithee, Maister, tha’s got one spy in t’ mill. Reckon that’s enough.’

  ‘Look, Nick. That threatening letter may have been simply a childish attempt to scare me. But assuming that it meant business, any meeting in the neighbourhood at present is suspect. If you know anything at all, it’s your duty to tell me.’

  ‘Duty!’ Bradley sighed heavily. ‘I wish I did know what’s my duty, an’ that’s a fact! It’s nigh impossible at times, what wi’ tryin’ to do reight by t’ lads an’ by thee, Maister Will. This much I can say — when last I ’eard owt on t’ Club,’twas that some on t’ members had left on account o’ goings on as they didn’t ’old with. Don’t ask me what, for I don’t know, and likely wouldn’t say if I did.’

  ‘Then it’s still in existence?’

  ‘As far as I know.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Arkwright, decisively. ‘I’ll see Colonel Grey and get him to send some men over to the St. Crispin tonight. You’ve convinced me that I shan’t be wasting his time.’

  ‘Don’t put it on me, Maister. It may be all for nowt, an’ God knows I’ve no wish to bring t’ Redcoats down on lads who’re doin’ no one any ’arm — ’

  ‘All right, Nick.’ Arkwright nodded in dismissal. ‘But perhaps I’m not as blind as you think to the difficulties of your situation. You’re not the only one to be pulled in two directions at once.’

  Bradley went back to his work with a troubled mind. Presently he saw Arkwright leaving the mill, and guessed his master was bound for Colonel Grey’s home in Halifax. His uneasiness grew. He had no certain knowledge that any of his men were to be present at this meeting, but it was a possibility that filled him with anxiety. There was someone else who might be there, too; someone, though foolish, as yet innocent of any crime. His arrest would bring suffering to those even more innocent than himself. A half-formed intention came into the overseer’s mind.