Jack of Hearts

by Marjorie Farrell

  “Yes, I know what you mean,” Anne said with a quizzical smile. “From what Rosie says, you and he are becoming fast friends.”

  “Rosie should mind her wagging little tongue,” Sarah responded sharply.

  “Why, Sarah, that is not like you at all. Did I touch on a tender subject? Is there something between you and Patrick?”

  “Would you mind if there was? Not that there is,” Sarah hastened to add.

  “You know how much I like and admire Patrick. But he is only a groom, and you are…”

  “Granddaughter to a viscount, yes. How could I forget?” Sarah said with uncustomary irony. “And much good it has done me!”

  “My father would never have hired you otherwise, so it has done me much good,” Anne said quietly. “And I was hoping that I could give something back to you, Sarah. There was more than one man in London who sought you out. Captain Scott or Sir David would be very appropriate for…”

  “The granddaughter of a viscount,” Sarah intoned, but this time humorously, and they both laughed. “Don’t worry, Anne. Sergeant Gillen and I may have become friends, but it is no more than that.” On his part, Sarah continued to herself. For her own part…well, Patrick Gillen had made his way into her dreams, waking and sleeping.

  * * * *

  When Joseph Trantor arrived for his fortnight meeting with Anne later that week, he did not immediately sit down to go over the accounts. Instead he stood, his back to the fire and his face closed and angry. “I heard that you visited the mill without my permission, Anne.”

  “I hardly need your permission to visit my own mill, Joseph,” Anne responded with barely controlled anger.

  Her cousin flushed. “Forgive me, cousin,” he apologized stiffly. “Of course tha art right. But it would have been a courtesy to let me know. I would have joined tha.”

  “But then my visit would have been managed, Joseph, as it was the last time. I wanted to talk to some of the workers by myself. It was enlightening, I must say.”

  “I can’t imagine Swain or Walters had much to say to tha?”

  Of course Brill would have told Joseph whom she had seen. But the worried note in his voice told her that he had no idea what had been said, and she silently blessed the two men for keeping their mouths shut. It had annoyed her, but their reticence benefited her now.

  “No, they were both reluctant to discuss anything of substance with me, probably because I am a woman.”

  “I hope tha were not too disappointed, then?” Joseph asked with patently false sympathy.

  “A little, but then I spoke with Mrs. Talbot.”

  Joseph lifted his eyebrows. “Oh? I thought she was off to be a farmer’s wife.”

  So Brill had neglected to mention Mrs. Talbot? He probably thought a woman wouldn’t know anything, thought Anne.

  “It was her last week. She was very helpful to me in making a decision, Joseph. I want you to dismiss Peter Brill.”

  “Dismiss Peter? Why, he’s invaluable! I appointed him after James Brand retired.”

  “James was a fair and honest man; Brill is not.”

  “Are you accusing me of hiring a thief?” Joseph asked indignantly.

  “I am accusing tha of nowt, Joseph,” said Anne, falling into broad Yorkshire for a moment. “Though I might accuse tha of encouraging tha foreman to punish petty infractions by letting him collect a percentage from the fines.”

  “He has been a loyal employee, Anne. It seemed to me that a little reward for his vigilance was not unreasonable.”

  “If Peter Brill deserved a higher salary, you should have paid it directly.”

  “That would have cut into our profits, Anne.”

  “You have been thinking too much of ‘our’ profits, cousin,” Anne said coolly. “They would be ‘our’ profits only if you married me.” She reconsidered and gave him an ironic smile. “No, they would be tha profits if we married, wouldn’t they?”

  “Tha’rt not suggesting I wish to marry tha merely for monetary reasons, Anne! Tha knows I am very fond of tha, not that tha has let me speak of it before.”

  Anne’s face softened. “I know, Joseph. But you’re also a good businessman, as I am a good businesswoman. If I am interested in what marriage to an earl might bring me, why shouldn’t you be interested in what I bring tha? I don’t fault you for it.”

  “I see us as having rather different motives, Anne. After all, tha don’t care for any of your earls or dukes, while I do care for tha.”

  “I appreciate your caring, Joseph, but my mind is made up. I will find my husband in London, and you will dismiss Brill. And before I leave, so that I may consult with his replacement.”

  Joseph opened his mouth as though to protest and then closed it again. “Of course, Anne.”

  “Thank you, Joseph. Shall we turn to other business? The price of Irish wool has gone down. Should we buy some?”

  * * * *

  Anne breathed a sigh of relief when her cousin finally left. The tension between them as they did their work had been so strong that she was exhausted from trying to screen it out and concentrate on wool prices and the output of the mills.

  She sat down in front of the library fire with a glass of sherry and waited for the Amontillado to relax her. She was sorry for Joseph. Clearly he did care for her.

  But did that mean she was more unfeeling than he? She wasn’t intending to marry someone she disliked, after all. She liked both Leighton and Windham very much. She was sure that with either of them there was the potential for the growth of affection and perhaps even love.

  Then why, she wondered, as the warmth of the fire and the sherry began to have their effect, was it Jack Belden’s long-fingered hands that she could almost feel around her waist and the pressure of his lips on hers? And why was it that whenever she imagined how the Season would unfold, it was Jack Belden who was always her dance partner in her imaginary waltzes?

  * * * *

  There was little curiosity at the mill when Trantor closeted himself with Peter Brill the next day, until those closest to the foreman’s office heard the raised voices even over the noise of their looms. Trantor and the foreman had not had a disagreement in anyone’s memory, and the men looked at each other, raising their eyebrows and shrugging their shoulders expressively. When Brill came out, carrying his few personal belongings, the surprise and then the satisfaction on the men’s faces was obvious.

  “We knew,” said one of the men, telling the story later in the Hart and Horn, “that soomthing was up, but it weren’t till our Peter came out with his old coat and his tea mug that we guessed what were going on!”

  “But why would Trantor let him go?” asked Ned. “Brill was his source of information at the mill. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Aye, but it does,” George Talbot piped up. “My Martha told me that Miss Heriot listened to all she had to say. She didn’t give away nowt, but Martha thinks she were sympathetic. I’ll wager it were she that ordered him dismissed.”

  Tom Gibson snorted derisively. “ ‘Twere more likely Trantor and Brill had a falling out. Maybe he was holding money back.”

  The men nodded. “Aye, tha makes good sense, Tom.”

  “I still think my Martha is right,” Talbot insisted stubbornly.

  “Well, tha can think what tha bloody well like, George,” Tom said with a laugh. “But I know what I know, and that is that there is nowt a Heriot would do for t’workers.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gibson’s cynicism seemed confirmed a few days later. Ned had gone outside to relieve himself, when he heard screaming from the sorting shed. He was there even before Girton, the children’s supervisor, and he took in the situation at a glance. Little Katie Hyland’s skirt had become caught in the rollers and she was pulled back tight against the machine. She was frozen there, too frightened to cry. It was the other children around her who were screaming, for they remembered the last accident all too well. It was clear they were expecting the roller to swallow her up.
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  “Hush now,” murmured Ned as he slowly approached Katie. She was safe for the moment, but the machine had caught enough of the material so she could not be torn free. As long as she was frozen by fear, she was in no danger of injury. If she moved a hand, however, and the machine caught the edge of her sleeve…

  Ned knelt a few feet in front of her. “Now, then, Katie, tha’rt caught fast, I know, but that machine can do nothing to tha if tha stays still. Does tha understand me?”

  The child was in shock, but she finally nodded.

  “All right, then. Jimmy,” Ned called to one of the older boys who had been trying to quiet the little ones.

  “Aye, Ned?”

  “Tha must run up to t’loft and get me some shears. Does tha think tha can do it quickly, lad?”

  “Aye, Ned.” The boy was gone, and Ned stayed where he was, murmuring soothing words to Katie.

  Before Jimmy got back with the shears, however, Girton burst into the shed. “What on earth is all that caterwauling? What art tha doing here, Gibson?”

  “Shut tha face and listen.” Ned said quietly but forcefully. “Tha needs to shut off the machine.”

  “I can’t do that without Mr. Trantor’s orders. T’machine runs all day, tha knows that.”

  “Not if it is eating up Katie’s dress, it doesn’t! Shut it off, or I will feed tha to it,” said Ned, staring Girton down.

  “All right, but tha will be responsible for this. The child could be cut out.”

  “Before Jimmy gets back with the shears, she might be dead from shock or move and lose an arm, tha sheep-buggering bastard.”

  A few of the older boys snickered.

  “I’ll report tha for this, Ned Gibson,” said Girton as he walked to the back of the machine. When it finally stopped, Katie slipped into a faint, and Ned moved forward to hold her up. “There there, sweetheart, tha was a brave lass and will be free soon.”

  A few minutes later Jimmy burst in, carrying a heavy pair of shears. “Here, Ned.”

  “Tha did well, Jimmy. T’danger’s over now, but t’only way to get her out is to cut her out.”

  It took some effort to cut through the bunched and twisted fabric, and by the time Ned succeeded, Katie was conscious again. When she was finally free, she gave a little moan and Ned opened his arms. “Tha needs soom fresh air and maybe a sip of tea, lass,” he murmured, and he scooped her up and carried her out.

  “Jimmy, go get her mother. She’s on t’second floor.”

  Ned was in the yard in the center of a crowd of children when Joseph Trantor rode in.

  “What the devil is going on here, Gibson?” he demanded.

  “Aye, t’devil truly has something to do with it,” Ned responded. “That devil machine. ‘Tis old and needs replacing, as tha well knows. Katie Hyland got caught in it.”

  “Is she hurt?” asked Joseph, in a softer tone.

  “No, no thanks to tha or Miss Heriot,” Ned announced angrily.

  At that moment, Mrs. Hyland, white-faced and trembling, came out the mill door. “Where is she? Where’s my Katie?”

  “She’s right here, Mrs. Hyland. She’s not hurt, just a little frightened. She’s a brave lass, your daughter. She stood still till we got her out.”

  “Oh, thank God,” cried Mrs. Hyland, pushing her way through the children and taking her daughter into her arms. “Thank God! And thank tha, Ned Gibson,” she added with a sob.

  Joseph had dismounted. “Get back to work.” In a gentler tone he added, “Mrs. Hyland, tha may stay with tha daughter for a few minutes.”

  “Thank tha, Mr. Trantor,” she said, bobbing her head.

  After she left, Girton came hurrying out. “Mr. Trantor, thank goodness tha’rt here.”

  Trantor turned to him. “What happened here? Why isn’t t’machine running?”

  “Gibson threatened to feed me to it if I didn’t turn it off, sir,” Girton whined. “I told him we could have cut her out.”

  “And I told tha if she moved she could have lost a hand. It’s not like tha could do anything till t’lass was free, anyway, tha witless bastard.” Ned turned to Trantor. “Tha knows t’machine is old and needs replacing. But it seems we only buy new machines if it will get rid of some workers, not save them.”

  “And how did tha get involved in all of this, Gibson?” Trantor demanded.

  “I was outside, taking a piss when I heard t’children screaming.”

  “Why didn’t you get Girton?”

  “There wasn’t time.”

  “Well, tha may or may not have saved t’lass from injury, Gibson, but tha has lost thaself tha job. Get tha things and go.”

  “What for?”

  “For threatening a supervisor, for one, and for disrespect to me, for another.”

  “I have nowt to collect, Trantor, and I’m glad to show this place my back.” Ned clenched his hands to keep himself from punching Trantor in his self-righteous face. It was bad enough he was losing his job; he didn’t need to add a jail sentence. He turned his back on them both and walked out whistling the same tune Nancy had been whistling the day she was let go.

  * * * *

  His whistling stopped soon enough. As soon as he was out of earshot, his shoulders slumped. “Tha’rt a fool, Ned Gibson. Tha might have gotten off with a fine from staying away too long from t’loom if tha hadn’t called Girton a sheep-buggering bastard. Now there’s two Gibsons out of work.”

  He made his way through the narrow lanes till he came to the Muttons’ house. Nance’s shock at seeing him there in the middle of the day turned immediately to worry. “Tha’rt not hurt, Ned?”

  “No, lass, I’m fine. Can I coom in for a cup of tea?” he asked with a rueful smile.

  “How does tha have time for a cup of tea, Ned? What are tha doing here in t’middle of afternoon?”

  “I’ve been dismissed, Nance.”

  Nance gave a helpless laugh. “Just when I thought things were looking up, tha gets thaself dismissed. I don’t see how we will ever get married.”

  “What does tha mean, looking up?” Ned asked.

  “Just today I got word that Mr. Yates in north part of town is looking for help—soomthing between a maid and a shop girl. I’ll be keeping his rooms clean and helping with the stock.”

  “You got t’job?”

  “It were almost like it were made for me. And t’pay is what I were making at t’mill, and I’m free after four o’clock on Saturday!”

  Ned sighed in relief. “Thank God tha’ll be all right, Nance. I’ll have to start looking tomorrow. I won’t find anything in town, by t’time word gets around. But maybe one of t’local farmers…”

  “But then tha’ll be traveling long hours back and from work, Ned,” Nance protested.

  “Sometimes a farmer boards his help, Nance,” Ned said slowly.

  “Oh, Ned, then we’ll never see one another, married or no. Whatever did tha do?”

  “Little Katie Hyland got caught in t’rollers, Nance. I made Girton turn t’machine off. And I told both him and Trantor what I thought of them and their damned machines.”

  “Then there is no chance of doing work at any other mill?”

  “No, word will get out. I’ll be like Tom.”

  “Oh, no, tha won’t! I will not let tha turn into an ale-soaked do-nothing, Ned.”

  “Now, Nance.”

  “I know he’s tha brother, Ned, but tha’rt willing to look for other work, where Tom gave up.”

  “But I’ve never been to jail, Nance. I don’t blame Tom for what he’s become. But, by God, I do blame that damn Miss Heriot and her cousin.”

  Nance nodded in agreement. “ ‘Tis true, Ned. ‘T’mill has never been easy, but Mr. Heriot would never have let tha go for soomthing like this. He’d have fined tha or even suspended tha. But it seems Miss Heriot is t’spoiled bitch Tom thinks her.”

  “Mrs. Talbot thinks she’s behind Brill’s dismissal,” said Ned, in a halfhearted attempt to consider another side.

 
; “And she’s t’only one! We all know ‘tis more likely he and Trantor had a falling out.” Nance hesitated.

  “But does tha think if tha approached Miss Heriot…?”

  “I did that once and what did it get me? No, I have other ideas for Miss Heriot and Trantor, Nance,” he said, his face suddenly hard and closed.

  “Tha won’t do anything foolish, Ned?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  * * * *

  Joseph Trantor rode over to the hall the next day and met Sarah, Anne, and Patrick as they were returning from their ride.

  “Good morning, Joseph. This is a surprise.”

  “I did not wish tha to go back to London without my good wishes, Anne.”

  “Thank you, cousin. I appreciate that,” Anne told him warmly.

  “I also needed to inform tha about a situation at the mill.”

  “Not another accident, I hope!”

  “Only a minor one, Anne. In the sorting shed.”

  “Was another child hurt?”

  “No, the Hyland lass’s skirt got caught in t’rollers, but Girton turned t’machine off so she could be cut out.”

  “Thank God for that!”

  “And I had to let Ned Gibson go,” Joseph added.

  Patrick, who had been riding in front, turned all the way ‘round in his saddle when he heard that. “And why did ye need to do that, sor?” he asked quietly.

  “Because he threatened Girton and was insubordinate to me. And may I suggest that the management of the stables and not the mill is tha business, Sergeant Gillen?”

  “Patrick has been very helpful to me in a number of ways, Joseph. Why did Gibson threaten Girton?”

  “Because he wasn’t sure the machine needed to be turned off.”

  “So it was Ned Gibson who saved the little girl?”

  “They were going to cut her out, Anne. It was only her skirt that was caught.”

  Anne shuddered as she tried to picture what it would be like to be trapped so close to that threatening machine. “The child must have been terrified,” she whispered.

  “I am sure it was frightening,” Trantor admitted. “But it wasn’t her hand or arm, after all. At any rate, we are lucky to get rid of Ned Gibson at last.”