Constance opened her mouth to intervene but Lacey, now in full flow was determined to have her say.
‘Just because you come from a privileged background and made a fortuitous marriage shouldn’t blind you to the fact that there are many different ways in which a woman can prove her worth – even though some choose to live in the shadow of their husbands.’
Constance had the grace to look abashed, but Lacey wasn’t finished.
‘Look around you, Mrs Brearley. It’s women who’ll make the world a better place once we cast aside our subservience to men. I consider myself equal to your son in every way.’
Constance’s lip curled. ‘I might have known it. I suppose you are one of those tiresome women involved in suffrage and the right to vote. How unladylike.’
Lacey chuckled. ‘Yes, I am, and it’s not unladylike. It’s our right to be recognised as worthy contributors to society. It’s wrong for men to treat us as second-class citizens.’ She paused for breath, an impish smile curving her lips. ‘Have you seen the state of the one lavatory a hundred and more women have to use at Brearley’s Mill?’
Constance’s eyes popped, a look of utter confusion on her face.
‘No, I thought not,’ Lacey continued, ‘because if you had you’d understand why I’m going to join the Trade Union. I’ll fight for better conditions for working women like me and at the same time, if Nathan wants to marry me, I’ll do that as well.’
‘Lavatories! Trade Unions! I’ve heard enough of your nonsense.’ Constance’s cheeks flaming and her breathing uneven, she charged to the door and flung it wide open.
‘I bid you good-day,’ she shrieked.
Lacey strode towards the door and then paused. ‘Thank you for giving me your time, Mrs Brearley,’ she said courteously, the hand she proffered left unshaken.
‘I don’t ever want to see you again,’ Constance hissed, as Lacey stepped into the hallway. ‘And should Nathan persist in this foolishness, I will do all in my power to put a stop to it.’
Lacey turned. ‘Do as you please, Mrs Brearley, for I certainly will.’ Without waiting for Nathan to appear she marched out of Fenay Hall for what she was sure would be the last time.
*
Later that afternoon, Lacey walked up Cuckoo Hill to the cairn, sure of finding Nathan there. It was a warm, balmy evening, the last rays of sun turning the heather to deepest purple and the dips and folds in the valley to gold: pauper’s gold her Dad called it, theirs for free to alleviate the misery of reality.
Nathan leaned dejectedly against the cairn, his hands stuffed deep in his trouser pockets. She could tell he was out of sorts – but then so was she. There were no welcoming smiles or kisses, both of them barely able to conceal their frustration. She waited for him to speak.
‘You certainly infuriated Mother this afternoon. What on earth did you say to her?’ He sounded like a pompous schoolmaster rebuking a naughty pupil.
‘I told her a few home truths,’ Lacey said jauntily, an unpleasant edge to her voice. ‘She didn’t want to hear them. She thinks I’m a low-class girl using you to climb the social ladder, and that once I stop pestering you, you’ll soon forget me.’
She paused, judging Nathan’s reaction, not liking what she saw. His expression conveyed neither sympathy nor outrage on Lacey’s behalf, nor did he make the quick rebuttal she had been expecting about him soon forgetting her. Shrugging off his silence, Lacey continued. ‘She thinks you only imagine you’re in love with me.’
Nathan emitted a deep sigh. ‘What exactly were the home truths, as you call them?’ He sounded wary, as though he dreaded hearing them, and paled as Lacey bluntly related the facts. She watched his frown deepen and his grey-blue eyes darken.
Nathan drew breath, sharply. ‘You were meant to endear yourself to her, not insult her. No wonder she dismissed you.’
Lacey’s shoulders slumped. It was useless to argue that it was she who had been insulted. She gave him a pitying look and shrugged her resignation. ‘There you go again, Nathan. Twisting the facts in favour of the upper class. The day you truly believe in equality is the day I’ll want you. Until then I think it best we stay apart.’ She turned and sped down the hill, Nathan’s pleas for her to come back ringing in her ears.
15
The group of women in the Mill yard listened with mixed reactions to what Lacey was telling them. Some sniggered out loud whilst others muttered under their breath, refuting her suggestions. A few leaned forward, ears cocked, nodding in agreement.
Lacey challenged them further, for whilst she waited for Nathan to decide what his aspirations truly were, she had decided to further her own.
‘So you see, lasses, the more of us joins the Weaver’s Union the louder we’ll be heard. We’ve as much right to have our say as the men we work with. If we sit back and let ‘em walk all over us we’ll get nowhere.’ Hands on hips, she glanced from one face to another, awaiting their response.
‘Men don’t want women in t’Union. They’ve made that clear.’
If it ‘ud mean a raise in wages, I’d join.’
‘Aye, why should we be paid less than a man for doin’ t’same work?’
‘We’ll get the bloody sack if old Brearley hears about this.’
Lacey raised her voice above theirs. ‘If the Union demands summat, Brearley has to listen to ‘em, an’ if they make a strong enough claim he has to do summat about it. That’s how Unions work. That’s why we need to join and make our voices heard. An’ remember, Brearley can’t do without us. It’s us that makes him his brass.’
A chorus of ‘I’ll join,’ was in danger of being drowned out by the jeering ‘Go an’ waste your bloody time if you’ve nowt better to do.’
The hooter blew, Lacey hurried to her looms, elated. At least half the women had been supportive, and if they held their nerve the Union men were in for a surprise next Monday evening.
*
On Saturday afternoon Lacey knocked at the door of a neat terrace house in Wormald Street. When it opened, Lacey found herself gazing into the sharpest blue eyes she had ever seen. The elderly woman, head tilted enquiringly, waited for Lacey to speak.
‘Miss Amelia Broadhead?’
‘I am she. What can I do for you?’
The brisk tones and perceptive gaze were somewhat at odds with the wrinkled cheeks and untidy mop of silver hair. Surprised, Lacey smiled. Amelia smiled back.
Lacey took a deep breath. ‘I need to learn about women’s suffrage and the Trade Unions. I thought you might give me some advice. I’ve heard you are actively involved in the women’s movement and know a lot about such matters.’
Amelia’s smile widened. ‘You heard correctly, although these days I’m far less active than I’d like to be.’ She shook her head ruefully. ‘Old age has nothing to recommend it, my dear, however…’ she stepped back perkily, ‘my heart still beats to the same drum. Perhaps you’d better come inside.’
Two hours later, Lacey was back on the street, her head buzzing with the exploits of Annie Besant, the Pankhursts and Isabella Ormston Ford: Annie, who had fought for the rights of women employed in the Bryant and May match factory, had forced their employers to stop using the white phosphorous that formed the match heads, a highly toxic substance that gave the women something they called phossy jaw; a terribly painful condition that disfigured and rotted the jawbone. Isabella had rallied the overworked, underpaid women who worked in the sewing sweatshops in Leeds and Bradford to march through the streets of those cities, demanding better working conditions and improved wages, and the Pankhursts had campaigned for women’s right to vote.
Amelia had described these women as having fire in their bellies. That’s what I have, Lacey told herself as she walked back home. If they can do it, so can I.
*
On Sunday afternoon Lacey walked to Cuckoo Hill, her thoughts flitting from one issue to another; the Union meeting she would attend tomorrow night, the depressing newspaper reports on the war in France, and Nathan
.
She sauntered over the moor, settling down in a sheltered spot overlooking the valley. From this vantage point she could see Garsthwaite.
It looked innocuously peaceful.
But England was no longer at peace. Every day the worsening effects of war were felt throughout the land: husbands, fathers, sons and uncles leaving home to enlist and fight in a war not of their making; a slump in trade and the threat of short-time in the mills; the risk of food shortages and the ever present menace of invasion. Would German soldiers be marching over these moors before long, Lacey wondered? Would everything she held dear be changed forever?
Her gaze roved the rolling heather until the grey slate roof of Netherfold came into view, just visible in its cosy cleft on the edge of the moor. Please, God, protect us from all harm, she silently intoned, her gaze drifting to include the drab conglomeration that was Garsthwaite.
She fixed her eyes on the larger houses in Towngate; the better end of the town as Edith called it. Mill managers, businessmen and shopkeepers lived here, their substantial three storey dwellings in sharp contrast to the rows of terraced houses huddled in narrow, cobbled streets under the shadow of the mills. Eventually her eyes settled on the largest and most impressive of all the houses; Fenay Hall.
She wouldn’t visit there again, she told herself forcefully. She was done with Nathan Brearley playing fast and loose with her affections, adoring her one day, castigating her the next.
Her mind made up, Lacey bounced up and skipped across the heather, an exhilarating sense of freedom spurring her on. In time she’d find someone else, she thought, someone who would go through hell and high water to marry her. The cairn in sight she quickened her pace, eager to reach home and those who truly appreciated her.
Nathan stepped into view. Shocked, Lacey faltered to a halt in front of him. ‘I thought I’d find you here,’ he said.
The very sight of him shaking her recent conviction to let him go, she steeled herself and snapped, ‘Why would the likes of you come looking for the likes of me?’
‘You know why. I love you.’
Lacey smiled sadly. ‘Aye, but is it enough: enough for you to want to share your life with me?’
Hurt by her words, Nathan grasped her by the shoulders, pushing his face close to hers. ‘Of course it is. I’m shocked you doubt me. I’ll marry you as soon as I can.’
‘Does that mean we have to wait until your mother’s no longer with us?’
Nathan’s face darkened and he stepped back. ‘What sort of a question is that?’
‘It’s simply this, Nathan. If you were to marry me could you bear your mother’s disapproval?’
Nathan flinched. Lacey knew she had touched a nerve.
‘It won’t come to that. She’ll learn to accept you.’
Lacey laughed bitterly. ‘No, she won’t. You’re fooling yourself again, Nathan. I’m a mill girl, the daughter of a penurious smallholder. She and the people you associate with will think you’re marrying out of your class; and they’d be right. I’ve had no education to speak of, I consort with weavers and spinners, folk who toil in muck and dust twelve hours a day. I don’t keep company with bank managers an’ the like, neither am I the simpering, well bred young lady your mother expects you to marry. So you see, Nathan, you have to be strong enough to contend with all our differences. If you marry me it might make me happy but it’ll be a hard road for you.’
‘So be it,’ Nathan said, a glimmer of a smile lighting his face. ‘I’d already reached that conclusion without you bullying me into it. No matter the problems, I’ll move heaven and earth to make you my wife.’
Lacey’s blood sang in her veins and she knew her face expressed the joy she felt, yet Nathan’s didn’t mirror it. ‘Sadly though, Lacey, marriage will have to wait, and not because of Mother. I came to tell you I’ve signed up. I join my regiment in five days’ time.’
Astounded, Lacey digested Nathan’s words. When he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, Lacey responded with equal passion, at the same time dreading the thought of losing him.
‘I can’t imagine you as a soldier,’ Lacey murmured.
Nathan smiled wanly. ‘Neither can I, but I’d be a coward if I didn’t do my duty. My old School, Sedbergh, had an Officer Training Corps and although I was a member I didn’t exactly enjoy it. It’s seems somewhat immoral, training to kill your fellow man. If I have to fight I will, although it’ll hardly come to that. The War Office says it will be over by Christmas.’
‘Then Christmas can’t come soon enough,’ Lacey replied fervently.
*
Jonas sat facing Constance in the library at Fenay Hall, an exasperated expression reddening his features. ‘For God’s sake, woman, the lad’s going to war. Let him leave on a happy note. I don’t understand why you’re making such an infernal fuss over the girl. She’s his choice and not a bad one at that.’
Constance retaliated. ‘How like you to hold such an opinion; you’ve mixed with mill hands for so long you even think like them.’
Felicity entered the room, glancing disdainfully from one parent to the other. ‘You’re not still arguing over Nathan and Lacey, are you?’ She went and stood in front of Constance, towering over her like a strict governess would a naughty child. ‘Mother, he loves her, and Father and I are fond of her. She makes Nathan happy; be happy for him. Particularly now when he’s going away to fight in this awful war.’
Constance fiddled with the string of pearls round her neck. She heaved a sigh. ‘Very well, if and when he brings her here again I will be on my very best behaviour – but only for Nathan’s sake.’
Jonas chuckled. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’
‘Hold who to what?’ Nathan asked as he entered the library.
Instantly, Jonas fabricated a lie. ‘Your mother, she’s promised to attend the next Woollen Manufacturer’s Conference with me.’ In the circumstances he did not want Nathan to know Constance had been badgered into accepting Lacey.
Nathan raised his eyebrows at Constance. ‘You surprise me. You’ve never gone before. What changed your mind?’
Constance smiled sweetly. ‘There are times, Nathan, when I think perhaps I am too staid. I’m trying to be a little more adventurous in my outlook.’
Jonas glanced at Felicity, his eyes twinkling triumphantly. ‘Will we be seeing owt of Lacey before you leave us, lad?’
Nathan frowned in Constance’s direction. ‘That all depends on Mother. I intend to spend most of my time with Lacey in the next few days but I won’t bring her here to be humiliated.’
Constance flushed. ‘Oh, darling, that was a misunderstanding on my part. I’ve regretted it ever since. Bring Lacey to see me again and I promise I’ll make her more than welcome.’
*
‘So, he’s joined up, has he?’ Joshua met Lacey’s news with his usual equanimity.
‘I suppose he’ll go in as an officer; his sort usually do,’ commented Matt, a hint of derision in his voice.
‘Exactly what do you mean by that?’ asked Lacey.
Matt shrugged carelessly. ‘Nowt, except he more than likely won’t be in as much danger as them poor buggers who are just cannon fodder for t’Germans.’
‘But he’ll be there, fighting for king and country, which is more than you’ll be doing,’ Lacey retorted.
‘Farmers are exempt,’ growled Matt, ‘an’ I wa’ only sayin’ what’s obvious. I’m not makin’ out he’s a coward.’
Lacey’s eyes moistened. Secretly, she had accused Nathan of being just that whenever she felt he had let her down, but she wouldn’t allow Matt to do the same.
‘Now, now,’ Edith intervened, ‘it’s a bad do all round and we don’t want to be falling out over it. There’s enough trouble in t’world without making more.’ She poured water from the kettle into the teapot. ‘I just hope it’s all over afore our Jimmy’s old enough to be called up.’ She lifted the teapot and poured. ‘There, drink your tea, and no more sad talk. We should be proud our
Lacey has such a courageous young man.’
Edith picked up her mug and sipped thoughtfully. Perhaps when Nathan was away, Lacey would give up this notion she had of him – and he of her. It would save an awful lot of bother.
*
On Monday evening Lacey didn’t attend the Union meeting; there would be plenty of time for that when Nathan was away. Instead, although she had vowed never to return, Nathan opened the door at Fenay Hall and Lacey stepped inside, a determined smile hiding her inner misgivings.
‘Are you ready for this?’ he asked, his own smile wavering at the thought of what he was about to do.
‘You don’t need me to bolster your confidence. You proved what a man you are when you battered Syd Sugden in the mill yard. This’ll be easy by comparison. At least you won’t have to use your fists.’
Nathan laughed shakily. ‘I would hope not.’ He ushered Lacey into the drawing room. Constance looked up from the magazine she was reading, a warm smile lighting her face when she saw them.
‘Ah, there you are, darling, and you brought Lacey with you; how delightful.’ Lacey was dumbstruck. Although Nathan had assured her his mother no longer objected to their relationship, the effusive welcome surprised her.
Constance patted the chair next to hers. ‘Come Lacey, sit here and give me your opinion on this.’ She flourished the magazine in her hand. Lacey sat, focussing her attention on a fashion photograph of a suit with a three-quarter length coat.
‘It’s very elegant,’ Lacey said and, casting aside any apprehension, added, ‘it would become you perfectly, Mrs Brearley.’ Lacey ran her index finger round the outline of the coat. ‘See how it flares out at the bottom. With your height you’d carry off that style very well.’
Constance pouted prettily.
Lacey’s thoughtful expression broke into an enthusiastic smile. ‘It would hang beautifully if you had it made up in a length of fine worsted like the sort I was working on last week. If I was you I’d go for the blue, it would bring out your colouring…’ Realising she had been overly familiar, Lacey mumbled. ‘We wove it in lovat and tan as well.’ She cast a sidelong glance at Constance, nervous of her reaction.
The Girl from the Mill Page 13