The Master of Liversedge (11 page)

Again the girl nodded. ‘Ay. She’s t’ lass wi’ t’ pretty bonnets who stands next ’im, in t’ church of a Sunday.’

‘That’s right.’ Mary smiled approvingly. ‘Has she been here? Have you seen her today?’

The child’s eyes opened wide. ‘Nay. What for should she come ’ere?’

‘She must be here!’ exploded Arkwright. ‘We found her glove, didn’t we?’

‘Yes, but — ’ began Mary.

‘The child’s lying,’ he said, fixing the little group with a fierce stare. ‘Here, you — what’s-your-name — just tell me the truth, now, or it’ll be the worse for you!’

He took the child by the arm. His grasp was not rough; but the girl, frightened and uncertain of the outcome, let out a shriek of terror. This started the others shrieking like a pack of demons let loose.

Arkwright turned in dismay to Mary; but before she could attempt to put matters right the door leading to the outhouse swung open, and a man charged into the room, a hatchet in his hand.

It was Sam Hartley. He took one look at the scene, then plunged forward with a bellow.

‘Tak’ tha dirty hands off my children, Maister bloody Arkwright — tha’s done enough damage to me an’ mine, I reckon, an’ now I’ll settle t’ score!’

He raised the hatchet, and flung himself on Arkwright.

A scream rose involuntarily to Mary’s lips, but she did her best to stifle it. She must not add to the children’s terror. She put her arms about them, and hastily shepherded them into a corner of the room, where they huddled together, shivering and crying. At the same time, a thunderous knocking sounded on the door, and voices clamoured for admittance.

She shot a frightened glance at the two men. They were swaying together in the middle of the room, Arkwright’s fingers clamped tightly about Hartley’s wrist in an effort to force him to drop the hatchet. With his free hand, the mill-owner was raining blows on the other man’s body: he seemed to have the best of it, as far as she could judge.

She ran to the door and flung it open. There was a small crowd outside, composed chiefly of women and children from the surrounding cottages, who had come running when they heard the screams of the Hartley children. There were two men among them: they shouldered their way to the door, and leapt into the room as they saw what was happening there. Mary noticed with relief that one of them was Nick Bradley. She did not know the other, but he was reassuringly burly.

They wasted no words at that moment, but flung themselves on Sam Hartley, pinioning his arms behind him so that the hatchet fell with a clatter to the floor.

Arkwright stepped back, tossing his head to shake back a lock of dark hair which had fallen over his eyes. For a few moments, Sam Hartley struggled, shouting abuse at his captors; but he was no match for the two of them. He was forced to capitulate at last and stood helplessly in their grasp, too short of breath even for further abuse.

‘What’s to do, Maister?’ asked Bradley, panting.

Arkwright turned to the open door. ‘We’ll have this shut, by your leave, Hartley,’ he said. ‘I dare say you’ve no more fancy than I have to provide a raree show for the neighbours.’

The assembled women and children were still waiting, agog with curiosity, on the doorstep. Much to their chagrin, Arkwright closed the door in their faces.

‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Now’ — his tone changed to one of menace — ‘where is my sister?’

Sam Hartley stared incredulously. ‘I don’t know — nor care! What I’d like to know is what reight tha’s got to come bustin’ in my house, an’ frightin’ my young’uns — ’

‘Wait a bit,’ interrupted Nick Bradley. ‘Tha’s got it wrong, Maister — Miss Caro ’bain’t ’ere. She’s over at t’ farm. She twisted ’er ankle in a rabbit ’ole, and managed to hobble as far as t’ house. She’s come to no harm. Jem here’ — he glanced at his companion — ‘will tell thee that’s reight. Eh, Jem?’

The farmer nodded. ‘It ’appened not long since. Missus took t’ lass indoors, and set to bathin’ her ankle, an’ such like. I sent a lad up to t’ mill with a message for thee, Maister Arkwright — ’

Nick nodded. ‘Ay. He arrived not ten minutes after tha’d left t’ mill wi’ Miss Lister. I went over to t’ house, sithee, thinkin’ to find the pair o’ ye there. Nell told me tha’d gone lookin’ for t’ lass, and I reckoned tha might head this way, so I followed. When I reached t’ farm, Jem was just coming out. One o’ his lasses ’ad been upstairs, and she’d gone to t’ winder when she heard t’ dog barkin’, and seen thee passin’ by wi’ Miss Lister.’

‘T’ silly wench didn’t say nowt till tha’d gone reight past, Maister Arkwright,’ put in Jem Hobson. ‘Otherwise I’d ha’ caught thee afore tha reached Sam’s place.’

‘Better if tha had,’ muttered Bradley, looking askance at his master.

Arkwright’s face betrayed nothing of what he felt. ‘You say Miss Caroline’s hurt her ankle? But what was she doing down here, in the first place?’

The farmer shook his head. ‘She didn’t say — leastways, if she did it was to t’ missus, not me. Happen she came for a bit of a walk, like.’

Arkwright shook his head. ‘No. I think not.’ He turned to Hartley again. ‘What do you know of all this?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘Nowt,’ Hartley panted, still breathless from his recent exertion. ‘For all I care thee an’ thine can roast in Hell — ay, and will, what’s more, if tha gets thy desserts.’

‘You persist in saying that you know of no reason why my sister should come this way?’

‘I do that. And now get out o’ my house, Maister Arkwright, and tak’ tha rotten wage-slave wi’ thee. And yon wench’ — indicating Mary with a gesture of his head — ‘I don’t want t’ likes o’ her hangin’ round my children.’

‘Watch your tongue!’ warned Arkwright, imperiously.

‘I’ll say what I like in my own house,’ replied Sam, defiantly. ‘I got some reights, like young Booth’s always tellin’ us. And one o’ them reights is,’ he went on, raising his voice, ‘to be shot o’ company as I don’t want, nor haven’t invited, neither. So get out, t’ lot o’ ye.’

Arkwright signalled to the others. ‘We’re going, Hartley. But understand this — if I find later that you were in any way involved — ’

‘What canst do that’s worse nor what tha’s done already?’ queried Hartley, bitterly. ‘I’ve nowt to fear from thee, Maister Arkwright — now.’

TWELVE: THE DARK RIDER

‘I’ve been questioning Caroline,’ began Arkwright abruptly, coming into the schoolroom where Mary was sitting alone. ‘It seems she’d heard some talk about the Hartleys, and was going there to take them money.’

Mary nodded. ‘I’d already guessed as much. It would be like her.’

He looked at her searchingly. ‘Have you any particular reason for coming to that conclusion?’

‘No,’ she said, slowly. ‘Except that she had been asking a good many questions about Sam Hartley during the last few days.’

‘What kind of questions?’

‘Oh, about his dismissal from the mill, and his family’s circumstances — that kind of thing, you know.’

He kept his eyes on her face, and she felt herself colouring under the keen scrutiny. ‘Knowing your own interest in that family, it did occur to me that you might have initiated these questions.’

‘How could you think that?’ she asked indignantly. ‘I knew very well that you did not wish Caroline to concern herself with such matters.’

‘Am I to suppose that my wishes would weigh with you?’ he countered, with a sneer.

‘Certainly. I am paid to regard them.’

‘I am relieved to hear you say so, for I thought it had slipped your memory.’

‘What makes you say that?’ She had started by feeling apprehensive, but now she was becoming indignant. She was prepared to be held responsible for Caroline’s escapade, but not blamed for initiating it. ‘I am not conscious of ever having disregarded them.’

‘It is a part of your duty to keep a strict watch on your charge. Had you done this, today’s incident would not have been possible. Can you suppose that you were acting in accordance with my wishes when you made a habit of leaving her entirely unsupervised for one hour in every day?’

‘I am not trying to evade my responsibility for what happened, sir. I could plead that it never occurred to me that Caroline might abuse — ’

‘It should have done,’ he interrupted. ‘What use is a guardian who does not foresee possible trouble?’

‘It never seemed possible to me that Caroline should deceive me — I had judged her incapable of it.’

‘You are too trusting,’ he sneered. ‘This is not your first experience of children, I understand?’

‘Mr. Arkwright,’ she said, with emphasis. ‘I know — we both know — that only something quite out of the ordinary would induce your sister to behave in this way. Her escapade was unpremeditated — she acted on the spur of the moment.’ She took a deep breath to fortify herself. ‘Am I then expected to regulate Caroline’s routine to allow for the extraordinary events? If so, it must be an extremely rigid one.’

‘Do you presume to argue with me?’

‘No,’ she replied, marvelling at her own temerity. ‘Merely to bring to your notice a point which may have escaped it.’

‘Upon my word, ma’am,’ he answered sharply, ‘I begin to wonder if you are fit to have charge of my sister at all! This defiance is not what I look for in one circumstanced as you are.’

The hint was unmistakable, but some unruly spark in Mary prompted her to try her luck further.

‘My circumstances are not of my making, sir. Perhaps it is scarcely generous in you to allude to them. Surely in justice I may defend myself?’

‘You’ He advanced upon her angrily. She fell back a step, looking at him in alarm. For a moment they stood motionless, staring into each other’s eyes.

‘B’God!’ he muttered, at last. ‘You don’t know what you do, woman!’

She did not dare say any more. For a moment there was silence.

‘Very well,’ he continued, in a more normal tone. ‘We will have a complete understanding, Miss Lister. First of all, you will see to it that your charge is never left alone during the hours that you are employed here. If for any reason you are unable to be present, she must be left in the care of some other responsible person. You see that I am classing you as a responsible person, in spite of everything.’ She darted an indignant look at him, but made no remark. ‘And secondly, I am going to give you a warning — it’s the last you will hear from me. I’ve stood a good deal from your family of late, and I’m beginning to feel that my affairs will go on very well without them. Caroline is very fond of you, so I have promised this time to overlook your shortcomings.’ He paused, regarding her sternly. ‘I’ve been very patient, ma’am, and I’m not a patient man. Consider this well, before you venture to cross me again.’

He stalked out, and Mary was left to consider the interview, and to marvel at herself. How could she have dared that temper? She realized how close she had come to being dismissed; yet, at the time, she had been unable to suppress her indignation. She had behaved quite differently from what she had intended. She had meant to ask his pardon for her dereliction of duty. But there was something about the man which roused personal feelings in her which overcame her natural prudence. She must be more on her guard in future.

She slept fitfully that night, the interview with Arkwright springing clearly to her mind each time she awoke. Just before dawn, she was beginning to settle more peacefully, when she was aroused by sounds from outside.

She sat up in bed, fear clutching at her with cold fingers. Was it the Luddites on the march again?

She listened for a moment. No: this was not the same sound that she had heard once before in the night. She could distinguish wheels and horses’ hoofs; these were waggons going past, escorted by men on horseback.

She leapt out of bed, and to the window, pulling aside the curtain. A clear moon floated high above the scudding clouds. It lit the scene, showing Mary a flash of red coats riding by, and the grey shape of a waggon. For a moment, a dark head was outlined sharply against the sky before its owner rode past. In that brief flash Mary recognized her employer.

She climbed back into bed again with cheeks that burned.

*

The next day, Caroline’s ankle showed some signs of improvement, so that her routine needed little change. Both she and her governess felt disinclined to discuss the events of the previous day; they shared a slight depression of spirits.

It was with relief, therefore, that they joined Mrs. Arkwright in the afternoon for tea in the parlour. Caroline’s mother was invariably cheerful, and would soon present them with some trivial subjects about which they could chat comfortably. Sure enough, by the time the tea-cups had been handed round, Caroline was smiling and Mary was feeling much more at ease.

This pleasant atmosphere was shattered abruptly by the unexpected entrance of the master of the house. At sight of him, the smile left Caroline’s lips, and Mary dropped her teaspoon.

She bent to pick it up; but, before she could do so, he had forestalled her, and was offering her another from the tray.

She mumbled her thanks, avoiding his glance. He sat down, and addressed Mrs. Arkwright.

‘Well, ma’am? I’ll wager you didn’t expect to see me, eh?’

It was at once evident that he was in a good humour. Caroline’s quick, birdlike glance darted towards him, and the smile returned to her face.

‘That I didn’t, Will,’ returned Mrs. Arkwright. ‘You’ll take a dish of tea — or are you in a hurry?’

‘I can spare a few moments,’ he said, accepting the offer with a nod.

He leaned back in his chair at ease, and watched her pouring the tea. The sun glinted briefly through the parlour windows, adding a touch of spring to the domestic scene.

‘You’re snug in here,’ he said, looking around him contentedly. ‘You females lead a pleasant life, by and large.’

‘Well, you may think so, Will,’ replied Mrs. Arkwright. ‘But I don’t mind telling you that one can have a little too much of peace and quiet. If the weather hadn’t turned for the better so that I could get out and about a bit, I should have been moped to death, I declare!’

He laughed. ‘You, moped to death, ma’am! That is something I should like to see. You are the most cheerful female of my acquaintance.’ He paused, seemingly struck by a sudden thought. ‘Should you like to give an evening party? You are always saying that we don’t entertain enough, and I have something to celebrate at present.’

‘A party!’ Two voices took up the chorus eagerly.

‘Not you, young lady.’ He turned a sober look on Caroline. ‘You’ve not earned a party. Besides you’re too young, in any case.’

The fact that she uttered no protest spoke much for the repentant frame of Caroline’s mind at present. Arkwright’s lips twitched, but he managed to check the smile.

‘Whom will you ask, Will?’ demanded Mrs. Arkwright. ‘Shall we have dancing? Do you think we should ask the Colonel and Miss Grey, or will they consider themselves above our neighbours? I dare say we could muster fifteen couple, and we often used to have as many as that in this room at one time, when your poor father was alive — ’

‘Not so fast!’ he said, laughing. ‘I had nothing so ambitious in mind as a large party, with dancing. I thought we might perhaps ask a few of our more intimate friends — the Colonel and Miss Grey certainly, if they will honour us; my father’s friends, the Shaws, from Dewsbury; the Websters, whom you visited yesterday; the doctor and his wife — oh and Miss Lister — with, of course, her uncle.’

Mary jumped. ‘Oh, I — ’ she stumbled a little over her words — ‘thank you — you are very kind. I shall be glad to come and sit with Caroline. As for my uncle — I do not quite know what — it depends, of course, when it is to be.’

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ he said, in a downright tone. ‘As sit with Caro, I mean.’

‘Oh, but — ’ she paused, helplessly. ‘Indeed, I’d prefer to,’ she finished.

‘No doubt. But, like Caroline, you have some expiation to make.’ He looked at her in no unkindly way. ‘If Caro is barred from the party, and you are deprived of the opportunity of sitting with her, I think the purpose of discipline will be served. Her social instinct and your maternal one will alike have to make a sacrifice.’

Mary looked away; she felt herself blushing. Mrs. Arkwright came to her rescue.

‘Yes, when is it to be, Will?’ she demanded, eagerly. ‘Of course, I would have liked a larger party — but perhaps later on, when the nights are lighter, and Caro’s foot is better — not that there is much wrong with it, now, only you say that she shall not — and, of course, you are right,’ she added, hastily catching his eye. ‘There’ll not be much preparation needed for a small affair of this nature — they will take their mutton with us, I suppose, and then we shall play cards, or the young ladies will sing, or something of that kind — ’

‘Must I eat my dinner alone in the schoolroom?’ asked Caroline, in a very small voice. ‘Or may I have it with Nellie?’

He looked at her in silence for a moment, considering.

‘You may eat your dinner with the company,’ he conceded, at last. ‘But you will retire immediately afterwards — understood?’

Her face lit up. ‘Oh, Will! You are so good, and I shall not mind a bit — ’

She broke off, biting her lip. He laughed.

‘Be careful, or I may need to think of some other way of impressing your fault upon you. Well, that’s settled.’ He put down his tea-cup, and rose to go. ‘As for the time — why, tomorrow, I think. There seems no point in delay.’

‘Tomorrow!’ Mrs. Arkwright looked startled. ‘But isn’t that — oh, well,’ she continued, ‘as I said, there’ll not be much preparation needed. I’ll see Nell later on, and we’ll soon set everything in train. It’s a pity that daffodils are so late this year — I wonder what Caro should wear — the pink muslin, perhaps — ’

‘This is no place for me,’ he said, laughing. ‘Settle it among yourselves — I’m off.’

‘But, Will,’ asked Caroline puzzled. ‘What is it you want to celebrate by giving a party?’

‘Oh, that.’ He paused on his way to the door. ‘The future of the mill, and the expansion of our trade. I have my new shearing frames installed. They arrived safely last night.’

He nodded, and passed out of the room.