The Master of Liversedge (16 page)

When she had gained sufficient control of herself to follow them again, she realized that several of them were arguing with John. There was something they wanted him to do; and he was refusing, though with less and less conviction as each one piled argument on argument. It was difficult to follow the exact words, for they all spoke at once, and most of them shouted. John’s voice, too, had developed the high, falsetto tone that it took on in moments of stress. At last, someone shouted for silence, and Mary shuddered involuntarily. She would have recognized that voice anywhere. It was George Mellor’s.

‘We’ll have an end o’ it,’ he pronounced, violently. ‘Tha knows well enough, John Booth, that t’ time for fine talk’s past — action’s what we need, and what we’ll have!’ There was a cheer at this. ‘And so, lad, tha’ll need to mak’ up tha mind now — this minute.’ There was a pause. ‘Art for us — or agin us?’ concluded the speaker, ferociously.

There was another cheer. Mary noticed a frayed portion of the screen just below the level of her eyes, and bent her head to it, in order to try and obtain a view of the room beyond. She found that the worn threads offered an imperfect peephole which did not allow her to discern the features of the group. It was better than not being able to see at all.

They were standing in a rough circle, with John — she knew him instantly, in spite of the difficulties — in the middle, together with Mellor, whom she soon identified by his voice.

He repeated his question. After a momentary hesitation, John replied.

‘You — you know I’m with you, George. But — but — ’

‘There’ll be no buts,’ said Mellor, roughly. ‘Tha’lt be twisted in, lad like t’ rest — then there’ll be an end o’ tha nonsense. Who’s got t’ Book?’

John began a protest, but he was shouted down, and Mary saw someone thrust a book into his hand. She longed to cry out, but dared not do so, for fear the group might do some harm to her cousin, as well as herself, if she were discovered. How could she stop them, without declaring herself? She racked her brains feverishly to think of a way. And all the time, the hands of the clock were creeping on — it was almost twenty minutes to eight by the one hanging on the wall, above the conspirators’ heads.

‘Repeat after me,’ ordered Mellor. ‘ “I, John Booth — ” ’

John’s voice began the words of the Luddite Oath; stumbling a little every now and then, and tailing away to a whisper after the first few sentences. Mary listened in growing alarm.

‘ — do solemnly swear that I will never reveal to any person under the canopy of Heaven the names of the persons who compose this Secret Committee, their proceedings, meeting places, places of abode, connections, or anything else that might lead to the discovery of the same, whether by word, deed or sign; under penalty of being sent out of the world by the first brother who shall meet me — ’

His voice had now sunk so low that she had to strain every nerve to hear what followed, and kept missing a few words here and there.

‘And I further now do swear, that I will use my best endeavours to punish by death any traitor … wherever I find him … should he fly to the verge of nature, I will pursue … So help me, God, and … keep my Oath inviolable.’

In her anxiety to hear what John was saying, she had been pressing her head closer and closer to the screen. Suddenly it wobbled dangerously, and she put out her hands to try and steady it. Her fingers caught in the frayed patch which she had been using as a peephole. There was an ominous tearing sound; the screen swayed violently for a moment, then fell with a clatter to the floor, sending up a cloud of dust.

All eyes turned towards her. For a moment, no one moved or spoke, Mary stood stricken with terror, surveying the ring of startled faces which showed pale in the yellow light of the tallow dips. Then George Mellor and John Booth together took a step forward.

‘What in hell — ?’ thundered the former.

Mary rushed to John, and flung her arms about him.

‘You must go!’ she said, breathlessly. ‘Now — at once! The soldiers are coming to search this place — they’ll be here at eight o’clock, or soon after — ’

‘M-Mary! What — what are you doing — ?’

‘What’s that tha’s sayin’?’ asked Mellor, pulling her roughly away from her cousin. ‘S’ojers? What’s that about Redcoats?’

He thrust his face close to hers, and the nightmare quality of the man almost made her scream aloud. She tried to pull herself free, but he only tightened his grasp so that his strong fingers dug relentlessly into her flesh.

‘It’s true,’ she gasped. ‘They’re coming — someone gave word of this meeting’ — she turned her head towards John, straining away from Mellor with all her frantic strength — ‘Oh, go now, I beg of you — else it will be too late!’

John seized Mellor’s arm urgently. ‘L-let her go — you must let her go, George! You’re hurting her!’

‘Nowt to what I’ll do to her, if she’s playin’ off tricks,’ growled Mellor. ‘Is this true, tha baggage?’

‘Oh, go, John, go!’ she insisted, almost sobbing in her anxiety to convince him of his danger. ‘They know the meeting is for eight o’clock — they’ll arrive then, or soon after — for the love of Heaven, go quickly!’

‘By gum, I reckon it’s reight,’ said Mellor, releasing her abruptly, so that she almost fell. ‘Ye know what to do, lads — we’ve bin through all this afore — we’ll meet on t’ Moor, as planned — get out, quick!’

There was a general exodus. Mellor grabbed John’s arm. ‘Come on, lad, look lively! I know where we’ll be safe enough till they’ve gone!’

John shook him off. ‘Mary — I can’t leave you — ’

‘You must, you must! For your father’s sake — and mine, John! Go with — that man. I’ll be all right. Nick brought me here’ She stopped all at once recollecting what had happened to Nick Bradley.

‘Nick? They — they’ve — ’ began John.

‘Come on, lad, for God’s sake!’ Mellor pulled him headlong in the direction of the door. He turned briefly to throw a word to Mary. ‘Tha’ll find Bradley in t’ cupboard. He’ll be none t’ worse, I reckon, by now. Don’t fret ower tha cousin — I’ll tak’ care o’ him, reight enough. Don’t look to see ’im back ’ome for a day or two.’

She nodded, scarcely knowing what she did, and watched while Mellor propelled John through the door. She noticed that though he handled her cousin firmly, he was not unduly rough with him; and she thought with surprise that the black giant seemed always to have a kind of rough concern for this young man whom he might well have despised.

After they had gone, she stood still for a moment, trying to recover from the exhausting emotions of the last hour. Then she roused herself, and went over to the cupboard.

She half feared to look inside; but, conquering the feeling, turned the key and opened the door.

Nick Bradley was sitting up in a slouched attitude, a slightly bemused look on his face. She bent over him with relief.

‘Oh, thank Heavens! Are you all right?’

‘Ay — reight enough,’ he said, struggling to his feet.

She put out an arm to help him. ‘Can you manage? Or shall I get the landlord?’

‘Nay.’ He had managed to stand erect, and now moved unsteadily forward into the room. ‘Reckon I’ll be a’ reight in a little while.’

‘Do you think you could walk downstairs?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Or do you need help from someone stronger than myself? I don’t think we should remain here — the soldiers might ask us awkward questions.’

‘By gum, ay — I’d forgot that.’ He passed a hand across his brow, and winced slightly. ‘What time is it? Did young John get away? Or wasn’t he here?’

‘He’s safe,’ she answered, shortly. There would be time later to go into that. ‘But we must leave here without delay. If you can manage to reach the place where we left the gig, I can drive us home.’

‘I’ll manage, lass.’

‘Then take my arm. I’ve found a door just beyond the foot of the staircase which leads directly into the courtyard. It’s quiet and dark there, we should be able to leave unobserved.’

Reluctantly, he did as she asked, and together they slowly descended the staircase. They met no one on their journey to the courtyard and it was not long before they reached the gig.

Mary helped her companion to ascend, then untethered the horse, and herself climbed up into the vehicle.

‘I’ll not light the lamp, yet,’ she whispered as she drew the rug around Nick.

She took up the reins, competently guiding the light vehicle on to the road which led to Liversedge.

They had gone only a short distance, when they heard the bell on the parish church clock telling the hour.

Five minutes later, from the distance came the sound of galloping hoofs and the jingle of harness, as the military rode on a fruitless errand to the St. Crispin Inn.

SEVENTEEN: A VISITOR FOR MARY

Mary awoke next morning with a heavy depression of spirits. She was so quiet over breakfast that her uncle became solicitous, asking if she would not have done better to rest in bed for the day. Although this kindness made her feel guilty, it did at least offer her a further respite from the necessity of confessing the truth about her absence from Mr. Arkwright’s house. She knew that this must be faced soon; but at present, while her anxieties over John were so pressing, she did not feel equal to it. She told herself that tomorrow, come what may, her uncle must know what had really happened.

After breakfast, she asked Mrs. Duckworth to find her something to do, and finally settled down in the parlour with a pile of mending. There was a letter to be written home, but she was in no mood for that, knowing her mother’s ability to read between the lines. Mrs. Lister would sense that all was not well with her daughter; when so many miles divided them, it would be cruel to rouse her anxiety. Moreover, it might not be long before they were reunited, when Mary could tell her own story.

She applied herself industriously to the task of replacing buttons and darning hose, and even managed to achieve a degree of tranquillity after a time. There was a soothing quality about the quiet, domestic task, after the dramatic happenings of the past few days. Vaguely, she heard a knock sound on the Vicarage door, and Mrs. Duckworth’s hurried step in the passage outside, as she went to answer it. Even when the parlour door opened, and Mrs. Duckworth poked her head round it, Mary was still only half aware of the interruption.

The next moment, she was immediately plunged into a state of extreme awareness and confusion.

‘Mr. Arkwright to see you. Miss Mary.’

She started up from her chair, a torn shirt of her uncle’s clutched in her hand. Her face paled a little, then gradually was suffused by a faint blush.

‘I — I can’t see him’ she began weakly.

It was too late, for Mr. Arkwright strode into the room, nodding to the housekeeper to close the door. She did so, and left them alone.

He gave Mary a brusque good morning, and then seemed at a loss how to continue. She could not help him, and for a few moments they stood silently facing each other, waiting to see who would begin.

At last she could not bear the silence any longer, and uttered the first words that came into her head.

‘I — perhaps you wished to see my uncle?’

‘No. It was you I came to see.’

‘Oh — well’ she stammered. ‘I — I thought that everything had been said between us that there was to say.’

‘Not quite.’ His tone was still curt; and, now that she was recovering a little from her first embarrassment at seeing him, she found herself resenting this. ‘There is something still to say — or to retract, rather.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘No? Well, it’s not the easiest thing in the world to explain. The fact is’ — he hesitated, then went on quickly — ‘I fear that I may have been a little hasty, yesterday.’

She made no reply, but looked at him expectantly.

‘You must admit,’ he said, abruptly, ‘that appearances were against you. The letter — found in your pocket, so you said — ’

‘It happens to be true,’ she replied, coldly.

‘Perhaps: but — ’

‘There is no “perhaps” or “but” about it,’ said Mary, indignantly. ‘I don’t propose to go through a repetition of the scene we had yesterday. So if that is all you have to say to me, Mr. Arkwright, you had better leave.’

‘Listen to me, woman,’ he commanded, ‘and don’t be such a firebrand. I was only — ’

‘A firebrand? I?’ She threw up her head, and a dangerous spark came into her eyes. ‘And what do you think you are, prey?’

I’ll admit that I am no sucking dove,’ he said, with a dry smile.

‘That you are not!’ she retorted. She had nothing to lose now, and the repressed indignation of several weeks was burning on her tongue. ‘I don’t know when I have ever met such a quick-tempered, autocratic, unreasonable — ’

‘That will do,’ he said, sharply.

‘I am not obliged to take your orders now,’ she pointed out. ‘I am free to speak my own mind.’

He stared at her. ‘Evidently I have been deceived in you,’ he said, in a stern tone. ‘I thought you a gentle, prettily-behaved female — ’

‘Did you also think me entirely devoid of spirit?’ asked Mary. ‘Did you think you could insult me, and I would say nothing? Words are a woman’s only weapon — you must expect her to use it.’

‘I know this much,’ he said, taking a step towards her. ‘If you were my sister, I should lay you across my knee, young woman.’

‘How dare you!’ An angry flush stained her cheek, and she stepped back hastily, for fear he should think of putting his threat into execution.

‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ he exclaimed, with an impatient gesture. ‘Why the devil do I always seem to be at loggerheads with you? I didn’t think myself so completely lacking in address — and you have tact and charm enough, when you choose to exercise them — ’

‘I will not listen,’ said Mary, with compressed lips, ‘to any more of your insults! I will ask Mrs. Duckworth to show you out.’

She threw the garment she was still clutching down on the table, and moved towards the door. He caught her by the arm.

‘Confound it, no — not yet! I haven’t told you what I came here to say.’

‘Kindly release me,’ she said, coldly.

‘Damned if I will,’ he retorted, taking both her arms in his grasp, and swinging her round to face him. ‘Now you listen to me, young woman — ’

Afterwards, she was to wonder why she should have behaved as she did. Mr. Arkwright seemed to have the trick of stirring strange emotions within her.

She tore one arm free from his grasp, and, before he could make a move to recover it, dealt him a stinging slap on the face.

‘You — you hell cat!’ he said, between clenched teeth.

For a moment, she feared that he was about to retaliate in kind, and flinched away from him. But he did not strike her; instead, he crushed her to him in a fierce grip that seemed as though it would break every bone in her body. Then he tilted her chin roughly upwards, and pressed his mouth ruthlessly on hers.

He held her there for what seemed an interminable time: then he released her so abruptly that she staggered, and had to clutch at the table for support.

‘Oh!’ she gasped, and covered her face with her hands.

He surveyed her with grim satisfaction. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I thought you would dislike that. Let it be a lesson to you not to play off hoydenish tricks.’

She raised her burning face, and looked at him with angry eyes.

‘How dare you! How dare you treat me like a — like a — ’

‘Oh, but I didn’t, I assure you,’ he said, with a sardonic smile. ‘Not if we are thinking of the same word, that is.’

‘I won’t listen to such — such improper talk — and under my uncle’s roof, too!’ she stormed.

‘Well, you began it, my dear,’ he replied, still smiling. ‘Tell me, do you consider it proper to indulge in fisticuffs with visitors under your uncle’s roof, as you put it?’

‘You deserved that,’ she retorted, ‘and I am glad — yes, glad — that I did it, however unladylike it may have been!’

‘No doubt. And I am just as glad, believe me’ — his dark eyes mocked her — ‘that I retaliated as I did.’

‘Oh!’ She turned away in confusion.

‘But I won’t tease you,’ he continued, good-humouredly. ‘I came here on a peaceful errand, you know, not to pick a quarrel. I have been thinking over what I said to you yesterday, and it seems less than fair.’ He paused. ‘I am prepared to accept your account concerning the letter.’

‘That is very good of you,’ she said, tartly.

‘Yes, well, under the circumstances, I think it is,’ he replied, coolly. ‘Consider the facts — I’ve known you for a very short time, your cousin had Luddite sympathies. I’m not in a position to be able to take anyone on trust. In making an exception of you, I’m going against reason — as you must acknowledge, if you’re to weigh the matter objectively.’

‘I am not in an objective frame of mind, at present, Mr. Arkwright.’

‘So I have observed. But come, now, accept my apology, there’s a good girl, and let’s consider the business at an end.’

‘Apology? You call that an apology?’

‘Why not? I’ve acknowledged that I was hasty.’

‘Without,’ Mary reminded him, ‘asking my pardon for it.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked, a shade testily. ‘Go on my knees to you?’

‘No. But I think you might show some contrition for the — ’ she faltered ‘ — for the upset you have caused.’

‘Very well, then, I do ask your pardon. There, are you satisfied now?’

She shook her head. ‘No, Mr. Arkwright, I am not. From your tone, I collect that you think it a small thing to lose your temper with those who cannot answer you back — and when you choose to receive them into favour again, they must be ready and willing to forgive you at once, without ceremony.’

‘Why not? Those who know me well, know also that I mean nothing by it. My bark is worse than my bite, as I think I told you before this.’ He shrugged. ‘We all have faults — this is one of mine, if you will.’

‘And you don’t mean to do anything to cure it,’ said Mary, mockingly. ‘Most of us try to overcome our faults — you seem almost proud of yours.’

He looked at her for a moment without replying.

‘Be careful, ma’am,’ he warned, at last. ‘Do not drive me too far, or I may be obliged to repeat my performance of a few moments since.’

The colour once more flooded her cheeks.

‘How you
can
remind me — ’ she began, in a muffled voice.

‘Do I need to?’ His dark eyes deepened, momentarily. ‘For myself, I shan’t find it easy to forget.’

‘You — I — ’ she faltered, her eyes dropping before his intent look. ‘You have no right to say such things,’ she resumed, more spiritedly. ‘I don’t care for gallantry, sir.’

‘That depends, does it not?’ There was an edge to his light tone. ‘On who is offering it to you, I mean.’

‘I see you are determined to insult me,’ said Mary, with dignity. ‘You’d best go, Mr. Arkwright. I accept your apology — such as it is — ’

He started to speak, then evidently thought better of it, standing for a moment in silence.

‘Very well,’ he said, at last. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then?’

It was more of a statement than a question. She stared in surprise.

‘See me — tomorrow?’

He nodded. ‘Yes — you feel equal to it, I imagine? If you would like a few more days at home, I am perfectly willing — ’

‘Do I understand you aright, sir? You are asking me to return to your employ?’

‘Of course — what else?’

‘But — after all that has passed — ’

‘My dear Miss Lister,’ he said, formally, ‘it is a great mistake to refine too much upon the past. I made a mistake — I have apologized — you have accepted my apology. There is no reason that I can see why everything cannot be just as it was before.’

Again she stared at him. ‘No, I believe you really can’t,’ she said, incredulously. ‘All that has happened, both yesterday and — and’ — she faltered a moment — ‘now, today — it all means nothing to you. It might never have been.’

‘That’s not quite true.’ He gave her a deep, intent look that made her turn away quickly. ‘There is one thing I shall remember, at any rate. But, for the rest — whatever hard things we may have said to each other, I shall not think of them again.’

‘You are fortunate in having such an accommodating memory,’ she said; but she did not look at him.

‘I found out early in life that there’s no profit in thinking of disagreeable things. Write off your bad memories as you write off your bad debts, and show a clean sheet. It’s the only way.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t aspire to it.’

‘Come, ma’am, I should have said you were a forgiving person.’

‘Yes — but not one who forgets entirely.’

‘Well, try to forget. I assure you, I shall not think of any of this — save one thing, as I said before.’ He paused, waiting for her to answer, but she was silent. ‘Shall I see you tomorrow? Or is that too soon?’

‘No, Mr. Arkwright.’ She faced him resolutely. ‘You will not see me tomorrow — or at any time, in your house as your sister’s governess.’

He stared at her incredulously. ‘You do not mean to return?’

‘No. It would not do. I must look for a post elsewhere — nearer my own home, I think.’

‘May I ask why it would not do?’

She hesitated. The reasons which came first to mind were not those she wished to voice.

‘Is it anything,’ he persisted, ‘to do with what has happened here today? If so, I promise you — though reluctantly — that it will not occur again. While you are in my house, you need have nothing to fear — from me, or from anyone else.’

‘No — it’s not only that — I — oh, it would not answer!’