“I’m beginning to think Georgie has hidden talents,” Martha said. “Look how well she’s organising the others and how they mind what she says.”
“She’s not stupid, though I think that mother of hers sounds to be very silly and has taught her to hide her talents, not display them.”
“I agree!”
Martha began to walk up and down, watching the children play and smiling at their pleasure and high spirits. But her own spirits weren’t as high as theirs because she hadn’t realised how much being with the children would rouse the old longing for a family of her own. She had never talked about this to her sister, pretending she was happy with her single state, but now she asked quietly, “Do you ever wish you had children of your own?”
Penelope looked at her in surprise. “Of course I do. Don’t you?”
Martha could only nod, because if she spoke she might give away how emotional she was feeling. But she saw that her sister understood. They knew each other all too well.
* * * *
Ben saw them coming down from the moors, Georgie in animated conversation with Beth, the oldest Wright girl, Penelope walking with Helen and Jenny, the middle girls, and Martha holding Alice’s hand as the child skipped along. Both teachers had cheeks as rosy as their charges and when Martha bent down to listen to something Alice was saying, he found the picture they made very touching.
It was only as he was going back to the mill that he realised he’d hardly noticed how Penelope looked. Strange, that.
Then he forgot about everything as his two engineers brought him into a discussion about the steam engine and the new machines, which were proving their value.
“Daniel’s got an idea for getting some more of the fluff out of the air,” Ross said, smiling benignly on his assistant. “It sounds feasible and you must admit not only would the operatives benefit, but we’d have less cleaning up to do. He needs to draw his idea up properly, though, if we’re to have parts made, and I’m no better than him at drawing—worse in fact.”
Nor had Ross ever been an inventive engineer, Ben thought, unlike Daniel, though the older man understood machines and how to maintain them, and did a very competent job. After they’d finished discussing the idea, Ben took Daniel aside and said quietly, “If this works, you’ll get five guineas for your idea and an increase in wages.”
Daniel stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment.
“We’re not all like Brindley, you know,” Ben said mildly, then carried on making a round of the mill, something he did several times a day. He reminded the men he’d chosen for the reading classes that they were staying behind the following day and promised them a meal at his expense before the class. This had been Penelope’s idea and he thought it a good one, a small reward for the extra effort they were making. Hepzibah had agreed to provide the food and Jonas had offered to pay his share of the costs.
In fact, things were going so well Ben could hardly believe it after the rioting and other troubles of the previous year. Maybe Noll would admit defeat now and leave Seaton’s mill alone.
But that still wouldn’t solve the problems caused from time to time in the town by the unhappy workers from Brindley’s. He and Wright would like to do something about that, for the sake of their fellow citizens, but neither of them wished, or could afford to buy the other man’s mill, even if Brindley would sell it.
The man seemed impervious to reason and bent on working his operatives to death. This couldn’t go on, surely?
* * * *
Late that evening Sally answered a knock at the front door to find Daniel Porter standing there.
“Could I see Miss Penelope, please?”
“It’s getting a bit late for callers.”
“It’s urgent or I wouldn’t disturb her. Please, Mrs Polby. I’ve only just finished work and I had to have a wash and change my clothes before I came here.”
Her eyes softened as she took in his reddened, scrubbed hands and threadbare but neat clothes. “Come in, then, and wait in the hall. I’ll go and fetch Miss Penelope.”
While he was waiting, Meg peeped out of the kitchen door and waved to him, her face rosy and cheerful, which did his heart good. When Sally returned a moment later, Meg vanished.
Penelope came to greet him at the door of the parlour and offered her hand, which he took very briefly. “Mr Porter. Do sit down. You know my sister.”
He nodded to the other woman, but it was to Penelope that he addressed himself as he sat on the edge of a chair, clutching some papers and looking thoroughly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry to disturb you so late, but I wondered if you could spare the time to help me with these?”
“You know I’m happy to help you in any way I can. What are they?”
“Drawings—well, just rough ones. I’ve had an idea about changing our machinery to take some of the fluff out of the air. It gives folk working in the mill bad chests an’ it’s not good for the machinery, neither. Only I need to draw it up neatly to get the parts made and I can’t do that well enough yet.”
“How interesting! May we see your drawings?”
The two women studied Daniel’s sketches, which were smudged and crossed out, made on scraps of paper picked up in the mill. Martha found them hard to understand and soon resumed her seat by the fire, but Penelope had a better eye for diagrams and after a few questions had soon worked out what Daniel was trying to show.
The two of them sat close together on the sofa, heads bent over the pieces of paper, discussing how best to show what was needed so that the owner of a nearby foundry could make the parts.
Watching them, Martha was surprised at how easily they seemed to understand one another and how animated her sister became as the two of them discussed the diagrams. She hadn’t seen Penelope glowing with life like this since she’d been betrothed to John Medson. On that thought Martha became very still and stared across the room in shock. Surely Pen couldn’t have fallen for this fellow? John had been a gentleman, however reduced his circumstances, while Daniel was a working man, with no money and no education—definitely not a proper husband for a Merridene.
No, it couldn’t be, she must be mistaken. It was just Pen’s love of helping others that was driving her. That was all it could be.
When Penelope had perused the last piece of paper, she smiled at Daniel, quite unaware of her sister’s scrutiny. “How exciting all this is!”
“It’s amazed me how well you understand it!” he exclaimed. “There’s not many as would, you know, let alone a lady like yourself. But can you teach me to make proper drawings? I’ll pay you whatever is usual.”
“Oh, yes. I’d enjoy it. And I wouldn’t dream of taking payment. But we’ll need to go and make a start on them in the schoolroom. It’s lucky I’ve got some bigger sheets of paper for my sketching. Come and see them.”
Before Martha could protest, they had left the room. She wondered whether she should accompany them then leaned back against her chair with a tired sigh. What need was there for chaperoning when Penelope was only just across the corridor? Anyway, she was quite sure Mr Porter would behave himself. Meg’s brother was full of enthusiasm, not mischief.
In the schoolroom Daniel looked round and said teasingly, “Another of your grand rooms?”
“Not grand at all and it’ll soon look shabby, I’m sure, with the girls coming and going.” Penelope got out the bigger pieces of drawing paper and spread one on the table. “Here, this is the size I think we need.” She found a ruler and they measured it carefully, then, as she was putting the ruler down again, their hands collided.
Warmth flooded him and he stopped moving. “Eh, lass,” he said softly. Unable to help himself, he took her hand in his, marvelling at how white and soft it was. Without thinking he raised it to his lips.
She made no attempt to pull away, just sat smiling slightly, remembering how it had felt when John touched her, wondering that this man should have the same effect.
Abruptly, with a wordless exclamation of annoyance at himself, he put her hand down and withdrew his own. “Sorry!”
“It won’t go away,” she said, her voice as soft as his had been.
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand what “it” was. “It
can’t
happen between us.”
“Why not?”
“You know very well why not! I haven’t two pennies to rub together, let alone you’re a lady and I’m a working man who doesn’t even speak proper.”
She gave one of her quiet chuckles. “That only means we must wait until you’re established as an engineer and earning more money, not that we have to ignore our feelings. John would only have earned four pounds a week, you know, as a curate. I don’t need to be rich to be happy.”
“But I can’t even read properly! How can you think of a man like me in that way?”
“It happens like that between two people sometimes. And since I know you’d never speak out without encouragement, I make no bones about admitting my attraction to you.”
“Your sister would have me out of that front door in an instant if she knew.”
“Well, I shan’t tell her anything yet—and there isn’t really anything to tell, just the prospect of it. And anyway, she can’t prevent me from seeing you. I’m twenty-four and in control of my own life.” She took hold of his hand again, loving the roughness and strength of it against her skin. “Besides, I think Martha has an interest in someone too, only she won’t let herself see it. I’m going to have a lot of difficulty in marrying my sister off, for she’s convinced herself she’s a born spinster.”
He tried to pull his hand away, but when she wouldn’t let him, asked, “Are you quite sure, Penelope lass?”
She liked the way he pronounced her name with that slow northern accent. “Oh, yes. And you?”
“You know I am. Except I can’t believe this is happening to me.”
“I have an advantage over you. It’s happened to me before. You’d have liked John.” Her smiled wavered for a minute.
“He must have been a grand chap to win a lass like you—lady, I should say.”
“No, call me lass. I like it. No one else has ever called me that before. It’s early days yet, Daniel, but let’s give our feelings a chance to grow. And in the meantime, I’ll help you improve yourself so that you can read easily and draw up proper sketches.” She smiled warmly at him. “So if that’s all that’s stopping you . . . ”
“Eh, I think you’re the bravest lass I’ve ever met. The whole world would disagree with your choice of me.”
“Then they must disagree.” She looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece. “It’s time for you to go home now, though.” She took him to say goodbye to her sister, then walked with him to the front door. Only then did she whisper, “I’m not pushing you too hard, am I, Daniel?”
“Nay, lass.” He raised his hand and brushed his fingertips lightly against her cheek, then left without a backward glance.
Penelope stood for a moment, still feeling his touch. Such a small thing, that light butterfly caress, yet it lingered on her skin. She had been very forward tonight while he had been trying to be sensible. Only she didn’t want to be sensible. She knew how rare and precious was that rapport between two people, and how abruptly it could be terminated. Life was, at best, a very chancy thing. And Daniel wasn’t dull or brutish, only uneducated. He was also kind and responsible and intelligent. His little sister adored him.
And she was falling in love with him—had already fallen, Penelope acknowledged to herself. How wonderful!
When she went back into the parlour, she kept her smile as serene as she could while she talked about the drawings she would be helping with. She didn’t want Martha to realise how she felt about Daniel yet, didn’t want to give anyone the opportunity to trample on their fragile shoots of happiness.
* * * *
That same evening, Noll scowled at Gerry, who had come to tell him that Seaton and Wright were paying the Merridene sisters to teach their overlookers and assistant engineer to read and write better.
“Have they run mad to spoil their men like that?” he spluttered. “Why do workers need to read and write? The best thing is to keep them ignorant.”
“You learned to read and write,” Gerry said mildly. “So did I.”
“Aye, because my mind were set on mekkin’ summat of mysen. But if everyone is reading the newspapers and such, they’ll all want to better their lot and then who’ll we get to work in our mills?”
“Ah, they’re mostly women working there nowadays. They won’t want to read the newspapers.”
But Noll wasn’t to be appeased. “Next thing we know, those buggers will be putting on classes for women as well.”
“Never. What would they do that for? Women will only go off and have babbies, then it’ll all be wasted. Even Seaton’s not that daft.” Gerry judged it prudent to change the subject. “How’s your Peter coming on, then? He’s got his arm out of that sling, I see.”
“He’s getten friendly with that Seaton lass, done summat right, for once. Meets her behind the church. We’ll give him a few weeks to sweet talk her, then we’ll act.”
Gerry rubbed the side of his nose thoughtfully. “I still don’t see how you’ll get ’em wed.”
“Ben Seaton will be glad to get her wed to my Peter when I’ve finished with ’em. I’ll snatch her and send the two of ’em away together for a few days. If we shut ’em up together day and night, whether he touches her or not, even her bloody brother will want her wed.”
Gerry could see that his employer expected praise for this, but he was shocked. He managed to say, “You’re a cunning old devil,” and was relieved when Noll took it as a compliment, but he was thoughtful as he walked home. It seemed unfair to little Georgie Seaton to treat her like that. He remembered her as a child and had seen her in the street since her return to Tapton. She looked very young to him, even if she was seventeen. He’d a daughter that age. Dilly was already expecting her first babby and right pulled down by it she was, too.
And what if the Peter wouldn’t take part in kidnapping the Seaton lass? The lad seemed decent enough at heart, more like his mother in nature than his father, and decent men didn’t abduct innocent young women.
But he daren’t tell Noll what to do. When his employer had set his mind on something, that was that, and if you had any sense, you said yes and did as he ordered. Well, you did if you wanted to keep your job, as Gerry did. He’d grown used to the comfortable life he could lead on an overlooker’s wage, and had accepted that the price he had to pay for it was working for a man like Noll. But he sometimes regretted the things he had to do.