Marrying Miss Martha (22 page)

Gerry scowled. Croaky Jack had caused altogether too much trouble last time he was in town and Gerry didn’t trust him an inch. Those riots did no one any good, just slowed down the production of thread, and then Noll got angry with him as if it was his fault. In fact, Noll got angry quite often these days. He’d always been sharp, but now you had to watch your step all the time. “Is that a good idea?”

“Do
you
know someone as’ll break into their house?”

“I daresay I could find someone, if you insist, but I reckon it’s best to leave them ladies alone. They’ve got Seaton and Wright on their side and we could stir up a lot of trouble for nothing. Besides, that Farrell you’ve hired as engineer won’t know how to do owt about it, even if we do get the diagrams. He’s not near as good as Daniel Porter with machinery.” He saw Noll drumming his fingers on the desk, a sign of a rising temper, and shut up.

“Why did Porter not come to me with them fancy ideas when he was working here?”

Gerry didn’t attempt to reply to that, because he knew how Noll would have greeted any ideas that cost money and didn’t increase production.

And since the guards had been removed from some of the machines by James, they’d had a couple of accidents. Minor ones, luckily, but Gerry prayed nothing worse would happen. Them childer got tired after a hard day’s work and grew careless. He was wondering whether to tell the overseers strap them, to keep them safe, but some of them looked as if a breath of wind would knock them over and he didn’t like to make their lives even harder. He realised Noll was speaking again and banished his worries to listen.

“See if you can come up with someone to break in an’ get them plans, lad. We’ll keep Jack for that other little plan of mine.”

* * * *

Two nights later, a man climbed the back wall of the Merridenes’ house once all the lights had been out for a while. He kept careful watch over the lantern he was carrying, its front panel closed across the horn pane that allowed light out at one side only to guide one’s footsteps in the dark. If the flame went out, he’d not be able to find his way around inside the house.

Pausing to open the panel on his lantern, he pulled out a piece of paper spread with treacle, unfolded it carefully and stuck it over the scullery window. After licking the mess off his fingers, he broke the pane with one quick, expert tap, making hardly any sound because the broken glass mainly stuck to the treacle. When he’d pulled away enough pieces of glass to make a hole big enough for his hand, he reached in to unscrew the latch and then slid the lower window frame up on its sash, grinning at how easy this was proving.

Using the lantern to scan the interior, he moved forward cautiously, letting the light play ahead of him. It was a rum thing when someone paid you to break into a house and all for some papers with drawings on them. They’d told him which room to look in and said to find big pieces of paper with sketches of machinery on them. He might not be able to read but he reckoned he’d recognise a drawing of machinery when he saw one.

And if he saw owt else worth taking, he’d lift that, too. No use wasting this night’s work on some damned bits of paper.

* * * *

Penelope couldn’t understand what had woken her. She listened but the night was quiet. Then, just as she was settling to sleep again, she heard a noise and opened her eyes. She hadn’t been mistaken the first time! A window was rattling downstairs and this didn’t usually happen because the window frames in this house were well made and none of them was loose. What’s more, Sally usually locked them all before she went to bed, because she reckoned in a town you were more at risk than in the country.

Perhaps Sally had forgotten a window tonight? Penelope slipped across the room to open the door and listen. Nothing. She was about to shut the door again when she heard the rattling from downstairs. Definitely a window and it was going to keep her awake if she didn’t do something about it.

As she was going down the last few stairs she noticed a faint light coming from beneath the schoolroom door and froze. They definitely hadn’t left any lamps burning in there. She listened intently and heard someone moving about. Someone must have broken into the house. Anger surged through her at the thought of that person stealing their things and she had an urge to run in and stop him, but held her temper back. She had to be sensible about this. It’d be better to go and fetch the others before confronting the burglar. Three women could surely deal with one man, however strong, or at least chase him away.

But even as she was turning to creep back up the stairs, the schoolroom door opened and the intruder moved down the hall towards her, shining a shuttered lantern ahead of him.

She shrank back against the wall, but as he played the light to and fro, he caught her skirt in its beam and raised it to reveal her face. At once she began to scream for help and heard a thud from upstairs and her sister’s voice calling her name.

He muttered what sounded like a curse and turned to leave, but she could see that he was clutching something to his chest. She couldn’t bear him to take their things, so launched herself after him, trusting that Martha would soon be joining her. She caught him at the open window and for a moment grappled with him, but he was stronger than she’d expected and threw her off. As she fell she hung on to his coat for dear life, regardless of her own safety. She wasn’t going to let him take their things.

Then the world exploded in pain and darkness swallowed her up.

* * * *

Penelope woke to find her head thumping. She opened her eyes cautiously and discovered she was lying on the sofa in the parlour, with Martha beside her and several other people in the room. The light hurt her eyes, so she closed them again.

“Don’t try to do anything, Pen.”

It was Martha’s voice, calm and reassuring.

With her eyes still closed, she asked, “Did the burglar get away?”

“Yes.”

“What did he take?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t believe you.”

Martha patted her hand. “Shh. You’re supposed to be resting. Stop worrying.”

“Where’s that doctor? He should be here by now,” a male voice said.

Penelope risked another glance and saw their neighbour, a robust man of about fifty, standing nearby, wearing an overcoat, but with bare ankles showing beneath it and feet thrust into house slippers.

There was the sound of the front door opening and someone came hurrying into the room. “What happened?”

Several people tried to tell him at once.

Ben Seaton, Penelope thought gratefully. Now they’d be all right. He’d help Martha sort things out. She closed her eyes and let herself drift. So much easier than trying to work out what to say or do.

Ben ignored the neighbours and moved across to Martha. “I gather you had an intruder.”

“Yes. A man broke in through the kitchen window. Penelope must have heard him and gone downstairs. She was unconscious when we found her and had received a nasty blow to the head. A few minutes ago she opened her eyes and spoke to me, made sense, so I think she’ll be all right.” She lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Can you please get our neighbours to go home? There’s nothing they can do now.”

He nodded and turned to face the group of men and women. “You can leave this to me now.”

“What if the intruder is still around?” one woman asked fearfully.

“He’ll not be that stupid. He’ll be miles away by now.”

The man standing next to her put his arm round the woman’s shoulders. “We’d better go back home, dear, or we’ll get no sleep this night.”

“How did the neighbours know what had happened?” Ben asked once they’d left.

Sally replied. “It’s my fault, Mr Seaton. I was that overset to see Miss Penelope lying there I just opened the front door and screamed for help.”

He could see she was still upset and decided it might be best to keep her occupied. “Perhaps you and Meg could go and make us all a cup of tea?”

“You won’t leave?” Sally asked. “Not till it’s all secure again, at least?”

He moved across to take her hand and pat it. “No. I’ll stay here till morning, Mrs Polby, then we’ll get that window mended for you.”

“Thank you, sir.” With little sign of her usual crispness, she turned to Meg. “Come on, child, I’m going to need your help.”

He turned back to see that Penelope still had her eyes closed and Martha was standing looking down at her. He saw a tear roll down her cheek and without thinking, walked across the room and put his arm round her shoulders. With a sigh she leaned against him. “It’s all right now,” he said quietly.

“If I can only be sure Pen’s all right.”

He tried to distract her. “Is that what you call her—Pen?”

“Mmm. It was all she could say when she was a tiny child and it sort of stuck, just in the family, you know.”

She was so close he could have kissed her. He saw her hand shaking as she tried to brush her hair out of her eyes and spoke without thinking. “Leave it.”

She looked up at him in puzzlement. “Leave what?”

“You hair. Leave it hanging loose. It’s beautiful.” The look in her eyes changed to shock and he realised he shouldn’t have said that. He was always speaking out of turn with her and couldn’t understand why he kept doing it. “I beg your pardon, only it
is
beautiful. I thought so when you confronted the mob.”

“You’re always catching me at a disadvantage, Mr Seaton.”

“I like to think I’ve managed to help you once or twice.”

She knew she should move away from him, but couldn’t. “You have helped. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

“Or I without you. Look what a difference you’ve made to Georgie.” Then there was a knock on the front door and he had enough sense to pull away from her, though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I’ll answer that.”

By the time he got back, crisp Miss Martha the schoolmistress had returned and the unruly hair had been tied back with a crumpled piece of ribbon. Ben left the doctor and Martha to attend to Penelope and went into the kitchen, where he accepted a cup of piping hot tea, which he was very glad of, and one of Sally’s scones, which he could have done without, only it seemed to help the elderly maid to have someone to fuss over and feed.

“I shan’t be able to sleep at night from now on, for fear of another intruder,” she said, sinking down on a chair opposite him.

“You will, because I’ll have bars fitted to your rear windows and make sure the watch keeps a better eye on this house.”

She sniffed. “That’s as may be, but if someone wants to get in, they will.”

“Do you know what was taken?”

“Nothing. But he dropped these.” She picked up some crumpled pieces of paper from the dresser top and handed them to him. “What did a burglar want with Miss Penelope’s drawings?”

Ben spread them out, feeling equally bewildered. He soon concluded that no one but another mill owner would be interested in drawings of improvements to machinery. And since there were only three mill owners in the small town and he trusted Jonas Wright absolutely, that left Brindley.
Again!
The man had caused nothing but trouble in the past two years and something needed to be done about him. But without proof, what?

He kept his thoughts to himself and when he heard the parlour door open, went out to ask the doctor how Penelope was.

“She’ll be all right. It was a nasty blow, though, so keep her quiet for a few days.” The doctor looked over his shoulder, then asked in an undertone, “What’s the world coming to when a scoundrel breaks into a ladies’ house? We’ll have to look into the watch we’re keeping on our town.”

Ben, who like him was a member of the Watch Committee, nodded. “I mean to increase the number of watchmen and I’ll pay for it myself, if I have to.”

“Oh, I think this will make everyone on the committee agree to spend a little more. We have to protect our homes and families, after all.”

Ben escorted the doctor to the front gate, then went back inside and tapped on the parlour door.

Martha opened it, trying to look as dignified as possible, but not feeling it when wearing her dressing gown in front of a man who wasn’t even a relative.

“How is your sister now?”

“She’s gone back to sleep again.” Her crisp tone became a little gentler as she admitted, “I don’t know whether to get her to bed or leave her where she is.”

“If you like to warm her bed, I’ll carry her up for you.”

She blinked up at him. “Can you do that? She’s not a small woman.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can manage.”

“Well, maybe that would be best.”

“And afterwards, if you can let me have a blanket and pillow, I’ll sleep on the sofa in here until it’s light, when I can send some of my men to make the house safer. I feel responsible for this.”

He was standing too close again, she decided, edging back a little. “It’s not—um, not your fault.”

“I brought you and your sister to Tapton, I own this house and I employ you, so it
is
my responsibility. I intend to make very certain that you’re not troubled again.”

She nodded. “I’ll go and see Sally, then when we’re ready, you can carry Penelope upstairs. And Mr Seaton—”

“Yes?”

“—thank you. For all your help and support tonight. I wasn’t myself, I’m afraid. I don’t usually fling myself into men’s arms.” She could feel her cheeks going warm at the memory.

“You didn’t fling yourself and everyone needs comforting from time to time.”

But even after they’d got Pen to bed and Martha had slipped in beside her, just to be there in case her sister needed help, she couldn’t banish the memory of how it had felt to be held in Ben Seaton’s arms. He was a very strong man, the only one who had ever made her feel helpless and small. It was such a strange feeling. That must be why she felt rather—disturbed when he was close by.

And he’d said again that her hair was beautiful. Perhaps Penelope was right and she should start taking more care how she arranged it. No, what was she thinking of? She was a teacher, a spinster, past the age for trying to attract a gentleman. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself trying to look . . . to look like . . .