The Iron Master (42 page)

‘Mr Howarth,’ said Lord Kersall again, even more displeased, ‘to create a professional constabulary could lead to the sort of trouble they have had in France!’

‘I do not see how, my lord. That was mob rule. This would be a private domestic army.’

‘Exactly!’ said Lord Kersall, very grandly indeed. ‘The Englishman, Mr Howarth, whether he be high-or low-born, cherishes his freedom.’

‘Still, my lord,’ said the Reverend Robert Graham, after a suitable silence, ‘I cannot help thinking that we should tighten our jurisdiction. Colonel Fletcher and the Reverend Thomas Bancroft of Bolton are zealous in their pursuit of conspirators. They employ informers, not as we do, but on a great scale. They rule Bolton with a rod of iron.’

‘So I have heard,’ said another magistrate, who was new to the business. ‘But then, Bolton has the reputation of being the most insurrectionary centre in the country. You could hardly give that title to Wyndendale, sir! Indeed, I fear we should be laughed at if we admitted that our Jack Straw harms nobody, and leaves what he calls “fair payment” for his thefts!’

‘Then we should bear with their amusement,’ said William firmly. ‘And, if there is some rooted objection to approaching the Home Secretary, can we not consult with some person or persons like these two gentlemen in Bolton? They will tell us how to deal with him, how to bring pressure to bear, how to infiltrate this organisation.’

Lord Kersall looked splendidly offended.

‘The Deputy Constable of Manchester, Mr Joseph Nadin,’ murmured Robert Graham, ‘has a reputation for such matters. They call him ruthless, which I often discover to mean very efficient! And is there not an attorney in Stockport, who works in a somewhat unorthodox fashion, but has excellent results?’

‘What do you mean by unorthodox, sir?’ enquired Lord Kersall.

‘Well, my lord,’ said the Reverend Robert uneasily, ‘he stretches his authority somewhat. He has been known to fetch Crown witnesses across the county borders, and to trade spies and information. He sets a thief to catch a thief, my lord.’

‘Disgraceful!’ said Lord Kersall, for he did not want to lose one jot of his entitlement to rule the valley.

‘But the Home Secretary is particularly pleased to have such an efficient servant of the peace, my lord, and he turns a blind eye to these little irregularities.’

Humphrey Kersall gauged the feeling of the meeting, and tapped the table thoughtfully with his fingers.

‘If we could track down Jack Straw … ’ said Squire Brigge, hopefully.

‘Very well, sir,’ said Lord Kersall haughtily to the clergyman. ‘If you care to enquire of these people I have no objection. But I shall not take orders, mind! We are our own government in Wyndendale. Remember that!’

He looked hard at all of them, and especially at William Howarth.

*

Like the poor man at the rich man’s table, Dorcas Howarth picked up fine crumbs, and had thus come to the notice of the Hon. Mrs Brigge, Lady Clayton and Squire Wrigley’s wife of Medlar. But it was with some surprise and anxiety that she now beheld Lord Kersall’s middle-aged heir at her garden gate, looking for a stable-lad to take his horse. Still, she reflected that he must want a favour of her or he would not trouble himself. So she gave her orders with great dignity, and composed herself to receive him.

Ralph Kersall had many faults, but lack of style was not one of them. His dark riding coat, his glossy boots, his white pantaloons looked as though dust would never dare alight upon them. He entered Dorcas’s parlour with a smile upon his face which did not reach his eyes. She curtseyed and he bowed.

He began by craving her pardon for his unwarrantable intrusion; complimented her upon Bracelet, but not too much or too effusively, paid flowery tribute to her influence upon her large family; hinted that the ironmaster would have got nowhere without her guidance; and arrived at the reason for his visit.

‘I am come, madam, to throw myself upon your mercy and ask your judgement, on a matter of considerable delicacy.’ He cleared his throat and consulted his nails. ‘Madam, what I have to say will be painful to both of us, and I am sorry for that, but I believe we can set matters right between us. At any rate, my wife thinks it best so.’

This latter gleam of honesty revived Dorcas, and she smiled on him.

‘Madam, I fear that my stepmother, Lady Kersall, and your son, the ironmaster, are guilty of an indiscretion.’

Here he looked straight at her, and her momentary liking vanished. He had the Kersall eyes of unarmed blue, the Kersall manner of staring through the person he was addressing. Of a sudden, Dorcas felt that she was being used. So he thinks to overwhelm me with his high station and high compliments, and give me my orders? she thought. And sat very upright.

‘Well, sir,’ she said with some spirit, ‘you are going a long way about mending the matter. Why do you not speak with Lady Kersall?’

He closed up his mouth in displeasure.

‘That would not — for reasons with which I shall not trouble you — be possible,’ he said, after a slight pause.

So they are not on speaking terms? thought Dorcas.

‘But what do you imagine I can do, sir, which you cannot do better?’ she asked. ‘You and my son are well acquainted. Could you not talk to him?’

The interview was not going as he had expected.

‘I would rather that he did not know the initiative came from me, madam.’

‘Sir, if we are to help each other at all you must be more frank with me,’ said Dorcas briskly. ‘Did you hope I should speak of this indiscretion with my son? That is rather too much!’

He bent his head reflectively. And she knew that he would tell her as little as he could, and she must conjecture the rest for herself.

‘I had hoped, perhaps, that you could break the news to Mrs Howarth,’ said Ralph, ‘by putting it to the lady that there were strong rumours, and you feared it might harm the ironmaster.’

He looked at her again, and Dorcas saw that he meant harm to William, however and whenever he could inflict it. ‘You did not think to approach her first, sir?’

He hesitated, and then said, ‘Mrs Howarth is a very charming and charitable lady, but my wife thought it best that you should break the news to her.’

Then Dorcas understood that Zelah was a mystery to them. They had no yardstick by which to measure her.

‘It would save a scandal, and my father’s feelings, madam, for he knows nothing. And it will save your son a great deal of trouble!’ He saw that she was not to be threatened, and added graciously, ‘We should be so much obliged to you. We should be delighted to be of service to you in any way possible.’

‘Very well, sir, it shall be as you wish,’ said Dorcas, rising.

He bowed rather more deeply than he had done when he entered, and repeated that he was under an obligation to her.

‘Then allow me to release you of it,’ said Dorcas, smiling in a way that would have given any member of her family cause for reflection.

‘Anything, madam … ’ Apprehensively.

‘I am forming a committee for charitable purposes, to raise funds for a School for Girls of Poor Families in Applegarth. It would assist me greatly if I had an illustrious lady as patron. There would be, of course, no work involved. Nothing but the lending of a name, and one personal appearance when the school is opened. Do you think that Lady Caroline would be so kind as to undertake this, sir?’

He paused only for a couple of seconds. There was nothing in the request which could offend in any way, but Caroline would probably be furious.

‘I am sure my wife will be charmed, madam. I shall ask her to write to you!’

He bowed again, gave her his formal smile, which vanished when Nellie handed him his shining top-hat. They watched him ride away, immaculate in his riding clothes: cuffed boots as bright as mirrors. His horse, too, was very correct and noble, handsome and high-stepping. They made an exquisite partnership.

‘He don’t seem ‘uman, somehow, does he, Mrs Howarth?’ said Nellie, folding her apron round her hands, watching. ‘But a very grand gentleman,’ she added hastily, ‘and his visit’s done you a power of good, ma’am.’

‘He called-to tell me that Lady Caroline is to be patron of my school committee, Nellie. Is that not good news?’ said Dorcas smoothly.

‘Aye, that’ll fetch the brass rolling in. There’s nowt like a title to make folks come running! I dare say that’s along of Mr William being so famous these days, isn’t it, Mrs Howarth?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Dorcas drily. ‘It is entirely because of William.’

It was difficult to find an aperture in the armour of Zelah’s day. Like her mother she was up and dressed by six o’clock, to give the older girls their lessons before breakfast. She supervised her household, answered letters, listened to requests, made the rounds of the nursery and schoolroom, visited friends and relatives and dependants, and devoted herself to the two youngest children for an hour before supper. The evening was filled by family, visitors, and entertaining.

However, Dorcas had long been accustomed to domestic challenges, so she picked her hour nicely one wet afternoon, a few days after Ralph Kersall’s visit. Warmly wrapped by Nellie, carefully driven by Tom, she set off for Kingswood Hall and was rewarded by finding Zelah sitting alone and writing her journal.

‘I do beg your pardon for interrupting, my love,’ said Dorcas sincerely, ‘for we must all have some solitude. But I promise you I had good reason to call, and I shall be brief.’

Zelah’s smile had lost its youthful humour but was still warm and sweet. She kissed Dorcas tenderly on both cheeks, and deplored the wet bonnet and cloak.

‘Truly, Mrs Dorcas, I am astonished that those two kind dragons of servants allowed thee out in such weather!’

‘My servants know when to be kind and when to be dragon,’ Dorcas remarked.

For she would never let her five-and-seventy years dictate to her, nor allow them to make dictators out of anyone else. Zelah’s smile was spontaneous this time, but she hid it and rang for tea.

‘I have always endeavoured not to interfere,’ Dorcas began, warming herself at the vast coal-fire on the hearth, ‘and hope I have succeeded. But one never knows oneself well enough to be sure of that.’

‘I count myself blessed in thee and my mother, who are the best and kindest of women,’ said Zelah warmly.

‘And we are blessed in you, and so is William,’ Dorcas replied. ‘Indeed, I never knew such a man for having his faults overlooked as William!’

‘William is a great man,’ said Zelah loyally, ‘and hath a great man’s little weaknesses.’

They drank tea, and reflected on their different worlds.

‘Dearest child,’ said Dorcas cautiously, ‘I fear I have news to give you which implies some thoughtlessness on William’s part. I do not place more importance upon the matter than that, but his actions could be misconstrued.’

She resolved to keep her tone light and her voice steady, though these days her emotions were as fragile as her bones, and as likely to break if she were not careful with herself.

Zelah turned pale and said, ‘Rath he borrowed money of thee?’

‘Indeed he has not’ — crisply — ‘and I should not lend it to him if he asked, not however many per cent he promised me! Mr Hurst and I agreed long since that William’s attitude towards money was not our own, though all very well for him. Old ladies on fixed incomes must be cautious. No, my love, it has nothing to do with me. It is a foolish matter which could be taken far too seriously, but should be nipped in the bud.’ Here she laughed a little, to show how unimportant she considered it to be. ‘There are rumours that he has been paying too many compliments to Lady Kersall, and if it came to his lordship’s ears it could harm William. I should discount it, for I have no opinion of gossip, but William is a little too prominent, these days, to risk talk of this kind.’

Zelah set down her tea and mastered herself to speak.

‘I thank thee for thy kindness to me, but I would prefer the truth. It cuts sharp, but it also cuts clean.’

Then Dorcas saw the rock beneath Zelah’s sweetness.

‘You give me no choice,’ said Dorcas, after a moment’s pause, ‘but to say what I had rather not. Men of William’s age, with William’s amount of money and authority, often make fools of themselves over a young woman. And from what I have heard of Lady Kersall,’ she added with some asperity, ‘I should not be inclined to blame William entirely in the matter! Though he has undoubtedly done wrong to you. I do not excuse him on that account, my love.’

Zelah said sadly, ‘I have sat a hundred times, as I do now, and wished I were a girl again and back at Somer Court. The thought of my home hath given me strength when naught else would have done.’

Forlorn, too stricken to find further excuse or to offer comfort, Dorcas put her hand upon Zelah’s hand and two tears slipped down her face. She was too old to carry suffering as once she had done.

‘Once, when Bitty was a baby,’ Zelah continued, ‘I wrote to ask my father if he would send for us. But in the evening William came home and was sorry, and I tore up the letter to my father. And it hath been so many and many a time since.’ She was conscious of Dorcas’s distress, and stopped herself. ‘I would not cause thee sorrow,’ said Zelah gently. ‘My mother and thee were loved faithfully and well, and so knoweth nothing of my helplessness. But though I have said the least, concerning William’s behaviour, I have not felt the least.’