The Master of Liversedge (10 page)

‘I’d die sooner!’ shouted Sam. ‘And mark my words, Maister Arkwright. I’ll get even with thee for this day’s work, see if I don’t, tha bloody murderer!’

Before John could move to prevent it, he spat full in Arkwright’s face.

Miss Grey looked with some curiosity at the mill-owner to see what he would do. In some odd way, she found herself almost enjoying this scene. If she judged her man aright, he would take a horsewhip to the workman who had just offered him such an indignity.

She was to be disappointed. Arkwright merely produced a handkerchief, and wiped his face. Then he nodded silently to John Booth to take the man away.

The fury born of Sam’s anguish had now burned out, leaving him broken and dejected. John put an arm as gentle as a woman’s about him, and led him unresisting away.

‘Well!’ exclaimed Lucinda. ‘What was all that about, pray?’

‘A business matter,’ said Arkwright, tersely.

‘Do you always conduct your business in such a dramatic style?’ she persisted, refusing to be put off by his discouraging manner.

‘Miss Grey, you may perhaps not have understood. That man had just lost his wife and new born child. In such circumstances, a little drama is excusable, you will allow.’

‘Oh, yes, by all means.’

‘Shall we go in?’ he said, moving to join Miss Foster, who was still standing beside the coach. ‘I am glad to observe that the incident has not affected you in any way.’

If she noticed the irony in his tone, she gave no sign of it. ‘No, why should it affect me? And, I dare say, you know, that presently that man will realize that it is no very bad thing to have two less mouths to feed.’

He looked at her as though seeing her for the very first time.

ELEVEN: CAROLINE IS MISSING

It seemed to Mary that at last she had achieved a good relationship with her employer. He had always been the one uncertain factor in the household; she had never been sure from day to day what kind of mood she would find him in, whether it would be polite for her to talk freely to him or to keep silent. But now, after each had betrayed to the other on different occasions some of the thoughts which were normally kept hidden from the world, surely future encounters would be on a more friendly, equable plane.

She was to be speedily disillusioned, and to discover that she had not yet seen the worst of William Arkwright’s autocratic temper.

It began a few days after Sam Hartley buried his wife and child. Talk from the servants had drifted to Caroline’s ears, and she had been asking questions of her mother and Mary which they had done their best to avoid. Both knew it was Arkwright’s policy to try and keep Caroline away from any contact with his business affairs; whatever Mary may have thought of this, she was obliged to do what was expected.

Towards the middle of the morning, Mary left Caroline practising alone at her pianoforte in the parlour, while she herself sought the quiet of the schoolroom in order to prepare the next lesson. It was quite usual for her to do this; the sound of the pianoforte did not reach as far as the schoolroom, but she knew she could trust Caroline to spend the required time on her exercises.

At the end of the hour agreed upon, she returned to the parlour to find it empty. At first she thought nothing of this; Caroline’s absence would be only temporary. She wandered over to the instrument, and inspected the music propped up on the stand.

It was then that she began to suspect that Caroline might have evaded her duties, and been absent for some time. The book was open at the first page which she had been told to practise; while the rest of the music which had been part of her morning’s task was lying untouched on the top of the pianoforte, just as Mary herself had placed it.

She frowned. There might be a satisfactory explanation of all this, but she meant to hear some kind of explanation immediately. She went into the hall, called Nellie, and asked her if she knew anything.

Nell shook her head. ‘No, ma’am, only I haven’t heard her playing for some time. Happen she’s up in her room, bad lass, or out in t’ garden. I’ll send after her, and bring her to you directly.’

Mary thanked her and sat down at the pianoforte to play until her errant pupil should arrive. No doubt Caroline’s quick mind had thought of something which could not wait a moment to be done, and she had dashed off to execute her plan, not meaning to be more than a few minutes away from her appointed task.

It was quite a long time before Nellie returned, alone. She looked worried.

‘She ’bain’t nowhere, not in t’ house nor t’ garden, ma’am. Where can she have got to?’

‘I can’t imagine,’ replied Mary, a worried frown creasing her brow. ‘She is not with Mrs. Arkwright, I suppose?’

Nell shook her head. ‘Mistress went visiting more’n two hours agone. Miss Caro was still with you, ma’am, in t’ schoolroom, then.’

‘What about the mill? Perhaps she’s walked over to see her brother.’

‘I don’t reckon she’d do that, Miss Lister. She knows as Maister don’t welcome her there, think on.’

‘No,’ said Mary, thoughtfully. ‘But there might have been something which seemed to her to be too urgent to wait until Mr. Arkwright returned home this evening. You know how impatient she is.’

‘I do an’ all.’ Nell’s grey head nodded emphatically. ‘But I don’t reckon she’d go agin Maister Will for all that, ma’am.’

‘Perhaps not. All the same, I think I’d better walk over there, and make sure. If she appears in the meantime, will you send someone after me to let me know?’

The housekeeper promised, and Mary hurried upstairs to put on her pelisse and bonnet.

She had never before visited the mill. It lay in a hollow beside a pleasant stream, partly shielded from the view of the house by a thin belt of trees. When she reached the building, she stood for a moment on the paved forecourt, considering the massive wooden front door studded with huge iron nails. She doubted if anyone would hear if she knocked on such a door, and there did not appear to be any other means of attracting attention.

While she was hesitating, a man crossed the yard. He stopped on seeing her and approached. She recognized Nick Bradley.

He greeted her cordially, and asked if he could be of any help.

‘I wondered if Miss Caroline had come here,’ said Mary. ‘She’s missing from the house.’

He shook his grey head. ‘Not as I know of, ma’am; but happen tha’ll want to talk to Maister Will — he may know summat.’

Mary’s heart sank, but she nodded. ‘If you’ll be good enough to take me to him, I think it would be best.’

As it happened, he was spared the trouble, for at that moment Arkwright himself came through the great door, a look of concentration on his face. It changed at sight of Mary.

‘Miss Lister! What in thunder are you doing here?’ Then, more sharply. ‘Is anything wrong?’

Mary told him, trying to sound less worried than she felt.

‘What’s this?’ he interrupted, brusquely, before she had time to finish. ‘Caroline missing, you say? Missing? And pray what were you about, to let her get out of your sight, ma’am?’

She began to explain that it was usual for her to leave Caroline alone to practise at the pianoforte, but again he cut her short.

‘We’ll go into that later. Where had you looked for her, beside here?’

‘Only around the house and garden,’ faltered Mary, taken aback by the severity of his tone. ‘I didn’t quite know — ’

‘You should know, Miss Lister — it’s your duty to know.’

‘She may have returned by now,’ said Mary. ‘She can’t have gone far — ’

‘No?’ he asked, fiercely, glaring at her. ‘But it’s no use standing here — let’s get back to the house. Nick — ’

He turned to Bradley, and issued some instructions in a quick, terse voice. The man nodded, smiled briefly and sympathetically at Mary, and hurried away.

Arkwright strode back along the path at a pace which made it impossible for Mary to keep up with him. She arrived breathless at the house, to find him already in the kitchen, impatiently questioning the entire domestic staff.

They had nothing to tell him. Miss Caroline had been seen neither indoors nor out, since first thing that morning.

‘You’re a bunch of incompetent half-wits, and by God! if anything’s happened to your young mistress, I’ll — I’ll flay you alive!’ he threatened grimly. ‘Right — Ben, you go down to the village. Question everybody, look everywhere. If you miss anything, never think to come back here again. Harry, you go in the other direction — do the same. Molly — ’

He issued rapid directions to all of them, his face tense with anxiety.

‘Off you go!’ he concluded, and turned to Mary, who alone was left.

‘And now, ma’am, we’ll go together. Nell’s in the house, in case Caro returns; and I may need your womanly offices, if we find her.’ He stopped abruptly, torn by the thoughts these words raised. ‘Damn you, Miss Lister!’ he finished, his eyes fierce. ‘If any harm’s come to her — ’

‘But,’ stammered Mary, ‘I don’t quite see, sir, what harm could come to her. She may simply have gone for a walk — ’

‘Fiddle! What you don’t know, woman, is that Sam Hartley was outside this house a few days ago, swearing to take vengeance on me for what he considered to be the murder of his wife and child. He knows well enough — they all know — what I think of Caro. What better vengeance than — ’

He choked on the words. She had never seen him so moved, and would not have believed it possible.

‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed, shocked. ‘Surely no one could harm a child? Pray don’t let your fears run away with you — ’

‘It’s easy to see you’ve led a sheltered life, Miss Lister. A few more months here will soon change that. Come — we’re going to Sam Hartley’s cottage — but there’s something I must get first.’

He strode out of the kitchen. When he returned, he was carrying the coachman’s whip. She stared at it in horrified fascination, realizing the use for which it was intended. She realized, too, the powerful forces which might be unleashed if William Arkwright should take one false step in dealing with Hartley. She thought of black George Mellor, and shuddered.

‘Do you think you should — take — that?’ she ventured to say.

‘I may need it,’ he answered, grimly.

‘But Caroline may not be there at all — ’

‘That I mean to discover. Come on.’

He took her arm, and half dragged her from the kitchen.

They spoke no word as they made their way across the fields to the spot where Sam Hartley lived. She glanced once only into his face, and looked quickly away from the grim mask which she guessed was hiding extremes of hate and suffering.

Ten minutes sharp walking brought them to a small farmhouse situated not more than a few hundred yards from the group of dilapidated cottages of which Sam Hartley’s was one. A dog barked at them as they passed, but they saw no one about in the yard.

Now that he was within sight of his objective, Arkwright’s stride lengthened, so that Mary had great difficulty in keeping up with him. The ground was rough here, too; the tussocky grass concealed rabbit holes, and she was forced to tread with care, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the ground.

Suddenly she let out a little cry, and pounced on an object which she had seen lying on the grass just in front of her.

Arkwright checked, and came to her side.

‘What is it? What have you found?’

She turned the object over in her hand, then held it up for him to see. It was a blue woollen glove.

‘It’s Caroline’s,’ she said uneasily. ‘Mrs. Arkwright only finished making these for her a few days since — ’

He nodded, and his face tightened. ‘She’s here, then,’ he said. ‘I thought as much.’

He began to run towards the cottages.

‘But wait!’ called Mary.

He halted for a moment, to allow her to catch up with him Then he took her arm roughly.

‘There’s no time to lose, and I must have you with me, in case she — needs you. Come on, woman, you must hurry — God knows what’s happening in there.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the cottages.

‘But surely she might have gone to the farm, since we found her glove close by,’ argued Mary. ‘Hadn’t we better make sure, first, before — ’

‘Why should she go to the farm, tell me that?’

‘Why should she go to Sam Hartley’s cottage, for that matter?’ replied Mary, reasonably; although she felt more and more apprehensive as they covered the short distance that divided them from the cottages.

‘Some trick, no doubt — we’ll find out — so will he, by God!’

She could not argue any more, for she needed all her breath for the headlong race to cover the intervening distance. Arkwright’s hand gripped her arm like a vice as he half-pulled, half-pushed her along.

As they reached the first cottage in the row, they heard the sound of someone chopping wood at the rear of the building.

‘This is Hartley’s place,’ muttered Arkwright, abruptly releasing Mary so that she almost fell forward on her face. ‘Now we’ll see!’

He raised his fist, and beat a loud tattoo on the rickety door. A child’s face appeared at the nearby window, to be joined presently by another and younger one. After a pause, the door opened.

A thin, pale girl of about nine years of age stood on the threshold. She shrank back at sight of Arkwright. He pushed her aside, and strode into the cottage, while Mary remained hesitating on the step, trying to regain her breath.

The door opened straight into the only downstairs room of the building, apart from a crazy wooden lean-to at the rear, which served as a primitive kind of scullery. Arkwright’s fierce gaze travelled swiftly over the bare, yet clean, room with its few battered pieces of furniture, and its tiny fire smouldering in the spotless grate. A baby was crawling about the floor; it began to snivel, and the child who had admitted Arkwright picked it up, and held it close to her. The other children in the room all drew closer to this one, who was the eldest. They stood in a defensive little group, watching the newcomers with wary eyes that held no suggestion of interest or vitality.

‘Is there a girl here?’ asked Arkwright, impatiently.

They stared at him without answering.

‘A girl — a young lady of fourteen — have you seen her?’ he insisted, advancing on the group.

They shrank away from him, but still made no answer.

He muttered an oath under his breath, and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he turned to Mary.

‘For God’s sake see if you can get them to answer,’ he flung at her.

She advanced into the room, and smiled encouragingly at the children.

‘Do you know who this gentleman is?’ she asked, in a quiet voice.

The eldest girl considered him gravely, then nodded. ‘Maister Arkwright, from t’ mill.’

‘And do you know his sister, Miss Caroline?’ went on Mary, persuasively.