The Master of Liversedge (14 page)

‘Mary, I think I know how it came there.’ He began to stutter. ‘G-George was here last n-night. He brought that letter, and w-wanted me to — to — ask you — ’

She raised her tear-stained face, and stared at him. ‘Not to ask me to deliver it?’

He nodded. ‘Yes. And I refused, of course. He t-turned nasty, then, and said I must t-take it myself. We — we argued, and must have made t-too much noise, for Mrs. Duckworth came down to see what w-was wrong. George hid in the c-closet where w-we hang our outdoor things — I expect he did it then.’

‘Yes, my pelisse was hanging in there. But’ — she was calmer now, as her mind began to grapple with the present problem — ‘so was Mrs. Duckworth’s. How could he be sure — ’

‘Oh, Mary!’ He gave a little laugh, the absurdity of what she had said breaking through his distress. ‘Why, any garment of Mrs. Duckworth’s would go around you twice! There could be no mistaking yours.’

‘I suppose not.’ She sighed heavily. ‘What a dreadful man that is! I wish — oh, how I wish, John — that you’d never become involved with him.’

‘He’s not so bad, you know, only — desperate, and determined to do something for the workers. In his own way, he’s been a friend to me.’

‘Not my notion of a friend,’ said Mary bitterly. ‘All your troubles — and now mine, too — come from him.’

‘Why, Mary? What happened when you found the letter? Did you give it to Arkwright? You have not told me.’

‘Yes, I gave it to him.’ She was able to talk calmly now, though her face still showed the ravages of emotion. ‘You can imagine how angry he was — he said all kinds of hurtful, unkind things — ’

‘Don’t heed them, love.’ He patted her hand. ‘Arkwright’s a hasty man, but he’s not bad at heart. Tomorrow he’ll realize that he’s done you an injustice, and beg your pardon — you see if he doesn’t.’

‘There’ll be no tomorrow,’ replied Mary, pressing her lips firmly together to stop them trembling. ‘He has dismissed me.’

‘Dismissed you!’ John jumped to his feet, his expression indignant. ‘Dismissed you —
you
! But this is — is — rank injustice!’

‘I told him that. But he said that he thought I was a bad influence on Caroline, as both of us — you and I — are close to being Luddites ourselves.’

‘Not as close as we could be, though!’ John replied, slowly.

He stood still for a moment, lost in thought.

Presently, he roused himself. ‘George is right,’ he said, in a determined manner. ‘I must either be with them or against them — there is no middle way. At present, I’m trusted by neither side — I scarce can trust myself, at times.’ He paused. ‘There’s a meeting tonight at the St. Crispin Inn, in Halifax. He told me of it last night, and wanted me to go. I think I shall.’

‘No!’ Mary rose hastily, and took his arm. ‘Don’t, I beg you, John! Don’t do anything you will regret — especially not on my account.’

‘It’s not only you, lass, it’s everything. Poor Sam Hartley, and others like him — and Arkwright secure in his autocracy, refusing to heed others or to negotiate with anyone — ’

‘Please, John. For my sake, don’t go,’ she pleaded. ‘What is this meeting? Is it — ’

‘Never mind what it is, Mary. You’d best know nothing more.’ He paused, then continued, ‘What will you tell my father?’

‘I don’t know.’ She had been wondering about this, herself. ‘What can I tell him? I daren’t mention the letter, or he must learn of that man’s visit last night. And whatever I tell him, he will most likely go and see Mr. Arkwright about it, in any case. What can I do, John?’

‘Leave it for the present,’ he advised. ‘Is there anywhere you can go for this afternoon, so that you would return at the usual time?’

‘I could go for a walk,’ she said, doubtfully. ‘It is quite mild today. Why don’t you come with me, and then we can talk things over, and decide what I had best do? I suppose — ’ she gulped — ‘I suppose I must look about me for another post.’

‘My father may know of someone.’

She shook her head. ‘Not here — I want to go away, nearer to my own home. Not that I am ungrateful — ’

She could not finish the words.

‘It is infamous!’ declared John, moved by her attempts to conceal her distress. ‘I begin to feel that Arkwright is no better than the Ludds think him, after all.’

She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, with difficulty. ‘He — oh, you cannot understand. Whatever he may do, I can never think ill of him.’

FIFTEEN: BRADLEY BRINGS A WARNING

Apart from saying curtly that Miss Lister had been obliged to go home because she felt indisposed, Arkwright ate his meal in silence and speedily returned to the mill.

There he summoned the spy McDonald, locked the door of his office, and questioned the man closely. Afterwards he sent for Nick Bradley.

He told him briefly about the letter. The overseer shook his head.

‘Reckon ’twas bound to happen, Maister. They’ve sworn to smash all t’ machines in t’ neighbourhood.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ returned Arkwright grimly.

Nick scratched his head. ‘I’m in a rare puzzle to know how yon letter got into Miss Lister’s pocket. She’d have nowt to do wi’ it, as we well knows.’

‘Do we?’

Nick stared. ‘Nay, lad, surely tha don’t think — ’

‘Why not? Both she and that precious cousin of hers make no secret of their sympathy with the working folk.’

‘Ay, but sympathy’s one thing, an’ threatenin’ folks wi’ violence is another, lad. That little lass! As soon suspect my Annie o’ it.’

‘Well, capable of it or not, I can’t risk having Luddite sympathizers under my own roof. She’s gone.’

‘What? Tha’s never given her t’ push?’ asked Nick, incredulously. ‘An,’er not long come, an’ like as not short o’ brass, too? An’ all for a letter which anyone might ’ave shoved in ’er pocket? I’d not ’ave thought it o’ thee, Maister Will, I tell thee straight!’

Arkwright had the grace to look a trifle hangdog.

‘I can’t afford to take risks, Nick, as you know only too well.’

‘Ay, risks — but yon lass — ’

‘That’ll do. You’re an old servant, but you can’t manage my affairs for me. Enough of that. Tell me, do you know anything of a so-called Democratic Club which is held at the St. Crispin, in Halifax?’

Nick hesitated for a moment. ‘Ay. Leastways, I’ve ’eard tell on ’t.’

‘What kind of organization is it — could it be a cover for the Luddites, think you?’

Nick shook his head. ‘Nay, don’t ask me, Maister. I tak’ my ale in Liversedge at t’ Shears Inn, same as most lads.’

‘But you must have heard some talk in the mill,’ insisted Arkwright. ‘McDonald has just been with me, and he reports that he overheard some of the men talking about a meeting of this Club to be held in the St. Crispin tonight at eight o’clock. When he asked them about it, they said he’d been mistaken — there was no such Club in existence nowadays.’

‘Sithee, Maister, tha’s got one spy in t’ mill. Reckon that’s enough.’

‘Look, Nick. That threatening letter may have been simply a childish attempt to scare me. But assuming that it meant business, any meeting in the neighbourhood at present is suspect. If you know anything at all, it’s your duty to tell me.’

‘Duty!’ Bradley sighed heavily. ‘I wish I did know what’s my duty, an’ that’s a fact! It’s nigh impossible at times, what wi’ tryin’ to do reight by t’ lads an’ by thee, Maister Will. This much I can say — when last I ’eard owt on t’ Club,’twas that some on t’ members had left on account o’ goings on as they didn’t ’old with. Don’t ask me what, for I don’t know, and likely wouldn’t say if I did.’

‘Then it’s still in existence?’

‘As far as I know.’

‘Very well,’ said Arkwright, decisively. ‘I’ll see Colonel Grey and get him to send some men over to the St. Crispin tonight. You’ve convinced me that I shan’t be wasting his time.’

‘Don’t put it on me, Maister. It may be all for nowt, an’ God knows I’ve no wish to bring t’ Redcoats down on lads who’re doin’ no one any ’arm — ’

‘All right, Nick.’ Arkwright nodded in dismissal. ‘But perhaps I’m not as blind as you think to the difficulties of your situation. You’re not the only one to be pulled in two directions at once.’

Bradley went back to his work with a troubled mind. Presently he saw Arkwright leaving the mill, and guessed his master was bound for Colonel Grey’s home in Halifax. His uneasiness grew. He had no certain knowledge that any of his men were to be present at this meeting, but it was a possibility that filled him with anxiety. There was someone else who might be there, too; someone, though foolish, as yet innocent of any crime. His arrest would bring suffering to those even more innocent than himself. A half-formed intention came into the overseer’s mind.

He tried to thrust it away, telling himself that it would be disloyal to his master, but gradually it gained ground. By the time he had seen the last man off the premises and locked the mill door, he had made up his mind.

He walked briskly over to the Vicarage. Mrs. Duckworth opened the door to him, telling him to be quick and state his business, as she had something in the oven. He asked to see John.

‘He’s out, nor not expected back all night,’ she told him. ‘T’ Reverend’s abroad, too. There’s only Miss Mary, and she’s lying down on her bed with a bad headache, poor lamb. Won’t it wait till tomorrow?’

‘Reckon it’ll have to’ began Nick, reluctantly, when footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Mary’s pale face peered over the housekeeper’s shoulder. ‘I heard your voice asking for John,’ she said, coming forward, ‘Is there anything I can do for you instead?’

‘You shouldn’t have come down, Miss Mary. But if you can see to it now you’re here — ’

Mrs. Duckworth bustled gratefully back to the kitchen.

Mary asked Nick inside, and closed the door. ‘How can I help you?’

He shuffled uneasily. ‘I don’t know as tha can — least-ways — ’

‘There isn’t anything wrong, is there?’

He hesitated. ‘Happen not. But dost know where Maister John’s gone tonight?’

‘No, I — ’ She broke off suddenly, her eyes widening in fear. ‘Now I think of it, he did say something — but I was upset at the time, and didn’t pay much heed. He mentioned some meeting in Halifax — ’

‘That’s what I came about,’ said Nick, heavily. ‘Dost reckon he’s gone there, Miss?’

Her face grew paler still. ‘I — I think it likely. Why? You know something, I can see. What is it, Nick? Why have you come to see John?’

‘I wanted to drop a friendly word o’ warning, that’s all. Reckon ’tis too late now.’

‘Too late?’ She clutched his arm. ‘What do you know? Is John in any danger? Tell me, I beg you!’

‘Least said, soonest mended, Miss. If t’ lad’s gone to t’ St. Crispin, there’s nowt either on us can do. Reckon he’s played wi’ fire once too often — I knowed how ’t would be.’

‘For God’s sake, tell me!’

‘Happen I shouldn’t,’ he said doubtfully. ‘Though it’s hard to see t’ innocent suffer wi ’t’ guilty — not that there’s owt to be done that I can see. It’s like this — t’ Redcoats are goin’ to t’ St. Crispin tonight — Maister Arkwright reckons as it’s a Luddite meeting, an’ he’s warned Colonel Grey.’

Mary pressed her hands to her head distractedly. ‘I must think. There must be some way — what time is it now?’

‘Close on six — ’

‘Then there might be time!’ She seized his arm energetically. ‘I recollect he said this meeting was for eight o’clock. If I can reach the inn before him — quick, Nick! How can I get there in time?’

‘Tha’s never meanin’ to go there thysen?’

‘Who else would go? John would not wish my uncle to know of this, and there’s no one else. But how shall I get there? Think, think!’

‘B’ God!’ exclaimed the overseer. ‘If ever I seed a lass wi’ t’ spunk o’ a lad, ’tis thysen! Ay, reckon I can find summat to get thee there — but how wilt go on, then? He’ll be wi’ all that lot — an’ a reight rough lot they are, an’ no mistake. ’Tis man’s work, lass.’ He paused. ‘I’ll go for thee.’

Her eyes filled with tears. ‘You’re a true friend, Nick. But it won’t answer — John can be very obstinate when he’s excited, and I don’t think he’d pay attention to anyone but me. I must do everything possible — I must go myself.’

‘Then I’ll go along o’ thee,’ said Bradley quietly. ‘There’s a gig I can borrow. We can be in Halifax just turned seven, and keep a look out at t’ Crispin for thy cousin. Please God we’ll catch him in time.’ He paused. ‘What’ll tha tell t’ good woman in there?’

‘I must give her a hint that John’s in danger — she knows how he involves himself in these matters,’ replied Mary. ‘She’ll think of something to tell my uncle that will not alarm him.’

‘Then get about it, lass, while I fetch t’ gig. An’ wrap up warm, mind, for ’tis sharp tonight.’ He turned to go, then changed his mind.

‘Happen what I’m doin’ is wrong,’ he said, slowly. ‘It’s scarce loyal to Maister Will. But how can a man tell nowadays what
is
wrong — or what’s reight, for that matter?’