The Reckoning (44 page)

Polly went to her own chair and sat down, staring blankly
at the flames, trying not to think. A moment later Harvey
came in, trying for insouciance, his expression composed for
the domestic tableau he expected. His surprise was almost
comic.

‘
Where is she?'

‘I don't know. The room was empty when I came in.'

‘
You don't suppose —? No, what am I thinking! She would
have no reason to go to the book-room.’

Polly's face paled. She hadn't thought of that. 'You mean
the noise I heard?'

‘
Thought
you heard. There was no-one there, I tell you.'
Wanting it to be so made it so for him. How comfortable to be
able to live in such a world of your own making! 'Come, sit
and play to me. She'll be back in a moment, depend on it.’

Better to have something to occupy her hands and at least
part of her mind. Polly sat at the piano, opened a piece of
music at random, and began to play, quite unaware of what it
was. Harvey took a seat by the fire and opened the newspaper
he had brought with him. It was to this peaceful scene that
Flaminia returned a while later. Polly's hands suspended
themselves above the keys.

‘
Oh, don't stop, I like that song,' Minnie said as she walked
through the door. 'What is it?’

Polly had to look at the music to answer. 'The Ash Grove,'
she said. She really shouldn't stare at Minnie, especially as
she saw out of the corner of her eye that Harvey was staring too. Did Minnie look paler than usual? Was there something
strange about her expression? She did not smile. Was she
avoiding their eyes? Hard to tell, when they were avoiding
hers.

But no, Polly thought, pushing away guilty fear, Minnie
would be incapable of dissembling. She was simply not intelli
gent enough to hide her emotions, to pretend to be feeling
something she was not. If she really had overheard some
thing, they would have known it at once. Polly dragged her
eyes back to the music and began to play again.

‘
Where were you?' Harvey asked after a moment, in an
elaborately casual voice. It sounded so unnatural to Polly that
she stumbled over a chord, and then flinched at her own
stupidity.

‘
I went up to see the babies,' Minnie said, returning to her
seat by the fire. 'You were both gone so long, and I — I just
wanted to see them.’

She took up her needle again and began to sew, and
Harvey stared at the top of her bent head, deep in furious
speculation, while Polly played to the bottom of the page and
then began again at the top, completely unaware of what she
was doing.

*

Héloïse had never been to Manchester before, so her first
sight of it was quite a surprise. Even from a distance it was
surrounded by a pall of dark smoke.

‘
Oh dear, it does look so very dirty,' she said to Sophie.
‘But I suppose it means that the manufactories are working,
for which one ought to be grateful.’

Jasper Hobsbawn said the same thing when he met them at
the door of Hobsbawn House. 'It would be a sad thing for
Manchester if the air were clear and pure. I love that smell of
smoke — it means all is well.’

‘And is it?' Héloïse asked quickly.

‘
Better than it was,' he said. 'There are signs that trade is
reviving at last — but we'll talk about that later. You must be
tired from your long drive, and chilled. Even though it's May,
one gets cold sitting still. Will you come to the fire and take
some refreshment first, or would you like to go to your
rooms?'

‘
To the fire, by all means,' Héloïse said. 'And I should be
glad of some tea — would not you, Sophie my love?’

‘
Yes, please.'

‘
Tea, then, please, Richards,' Jasper said to the waiting
servant, and led the way across the hall to the stairs. 'Your
ladyship — Miss Morland — shall I lead the way? There's a
good fire in the morning-room. It's more pleasant than the
formal drawing-room, I think — though of course you must
arrange everything to your own taste now you're here. Much
of the house is shut up, but I've had the dining-parlour and
morning-room aired for you, as well as your bedrooms.
There's only a small staff here, but the housekeeper is very
good, and the cook comes with her recommendation.'

‘
You are not living here, then?' Sophie asked in surprise, as
they mounted the stairs.

‘
Oh no. I live out at Brindle. This house belongs to your
mother, of course, like everything else.'

‘
Well, but I always thought that you would live here, Mr
Hobsbawn,' Héloïse said with a smile. 'I'm sorry if I did not
make that clear. It is a pity to leave the house empty.’

Jasper looked embarrassed. 'Oh, I use it now and then, if I
am in this part of town for any reason, but I'm used to
Brindle, and it's handy for the mills. Since I'm not married
and never entertain, I have no need of an establishment. This
house is very grand, but rather gloomy when you're alone, I
find.’

He opened the morning-room door, and stepped back for
them to enter.

‘
Oh!' Sophie cried in involuntary surprise. 'Look at the
elephants!' There were two carved in ivory ornamenting the
chimney-shelf, a large mahogany one in the corner with a
torchère emerging from its back, another in ebony supporting
a round brass table-top, and one at either end of one of the
sofas, forming its arms.

‘
Yes, there are rather a lot of them,' Jasper said, his eyes on
her face rather than the room. 'The whole house is furnished
very much in the taste of thirty years ago – elephants and
blackamoors and palm-trees, and all the gilding and
lacquering and ornamentation of the period. There's a
Chinese bedroom that would very much surprise you, I think
– the canopy is shaped like a pagoda, and hung with
hundreds of little ivory bells.'

‘Oh, that must be pretty,' Sophie said.

‘
Yes, I suppose it is,' he said, gesturing them towards the
fire. 'I like things plainer myself, but it's amusing in its way.
I'd be happy to shew you over the house some time, if you'd
like it.’

Héloïse, engaged in warming her hands, was struck by the
tone of his voice and glanced towards him, to see his face illu
minated by a smile as he looked at Sophie. Why, he is not so
very plain after all, she thought. She had only met him once
before, when he came to Morland Place in the year '15 to
discuss the future of the mills, and stayed for three days. She had formed a favourable impression of him then, as an intelli
gent, sincere, if rather serious man. She had enjoyed his
company, but had not thought of him as attractive until now.

‘
Although perhaps you would prefer to explore it on your
own,' he was saying to Sophie now. 'It isn't so large a house as
to require a guide, after all.’

He was plainly 'remembering his place' and 'not putting
himself forward'. Héloïse felt very sensitive about his situa
tion – cousin to the former owner, almost the owner of every
thing himself, and now reduced to the position of paid
employee, feeling that he had to be deferential to the usurper
of his kingdom. It was this difference, she guessed, which had
prevented him from making use of Hobsbawn House, rather
than its location or inconvenience.

So she said quickly, 'Who should know it better than you,
Mr Hobsbawn? We should like very much for you to shew us
round, if you have the time – n'est-ce
pas,
Sophie?'

‘
Yes, indeed, Maman,' Sophie said, looking at her feet, but
out of shyness rather than reluctance. She liked Mr Hobs
bawn, but he did stare at her rather.

‘And around Manchester, too,' Héloïse went on. 'I have no acquaintance here, so I hope you will not abandon us in the evenings, or we shall find ourselves dining alone every day.’

He actually laughed at that. 'I'm sure that will not be the
case, ma'am. Once it's known that you're here, there will be a
stream of callers and invitations. All of Manchester society
will want to pay its respects to you. But I assure you that I'm
at your service, day or night, in whatever capacity you choose.
Please command me, ma'am – and you too, of course, Miss
Morland.’

*

The next day, after breakfast, the carriage took them to the
mills, where they were met in the courtyard by Jasper. It was
not yet eleven o'clock when they arrived, but Jasper had done
half a day's work already.

‘
I like to be here most days when the hands arrive. It encourages them to know that I work the same hours as
them,' he explained.

Héloïse thought this an odd precept. Surely it was more
important to keep a proper distance from your servants and
employees, so that they respected you? Obedience depended
on respect, and how would an underling respect you if he thought you were no different from him? But she had not
come here to debate his philosophy with him. That could wait
until a more social occasion.

‘
Are the gates kept locked all the time?' she asked. They
had had to be unlocked and opened for the carriage by a gate
keeper with a key large enough to have belonged to a castle
keep.

‘
Oh yes, except at the beginning and end of shift.’

‘
Is it to keep out the Luddites?’

Jasper smiled. 'It's not for keeping people out, but for
keeping them in. The gates are shut on the last strike of six in
the morning, and any of the hands who arrive after that are
fined for being late.'

‘
It makes it rather like a prison, though, doesn't it?' Sophie said, looking around with distaste at the grimy, soot-streaked
buildings under a sky obscured by clouds of sulphurous
smoke.

‘Oh yes. Some of the Irish call the mills "the lock-ups". But
punctuality doesn't come naturally to them, especially when
they've worked at home before, able to start and stop as they
please. If we didn't lock them in, they'd be wandering off
after an hour or two, and that would never do. The machines
don't stop, you see – they have to be tended all the time.
That's what the hands have to learn: to work to the rhythm
of the machines, and at their pace.'