The Reckoning (52 page)

‘
That's why we've got to abolish the Corn Laws! Cheap
corn, cheap bread, that's the way to help the mill-hands. We must have the freedom to make our mills successful, so that
we can offer the lower orders employment. They must be free
to exchange their labour for wages. And bread must be cheap
enough for them to afford it. Freedom, not interference, is the way forward! Then they won't need this philanthropist
nonsense.'

‘
You wouldn't call it nonsense if you were one of them.
Sometimes we have to interfere to protect people who can't
protect themselves – like the children –'

‘
They have their parents to protect them. If you get this
piece of legislation enacted, what then? The parents will be in the factories, working, and the children will be outside, doing
what? Who's going to look after them, make sure they don't
get into trouble? You're going to break up the families, don't
you see that? At the moment children work with their
parents, as they always have, under their care and supervi
sion; but break up that arrangement, and you break up the
family, and then the whole country will go to ruin. The
children will turn from idleness to vice, and a whole genera
tion will be lost.’

Jasper shook his head. 'You don't understand. Reducing
the children's hours is only the first step. Of course it won't do to leave them idle and roaming the streets. They must be
provided with schools and forced to attend while their parents
are working –'

‘
Oh, you really are an Owenite, aren't you!' Farraline
laughed, breaking the tension. 'And then it will be an
academy for the adults, and drilling and dancing in the even
ings, and lectures on temperance, until the poor devils can't
call their souls their own. Well, it may be your idea of Utopia,
but it's not mine – nor of the hands themselves, I suspect,
though I dare say no-one will ask them. Well, Miss Morland,
you have been bored long enough by this talk, and since
Hobsbawn and I shall never agree, I shall take myself off and
leave you in peace. Don't forget you are pledged to take your supper with me – and I promise you we shall talk of anything
but manufactories!’

With a charming smile for her and a graceful bow to both
of them, he went away, leaving Sophie thoughtful. Jasper
watched her face for a moment, and then said, 'Well, Miss
Morland, what did you think? Did he convince you that he's
right and I'm wrong?'

‘
I don't know,' Sophie said uneasily. 'What he says sounds
right, and very convincing; but all the same, I can't quite see
how these poor people are going to be able to help themselves,
not if they are in such very bad case to begin with.’

Triumph shone in Jasper's eyes, but wisely he didn't press it further. 'There you have the nub of it, I'm sure,' was all he
said, before changing the subject. 'What a pleasant party this is, don't you think? I believe there's to be music later – I saw
Miss Pendlebury's maid putting her music on the pianoforte.
I suppose you couldn't be prevailed upon to play for us too?’

Sophie began to suspect him of teasing her. 'But you heard
me play at Morland Place, Mr Hobsbawn, so you must know
I'm a very poor performer.’

No, I assure you, I enjoyed every minute of your playing
when I had the honour of hearing you at home. It gave me
much more pleasure than any public concert I've been to.’

Searching his face, she saw that he was quite sincere, which
left her to wonder whether he had no taste in music, which
would be sad, or a failing memory, which would be alarming.
At all events there was no arguing against such gallantry, so
she allowed the undeserved compliment to stand, and made a
comment instead about the size and brilliance of the room,
which he could have no difficulty in agreeing with.

*

The first of the proposals of marriage came the next day,
taking Sophie completely by surprise. It was only the second
she had received in her life, and would have been as un
welcome as unexpected if she had taken it seriously. Jack
Withington cornered her in the foyer of the concert-hall and
obliged her to hear him, and she was so sure she could not
have borne to be Mrs Jack Withington that she refused him
without even considering referring the matter to her mother.

Jack took his rejection philosophically. 'It's just as well,
perhaps. There's no knowing if we should have agreed; but I
wanted to be sure of getting in before Fred Pendlebury.'

‘
I'm quite sure Mr Pendlebury has no intention of making
me an offer,' Sophie said in surprise.

Withington laughed. 'I'm quite sure he will! Lord, if he
wasn't such a slow-top he'd have spoken by now – and when he does, Miss Morland, I'd be obliged if you'd tell him that I
asked you first. Only he might not believe it from me, you
see.'

‘
I'll be sure to mention it,' Sophie said gravely. 'He can
hardly doubt my word.'

‘
Most obligin' of you,' Withington said, looking at her with
new respect. 'I say, I suppose you're quite sure?'

‘
Quite sure. But I'm very much obliged to you for your
good opinion.'

‘
Oh, n't'all! Alba said you wouldn't have me, though how
the deuce she knows anything –! But however, Mama was all
for it, so I thought if it must be done, I might as well get my
word in quickly. I say, was I the first?'

‘
You were – I imagine by a very long margin.’

Withington looked pleased. 'Well, that's all right then!
Here's your mama looking for you, so I'll wish you goodnight,
Miss Morland. Shall you be at the Audenshaws' tomorrow?’

*

The Audenshaws' ball was one of a flood of invitations loosed
by the Batchworth rout. Sophie was in the happy position for a young woman of nineteen of having no free evening for the
rest of her stay in Manchester, and of discovering her
wardrobe inadequate to the demands upon it.

‘
You must have some new gowns,' Héloïse pronounced, at
which Sophie looked worried.

‘
But I had a new one for Mr Farraline's rout, Maman, and
I know we are short of money.'

‘
Things are not so bad that we cannot afford a few yards of
muslin, my Sophie. You've hardly had anything new for a
whole year, and it will be worth it if –' She had been going to
say, if it gets you a good husband, but she changed it at the
last moment to, ‘if it gives you pleasure.' She knew that
Sophie was tender on the subject; but she was beginning to
think that if this stay in Manchester, with all its opportu
nities, did not produce a mate for Sophie, she might well stay
single all her life. She would not meet anyone at Morland
Place, and there was no-one in York who interested her.

Things looked very promising so far. For some reason,
Sophie was plainly being pursued by a number of young men.
She never lacked a partner at any dance, and when she went
out in the carriage of Miss Pendlebury or Miss Withington or
Mrs Droylsden, they were stopped every few yards by a
gentleman on horseback or strolling, eager to pay his compli
ments. Héloïse thought that perhaps it was Mr Farraline's
interest in Sophie which had sparked it all off. He was very attentive, called or left his card most days, secured the first
dance for every ball, was always the first to the door of their
box in the interval at the theatre, and neglected his mills to
take Sophie driving in his curricle along the permitted thor
oughfares.

Héloïse had to conclude from this public preference that he
meant to make her an offer, and she hoped very much that
Sophie would like him well enough to accept him. There is a
certain amount of worldly ambition in every mother, at least
to the extent that while she would not have her daughter
marry a man she did not like, she would sooner see her in love
with an eligible man than a poor nobody. Héloïse liked Farra
line, found him charming, intelligent, and gentle, and
thought that if he really did prefer Sophie, he would make her
an excellent husband. It must be a disinterested liking on his
part, since Sophie was neither a beauty nor an heiress, which
was the more to his credit. As brother to an earl he might
have almost anyone he wanted.

Another good effect of all this, from Héloïse's point of
view, was that Sophie was too much engaged to have time for
philanthropy. Héloïse would never try to prevent her
daughter from doing something which she believed it her
Christian duty to do, but she couldn't help being glad that
Sophie was driving in a carriage along fashionable
bouleyard
s, nicely dressed and accompanied by the daughters of
respectable, wealthy families, rather than risking her health
and sensibilities amongst the stinking, fever-haunted slums of
Water Street and Millergate, trying to help people who –
from Héloïse's own experience – rarely allowed themselves to
be helped.

It meant that Héloïse was free to concentrate on what she
had to do without worrying about Sophie's welfare. She
wanted to clear everything up quickly so that she could get
back to Morland Place. She was missing James dreadfully,
and not all the loving letters in the world – James was a good
correspondent when he put his mind to it – could make up for
having to sleep night after night without his arms around her.

Mr Pendlebury proposed, at great length, by letter. The
missive arrived at breakfast-time by the hand of a Pendlebury
servant, and provided Héloïse with much secret amusement
over the coffee cups.

‘
Well, my love, what do you think of his offer?' she asked as
soon as she was able to control her voice.

Sophie looked at her mother doubtfully. 'Well, I suppose it
is very obliging of him, but – it isn't a very sensible letter, is
it?’

They met each other's eyes, and dissolved into laughter.

‘
At least it leaves you in no doubt,' Héloïse said, drying her
eyes. 'He asks you six times, in six different sets of words. I
conclude, then, that you mean to refuse him.'

‘
Oh yes – if you please, Maman. I don't like him, or Mrs
Pendlebury, though Prudence and Agnes are both the dearest
people.'

‘
God forbid you should marry anyone you don't like,
ma
mie,'
Héloïse said. 'It is a little strange, don't you think? He
says quite clearly that he makes his offer with his mother's
approval, but from what little I know of her, I would have expected Mrs Pendlebury to be consumed with ambition. I
would not have thought you a rich enough prize to tempt
her.'