The Reckoning (78 page)

Behind them the servants crowded into the hall, eager for
the moment that would signal a return to normality and
comfort. The family moved into the kitchen passage, and
there was the red curtain John Skelwith had hung over the
kitchen door so that they could have a proper unveiling.
James took the cord in his hand, and then looked about the
group.

‘
Who shall have the honour? Rosamund, my dear, as our
most distinguished guest —?’

Rosamund shrank back. 'No, no, Polly should do it,' she
said quickly. 'Mama says my grandmother always called her
the senior grandchild. She takes precedence over me in family
ma t ters. ‘

Polly looked at her with a wry smile, and said, 'Thank you.
I should be honoured — but shall we let little Mary do it? A
new generation for the new kitchen.'

‘
Yes, that's right and good,' Héloïse said warmly, looking
at Polly approvingly. The fall of the old chimney had caused
Edward's death, but as he died, so Mary had been born. Life
out of death, renewal, the natural cycle. Let them always look
forward, not back. 'Mary shall pull the cord.’

Lifted up in her father's arms, Mary Skelwith — with no
clear idea of what it all meant, other than that she was the
centre of attention, which in her mind was right and proper —
grasped the cord in her fat little fist and pulled. The red
curtain fell away, and through the doorway — the door having
been fixed back for the purpose — they looked into the new
kitchen and at the fireplace straight ahead of them.

‘
Tiens!'
said Héloïse, and turned to look at her sheepishly-
smiling cook. 'It was all done to your specific instructions, was
it?'

‘Wonders will never cease,' James said profoundly. They all
streamed into the kitchen, where under the arch of the new
chimney was no open grate, no roasting spit, trivets, jacks and
pulleys — but a large, glossy, gleaming new Rumford cooking-
stove.

They crowded forward, examining and exclaiming over the
arrangements. Everything was as modern and convenient as
could be, right down to a new copper with its own fire and
separate flue for heating bath-water.

‘No more succession of heavy kettles, and maids scalding
themselves, and putting the fire out,' James marvelled when it
was demonstrated to him how the hot water poured out of a
tap on the side of the copper.

‘
Everyone could bath at the same time. And you could
have the bath as full as you liked,' Mathilde said. 'This is
something I should dearly like at home, John. John?’

John Skelwith was demonstrating the wonders of the stove to Marcus and Miss Rosedale. 'There are five ovens, you see,
of varying size and heat, and the plates on the top are for
simmering or boiling or frying – whatever you please. The
bread oven is separate, of course, although you can bake in
these two ovens as well if you need to. And if you want to
roast in the old fashioned way, over an open fire, you just lift
this lid –' he did so with a flourish, 'and fit the uprights into
these holes here and here, and there's your spit!'

‘
Oh, the swan window,' Mathilde exclaimed to Héloïse.
‘I'm so glad you had it put back. The poor swans must have
been so confused all these months.'

‘
It will take time for them to remember the old routine, I
expect,' Héloïse said. 'James, had we not better get on with
lighting the fire? Barnard will want to start cooking.'

‘
Yes, of course. I have my tinder-box here. Barnard, come
forward, that's right. Take the taper and be ready.’

In a moment he had struck the spark and lit the tinder.
Barnard lit the taper from it, and under Skelwith's guidance knelt down and touched the flame to the paper laid ready in
the fire-box of the new stove. The paper bloomed into flame,
and in a moment or two the kindling was crackling vigor
ously, and the first plume of smoke was passing invisibly up
the flue into the new chimney. Having seen that it had caught
properly, Barnard closed the fire door, stood up, and with an
unexpected grin, took a deep and theatrical bow to the cheers
and applause of the watching family and servants.

Later the family gathered in the dining-room to take a
celebratory luncheon of cold foods, while Barnard got on with
christening his stove, and the servants with restoring order to
the servants' hall.

‘I wish Sophie had been here to see it,' Héloïse said, a little wistfully. 'Barnard was always such a favourite of hers.'

‘
Will she be back for race week, aunt?' Rosamund asked. 'I
haven't seen her for such a long time.'

‘
I don't quite know,' Héloïse said. 'Mrs Droylsden asked
her to stay for the summer, but no date was set for her return.
I suppose she will come back for race week – it would be a
shame for her to miss it.'

‘
On the other hand,' said Miss Rosedale drily, if she's
enjoying herself so much in Manchester, she may not want to
leave.'

‘
What does she do there that's so much fun?' Rosamund
wanted to know. 'I suppose it's quite a lively town?’

Mathilde answered for Héloïse. 'They say so, but I don't
think that's what Sophie goes for – is it, Madame? She spends
her time with her friends going amongst the poor people and
doing good works.’

Rosamund raised her brows. 'What an odd choice,' she
said, and catching Marcus's eye, saw him frown and shake his
head slightly – thinking, no doubt, that there must have been
some mismanagement for things to come to such a pass. 'Is
she happy, ma'am?'

‘
I believe so,' Héloïse said, understanding pretty well what
she was being asked. 'She wanted most urgently to go, or I
should not have let her, for I do miss her very much, and if it
were just balls and assemblies, she could have them here in
York as well as in Manchester. But she's very interested in the
welfare of the mill-workers – especially since we've now
decided we shan't be selling the mills.'

‘
Oh, I didn't know you'd thought of doing so,' said Rosa
mund.

‘
They weren't doing well, and we needed capital,' James
explained, 'but now trade has improved, and they're working
at full capacity, we're glad we kept them. And we're to start
mechanical weaving next year, if all goes to plan. That's
where the new plans come in.'

‘
New plans?' Rosamund and Marcus asked simultaneously.

‘
When we open the new factory, we'll be employing
another three hundred people,' James said, 'and they'll need
somewhere to live. So John here is to build us some special
housing on the empty plot right next to the factory, and we'll
rent it out to the employees for a nominal sum.'

‘
Ah, yes, I see,' said Rosamund. 'You'll have extra control
over them that way. If they misbehave, they'll not only lose
their job but their home as well.’

Héloïse blinked. 'I don't think that was exactly what we had in mind. It was really more for their welfare. Mr Hobs
bawn believes that happy, healthy individuals work harder
and better than sick, unhappy ones.’

James grinned at her. 'It may not have been in your mind,
my love, but I have to confess it crossed mine all right!'

‘
Mr Hobsbawn?' Rosamund said. 'That would be the
cousin who was expected to inherit everything, would it?'

‘Yes, that's right. He's our mill-manager,' James said.

‘
He's something of a philanthropist, too,' Héloïse said.
‘These plans for rational housing for the mill-hands are only the beginning of his ideas. I can't say that I would go all the way with him, but Sophie seems to agree with much of what
he says.'

‘Does she?' said Rosamund thoughtfully.

‘
Well, I suppose we must allow that she has seen the condi
tions they live in, and we haven't,' Héloïse said bravely. 'All
the same —'

‘
All the same,' Marcus said, 'that's the way it's always
been, and that's the way it will always be. It's as difficult to
elevate the poor as it is to depress the rich by anything we do.'

‘
Exactly so,' said Héloïse. 'I'm never sure how far we ought
to interfere. Is it God's will that they should suffer, or that we
should exert ourselves? It has me in a puzzle. What do you
think, Father?’

Father Moineau looked up from the creamed chicken
patties which had been occupying his attention to the exclu
sion of all else. A serious question had obviously been asked him which demanded a considered answer. He swallowed the
present mouthful of delicately-spiced chicken, cream sauce
and crisp golden pastry, remembering nothing about the
question but that there had been an 'or' in the middle of it.
But he had his reputation for wisdom to maintain.

‘
A little of both, I should imagine,' he said confidently.

 
John Anstey returned to Yorkshire and the bosom of his
family in time for race week, and paid a call on Rosamund at
Shawes.

‘
And very fine you look in this setting, too,' he said, as she
received him in the green drawing-room. 'Being a countess
suits you.'

‘
Thank you,' said Rosamund. 'I must thank you, too, for
all your help during the trial.'

‘
It was little enough I did — I wish it had been more. But of
course there was nothing much to
be
done.'

‘
Your support was everything, and your great kindness —’

‘Tush! No need for that. How is Polly, by the by? How does
she take it?'

‘
She seems to have revived since she's been here. I think
getting away has done her good. Even though we saw little
company at Wolvercote, I think she still felt the scandal hung
around her. Up here people have other things to think about.'

‘
Hmm,'
Anstey said thoughtfully. 'I wonder, then —
perhaps she might make her home up here permanently?
What are her plans, do you know?'

‘
I don't think she has any,' Rosamund said with a short,
revealing sigh. 'She seems to go from day to day in a daze. It's
a year now since Minnie died, but she doesn't seem much
better than during the first weeks.'