‘We ain’t going back on our word,’ the men started yelling. ‘We’re striking for our rights, so you go back to your fancy house and leave us to get on wi’ it!’
‘Father, you’re doing no good here,’ Ben said angrily. ‘You’ll have a seizure—’
‘Dammit, don’t tell me what to do!’ Charles roared at him. ‘When I want a nursemaid, I’ll send for one—’
‘You’ve already got one, haven’t ’ee?’ someone in the crowd jeered. ‘What’s young Morwen Tremayne doin’ at your big house, if tain’t nursemaiding ’ee? Or mebbe ’tis the pretty young sir she minds of a night—’
The man was jerked off his feet by Hal Tremayne’s fist seconds before Ben himself reached him.
‘I’ll deal with this, Mr Ben,’ Hal’s eyes were cold as ice. ‘’Tis best if you and your father go on to my cottage if ’tis words you want wi’ me, and leave us to sort out our own business.’
‘This is our business too, in case you’ve forgotten it, man!’ Ben shouted back. ‘We want the men to go back to work. A strike does nobody any good—’
‘And we want our money, and to know what’s what,’ the men shouted angrily. ‘If there’s to be rail tracks, then let’s know about it. If there’s to be new machinery, then give us your promise we’ll not suffer because of it—’
‘You’ll do the work you’re paid to do, and we’ll do our job of overseeing it,’ Charles bellowed. ‘Bosses don’t have to account to you—’
He gave a sudden shout of pain as a stone struck him on the side of the head, and a trickle of blood oozed out.
‘All right, you bastards, that’s enough!’ Hal stepped swiftly between the Killigrews and the menacing crowd of men. Sam and young Jack closed in on either side of him, and the men paused.
‘Get out of here, sir, while they’re hesitating,’ Hal said shortly. ‘I’ll meet you both at the cottage. Bess will see to that cut for you.’
‘For God’s sake, Father, do as he says,’ Ben said roughly, knowing that a cheer would go up as the Killigrew men turned tail. It was galling enough, but it was better than being set upon by this mob. He’d argued in vain against his father coming here today, and in the end had felt obliged to come with him. The two of them rode quickly to the Tremayne cottage and rapped on the door. Bess was aghast when she saw Charles’s cut cheek. When they were seated, she bathed the cut with warm water and ordered the man to hold a cloth against it to stem the bleeding.
‘You shouldn’t have come, sir,’ Bess said. ‘’Twas best left to the pit captains for a while, until tempers cool.’
‘Who’s the boss around here, woman?’ Charles growled in a weak try at humour. Bess looked at him seriously.
‘’Tisn’t a question of boss and worker now, sir. ’Tis who’s going to give way first, and the men think they’ve had a raw deal with being made to wait for their money.’
‘Is that what you think, Bess?’
She shrugged, looking at him squarely. ‘A fair day’s work deserves a fair day’s pay. That’s what I think. And they’re stubborn men, sir, with as much pride as any owner.’
She dumped the bowl of water in the sink, uncomfortable at having these two fine men in her cottage so early in the day. Charles looked around him, seeing how cosy Bess had made it, and made a clumsy attempt to lighten the conversation.
‘You’ve a pride in your home, Bess, and even more in the new house, I daresay—’
She looked at him in astonishment.
‘We can’t go now, sir. Surely you know that! How would it look, if we deserted our striking fellows and lived in a fine new house? Oh no, that’ll all have to be postponed indefinitely—’
‘But that’s ridiculous—’
‘No, it’s not, Father,’ Ben put in. ‘Mrs Tremayne is quite right. A lot of things will be different now.’
‘Well, the strike won’t last for ever, will it? Good God, we need the clay, and you need money to live. We’ re all dependent on one another in this life—’
‘Try telling that to a woman who can’t put food in her baby’s mouth in two week’s time,’ Bess said caustically. ‘And then remember that you could put all this right by one word, Mr Killigrew. Give the men the wage rises they’ve been promised.’
Ben saw his father’s lips thin to a mutinous line. He wouldn’t be dictated to, no matter what the consequences. If only he was in charge, he thought savagely… but right now, that likelihood was as far away as the moon, with Charles blustering as loudly as ever, and not ready to hand over the business to his son until the day he dropped.
He was sorry for Bess Tremayne, seeing the disappointment in her eyes when she’d refused to move to the new house. He respected her for it, but things could be difficult for her too. And for himself… Ben hadn’t really considered Morwen’s position in the Killigrew household before, but he was considering it now. It could be impossible for her… he hadn’t allowed himself to think of her at all since last night, and he didn’t know how the blazes he was going to face her when they got back.
She had seemed so warm and loving… but he didn’t need a crystal ball to tell him that the Morwen of last night was a very different one from the one he was going to encounter when he and his father went home. He couldn’t bear the thought of her scorn. He’d had a glimpse of heaven in her arms last night, and in the silent hours that followed, he’d been honest with himself. He loved Morwen Tremayne more fiercely than he’d loved anything in his life before, and the thought of her in his arms was like a drug to his senses.
Her mother was offering him some cordial, and Ben wondered if the truth was written on his face for all to see. He waited impatiently for Hal to come home, wishing himself well away from here, and wondering just how much more tangled his life and hers were going to be.
Chapter Sixteen
Morwen had made up her mind. The situation here would be impossible. Hal had told her to choose sides, and so she would. She left all the clothes she had been given in a neat pile on her bed. She left a note for Charles Killigrew with the cook. She no longer felt under any obligation to him, and he would surely understand that. Her family would have to refuse the new house now, and Morwen was free to leave Killigrew House.
But not without a pang. She looked around the pretty room, her throat thick. It had been very sweet to act the lady. She had loved this room… and it was here too, that she had found love… so much love… for such a little time.
She turned quickly, before she could falter. Her place was with the clayworkers, not here with the bosses. This strike had shown her that all too clearly. She belonged with the likes of John Penry, not with Ben Killigrew. She wouldn’t have it thrown at her that she gave herself airs and graces, while her friends starved.
Some might say that she should stay, and bring in some money for her family. Well, she had too much pride, even for that. She had one week’s wages to offer, and she could help Bess with the sewing for the time being. Thank God for her Mammie’s skills, and for sharing them with Morwen.
And Matt too… surely he would help them all. The Tremaynes wouldn’t go under. They were all survivors, every one. While Charles Killigrew and his son were riding on to Truro to discuss the matter with Charles’s partner, Richard Carrick, Morwen arrived home at the cottage on foot, and dumped her few belongings on the table.
‘I’m home, Mammie,’ she said thickly. ‘Is there still room for me?’
Her voice wavered until she saw Bess open her arms, and Morwen rushed into them. Here she was safe…
Bess looked at her searchingly. ‘Are you sure you want to stay, my lamb? ’Twon’t be easy—’
‘I want to be with you all. I can do some of your work, Mammie, and I’ve brought my wages for you. It’s not much, but if it’ll help—’
Bess’s eyes were damp as she hugged her daughter. Every penny would help from now on. She became brisk as she told Morwen to change the sheets in her bed corner, and that it would be almost like old times again. They avoided one
another’s eyes, because nothing would be the same again.
‘Where’s Daddy and the boys?’ Morwen asked as she worked. ‘I thought they’d all be here.’
‘The pit captains will be at the works each day to see that the pits stay idle. They’ll have no scabs at Killigrew Clay. Sam’s gone to tell Dora the wedding may have to be postponed a week or two, and the young uns are with your Daddy, thinking ’tis all a bit of excitement.’
Morwen looked at her mother. ‘How long can it last, Mammie?’
‘There’s no telling, love. A strike is always ugly, until somebody gives way, and we’ve a strong-minded boss in Mr Killigrew. He won’t want to give in to his clayworkers. It becomes a matter of principle in the end.’
‘Even if he gets no clay produced or shifted? How long can that go on?’
‘I don’t know.’ Bess became edgy. ‘But we can’t change anything by bleating about it all morning, so if you mean to help me with the sewing, there’s plenty for you to do, Morwen.’
* * *
Richard Carrick was stunned and alarmed by his partner’s news that morning. Across his heavy lawyer’s desk in Truro, he faced the Killigrew men, his face troubled.
‘We could put an end to all this at once, Charles,’ he said meaningly.
‘Pay ’em their extras, y’ mean?’ Charles barked. ‘Yes, we could do that, but it’ll do them no harm to be without wages at all for a few weeks. They can’t be allowed to dictate to us.’
‘I’ve tried to make Father see reason,’ Ben put in angrily. ‘It’s madness to stop clay production at this time, with winter just around the corner, and the autumn waggon-loads not yet ready to be sent to the docks. We’ve orders that won’t be met if the strike lasts any length of time.’
‘It can’t last. I’ve told them the situation. When we get the payments due to us, they’ll get theirs. It’s business, boy. You know it as well as I do. If the damn fools want to strike, it’ll be their loss, not ours.’
‘I’m not so sure of that, Charles,’ Richard said. ‘We must think sensibly, and not go at it stupidly—’
‘Do you think they’re sensible?’ Charles began to redden with anger. ‘They don’t want new machinery because of some crazy notion it’ll put them out of jobs, when new machinery’s never even been mentioned! They do want rail tracks, but Gorran’s advised us not to think about that until we get a better cash situation—’
‘I think we should forget Daniel Gorran’s advice,’ Ben said curtly. ‘He’s too cautious by half. We should take a risk, Father. I’ve told you I’m willing to sell my shares to make rail tracks viable, and I think you should do the same.’
Charles glowered at his son. ‘You know nothing about the business side of things, boy—’
‘I know more than you seem to think,’ Ben snapped. ‘I’ve not been wasting my time since I got home from college. I’ve a brain, Father, and I’ve been using it. Rail tracks aren’t out of the question, and you’re as short-sighted as Daniel Gorran if you don’t see that.’
‘I’m tired of hearing about bloody rail tracks!’ Charles shouted, beads of perspiration beginning to dot his forehead.
‘They’re not the issue here, are they?’ Richard Carrick intervened hastily, although privately he wondered about that. ‘What we want is to settle this strike quickly, so that no one loses face. All right, Charles, we’ll give them a couple of weeks and see if they’re ready to return to work with the promise of their wage rises when our dues come in. Meanwhile, a strong letter to each of our debtors is the first priority. I’ll see to it at once.’
Ben got to his feet, annoyed at being made to feel young and inexperienced in business matters, when the solution was as clear as the nose on his father’s face, glowing so rosily now.
‘I’ll call on Jane and her mother while we’re here, Father. Don’t bother to wait for me. I’ll borrow one of the Carrick horses to get home.’ He spoke shortly, wanting to be out of his father’s company as soon as he could, and guessing the feeling was mutual.
He couldn’t wait to be out of the stuffy chambers. The air around the Truro river was pungent, but preferable to the claustrophobic atmosphere of old men who wouldn’t budge in their ways. Maybe he did have radical ideas, in wanting to give the workers what they deserved, but he was fair minded too, and it was wrong to give with one hand and take away with the other, which was what the wage delay amounted to.
He walked to the Carrick House, needing the exercise, and needing time to think. An idea was simmering in his mind. His father wouldn’t like it, but there was nothing new in that. Charles seemed opposed to anything he said or did lately.
The thought of Morwen Tremayne surged into his mind, warm as summer, and he wondered about Charles’s reaction to that too. About the fact that his son had lain with her and loved her, and wanted her more desperately than he’d wanted anything in his life before. And what would Morwen’s father say to it? Hal Tremayne, with all the fierce pride of his class, would be just as disapproving as Charles Killigrew. To hell with the lot of them, Ben thought blazingly. Whose life was it, anyway?
He was glad to find Jane at home alone, her mother out visiting a friend for the day. Jane’s eyes were sparkling, and anyone could see that she was in love. Presumably her parents knew her too well to even notice, Ben thought perversely. He had no time to say what he’d come for, before she took both his hands and drew him down besideon the sofa in the drawing-room, her face flushed.
‘It’s all arranged, Ben,’ her voice was breathless. ‘Tom’s leaving Truro in two weeks’ time, and I shall go with him. You promised not to tell, but when I’ve gone I’m trusting you to assure my parents I’m not leaving you with a broken heart! They’ll be upset enough without having you on their conscience, but it’s the only way, Ben. They’d never agree to a marriage between Tom and me. Father ranted about the latest articles Tom wrote, exposing the lot of the pilchard-fishermen. He just has no time for newspapermen, however right their cause—’
She stopped as Ben’s grip on her hands tightened, realising that he wasn’t listening any more.
‘Does your Tom have the guts to print a damning article about the owners of Killigrew Clay, Jane? There’s no need for him to mention your father, since few know he’s a partner, and I wouldn’t want to cause your mother any more distress. But something’s got to be done. My father won’t listen to reason, and I’ve thought it all out—’
‘What are you talking about?’ Jane said in bewilderment. ‘If there’s a story to be told, Tom won’t balk at it, but think what you’re saying, Ben. A damning article about Killigrew Clay will hurt you as well as your father. Why should you want Tom to write it, anyway? What’s happened?’
He told her briefly. Her eyes widened, especially when he was obliged to say how Hal Tremayne had come to hear of it, quick in his defence of Morwen’s part in it all.
‘You think a lot of her, don’t you, Ben? You may hide it from everyone else, but you can’t hide it from me.’
‘Then I won’t try,’ he retorted. ‘But tell me if you think Tom will co-operate. If the story is exposed, it may push my father into paying the wage rises at once. Other pits will leap on the story and make offers to the Killigrew workers, and if we’re not careful, we’ll be left with pits and no men. Tom can hint at that too. Anything to bring Father to his senses!’
‘Why don’t we go and ask him?’ Jane said. ‘I admire you, Ben, but I don’t know that I agree with your methods.’
‘I think Tom will,’ he stated grimly. It was the kind of story on which the Informer thrived, and he’d never appreciated its usefulness until now. Charles would hate to be thought a skinflint. Ben still didn’t care for Tom Askhew, but he was a champion for the working-classes, and he was just the catalyst Ben needed to make his father see sense.
‘He’ll be at his rooms now,’ Jane said quickly. ‘He goes there for a bite to eat in the middle of the day.’
‘Then let’s waste no time,’ Ben said. ‘I’v
e plenty to do this day.’
Including talking to Morwen. There were things to be settled between them, and he had to clear the air of the nonsense about Jane. She had to know that his affections were given elsewhere than to Morwen’s Miss finelady… but all that must wait awhile. He was determined to put his case to Tom Askhew, although he didn’t particularly relish enlisting his help.
Tom listened with narrowed eyes as Ben tersely outlined his idea.
‘You take a risk, Killigrew,’ the Yorkshireman said bluntly. ‘Your father could cut you off without a penny, if that’s the right phrase your sort uses.’
‘Never mind all that,’ Ben told him angrily. ‘Will you print the piece, man? I didn’t think you’d be lily-livered enough to refuse—’
‘Neither I am,’ Tom growled. ‘But I’m thinking o’ Jane’s father, and the two of us. Carrick’s a partner in Killigrew Clay, I understand, and ’twill be bad enough for Jane later on, knowing her parents’ feelings. I’ll print the piece and welcome, but only on the day we leave Truro, as a parting gesture—’
‘And have folk say you were too yellow to stay and see the outcome?’ Ben demanded.
Tom’s face was furious. ‘There’ll be nowt like that said about me, Killigrew. I may leave the town, but the paper will continue in the same spirit I began it. I’ve seen to that. I’ve given you my word on your article, so take it or leave it.’
‘I’ll take it—’
‘Good. Maybe ’twon’t be needed, if things are settled by then, but if you’re still wanting my services, then we’ll rough out the piece together when you’ve a mind to it.’
There was nothing more to say, and Ben was glad to take his leave of the fellow. He wished Jane well of him. All he wanted now was to borrow one of the Carrick horses and be on his way home to see Morwen. To his secret annoyance, Jane’s mother had returned home from her visiting, and he was obliged to be the gentleman and take lunch with her and Jane before he left.
Killigrew Clay Page 19
