'Most probably she just fled. Her life must have been a living hell.' India turned away to hide her own sadness.
Hester saw it and returned to the matter, in hand. 'Why are we discussing the Marchioness?' she demanded. 'What of you? Have you really accepted Isham?'
'I have, but it is not quite what you think. There was so much to consider. I gave it a good deal of thought. Your father cannot continue to support us...'
'Stuff!' Hester exploded. 'He would do so willingly. What is more, he would not forgive himself if he thought such a consideration had influenced your decision.'
India looked steadily at her friend. 'Will you tell me the truth?' she asked. 'I believe that our assets were not enough to cover the debt to Isham. Did Uncle find the balance?'
Hester would not meet her eyes, but neither would she lie. 'There was some talk of it,' she admitted uncomfortably. 'But it is no great matter.'
'It is to me, and then, as you know, there is Letty to consider. Under the circumstances Oliver Wells could not have offered for her. A connection with Lord Isham will alter the matter.'
'And Giles? What has he to say to this?'
'We have not heard from him, but there is little he can do. His own inheritance has gone. Mama is hoping that Isham will do something for him.'
'Well, at least your mother will be able to live in comfort.' Hester's expression mirrored her disgust. 'Have you considered yourself in all of this?'
'Of course I have. Think about it, Hester. What is the alternative? Letty and I had but two choices. Mrs Guarding might have taken one of us to teach at the Academy, but more likely we should have had to become paid companions to some lady, and Mama cannot be left alone.'
'I see.' Hester's tone was grim. 'You will not wonder at my desire to stand up for the rights of women. We are little more than chattels.'
She stopped abruptly at the sight of India's stricken look. 'There I go again!' she confessed. 'Tact is not my strongest point, but I get so angry when I think how little say we have in the conduct of our lives. Now tell me, what do you know of Isham?'
'Very little.' India admitted. 'I haven't spent above three hours in his company.'
'But are you quite determined to wed him?'
'I am. Pray don't try to dissuade me, Hester. I have given my word and I won't go back on it.'
'I see.' Hester looked thoughtful. 'Well, if it must be, you could do worse, my love. His lordship is no fool. His intellect can only be respected. I have read some of his speeches...'
'He told me that he thinks of going into politics...'
'He should do so. Men such as he are badly needed in Government.'
'Have you met him?'
'No, but I should like to do so. He is sound on conditions in the northern mills. His place is in Cheshire, is it not? He will be aware of the high unemployment in the north. These days trade is almost non-existent, or so I hear. So many have been ruined by Napoleon's blockade of the European ports...'
'But surely the Government must help?'
'The Government will do nothing, India, other than to order in troops to stamp out disaffection. Repression rather than compassion would appear to be the order of the day. Isham opposes this policy, I believe, although I am no expert on such matters.'
India was startled by such vehemence. 'Do you think so highly of him?'
'I do, but from your tone I see that you do not.'
'I don't know him, Hester, but he is the strangest creature. I find him somewhat overwhelming...'
'I hear that he is no Adonis, but surely that will not weigh with you?'
'Of course not. He has presence, but...'
'But you are a little afraid of him? You surprise me, India. In no time he will learn to love you. Then he will realise what a jewel he has won.'
'You are biased, my dear. The plain fact is that his lordship needs an heir. That is his only reason for making me this offer.' India stopped. She had said more than she intended, and her bitterness must be apparent.
'Nonsense!' Hester said roundly. 'The man could have chosen any of a dozen females. I see that you do not find him very lover-like...'
'No! At least he has spared me professions of his undying affection.'
'Very sensible of him! He must have known that you would not believe it. Confess now, you would have despised him for uttering such sentiments?'
She was rewarded with a reluctant smile. 'How well you know me, Hester. I should not have welcomed falsehood. Whatever else, Isham is always frank.'
'Well then?'
'Oh, I don't know. I suppose he injures my pride. He has a most unfortunate knack of putting me in the wrong.'
'How so?'
'Perhaps it's because I am so quick to judge him. Only yesterday I had thought he meant to dictate to me when he warned me not to travel after dusk even close to home. I let him see my anger. Then I found that he was thinking only of my safety. I felt mortified by my own stupidity.'
Hester nodded sagely. 'He was thinking of the Luddites. You would do well to heed him.'
'Luddites? Who are they?'
'He did not tell you?'
'He said something about disaffected labourers. I'll admit I felt some sympathy for their cause...'
'So did I until Father told us of their violence and now, he says, it is gone beyond attempts to destroy the machines and the factories. They are firing barns and hayricks and terrorising the countryside.'
'Could he not speak to them? Uncle James is a reasonable man. If he promised to address their grievances...?'
'What could he do for them? He cannot give them bread or work. Besides, no one knows who they are. They wear masks or blacken their faces, and visit savage retribution on those who inform against them.'
'Can nothing be done?'
'The Government is sending troops. They fear that we may follow France into revolution if these uprisings spread.'
'The Terror? In England? Surely not.'
'It happened in France just twenty years ago, and this movement is growing fast. It is well organised, with secret signs and passwords, and men are "twisted in", or recruited, with special oaths.'
'That does not sound like the work of the ordinary labourer.'
'You are right. So many of them can neither read nor write, but letters have been sent to their employers and even to the Prime Minister, signed "General Ludd". It seems that nothing will stop them, though the penalty for frame-breaking is already transportation and may become a capital offence.'
India shuddered. 'Thank heavens that Mama and Letty know nothing of this as yet. They are gone to the Vicarage this morning to spread the joyous news.'
It was difficult to hide her bitterness. 'I suppose I must tell them?' she asked.
'India, they are sure to hear of it from one source or another.' Hester looked thoughtful. 'You are right about the working men, I feel sure. There is something behind all this—some controlling intelligence which is playing upon their baser instincts.'
'But they must be desperate,' India protested.
'True! They are being forced to starve, but this is more than a plea to right their grievances. Men fighting for a just cause are often joined by those who have private scores to settle. Father is sure of it.' Hester rose to her feet. 'You will be careful, won't you?'
'I doubt if anyone has a score to settle with this family,' India told her with a rueful smile. 'I can't recall that we have injured anyone.'
'Of course not, dearest.' Hester embraced her fondly.
'And shall you attend my wedding? I should like that above anything.'
'You shall have my support, my love, and you take with you my good wishes for a long and happy life.'
India was tempted to tease a little.
'You shall not care to follow my example?' she asked wickedly.
'Great heavens, no! My dream is to have a small house of my own. If my portion remains in my own hands I should write, surrounded by my books.'
'Then that is what I shall wi
sh for you. It sounds idyllic.'
'It is unlikely to happen. Mother insists that I try another Season in the hope that I shall "take" this time. She is such an optimist. My last attempt was a disaster.'
'It was no worse than mine, I think...'
'Oh yes it was! I am too outspoken and the gentlemen fled in droves...' Hester laughed out loud. 'I did make one conquest, you'll be pleased to hear. Can you believe it? I was attacked in the Duchess of Sutherland's library by some ancient lecher who could hardly stand without the aid of a stick. I won't name names, but my admirer was stone-deaf, which must account for it. Hugo had to rescue me. You should have seen his face...'
Her amusement was infectious and both girls dissolved into peals of glee.
Chapter Four
Her cousin's visit had cheered India beyond measure. She respected Hester's judgement and her good sense. It had been pleasant to find that her forthright relative had not reproached her for her decision to wed Lord Isham. She had even expressed her admiration for his lordship's character.
It was strange indeed to find that others thought so highly of him. India wished that she could do the same, but always, at the back of her mind, lay the notion that, however indirectly, he had been the cause of her father's death. That she could not forgive.
Well, she would be spared his company for the next few days. With a sigh she made her way to the kitchen. Letty and her mother would welcome a steaming bowl of soup on their return from the Vicarage.
She'd started her preparations on the previous day, boiling the piece of mutton for a full two hours to make the stock. After straining it, she'd added veal knuckle and her vegetables and herbs, and simmered it again. Now it needed only a further straining and the addition of egg-white to clear it. After a final straining she would add the diced meat, parsley and a glass of sherry.
She was tasting the result when a bustle in the hall announced the return of Letty and her mother.
'Mmm! Something smells good!' Letty had come to find her. 'What is that?'
'It is Mock Turtle soup,' India told her proudly. 'I'm boasting, but it does taste good. Help me carry it through. Then you shall tell me all your gossip.'
'There isn't much, except that the Earl of Yardley hopes to buy the Abbey. What a blessing that would be! We might be rid of the old Marquis for ever.'
'Does Uncle William think it likely that the Marquis will sell?'
'He doesn't know, but he hopes so. It was an evil day for the village when that creature came to live amongst us. Thank heavens that he is now too old to ruin the local girls...'
'Letty!' Mrs Rushford was scandalised at this reference to unbridled lust.
Yet on this occasion even the gentle Letty held her ground. 'Mama, you won't deny it?'
'I do not, but it is hardly a subject for polite conversation. I don't know what girls are coming to these days.'
'Things might have been so different had Yardley not lost everything to him,' India murmured sadly. 'That was a tragedy...'
For once her mother agreed with her. 'The Earl was said to care for nothing after he cast off his heir. Such folly! And just because the Viscount wished to marry a Catholic! As if that signified a jot!'
India hid a smile. Her mother's feeling for religion was not strong.
'Of course she was also a foreigner,' Isabel continued. 'French, I believe, but what could that matter where an inheritance was concerned?'
India felt that she was right, even if for the wrong reasons. 'It was prejudice, I fear, and born of ignorance, but what a price he paid! One shudders to think of the despair which drove him finally to suicide.'
'Well, let us wish the new Earl well,' Letty cried. 'Perhaps Sywell will sell to him. What do you think?'
'There may be a possibility. The Marquis is deep in debt.' Mrs Rushford smirked. 'He cannot pay his bills and the tradesmen will no longer supply him. All his servants are gone, except for his man, Burneck, and certain females whom he hires in town.' She pursed her lips. 'They may or they may not be housekeepers.'
India was no longer attending. Her thoughts were far away. Was Isham really the monster she had thought him? His interests were much in line with her own. She too had been horrified by tales of conditions in the north, where women and children were treated as little more than slaves. Now, it seemed, there were abuses closer to hand.
This was brought home to her three days later, when she heard a commotion in the kitchen. Screams and shouting disturbed the normally quiet household.
'Whatever is it, Martha?' India hurried towards the cause of the disturbance, to find Martha clutching a ragged urchin in either hand.
'Nasty, dirty critturs, miss! I found them hiding in the woodshed.'
India inspected the two urchins. Neither, she guessed, could be ten years old. 'They are children, Martha,' she reproved. Then she addressed the sturdier of the two. 'What are you doing here?' she asked.
The child faced her defiantly. 'We meant no 'arm,' he told her. 'We ain't got nowhere else to stay. They burned the place about us.'
'What place was that?'
'The factory, miss.'
'And when did this happen?'
'Night afore last. We bin walking since...'
India noticed that he seemed unable to take his eyes from the freshly baked bread which lay cooling on the kitchen table. Cursing herself for a thoughtless fool, she cut several thick slices and buttered them with a lavish hand.
'Here!' she pushed the food towards the boys. 'You must be very hungry.'
They needed no persuasion and began to wolf the bread at speed.
'There is no need for such haste,' she smiled. 'There is plenty more...'
They took her at her word, and whilst they were eating she examined them more closely. Stick-thin, they were caked with soot and grime and both were barefoot. The smaller child, in particular, seemed unable to control his shivering.
'Come closer to the fire,' she urged. 'You foolish children! Why did you not knock upon our door for shelter? You might have frozen to death in last night's frost...' Inspecting their tattered rags, she thought it highly likely. 'Martha, fetch me a couple of warm shawls, if you please...'
'Now, miss, you ain't planning to wrap them up in your good shawls? These young 'uns will be covered in lice...'
'I did not ask for your advice,' India said coldly. 'Do as I say.'
'Mistress Rushford won't like it!' Muttering darkly, Martha left the room.
That at least was true. India could only be thankful her mama had summoned Letty and was making a further round of morning calls. She herself had only managed to avoid that tiresome fate by mentioning the likelihood that Isham would return that day. She could imagine her mother's reaction to the discovery of two filthy urchins in her kitchen.
Neither child had answered her question. 'Do tell me who you are,' she coaxed. 'Your parents must be half-mad with anxiety...'
'Ain't got none. We be orphings.' The taller of the two regarded her with a wary eye. He must have felt that he owed her something, for he volunteered the information that his name was Joe.
'And your friend?'
'This 'ere is Tom. 'E be my bruvver.'
There was no reaction from the smaller child and India eyed him with concern. True, he had eaten, but in a curiously mechanical way. Now he was slumped in a corner by the fire gazing into the flames. He had not uttered a word.
'Your brother is very quiet,' she said anxiously. 'Does he not speak at all?'
'Ain't said a word since the burning. Tom were that afeared, miss.' For the first time his bravado slipped and he rubbed a grimy hand across his eyes.
'It must have been a terrible experience. I think your brother is suffering from shock. Can you tell me what happened?' India took the shawls from a sullen Martha and wrapped them about the children's shoulders.
'We wuz asleep beneath the frames when we 'eard 'em coming. They broke all the windows first to get inside. We 'id behind the cotton bales when they smashed up
the machines. We thought they'd gone, but then we smelled the smoke. It went up mighty fast...'
'But what were you doing there?'
He had no time to answer, for at that point a burning log dislodged itself and fell into the hearth, creating a shower of sparks. The younger child leapt to his feet and uttered a series of piercing shrieks.
India gathered him to her. 'There, there,' she soothed. 'You are in no danger here.'
'Which is more than can be said for some,' Martha sniffed. 'Don't touch him, miss. I doubt but that you'll catch some nasty ailment.'
'Martha, you are beginning to try my patience,' India said in icy tones. 'Have you no work to do?'
'More than enough, Miss India, and me on my own to do it all. We'll soon see what the mistress has to say...' With this threat she flounced out of the room.
The child had quietened down, and India turned once more to Joe. 'You didn't answer me. I asked what you were doing in the factory?'
'Why, miss, we wuz working there...'
'But surely you are not old enough to lift the bales, or to work the frames?'
Joe grinned at her ignorance. 'We cleans the place. They send us beneath the frames to sweep the floors, but sometimes we 'as to deal with stuff as breaks.'
'Is that not dangerous work, more suitable for grown men?'
'Too big, miss. It's only little 'uns as can get into some places...'
'A likely story!' Martha had returned on the pretext of having forgotten her broom. 'Miss India, these are climbing boys. Look at their arms and legs!'
'Certainly these are burns.' India began to examine the skinny limbs of the child beside her, and was horrified at what she found. 'They must be due to the fire...'
'Nonsense!' Martha was no longer troubling to be civil, sure of her mistress's support. Now she gave a triumphant laugh and, marching over to Joe, she lifted away the rags upon his arm. 'Callouses, miss, and old ones at that. These are not fresh burns.' She bent down to reveal Joe's battered knees. 'I've seen enough climbing boys in my time to know that these come from climbing chimneys. Why, he smells of soot and grime, the little liar! It's my belief that these two have run away from their master...'
The Reluctant Bride Page 5
