The Iron Master

by Jean Stubbs

  ‘Why, it is better than mine,’ he cried, tasting. ‘How many bottles have you left?’

  ‘I do not know. Not many, I think. I keep them for gentlemen callers.’

  ‘Ah Penelope and her suitors, as Ambrose used to say! Lottie, put us out of our uncertainty. When are you going to marry again? Surely you do not want to mope alone all your life? What do you do with yourself in this place all day?’

  She folded her arms. She was already nettled, and saw that he intended to provoke her further.

  ‘I am glad you asked,’ she said sweetly. ‘I had been wanting to consult you on the matter, Willie. How would you like Mr Ackroyd as a brother-in-law?’ And laughed at the expression on his face. ‘There you are!’ she accused him, amused and annoyed at once. ‘You dislike the idea intensely. What a thorn in your side he would be, diametrically opposed to everything you stand for. But let us not stop at him. How if I married Nicodemus Hurst?’ She puffed out her lips in mock horror. ‘No, of course not, for you have quarrelled with him already. What of Caleb? Oho! I am not so sure what reaction you might have to that Quaker piece upon your iron chessboard — though you would be bound to smile on him. So, would Hamish Standish please you?’ Her brows lifted, she looked down her nose, crying, ‘What? A piffling country doctor who attends my children when they have the measles? No, no, Willie. I am better not to embarrass you, my dear!’

  Now she had annoyed him, and it was with some sharpness of tone that he said, ‘Well, can you not do better for yourself than those four dummies, Lottie?’

  ‘At three-and-forty a woman has no market value, Willie,’ she said ironically. ‘Even you could not buy me a husband worthy of you!’

  She had picked her words carefully, as usual, and aimed each one at him for all her smiles and lightness. His temper rose.

  You take life too seriously, Lottie. Stewing over your books. Teaching sweaty bumpkins. Why cannot you enjoy yourself?’

  ‘Perhaps your idea of enjoyment and mine are different,’ she replied, colder now. ‘I have a circle of good friends, who would not interest you. I have reasonable health. And I value my freedom.’

  ‘Zelah says she never sees you!’ he accused.

  ‘No, you say that,’ Charlotte replied, obdurate. ‘Zelah and I meet as often as we can. She is mother to six children, hostess to Kingwood Hall, mentor of your industrial village, and wife to yourself. She is not seeking a fellow-gossip, and I have never had much time for gossip anyway.’

  The colour ran into his cheeks until it was as high as Clarissa’s after mating. But his eyes lit with fury rather than gratification.

  ‘Has Zelah been complaining to you?’ he asked.

  Now Charlotte flushed in turn, lest she had compromised her sister-in-law.

  ‘Of course she has not! What, Zelah complain? Zelah be disloyal to you? Dear God, I had thought we abolished slavery in this country two years since, but when I see how she works I realise that women were not included in the edict!’

  ‘Oh, this is too much,’ he cried. ‘I did not come to be lectured. I shall take my leave of you!’

  He set down his Madeira and rose, adjusting his waistcoat, and found one button undone. It must have been in that state since the morning’s engagement. Hastily he set it aright, but it cooled his temper and when he next spoke his reply lacked edge, though he continued to make his way into the hall.

  ‘I believe that rogue Toby set his mark on you for life, Lottie,’ he said, ‘you are still a-pamphleteering. But what times we had then!’

  ‘Well, I must not preach,’ said Charlotte penitently, ‘only I am fond of Zelah, and how I wish she would trounce you now and then!’

  He laughed good-humouredly, knowing she was right. ‘You are like Mrs Dorcas,’ he observed, ‘teaching everyone their place.’

  ‘And you, like God Almighty, expecting every place to be below your own!’

  ‘You speak too sharp,’ he said, displeased. ‘There is something about this house which sours a woman. My mother always said that Thornton House was full of spinsters. You were as sweet as Zelah once, but now must argue. Well, I have work to do.’

  Charlotte was silent for a moment, bearing the full weight of his personal disapproval, and that volume of public disapproval which seemed to hang about her. But the truth, as she knew it, was her only antidote.

  ‘My dear Willie,’ she said, as steadily as she could, ‘you were out of humour with yourself when you arrived, and I am out of sorts today, so there’s an end to it. Come, kiss me. Do not let us quarrel over nothing. But do not make game of what troubles me, neither.’

  He put his arm about her waist and set his lips to her forehead.

  ‘You are wrong about one matter at least,’ he said, clapping the tall hat jauntily to one side of his head. ‘I have never felt in a better humour than today!’

  ‘I am glad of it. Give Mrs Dorcas my love.’

  She stood on the doorstep, shivering, smiling, waving as he rode away, then went slowly into the house again, while he puzzled over her perception.

  How had she known of his dissatisfaction, since he was only just aware of it himself? A profound displeasure stirred within him. He wanted to hit, to hurt, to perturb. And yet, God damn it, why should he feel like that?

  He reined in at the smithy on Flawnes Green and sniffed the odours with a certain nostalgia. Stephen strode out to greet him, wiping his hands on his leather apron. A burly man in his late thirties. He spoke reverently to William, as became a blacksmith in the presence of an ironmaster. And Mrs Stephen, running into the dark shop after an escaping infant, managed to drop a curtsey while clutching her half-naked son to her bosom. William observed the baby’s dimpled bottom and sturdy legs, the little tassel that proclaimed his father’s immortality in however humble a capacity. He bowed gravely. He rode gloomily away.

  Turning into the lane leading to Bracelet, seeking comfort, he remembered his sister’s final remark. ‘Give Mrs Dorcas my love.’

  ‘Now how the deuce did Lottie know I would visit my mother?’ he asked himself.

  William walked the length of Bracelet’s parlour and peered irritably through the back window at the walled kitchen garden.

  ‘Why do you not allow me to extend this cabbage-patch of yours?’ he cried. ‘Are you not weary of the same view?’

  Dorcas sat very erect in her chair, hands folded. Her hair was quite white, but her eyes still sparked fire on occasion. She had not changed fashion, preferring to keep to her own style of full skirts and trim corsets, and so seemed part of time past but all the more reassuring for that. She had been reading when he came, but had put aside her book and was now taking off her spectacles.

  ‘But it is not the same view,’ she said reasonably. ‘If I turn round I see the rose garden and the lane from my front window. From my bedroom I have a most excellent view up the hillside of Kingswood Hall. And when I walk about the house each vantage-point gives me a different picture.’

  ‘Well, it is very small and pokey and would not do for me. And you have only to say what you want, Mamma, and I will see that it is done.’

  ‘I have what I want, my dear,’ she replied. Now what do you want of me?’

  ‘I? I want nothing! I called because I thought you were somewhat lonely and would be glad of company.’

  Dorcas’s lips twitched with amusement.

  ‘That was exceedingly, one might say unusually, thoughtful of you, William. But I am not in the least lonely, though always glad to see you, of course.’

  ‘You are much alone, though,’ he pointed out, feeling the situation slip away from him as it had done at Thornton House.

  ‘Ah, that is a different matter. I am solitary, William, but not lonely. And I have always found a certain amount of solitude to be necessary to me. It was you who could never stay long in your own company. I remember that from your childhood.’

  ‘Why, I spent hours, days alone. Making things, planning things … ’

  ‘Ah, yes. But if you were
not involved in some new project then time hung upon your hands. You had always to be doing something new. You did not sit inside yourself; as Charlotte did, for instance.’

  He drummed upon the window to startle the birds away.

  ‘Oh, Charlotte is a blue-stocking!’ he said, disgruntled. And then, ‘I could build you a bigger house in a better position, if you wanted, Mamma.’

  ‘My dear, you will find as you grow old that your wants are few. And I do not wish to move house again. I am content with Bracelet. Now go and buy yourself another copper-mine, or go into Parliament, if you are bored. But do not fret me, my dear. I am well enough!’

  He strode the room, and she watched him prowl restlessly. He stopped by her, looking for something to grieve him. ‘Is Dick’s wife breeding again?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘Not so soon after George’s birth I should hope,’ said Dorcas, still amiable. ‘Do sit down, my dear.’

  ‘How many have they now?’ he asked, looming at her side.

  ‘I must think for a moment! Why, there is Ned and Dickie and Willie and Mary — and little George.’

  ‘Four sons!’ said William bitterly, walking away again. ‘Four sons!’

  ‘And one daughter,’ a little tartly. Is that what is troubling you?’

  ‘Of course it troubles me!’ he cried, and thrust his fists into his breeches pockets. ‘It is as though life were determined to give me anything but that which I most desire!’

  ‘That is a pity,’ said Dorcas, in what Ned once called her Judgement Day voice.

  ‘A pity? It is a damned tragedy. Here I am, having sweated myself into my forties to build up a business, and a great house, and more wealth and possessions than any man in this valley — save Humphrey Kersall — and all I can boast is six daughters, who will marry and leave me without caring tuppence for any of it! To whom shall I pass on Snape and Kingswood Hall? Tell me that!’

  ‘I am sure you will think of some scheme. You always have,’ Dorcas replied coldly. ‘And do not shout and stamp about so, William. You will give me a headache.’

  ‘Well, I am sorry,’ he mumbled, feeling badly used.

  There was a pause. She longed for him to go and leave her in peace. But he would brood by the window.

  ‘You are exceedingly well dressed for this time on a weekday,’ Dorcas observed of the cream pantaloons, the chocolate-coloured coat with its velvet collar. ‘That shade of brown suits you, William. I recollect you wore it on your wedding-day.’

  ‘I had forgot,’ said William sullenly.

  The mention of his wedding-day, coupled with the thought of his chocolate coat lying where it had been dropped on Lord Kersall’s carpet, made him uneasy.

  ‘Zelah is young still, at four-and-thirty,’ said Dorcas, attempting to console him. ‘I was turned forty when Dick was born. There is time yet. Not that I advocate a woman bearing too many children, nor child-bearing too late in life.’

  ‘Oh, Zelah is healthy enough.’

  ‘You speak of your wife,’ said Dorcas crisply, ‘as though she were one of your brood mares.’

  ‘It is the damnedest thing,’ William burst out, ‘that when I visit you and Lottie I get nothing but hard words for kind intentions!’

  ‘So you have been teasing Charlotte, too, have you? At your time of life, William, a man is often plagued with his liver and spleen. You should try half a drachm of salt of camomile first thing in the morning, mixed with white wine!’ Then, disconcertingly, she changed direction and said, ‘Have you been doing business with Lord Kersall then, in your best clothes?’

  ‘Why do you ask? Well then, yes, I have. Not exactly, for he is in London as it happens. I left a message. And came away directly.’

  ‘I cannot think why men of that age make such gabies of themselves as to marry hearty young women,’ she continued. ‘It is obvious to all that Lady Kersall is only there for ornament. He can hardly be thought capable of getting her with child. And he has a number of grown children already.’

  ‘Oh, I do not know,’ said William uncomfortably. ‘He is hale enough.’

  ‘Let us hope so,’ said Dorcas doubtfully, ‘or she will make a fool of him in earnest. They have had trouble with her before’ — glancing at his dark face — ‘and that is why she was so late marrying. An unsuitable elopement, I have heard. But caught in time. So they say.’

  ‘Lady Kersall’s behaviour has always been highly correct to my knowledge,’ William lied, looking round for his beaver hat. ‘Her air is somewhat haughty rather than frivolous.’

  ‘Only with servants, I hear.’

  ‘It is extraordinary to me how women will gossip!’ he cried pettishly. ‘I suppose it is because they sit moping by themselves with nothing to do. A man has more important matters on his mind.’

  Dorcas put on her spectacles and looked directly at him.

  ‘William,’ she said very quietly and dearly, ‘what you have done to offend Charlotte I do not know. But since you came here in a like mood I conjecture you made yourself thoroughly disagreeable!’

  ‘No, no … ’ Stricken on the instant.

  ‘Neither Charlotte nor I ask anything of you but your loving goodwill,’ Dorcas went on inexorably. ‘We make our lives as useful and pleasant as we can, and are no nuisance to you that I know of — certainly, we do not call on purpose to tease you. You have endeavoured in this half-hour to make me feel poor in myself and in my home, and that is despicable.’

  ‘You do me wrong, Mamma … ’

  ‘I have not yet finished, sir,’ said Dorcas sternly, holding up her hand for his silence, as she used to when he was a small and disobedient boy. ‘You do not hurt me in the least by comparing Bracelet with Kingswood Hall, and offering to move me to a place more suitable for you, because I am content here and should be wretched in a larger house. But to hold up the scarecrow of loneliness to me in my old age, knowing how I loved my husband, is the work of a coward, sir!’

  ‘Madam, I swear I had no such intention,’ he pleaded on a lower note.

  ‘And what is more,’ Dorcas continued, cutting in voice and argument, ‘if your father had been alive and sitting there’ — pointing at the empty chair opposite — ‘you would not so much as dare to throw your hat down as you did! Let alone to probe and needle me, and whine of your troubles — that are no troubles at all! And that, sir, brands you as a bully, too!’

  No longer splendid, the ironmaster stood before her, holding the offending hat to his breast. An old spring of affection gushed forth and wet his eyes and flooded his heart, and he begged her pardon. But the little figure was unyielding, sitting very upright in her chair, and turned resolutely away from him.

  ‘Forgive me, Mamma,’ William begged.

  She sighed, quick and short and sharp.

  ‘Oh, I shall forgive you, I do not doubt,’ she replied, weary of him, ‘but not just now, William. Please to go away, my dear. And be good to Zelah.’

  He gathered up all the courage that was in him, to embrace her, to kiss her cheek unbidden; For he could not leave her so. Her face was cold beneath his lips. She felt as small and frail as a bird. He saw that she was old and should not be troubled.

  ‘It is your great spirit that misleads us,’ he said gently, reproachfully, and drew her to him and kissed her again. ‘You have cared for us all so long that we run to you like babes whenever we are bruised. We should protect you instead.’

  Her mouth quivered, and held.

  ‘Go now, Willie,’ she said, and he rose forgiven. ‘And Willie, remember this, never seek out another person’s weakness to prove that you are strong.’

  He swallowed that rebuke, even thought on it for a minute, and resolved to be good. He nodded.

  Dorcas stood by her front window and watched him ride grandly off. Then she rang the bell.

  ‘I think I shall rest in bed until supper-time, Nellie,’ she said, as lightly as she was able. ‘I find the weather somewhat tiring today.’

  Nellie said nothing, but looked grim
as she helped her mistress to undress. A homely guardian, she drew down the windows against the roar of Snape, she drew the curtains against the harsh light, she closed the door noiselessly behind her. But downstairs in the kitchen she spoke her mind to her husband.

  ‘I tell you what, Tom. We did better than we knew, keeping Mrs Howarth free of Kingswood Hall. They’d have bled her like leeches, given half the chancel’

  While Dorcas lay dumbly on her side of the bed, and wept the scarce and silent tears of the old to think that Ned would never again comfort her from the other.

  *

  ‘I am home!’ cried William, restored, sweeping through the great hall like a storm. ‘I am home, Zelah. I am home, children.’

  They were drawn from schoolroom and nursery, from parlour and garden. They gathered like flowers about him. From shy and slender Tibby, close on womanhood, to plump and staggering Molly. And behind them was Zelah, in the dark gold of her maturity, relieved to see him in a loving mood.

  ‘What a black bear I have been of late!’ he challenged them, hungry for approval, thirsty for their denial of this statement.

  And many times a bear before that, and very black indeed, and every time forgiven and excused.

  They cried down this ridiculous notion at once, and swept him off to the family sitting-room to be soothed away from such a dark fancy. For was he not the best and kindest and handsomest and most generous of fathers and husbands? And was not every one of his virtues to be celebrated with a kiss? Did he not toil from morning to night, for nothing but their benefit and delight? And was there the smallest wish in the world that he would not grant?

  He was undoubtedly a paragon at granting small wishes. It was the deep and necessary ones which eluded him, costing as they did so much time and thought and patience.

  But at length they convinced him of his goodness, and he was able to think again about his work and his pleasure with a clear conscience.

  Justice

  Twenty-four

  1810

  William Howarth had moved ahead in the commoners’ race. He had recently been appointed as Justice of the Peace, since the county gentry and professional men of the district considered him to be almost one of themselves. Rumour had it that Ernest Harbottle threw his dinner at his dining-room wall when he heard the news, and struck Mrs Harbottle. But rumour always exaggerates. Ernest simply knocked his plate to the carpet and called his wife a daft old bitch.