Daughter of Trade

by Lesley-Anne McLeod

  Sebastian had placed one booted foot on the shallow stairs before number five when Hamilton bounded up beside him.

  The youngster greeted him with acclaim. "This is famous, sir. We quite thought you had decided not visit Leeds. And I might have missed you had you come earlier in the day. School, sir, you know. Do come in." Hamilton opened the door, and ushered him into the entry.

  Sebastian garnered a brief impression of quiet elegance, and gave his hat and gloves into the care of the harassed butler who hurried up.

  "Master Hamilton..."

  "It's all right, Mr. Bubwith--I'll announce Lord Holly."

  True to his word, the boy opened what Sebastian supposed was the drawing room door and shouted, "Hie Dinah, here's Lord Holly!"

  Dinah was playing the pianoforte and a discordant crash was her startled response to her young brother's words. Sebastian admired her straight, slender back even as he winced at her surprise. Hamilton rushed off, presumably to advise the rest of the family of his discovery on the doorstep.

  Sebastian wished his entry might have been more normal, for then perhaps Dinah might not have been so very white as she slowly rose and turned to face him.

  "Miss Driffield." He bowed with great propriety and crossed the room to take the hand she offered, reluctantly it seemed to him. She seemed unable to form a word to speak to him.

  They were interrupted by the hurried entrance of Mrs. Driffield, Miss Harriet and Miss Adelaide.

  "Lord Holly, it is very nice of you to call." Mrs. Driffield was cordial.

  The two young ladies dipped into curtsies.

  Adelaide moved to Dinah's side.

  Harriet perched beside her mother.

  "Please do sit down my lord," the elder lady continued. "We thought perhaps you might be unable to visit us in Leeds."

  "I was delayed, but I am now established at the King's Arms. You are all well and settled again at home?" Holly took a quick look around the pleasant, handsomely furnished chamber and let his glance rest on Dinah. She had seated herself on the stool before the pianoforte. Still pale, she would not look at him, and he wished he might read her thoughts.

  "Thank you, yes. A change is always pleasant, but one is happy to be at home. Everyone has returned to their usual occupations. Geoffrey has taken up his apprenticeship. He told his father of your discussions. Your good offices in his interest are much appreciated."

  A brief silence fell, and Sebastian rubbed his brow absently. He wished Dinah would speak.

  She did suddenly, as though making an unwelcome decision. "Welcome to Leeds, my lord." The look that accompanied her words was anything but welcoming.

  Adelaide stepped in to fill an awkward silence. "Do you make a long stay?"

  "I hope to," he answered with a pleasant smile, though he was stung by Dinah's daunting, dismissive glance.

  Hamilton hurtled back into the room carrying a brimming plate of cakes in danger of capsize. A plump maid followed him with the tea tray.

  The boy burst in to speech. "Tomorrow evening my lord, there is cricket at Chapeltown, for you must know it is Thursday, when the gentlemen play. Will you come, sir? Please sir? I daresay our carriage might convey us. Mama? Please?"

  "I have brought my curricle, my friend. That is partly what delayed me in Harrowgate. I sent to London for my groom to bring it. So I may take you up and you can direct me to this cricket ground, if your mama permits. I shall be delighted to observe a match again." He smiled warmly at the lad.

  "Capital!" Hamilton set the cake plate before his mama and was silent as he selected from it.

  Mrs. Driffield could only shake her head, with amusement lighting her eyes. "Tea, my lord?"

  As the viscount accepted, Dinah rose. "I shall not have any just now Mama. I must prepare for evening school."

  Sebastian stood so soon as she did. "What is this? May I accompany you, Miss Driffield?"

  "I think not, my lord--"

  "Why ever not, Dinah? If his lordship is interested, he should see what responsible factory owners do to help their workers."

  Sebastian could only call the look Dinah cast her mother reproachful. As if Mrs. Driffield had reneged on a promise. "Very well, Mama," was all she said, however. "I shall be twenty minutes, my lord."

  Dinah made a dignified exit from the drawing room. Sebastian could scarcely conceal his delight at his good fortune and with difficulty directed his attention to his companions.

  Harriet was peering from the window at the square. "Lord Holly, is that Challenger?"

  Mrs. Driffield interposed. "Ah, you have ridden. Our carriage will be brought to convey Dinah to her school. Our groom can conduct your mount to the King's Arms stable."

  "Thank you, ma'am. It is indeed Challenger, Miss Harriet. 'Tis another of the reasons I stayed on in Harrowgate. I purchased him." Sebastian answered the girl's eager question, and a babble of discussion burst out. He surveyed the chamber's occupants with contentment. He was well pleased to be with the Driffield family again, he realized. Their voluble debates now delighted rather than daunted him, and he would confess himself eager to hear all their news.

  Twenty-five minutes later, Sebastian was installed in the Driffield family's barouche with Dinah and her little maidservant. He was sorry to leave the Driffields' so soon after his reunion with them, but he was assured by Mrs. Driffield that he was welcome to treat their home as his own. And he had of course, already an engagement for the cricket match with Hamilton.

  He could not be sorry though to be very nearly alone in the company of Dinah. He wished he might stare in blatant admiration, against all tenets of polite behaviour, at her. She looked charmingly in a Sardinian blue pelisse and a matching bonnet of simple design. He could scarcely identify the emotions surging through him, but happiness was paramount among them. "Where are we going, Miss Driffield?" he said. Truly he had little care as long as he was with her.

  Dinah started and stumbled in to speech. "I do beg your pardon, my lord. We are going to my father's manufactory on the river off Aire Street. I have a room there, a commodious room, and as the ladies complete their day's work we do another hour or so of schooling."

  "Education?"

  "Of whatever type they wish. It is their decision. If they wish to study sewing, or cookery, or arithmetic or reading, I find teachers to aid me, and that is what we study--until they wish to go on to something else."

  "And you run this 'school' yourself?"

  "'Twas my idea. Pippy, close your mouth dear." This was an aside from Dinah to the little maid who was staring at Holly.

  Sebastian smiled kindly at the girl with the result that she flushed a brilliant crimson with delight. Not for the first time, he silently cursed his own good looks. They had more than once been a burden to him.

  "You are a lady of many talents, Miss Driffield." He had no intent to flatter but hoped to draw her further in to conversation.

  "Not as your society views talents, my lord. My watercolours are better left unviewed and my needlework specialty is plain sewing. And I cannot speak French."

  He suspected she was hoping to sound tedious and dreary, to discourage him. "Your skills I think have more practical value." Sebastian was not repelled. His admiration of Dinah grew with every new thing he learned of her. "This occupies all your time?" He could only wish he had not to pry information from her, when he wished to know her every thought.

  "Not at all. But when my Sunday School and my dame school are added to the sum, my days are well-filled."

  "Good God, Miss Driffield, you put me to shame. Do you try to educate the entire working population of Leeds?" His question held laughter but no mockery. He was convinced she was much more than the dour Samaritan she tried to portray.

  She managed a smile at this sally. "I try to educate as many as I can reach, my lord. It is education that will lessen the fears of the workers, education that will improve their lives and help them to deal with change."

  "I honour you for the work." He hoped his sinc
erity was evident.

  Dinah coloured. She gazed around her with some degree of desperation and said, "Here we are. Now you will see."

  And see he did. In fact, he spent the evening upon returning to the New King's Arms in contemplation of all that he had seen.

  Dinah--he always thought of her now as Dinah--had astonished and impressed him this day, without any intent so to do. Her school was a wonder of organization. The factory women respected--nay they liked, Dinah--and obviously appreciated her efforts on their behalf. And she moved among them without superiority, or authority, or anything that would belittle or demean their dignity or pride. She taught and helped them as their friend. It was a side of her that he was delighted to see, honoured to recognize.

  Before they had left the school, Mr. Driffield had visited the schoolroom unexpectedly. He had welcomed Sebastian kindly, and invited him for a tour of the manufactory. Sebastian had disliked to leave Dinah but could hardly refuse. He took his leave from her gracefully, and had been disappointed to note that she seemed almost relieved to see him go.

  The factory tour had been a revelation. He was impressed and fascinated. His curiosity had led him to myriad questions that Mr. Driffield had been pleased to patiently answer. Sebastian had been delighted to renew his acquaintance with John, in the manufactory's office. He had been nearly as delighted to disappoint Joseph, on the factory floor, with a warm greeting.

  When he had been returned to the inn's front door by Mr. Driffield's carriage, he was looking forward to a substantial meal. Skelmer did not disappoint him, and within the half hour, he sat down to his dinner.

  Sebastian could think no more of anything but Dinah. Her dedication to her chosen work was impressive. Had he not seen her at leisure in Harrowgate he might think her a stern example of Christian womanhood. As it was, he knew her to be an enchanting mix of lighthearted femininity and conscientious benefactor. Her behaviour towards him had been puzzling however. She had been reserved, constrained and inhibited. Had she believed he would not come to Leeds as he had said? Had she been so offended by his kiss, their kiss, at Fountains Abbey? Had she disbelieved his avowals of respect and esteem? He spent the remainder of the evening considering how he might mend matters between them.

  * * * *

  Within two weeks, Dinah's worst fears were realized. Lord Holly was indeed running tame in Park Square. She, against her best judgment, was only too glad of it. His charm, his courtesy, his kindness to her siblings and the respect he showed her parents all endeared him to her. For the sake of her heart, she wished him gone from Leeds.

  On the evening of Mr. Abraham Gott's ball, Dinah exasperatedly noted that she was aware of the viscount so soon as he entered the ballroom. Mr. Gott, one of the premier manufacturers of the town, and one of its most senior citizens, was speaking earnestly with Lord Holly. She wondered what Mr. Gott had said to make Holly grin like a schoolboy. It seemed he had with ease established a rapport with the elderly man, and she wished she could doubt his sincerity.

  She cast a glance about the ballroom from where she stood with her family and the Heslers. At least Bernard Humberstone did not seem to be present this evening. Mr. Humberstone was making it very clear these days that he regarded Lord Holly as an interloper and an unwelcome rival. When in the viscount's company, he glared at him in affronted silence; when the viscount was not present, he reviled and derided him. She had reassured him that the viscount was no more than a friend of the family, and had rebuked him for his ungenerous remarks. She had recently taken to avoiding the big man altogether and consequently circumventing his wrath.

  Deep in thought, she was unaware that Adelaide and Juliana had been bespoken for the first set, and that several gentlemen were on their way to request her own hand for the dance. She watched Lord Holly, oblivious to the stares and whispers his actions engendered, as he made his way to where she stood with Mr. and Mrs. Driffield.

  She had left it too late for escape and he had outdistanced his rivals. He stood before her, and Dinah forced to calm the excited flutter of her heart. He looked very well this evening in a superb dark blue coat, a sapphire gleaming in his cravat and black pantaloons molding his long legs. His auburn hair gleamed in the candlelight of sparkling chandeliers, and the sapphire was no more brilliant than his gaze. She could only be pleased that she was gowned in her new Bishop's blue glace silk, and that she had allowed Pippy to twine the pearls in her glossy hair.

  "Mrs. Driffield, Mr. Driffield." His bow was exquisite. "Miss Driffield will you honour me with this dance?"

  Dinah could think of no excuse for refusal, could scarcely wish to refuse. She cast a desperate look at her mother.

  "Madam you permit?" Holly was circumventing her neatly, speaking to her parents. "Sir?"

  Mrs. Driffield nodded, and without awaiting Dinah's acquiescence the viscount drew her into the set forming for a quadrille.

  "Two weeks in Leeds, Dinah, and I am as busy as you," he said, when it was possible to speak. His hazel gaze searched her face and he smiled.

  Remembering the last time she had been so close to him, she felt herself blush. He had kissed her then. "Do not make free of my name..." she whispered, nodding at her neighbours and hoping they were not overheard.

  "May I not? I think of you as Dinah, as I play cricket with Hamilton, study with Geoffrey, idle with John and work with Joseph. As well as when I study politics with Harriet and try to talk to Adelaide..."

  "You work with Joseph?"

  "When he does not revile me." he assured her. "I have offered him an exchange of friendly fisticuffs with him. I thought it might lessen his hostility to blacken my eye. Or even break my nose--he might realize he is more concerned with what he calls my beauty than I am."

  His mode of expression drew an unwilling gurgle of laughter from her.

  "Your laughter enchants me," he said.

  "Don't," she said with a frown. "Don't flirt."

  "I do not flirt. I was completely sincere," he said in a hurt tone. "Dinah, why do you avoid me?"

  Her glance warned him to hold his tongue, and he paid heed. They danced on in a silence that was very near as unnerving to Dinah as Holly's conversation. As the music was drawing to a close, Dinah spied Adelaide nearby and directed the viscount's attention to her.

  "But I don't want to talk to Adelaide," he said. "I wondered if you would come into the garden with me."

  "I will not. I wish to speak with Adelaide. And you must meet her betrothed." Dinah dared not go into the garden with him for she had no defense against his wiles. And she had no clew as to whether he merely entertained himself or made serious advances. He offered no further argument, and they came to rest where Thomas Jamieson stood with Adelaide.

  Dinah greeted them with relief. "Adelaide! Thomas, how nice to see you." She searched his face, and saw worry there as well as fading bruises. She gave him her hand. "Lord Holly, this is Mr. Jamieson, Adelaide's betrothed. Thomas, the Viscount Holly."

  The men exchanged bows. Dinah watched Thomas, a plain-spoken, plain-faced young man, consider the viscount. He seemed to find nothing wanting.

  He said, "I was speaking to Miss Adelaide of the frame-breakers--we call them Luddites, my lord."

  Holly showed his concern without delay. "You have had difficulties, Mr. Jamieson. I heard and am sorry for it. It seems the manufactories in the towns are less likely to be targeted for attack?"

  Thomas, thought Dinah, looked surprised by the viscount's apparent information and willingness to discuss the matter.

  "'Tis true. There's less room for the Ludds to get organized, see, less time to get away free and clear," Jamieson explained. "More chance as well that someone will recognize them. They know they'll swing do they get caught. Near our factory, they may be into the woods and away in a trice."

  "I voted against the Frame-Breaking Act, Mr. Jamieson. I think these people need retraining and education about the changes that are occurring."

  "Aye, so has Mr. Driffield convinced me. But
they'll not wait, my lord. They won't listen, but go ahead and cause damage--aye and kill on occasion."

  "Surely they can be persuaded?"

  "Not some of them no, sir. 'Tis uneconomic besides, sir. We have no money, no time to waste. You cannot understand the economics of it, my lord."

  Joseph Driffield strolled up. Dinah thought Thomas had not meant to insult the viscount, but the smile on Joseph's face told that he appreciated the slight.

  "Aristocrats do not need to understand economics, Thomas. What they do not own, they buy. What could be simpler?"

  Dinah glared at him, and Adelaide and Thomas looked uncomfortable. Holly merely grinned at his dark antagonist.

  Joseph scowled at him. "Shelley is working on a new poem; a friend sent me the first stanza." He quoted without hesitation:

  Men of England, wherefore plough,

  For the lords who lay ye low?

  Wherefore weave with toil and care

  The rich robes your tyrants wear?

  "I think that sums it up pretty neatly."

  "Too neatly, as with all Mr. Shelley's poetry. He sees things in black and white, when they have all too many shades of grey," Holly said. "Your father understands that, and you would do well to learn it from him, before you overstep the bounds."

  "Is that a threat?" Joseph's beliefs, ever inflammatory, caught fire.

  "Of course not, you cawker. Calm down," Holly advised.

  Dinah added her strictures. "Joseph, you go too far. You cannot mean to disrupt Mr. Gott's ball. You are foolish beyond permission."

  "No, sister dear, it is the noblemen who are that." Her brother allowed himself one last jibe then took himself off to cross the room to the refreshments where Dinah could see several of his friends.