Текст книги "The Return of the Gypsy"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Riot

THERE WAS GREAT ACTIVITY throughout Eversleigh. Although we were three months from the weddings, my mother and Claudine threw themselves into the preparations with an abandonment I had never seen before.

This was to be a double wedding. We had had double birthdays in the past, but what were they compared with a double wedding. They thought it was most exciting and so appropriate that Amaryllis and I, who had shared our childhood, should both come to marriage on the same day.

“It is like a pattern,” said Claudine.

I did detect a faint anxiety beneath my mother’s gaity. I thought she was still a little worried about the sudden announcement of my engagement. I believe she thought there was more involved than a desire to be even with Amaryllis. She never lost an opportunity of extolling the virtues of Edward.

“Such a dear young man. Your father was saying only this morning how pleased he was that you had chosen Edward. After all, we have known the family well for some time now. They are delightful people, almost like our own family. Whereas…” I waited and she frowned. “Well, no matter…” But I knew she was implying that very little was known about Peter Lansdon.

On another occasion she said: “David is so trusting. He is not like your father. David is inclined to think everyone is as uncomplicated as himself.”

“David is wise,” I said.

“Wise in booklore. He can quote from the classics and has some literary comment on almost any subject. He’s an expert on the past. He’s an idealist. But I wonder how much he knows about the less agreeable side of human nature. Claudine has got more and more like him with the years.”

“David,” I said, “is a very good man”

“Yes. I am glad Claudine married him and not his brother. At one time I thought… But that’s a long time ago. What was I saying… Your dress. We’ll have to decide on the sleeves.”

I wondered what was in her mind. She was comparing Edward with Peter Lansdon and was glad I had taken Edward.

Indeed there was such delight in my coming marriage from both my parents and parents-in-law-to-be that I began to feel that it was after all a very happy conclusion. There was only one person in whom I detected a faint animosity towards the coming event—and that was scarcely perceptible. But it was obvious to me that Clare was half in love with Edward. I could imagine her coming to the house and how Edward, the big cousin, would have been kind to her. Edward would always be kind, as indeed his parents would. There were some people who would feel like outsiders in such a situation and nurse a grievance against life for putting them in such a situation. Aunt Sophie had been such a one; perhaps Clare was another.

But I must confess I did not think a great deal about Clare, and as when I did she introduced a rather unpleasant flavour into the complacency which I was trying to keep going, I avoided her.

In March it was decided that I should go to Nottingham. Mother was to accompany Edward and me. Naturally Edward and I could not go alone and my mother said that if there were changes I wanted to make in the house I could discuss them with her.

We spent two nights in London on the way there and my mother and I did some shopping, and from there we set out on the one hundred and twenty-six mile journey north to Nottingham.

We rode in the carriage and stayed at some very pleasant inns on the way where Edward was well known as he made the journey often.

It was quite exciting riding into the town—a very pleasant one situated on the River Trent. High on a precipitous rock, rising above the river, were the walls of Nottingham Castle, which had been dismantled by Cromwell’s men during the Civil War. Edward was very proud of Nottingham, and told us little snatches of history as we went along. Of course it was the scene of the first of the battles between King Charles the First and the Parliament; he knew a great deal about its early history too, when the town had been overrun by the Danes.

The house was very attractive. It was just outside the town in fairly extensive grounds, built in the style which had become popular at the beginning of the previous century in the reign of Queen Anne. There was about it—as indeed there was about all houses built in the period—an air of dignity and restraint. It did not pretend to be a palace or a stately mansion. It was the home of gentlefolk of substance and good taste. It was built of the local stone which fitted well with the countryside.

My mother said it was a charming house. It made places like Eversleigh and Enderby look over-fussy.

I agreed with her, to Edward’s delight, and it was clear that he felt an immense pleasure in showing us over the house. What he really wanted me to see was the factory, but he thought, in view of the situation, that he should take us there when work was not in progress; and as we had arrived on a Saturday, he suggested the following day.

It was an interesting experience. My mother was as fascinated as I was; and Edward talked with knowledge and great enthusiasm of lace, its history, its manufacture, its varieties and how it had changed through the ages.

He showed us some exquisite patterns—specimens of Venetian, Italian and English needlepoint, and Flemish, Russian and German Pillow Lace. He pointed out the old-fashioned bobbins which were being used to placate the workers, and then he took us into a room where new machines were being installed.

There was a man on duty there, a young boy with him. He touched his forelock as we entered.

“All well, Fellows?” asked Edward.

“Yes, sir,” answered the man.

Edward introduced him as Fellows and his son Tom who was just coming in to the works. He explained to us that it was necessary to have someone guarding the machines night and day. If any of the Luddites broke in Fellows would be there to give the alarm.

I shivered. I could understand Edward’s deep concern. I realized that he must have the machines and on the other hand I could see why there was anxiety in the workers’ minds.

Edward explained the intricacies of the machines.

“This is the Leavers Lace machine,” he said. “Let me show you. The number of threads brought into operation is regulated by the pattern to be made. See. The threads are of two sorts, beam or warp and bobbin or weft.”

“It looks very complicated.”

“It’s easy enough to work. One man can control it and sixty pieces of lace can be made simultaneously.”

“So it can do at once what sixty men would take much longer to do.”

“That is how it is.”

“No wonder they are afraid of losing their jobs.”

“It’s progress,” said Edward.

Interested as I was I wanted to leave that room which contained the machines.

We left Fellows and his son on guard and returned to the house. I was feeling rather sober. Edward slipped his arm through mine.

“You’re feeling sad, aren’t you? You mustn’t. We’ll ride the storm.”

My mother said: “It is such an insoluble problem. I suppose you must have the machines.”

“Certainly we must—or give up. We can’t face competition without them.”

“And yet those poor men …”

“You realize the difficulties. But this is the sort of situation which will arise throughout the history of industry. We have to move with the times.”

“Which means that some must suffer on the way.”

“It is progress,” said Edward.

I turned my attention to the beautiful house. I think we were all trying to forget the problem of the machines.

The days began to pass pleasantly as I threw myself wholeheartedly in to discussions with my mother about furnishings.

“Actually,” I said, “there is very little I want to change.”

“It is all very tasteful,” agreed my mother. “I love the simplicity which disguises its elegant comfort.”

“It is a charming house,” I said.

“Don’t get too fond of it. We shall want to see you often at Grasslands.”

As the week progressed my mother, as always, showed a little nostalgia for home. She hated to leave Eversleigh too long and decided to return home in the middle of the following week.

Edward was away most of the day. I loved to walk through the town gardens and all the time I was grappling with myself, deciding that this was the life I had chosen and I must prepare myself to like it.

Why should I not? I was getting more and more fond of Edward. He was kind and gentle and would make the best of husbands. Young girls were foolish to seek exciting adventures, dreaming of knights on horseback performing valiant feats; they did not exist outside a girl’s imagination. I was too old for fancies. I had to grow up and face facts. It was not as though I had been in love with Peter Lansdon. I had just been flattered because in the first place he had noticed me and followed me in the street, taking such risks to rescue me. It had seemed like a romantic adventure, whereas my relationship with Edward was staid, steady and very comfortable.

Peter was fickle. He must have been to transfer his attentions from me to Amaryllis so quickly. What were my feelings? Pique. Jealousy? Had I always been a little jealous of Amaryllis—her superior beauty, her charm, serene nature, her unselfishness? She was indeed the finer character and presented with the two of us a man would be a fool not to prefer her. Then Edward was foolish for he had always loved me. What was it one of the maids had once said? Men were fools when it came to women … And she had been talking about Amaryllis and me. I was the one they looked twice at… all except Peter Lansdon.

No, I was not in love with him. Flattered at first… finding his company stimulating … a little mysterious. Edward, of course, had never been mysterious.

I must learn to love Edward. I had accepted him in a rash moment, and he had supported me. Sometimes I wondered whether he knew that I had spoken out of pique, just as I wondered whether my mother did. She did mention Edward’s virtues continually as though stressing that I had made the wisest possible choice.

Yes, I must love Edward. I must prepare myself to be contented with the life which lay before me. I had chosen it and Edward had supported me magnificently … as he always would.

I must remember. I was the lucky one.

It was I who said I should like to visit the factory during working hours. I was eager to see the lace-making in progress. Edward did hesitate for a moment but I went on: “It would be so interesting…” And he was delighted in my interest and gave way, though I fancied with some reluctance. However, it was arranged that he would take me there.

I arrived with him in mid-morning, and as I went through the doors into that huge room which was full of people all engaged on the business of lace-making, I felt a sense of excitement.

I was aware of eyes following me as Edward conducted me through, here and there pausing to explain some little technicality. I spoke to one or two of the people. They answered me with restraint and I wondered whether there was a certain sullenness about them. Perhaps I felt a tremor of uneasiness or did I imagine that afterwards? I cannot be sure now I look back. I had become suddenly aware of my appearance in my dark blue wool jacket trimmed with sable at the neck and sleeves; my little hat with the scarlet feather and my scarlet gown. The contrast between my clothes and theirs must have been noticeable.

I was glad to leave the work room for a smaller one where a woman was sorting out specimens of lace and putting labels on them.

“This is Mrs. Fellows,” said Edward. “She is an expert. She can detect a flaw which is hardly visible to the naked eye.”

Mrs. Fellows, whom I guessed to be in her early forties, looked rather gratified.

I said: “Was it your husband I met the other day?”

“Oh yes, he’s on duty with the machines.”

“We’ve got more than two Fellows in the factory,” explained Edward.

“There’s my son Tom,” said Mrs. Fellows. “He’s here learning the trade … and I’ve another son who’ll be coming along in a year or two.”

“We like to keep it in families,” said Edward.

Just at that moment a man came in and said something to Edward which I did not hear. Edward turned to me and said: “I’ll leave you for a moment. Stay with Mrs. Fellows. She’ll show you some of our finest patterns.”I smiled at Mrs. Fellows. “I suppose lace has been made in this town for years and years.”

“That’s about right,” she said.

“It must be gratifying to be able to make something which is so beautiful.”

“For how long, M’am, that’s what we all say?”

I felt embarrassed. “Why … why not?”

A sullen look came over her face. “These cursed machines … they’re going to take away our living.”

“I have heard that it will be better for the prosperity of the town if…”

I could not go on. She gave me a scornful look. I noticed the darn in her worsted gown and I was very conscious of my fur trimmed coat and my shoes made of the best leather. I felt ashamed to speak so glibly of a matter which was of such importance to her. I wanted to tell her of my sympathy and understanding but I did not know how to.

And just at that moment I heard strange noises. There was a thumping sound as though some very heavy article was being dragged across a floor. There was a scream… followed by shouting.

I looked at Mrs. Fellows in alarm. She had turned very pale. “God help us,” she murmured. “It’s come. I knew it would … and now it’s come.”

I clutched her arm. “What’s happening?”

“It’s the men… It’s been brewing, and now it’s come. It’s the mob … breaking in … And God help us … the men will be with them.”

I turned to the door.

She held on to me. “I wouldn’t. It’s rough … No place for a lady.”

“Mr. Barrington …”

“He brought ’em in, didn’t he? He shouldn’t have brought them in. It’s his fault if harm comes …”

I wrenched myself free and opened the door. The big room was deserted. I could hear shouts from above and I thought Edward is up there. They are destroying the machines … and what will they do to Edward?

Several people were rushing down the stairs as though eager to be gone. They ignored me. They were wild looking men with fanaticism written in their faces. As I ran up the stairs more came out of that room and I was almost knocked off my feet. But they did not look at me, nor did they attempt to impede my progress.

And there I was in the room where a few days ago Edward had proudly showed me his machines. I stared in dismay at the sight of so much destruction. The machines were smashed. Several men were still attacking them with hammers and pieces of iron. I saw the man Fellows whom I recognized and I saw Edward too.

“Stop it,” Edward was shouting. “Stop it, Fellows, stop it. You’ve joined them have you, Fellows? You’ve joined the wreckers.”

He had gone towards Fellows who picked up an iron bar. I caught my breath. Edward advanced; then Fellows struck. Edward reeled and then fell among the remains of what had been his precious machines.

I ran to him and knelt beside him. He was unconscious. I thought he was dead, and sorrow and remorse swept over me. He had been reluctant to bring me; it was I who had wanted to come. It was my fault. I had brought him here.

I just knelt beside him looking at him in anguish.

I was suddenly aware of Fellows standing there.

I cried: “You’ve killed him.”

“Oh no … no.”

“Get help,” I cried. “Get help at once. Get a doctor. Bring him here without delay.”

Fellows ran away. I did not know whether he would do my bidding or not.

There was silence now… terrible silence. These men had done their work …

They had come to break the machines and they had killed Edward.

I do not know how long I stayed in that room among the crippled machines with Edward lying there among them … white and still. Some parts of a machine had fallen across his legs. I tried to move them but I could not do so. It was eerie. I dared not leave him and yet I knew I must get help. I kept thinking of Fellows. When I had first met him he had seemed gentle, respectful. But how different he had been in that room when he had lifted the iron bar and struck. The light of fanaticism was in his eyes. The mob, I thought. The mob does not reason. It is caught up in the desire to destroy everything and everybody in its way. Their fury had far outgrown fear of poverty and starvation, it had changed them from law-abiding citizens to destroyers. “Progress,” Edward had said.

“Oh Edward,” I whispered, “you must not die. I will love you. I will love you. I will make myself into a good wife. I will never let you know that it was because Peter Lansdon preferred Amaryllis to me that I wanted to show them I did not care. I will be loving and tender always. You must live so that I can show you that I am not entirely selfish, Edward …”

He opened his eyes. “Jessica,” he said.

“I’m here. I’m staying with you … always …”

He smiled and closed his eyes again.

How silent it was! How long had I been there? Somebody must come soon.

It was like an evil dream. It seemed so unreal. And yet it was true, startlingly true. I thought of the first time I had heard Edward speak of the trouble over the installation of the machinery. I had listened with mild interest and it had led to this, and I was involved … deeply involved.

After what seemed like hours and when I was asking myself if I should leave Edward and go in search of help, to my great joy I heard the sound of voices.

Someone was coming. I called out: “Here. In here.”

It was Fellows. He had a man with him.

“I’m Dr. Lee,” said the man; and I almost cried in relief.

The debris which was imprisoning Edward’s legs was removed.

I said: “He’s not… dead, is he?”

The doctor shook his head.

“We’ll have to move him,” he said. “We’ll have to get him back to the house.”

I said: “The carriage is downstairs. Unless they have broken that up, too.”

“I think not,” said the doctor. “Fellows, can you help me. We’ll make a stretcher of something. That’s the only way to carry him. I’ll give him something to ease the pain first.”

I watched them in a daze.

“We’ll get him home,” said the doctor to me. “You’re Mr. Barrington’s fiancée, I believe.”

I told him I was.

“He’ll need looking after for some time, I think,” he said.

And so we brought Edward home.

There were visits of several doctors. Edward lived but he was very seriously hurt. His spine had been injured and he had lost the use of his legs.

“Will this be cured?” I asked.

The doctor lifted his shoulders. He implied that it was not very likely.

My parents and Edward’s come to Nottingham. My father was incensed by the damage which had been caused, not only to Edward but to the machinery as well. Thousands of pounds’ worth of equipment had been destroyed.

Mr. Barrington took over the management of the factory and said it was the only way to show these people that they would not be intimidated by mob rule. They would in due course install new machines.

Our main concern was Edward.

He bore his affliction with extreme fortitude; and that was another admirable side to his nature which I discovered. How would an able-bodied person react, suddenly during the course of one day, finding himself reduced to being an invalid in a bath chair, dependent on others?

He was very quiet. He did not rail against fate—at least not openly. He was so grateful to me because I insisted on staying with him. Mr. Barrington engaged James Moore, a male nurse, to attend to all his needs and he appeared to be a very efficient and interesting man. I was with Edward for the greater part of the day and his gratitude moved me deeply.

“You must get out,” he was constantly telling me. “You must not spend so much of your time in my room.”

“But this is where I want to be. Don’t you understand that?”

He was too moved to speak and I sat there with the tears flowing down my cheeks.

There was a great deal of talk about the arrests which had been made. The leader of the mob was caught and was standing on trial with Fellows.

Fellows was the man who had struck the blow and Fellows was an employee of the Barringtons.

It was time an example was made of these wreckers, said the judge. And when people were injured during a fracas that was a very serious matter. Hitherto the Luddites had been treated too leniently. They thought they were given licence to destroy and attempt to kill those who stood in their way.

Both the leader of the mob and Fellows were sentenced to hanging.

We did not tell Edward this at the time. His father said it would upset him because he had thought highly of Fellows. Fellows had always been a good man and his wife and son were in the business. What had come over Fellows he could not imagine. But it was only justice which was meted out and the Luddites had to be pulled up sharply. We could not have the mob ruling the country and deciding what was and what was not to be done.

It was a black day when Fellows was hanged. Many people crowded to the place of execution to witness the grisly spectacle. I sat alone in my room brooding on what must be happening in the Fellows’ home. I thought of the woman to whom I had spoken. She had lost her husband. I thought of the boy named Tom Fellows. He would be fatherless. Yes, a black day for the Fellows and a black day for Nottingham. And for us, too, with Edward lying there in his bed, his active life over…. perhaps for ever.

Edward said to me as I sat beside his bed: “Jessica, I don’t know what is going to happen to me. I’ll probably stay here. You must go back to Eversleigh.”

“You will go to Grasslands. It will be better for you there … away from all this.”

“I was thinking about you. You are so good. You have been wonderful to me. You mustn’t feel bound in any way.”

“What do you mean? Bound?”

“Engaged to me. That is over. I accept that.”

“Do you want it to be over?”

“I rather think that is a matter for you to decide. Jessica, you are wonderful. You are bold and brave, I know. Don’t make too hasty a decision. Don’t think you have to do the noble thing.”

“I have thought this matter out very fully. What I propose to do is to go back to Grasslands and manage you… the house … everything.”

“It wouldn’t work.”

“Why not? Have you turned against me?”

“Please don’t joke. I love you. I’ve always loved you and always will. But that is no reason why you should sacrifice yourself for me.”

“Who’s talking of sacrifice?”

“I am.”

“Well, I am not. I’ve made it a habit of my life to do what I want, and what I want is to marry you. I intend to be mistress of Grasslands. Mrs. Jessica Barrington. No, Mrs. Edward Barrington. Doesn’t that sound fine? I shall bully you, rather as Lady Pettigrew does his lordship. Have you noticed? It’s better you don’t. You might jilt me, if you did.”

“You’re joking about a very serious matter.”

“It’s very serious to me, and I am going to marry you, Edward … just as we arranged before this happened.”

“Jessica … no. Think.”

“I have thought and I know what I want. You will be jilting me if you refuse to marry me and I shall be wretched.”

“How can it be a real marriage? You are so young… you don’t understand.”

“Edward Barrington, since I was ten years old, I hated to be told how young I was. When I am forty I might like it, but I have not yet reached that stage. And until I do, no more talk about youth, please. I know what I want and I am going to have it.”

“I beg of you not to rush into this.”

“I’m not rushing. I have given the matter serious thought, and this is the unshakable decision I have come to.”

He took my hand and kissed it. “I trust you will never regret it. I shall do my best to make sure you never do. And if at any time you find the situation intolerable …”

I put my hand over his mouth. I was deeply moved. I loved him far more as a broken man than I ever had when he was strong and well.

When the Barringtons knew that I was determined on marriage with Edward, Mrs. Barrington embraced me and wept. She told me how she admired me, how happy I had made her, and how much she thanked God that Edward had won the love of a good woman. I was embarrassed to hear myself described thus, but Mr. Barrington also embraced me and called me his brave and beloved little daughter.

My own parents were less enthusiastic. They both came to my room to talk seriously to me.

“You’re being rash,” said my father.

“Darling Jessica,” said my mother, “do you realize what this entails? You’ll be married to an invalid. Edward’s injuries are such…”

“I know. I know,” I replied. “You mean no normal… what you call family life. No children.”

“Yes, my dear, that’s what I mean.”

“I shall be happy looking after Edward.”

“At first perhaps …”

“You’ve got some idea about nobility and that sort of thing,” said my father. “Believe me, life is not like that.”

“It may not be for some,” I insisted, “but I intend it shall be for me.”

“You are young and inexperienced of the world …” began my mother.

“If anyone else calls me young again I shall…”

My father grinned at me. “What will you do, eh?”

“I really do know what I want to do.”

He took me by the shoulders. “Yes. You know what you are doing today … tomorrow and perhaps for a little while. But there will come a day. Someone will come along …”

I said angrily: “We are not all like you.”

“Human nature does not vary so very much, dear child,” he said. “Some of us go more in one direction than others … but we are all frail at heart.”

“I can see she has made up her mind,” said my mother.

“And she is like you, my dear wife. Once she has, she is inclined to be obstinate.”

“I think we shall have to accept this,” went on my mother. “Dearest Jessica, if at any time you are in doubt… or trouble of any sort, you know your father and I will understand and help.”

I looked at them both—the two people I loved most in the world. I embraced them both.

“I know,” I said. “But I have to do this. I would never be happy again if I did not marry Edward now.”

They accepted that, but they were very uneasy, I knew. There was a great deal of discussion as to what arrangements should be made. Mr. Barrington said he would go back to Nottingham and take over the management of the factory. Edward should return to Grasslands.

Clare Carson, who had been deeply shocked by what had happened to Edward, was to stay with the family in Nottingham.

Edward and I should be married almost immediately. There would be no grand double wedding now. Amaryllis would have the great day all to herself.

And so we went back to Eversleigh and at the beginning of May, in spite of further attempts by my parents to dissuade me, I became Mrs. Edward Barrington.

In those first weeks following our wedding I was very happy. I lived in a rarefied atmosphere of self sacrifice. I felt ennobled. I had honoured my obligations and I reminded myself that if I had not married Edward I should have despised myself. I had used him in the first place out of pique; well now I was ready to keep my part of the bargain.

And how easy it was! James Moore, the male nurse who looked after Edward, had turned out to be exceptionally efficient and was fast becoming a good friend of myself as well as Edward. He was there when he was needed and could be remarkably self effacing when the moment required he should be. We had been fortunate in finding him.

Moreover, Edward was not the sort of man to nurse his grievances. I was beginning to understand what a fine character he had. He had great courage and belittled that courage. He even said on one occasion that he could not help feeling relieved to have escaped the burdens which had been created by the Luddites and was only sorry his father had to shoulder them.

“Here I live … in luxury, with an angelic wife to take great care of me, with James who is the soul of patience … and all I have to do is let them fuss over me.”

I kissed him. But sometimes I saw the pain in his eyes, the frustration, the contemplation of the years ahead during which he could not hope to live normally.

I used to read to him a great deal. He enjoyed that. We played piquet and he taught me chess. The days slipped by and I lived in a state of euphoria, feeling that I had done something very noble. I often thought that that was how nuns must feel when they take their vows. In a way I had made similar vows.

I rejoiced in the moment. I lived in a world of adoration. It was quite clear that Edward looked on me as something of a saint.

The Barrington parents came from Nottingham to visit Grasslands, and Mrs. Barrington told me how she would never forget what I was doing for her beloved son, and she thanked God nightly for having brought me to them. It was very gratifying to find myself suddenly playing such a noble part.

Then came Amaryllis’ wedding day—that day which was to have been mine too.

She was married in the chapel at Eversleigh and she and Peter were going to London for the honeymoon. The continent was out of bounds because of the Napoleonic wars. Since the retreat from Moscow, Napoleon’s good fortune had dimmed a little but he was still formidable. Wellington had invaded France and now and then we heard of his successes.

Amaryllis was a beautiful bride; white suited her and in her silk and lace gown she looked like an angel. She was radiant and David and Claudine were so proud of her.

My mother said that we did not really know a great deal about Peter Lansdon, but I think she was a little jealous on my behalf and when she saw Amaryllis with her handsome bridegroom she could not help thinking of her own beloved daughter who had rashly committed herself to a marriage which was not fully one.

There were festivities at Eversleigh and Edward was brought in a wheelchair to join them. There were the usual speeches and toasts and after the bride and groom had left, Edward and I stayed on with the other guests.

The wedding had its effect on me.

After James had got Edward to bed I went in to say goodnight and sit with him for a chat before retiring to my own room.

I hoped I did not show the slight depression which had come to me. Edward had become very sensitive. It was almost as though he had developed an extra sense.

He said rather wistfully: “It was a beautiful wedding.”

“Yes. Amaryllis is a very beautiful girl.”

“She looked so happy.”

“She is,” I said.