Marrying Miss Martha (12 page)

Since his father always made it plain that he expected his son to rise at the same time as the rest of the household, Peter Brindley got up when the mill siren went. While he waited for the maid to answer the bell and bring his hot water, he stood by his bedroom window watching the operatives hurrying towards the mill. He rubbed his aching arm as he yawned and stared out.

Below him a child echoed his yawn, looking tired before it even started work. Was it a boy or girl? He couldn’t tell. All the operatives’ bodies seemed stunted to him, their clothing ragged, their hair matted and hanging around their faces. It was the small children who upset him. He watched one girl, not even grown into a woman herself yet, put down the child she’d been carrying and shake it awake.

He hadn’t realised how young they started work. Dear God, did his father’s money come from the toil of this stream of tired creatures? Why had he never really looked at them before? He grimaced. Well, he knew why. Because his mother had protected him, talked of her fine family, made him believe they’d help him to a better life away from Tapton.

Only they hadn’t, so he’d gone to London, where he’d found nothing to do except gamble, and although he’d won at first, he’d lost the money again bit by bit till there was only his father left to turn to. Humiliation speared through him. He’d never gamble again, knew now he’d been set up deliberately to lose everything, that those men hadn’t really been his friends—but what
was
he to do with his life?

There was a tap on the door and he opened it to find the young housemaid. “Is there any hot water, Jane?”

“Sorry, sir. Not yet. We’ve only just got the fire burning up again.”

“Then I’ll shave and wash later. Thank you.”

He struggled into his clothes as best he could. Poor Jane had looked nearly as tired as the lasses outside, worn down by life—though she was plumper because she was better fed, at least. She couldn’t be more than sixteen or so. Did she have nothing to hope for but hard work and exhaustion like this? Or did she have hopes and dreams, as he’d had till recently?

When he was as ready as he could manage, with the shirt and coat sleeves hanging loose on one side, there was no putting off the meeting with his father, so he walked slowly down the narrow stairs, taking care not to jolt his arm.

Noll Brindley looked up as his son came into the dining room and felt sourness rise into his mouth at the sight of the foolish clothes and slight figure. What a useless fribble he’d produced! He should have stopped his wife from spoiling Peter as a boy and not sent him to that fancy school, which had cost so much and done little except fill the lad’s head with foolish ideas of being a gentleman of leisure while others earned his bread for him.

But Noll had been too busy making money and by the time his missus died and he was forced to deal with his son himself, it had been too late. So he’d allowed Peter to visit his wife’s family in the south regularly, then the lad had gone on to London to stay with some of his fine friends. He’d given his son strict instructions to find himself a wife, preferably one with money, but more important a healthy woman who’d produce sons—and by hell, Noll would make sure the next generation was raised properly and knew how to work for its living.

Surely he would last long enough for that? Why, he wasn’t even sixty yet and his father had lived to seventy, so why should he not reach eighty? He ate better than his father ever had and lived more comfortably, too.

“Well?” he asked. “What have you to say for yourself, having to be brought back home like that by two ladies?”

“What is there to say, Father? The carriage had an accident and the Merridene ladies very fortunately brought me the rest of the way to Tapton in theirs. But we need to repay them because they spent half a guinea on the doctor.”

“We?”
Noll asked with monumental sarcasm. “There’s no ‘we’ about it. You’ve no money, so it’s
me
as’ll be doing the paying! As usual.”

“Well, yes.”

Noll mimicked the fancy accent,
“Well, yes!
You sound like an actor on the stage.” He’d been to the theatre in Manchester a few times with his wife, at her insistence, and thought it a stupid waste of time and effort. But it had pleased her greatly, so he’d done it. He hadn’t gone  there after she died, though. Not he! No need to pretend to enjoy it now.

“Father, you sent me away to learn to be a gentleman and can hardly complain now if I’ve achieved it.”

“Your mother sent you away. All I did was pay for it and if I’d my time to do again, I’d not agree to it. No, by hell! When it came down to it, those fancy relatives didn’t do much for you or help you find a wife, any more than they helped your mother when her father died, except to send her out as a governess. Eh, I should have sent you into the mill at seven to work your way up like I did. I’m not sure I shouldn’t do that anyway.”

Peter looked at him in such horror Noll almost laughed aloud, but didn’t pursue that threat because he knew he’d never carry it out. He didn’t want his workers seeing what a ninny he’d sired. All he wanted was a grandson or two. A sudden thought struck him. “How did you get on with those two ladies?”

“Pardon?”

“The teacher ladies. Did they take to you? Would one of them be a suitable wife for you?” After all, money wasn’t everything.

“I doubt it. They’re both years older than I am. I can meet more people if you’ll let me have enough money to maintain my status as a gentleman. My cousins are still in London and will introduce me around. And I shan’t be so foolish as to gamble my money away again, I promise you. I’ve learned my lesson there.” He hesitated, then added, “I had to pawn some things to get back here because you didn’t reply to my letters. Didn’t you get them?”

“Aye, I got them, but I knew you’d only be writing to ask for more money, so I tossed them in the fire. No use throwing good brass after bad. From now on you’ll be
maintaining your status as a gentleman
here in Tapton because I’m not letting you out of my sight again. The amount of money you wasted in London makes me want to puke. I shall have a look round this neighbourhood and see if there are any suitable young ladies for you. We’re bound to find one if we’re not too fussy.”

Peter closed his eyes as despair flooded through him. His father’s voice always grated on the ears and the thought of the old man choosing a wife for him made him feel sick. What sort of woman would ‘Owd Noll’ consider suitable? An ugly one with money, that’s what. Probably older than him, too.

A door slammed shut and he opened his eyes to find himself alone. With another sigh he rang the handbell standing by his father’s place. He might as well eat something. Then how would he spend his time? From what the old man had said, he’d be expected to rise at this ungodly hour every morning. He couldn’t spend all day walking the streets, had no friends or acquaintances in Tapton.

Or would his father really put him to work in the mill? He looked down. Well, he wouldn’t be able to do much until his arm mended. He didn’t know whether to be grateful for that or not.

* * * *

Ben looked at Daniel Porter in amazement. “Are you sure of that?”

“Oh, aye. It wouldn’t take much doing, either.”

“And Ross approves?”

“He does. He’d have telled you about it himself this morning but his wife sent word he was feeling poorly again.”

“Well, then, you’d better show me exactly what you mean.”

They spent a happy hour getting their hands thoroughly dirty as Daniel demonstrated a type of guard cage he’d designed for one of the new machines, a cage which not only kept the young workers’ fingers out of a danger area, but also trapped some of the cotton fluff that was always drifting about the mill and clogging up the machinery and lungs alike. And it would be safe to clean out, too, an important point when children were the ones who’d be cleaning it.

Ben helped him attach a roughly-made version to one of the big spinning machines to test it out, glad to have an excuse to spend time with his new employee and get to know him better. Noll Brindley had stopped Ben in the street the previous day to warn him that Porter was a trouble-maker, but by now Ben had realised that Daniel wasn’t interested in much except machinery, whatever his father had been like. In fact, when this new employee was thinking about machinery or had his hands on a piece of equipment, you sometimes had to speak to him twice to catch his attention.

“I believe you saved Miss Penelope Merridene from trouble during the riots,” he said casually after they had finished and were washing their hands.

“How did you know about that? I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want Brindley thinking she was friendly with me.”

“Someone saw you helping her climb the back gate.” Ben couldn’t hold back a grin. “I’m surprised a lady would do something like that, actually. She must have shown her legs and ladies don’t usually admit they’ve even got them.” He couldn’t imagine his stepmother climbing a gate, however urgent the need.

Daniel grinned. “I was surprised, too, but she was nimble enough.” And had very trim ankles and calves. He’d tried not to stare, but you couldn’t help seeing them when you were giving someone a boost. The grin faded as he thought about the aftermath of the riot.

“Are Brindley’s men still annoying you?” Ben asked suddenly.

“I can manage.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“Well, they’re trying to. I take a different route home each night to avoid them.” But he was afraid they’d catch him one day and beat him up so badly he wouldn’t be able to work. “Someone threatened my mother t’other afternoon. If they lay one finger on her I won’t be answerable.”

“I’ll speak to Mr Harmer about it. As our local magistrate he can drop a word in Brindley’s ear.”

“I doubt it’ll do any good.”

“I think it will. Harmer may sit out there on his estate looking down his nose at people like myself and complaining about the ruination of Tapton village, but he does care about keeping the peace. If he won’t help, we’ll have to think of something else.”

He sighed, speaking mostly to himself as he added, “I don’t think our troubles have subsided yet. Owd Noll never gives up easily. I’m going to keep on the extra night watchman. If anyone tries to damage my machines, I’m the one who won’t be answerable. But you’re right: we don’t want the Merridene ladies brought into this.”

“Yes, but will they be sensible? When I told Miss Penelope not to speak to me if she saw me in the street, she said she wasn’t going to be frightened off by men like that. ‘My father brought us up not to give in to bullies,’ were her exact words.” Daniel smiled, remembering her eyes sparkling with indignation as she’d spoken. He could still remember every single thing she’d said to him. “She’s a fine woman, that. Pity there aren’t more like her.”

“Her sister’s another.” Ben wondered what he was doing exchanging confidences with one of his workmen, but then this man wasn’t like any of his other hands. Engineers often were a law unto themselves and so far Ross was very pleased with Daniel, said he had the makings of a first class engineer. “Well, we’d better both get back to work now. You continue making those guards and install them as you find the time. But your main job just now is to make sure those new machines are running properly and to train our people to look after them.”

Daniel hesitated, then said in a burst, “I just want to thank you for taking me on and giving me this chance, Mr Seaton. At the last town we lived in the owner treated my father and me like slaves and when he died, they threw me out of a job and the family out of a home because there was only me working in the mill and they wanted big families living in their houses who’d all work for them. I wouldn’t let our Meg start there, you see, and Mam couldn’t because the fluff makes her breathless.”

He drew in a breath still shaky with anger at the unfairness of it. “So I came back to Tapton because Mam has relatives here, but I could only get taken on at Brindley’s, where it was more of the same. Then I found that Owd Noll still held a grudge against my father an’ I reckon he was planning to take it out on me, only he found me too useful.”

He looked his new master steadily in the eyes, as one equal to another. “You’ll not regret taking me on, sir. Let alone I’m a hard worker, I’m only just beginning to learn about machines an’ I’ll get better at it.”

“I’m sure you will.”

When his employer left, Daniel didn’t move for a minute or two, then went back to work, soon forgetting everything except a machine that needed attention. He was fascinated as always by the beautiful way the parts moved together when running properly and the wonderful smell of hot lubricating oil.

* * * *

The following morning the three ladies went to the house again and when Hepzibah arrived to see if there was anything she could do to help, the sisters left her alone with Sally.  

“Let’s go for a walk and explore a bit,” Martha said. “The snow’s all melted now and it looks like it’ll be fine for a while. I’m going mad just sitting around. I do wish the furniture would arrive.”

They set off at their usual brisk pace, exploring all the streets leading off the square. As they got further from the centre of town, they marvelled at the way the workers’ dwellings were built up the steep sides of the hills, often with a high wall at the bottom and the streets running parallel to the valley floor, except for an occasional track that sloped at an angle up towards the moors. They asked an old man standing on a corner the best way out into the countryside and followed his directions. A short walk up the hill brought them to the end of the terraces and a lane leading up towards the moors.

“We’ll just go up to the first decent view this time,” said Martha eyeing the gently rolling expanses of land beyond the terraces longingly. She was missing her father dreadfully today, for she’d often tramped through the countryside for hours with him. Indeed, she still couldn’t understand how a man so hale-looking and vigorous could be struck down so abruptly. She pushed that thought and the pain it still brought hastily aside. No use dwelling on what couldn’t be changed.