The Reckoning (103 page)

She straightened up for a moment to smile at him. 'Not
more than you, my James. You've worked harder than
anyone.' She put out a hand to him, and he picked up her
fingers and kissed them.

‘
I believe I've enjoyed it,' he admitted. 'It has been hard,
and yet I feel more – more
myself,
if you understand me, than
I ever have.’

She nodded, understanding perfectly. 'Can it really be four
years since Edward died? How they've flown past!’

Kai, lying at James's feet, yawned hugely, and James
reached down absently to scratch his ears. 'Yes, so many
things have changed – and yet everything seems the same.'

‘
That's the great strength of home and family,' Héloïse
said. 'The elements change, but the whole remains the same.'

‘
You sound like Father Sparrow,' James laughed. 'There's
one thing that's different, you see – and yet I can't remember
the time when he wasn't here. I suppose Aislaby wasn't a man
you could get fond of.'

‘
I miss Miss Rosedale,' Héloïse confessed, 'but of course it is better for her to be where she can be useful. She did so hate
having nothing to do to earn her keep – as she saw it. When
Mathilde's new baby
is
born, there'll be three of them to exer
cise her talents on.'

‘Yes, it looks as though the Skelwith nursery is set to go on
expanding,' James said drily. 'John is certainly making me a
grandfather with a vengeance!'

‘
And now our little Sophie is set to make me a grand
mother, too,' Héloïse said. She stood still for a moment, a
chemise forgotten, half-folded, between her hands, her eyes
far away as she thought back through Sophie's life, all the
way to her birth in the little house in Coxwold, when it had
seemed as though that obscurity would be hers for her whole
life.

How lucky she had been, Héloïse thought! To have her
husband and her home and her three lovely children, and
now a grandchild to come, and the love of so many people!
She was so rich – and she could only offer up silent and
humble thanks to God for it, for she knew she didn't in the
least deserve to be rich when others were poor.

James saw the slight shadow cross her face, and misinter
preted it. 'Don't worry, she'll be all right,' he said. 'Women have
babies all the time. And you'll be there to keep an eye on her.’

The shadow disappeared.
‘We'll
be there,' she corrected. 'I
can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to it – not least
because I shall have you to myself, my James, instead of
sharing you with Morland Place.’

He laughed and caught her round the waist to pull her against him. She bent her head to kiss him, while Alice,
having grown accustomed to their shocking ways, stoically
carried on with the packing.

‘
Here's something that hasn't changed,' James said softly,
kissing her mouth several times, and the end of her nose for
luck. 'How much I love you, my Marmoset.'

‘
I love you too, my James,' she said huskily. 'Everything's
all right now, isn't it?' Then Kai, feeling left out, thrust his
head between them, and whined, pawing at James's lap. They broke apart, and Héloïse went back to helping Alice. Durban
came in with an enquiry about neck-cloths, and whether
James wanted any books packing.

‘
There's another thing that hasn't changed,' James said
when he had answered the queries, 'and I don't suppose it
ever will.' Héloïse looked at him enquiringly. 'You haven't
finished your History of the Revolution,' he grinned.

*

It was time for them to leave. The elderly travelling-chaise
was harnessed up to four prime York bays. Morland bred and
Morland trained, a living advertisement to the stud which James hoped might attract some orders while they were in
Manchester. People had money to spare again, and when they
had money to spare, they liked to buy fine horses.

The family assembled on the top step in the chilly February
sunshine to say goodbye. Nicholas and Henry Anstey, at the
age to be shy of kissing and displays of emotion, shoved their
hands in their pockets and made foolish faces and jostled each
other in a mock fight. Nicholas, whose voice was breaking,
alternatively bellowed and squeaked, disconcerting his
mother as much as himself, and sending Henry, who hadn't
reached that stage yet, into fits of derisive giggles.

Benedict, who would have his ninth birthday while they
were away, was becoming quite worryingly beautiful, and
offered kisses to everyone with an expression of deceptive angelicacy. He had a talent for mischief second only to his
talent for making people love him. He had lately been
described by one of the tenants, with a mixture of admiration
and despair, as 'A fiend in yooman shape, ma lady!’

Taking her farewell of Father Moineau, Héloïse took the
opportunity to whisper to him, 'Barnard knows about the
cake and the special dinner. You remember where his birthday
gift is hidden? And you will let him off lessons for the day?’

Moineau smiled. 'Don't worry. I have it all in hand. And
the occasion will be made very special, I promise you. A day
he will never forget.'

‘
I hope that doesn't mean the neighbourhood will never
forget it either!' Héloïse turned to Polly. 'Goodbye then, my dear Polly. We shall write to you as soon as ever there is news.’

Polly smiled and returned her kiss, and anticipated her
next sentence. 'I'll look after everything for you – not that
there will be much to do. You have everyone so well trained,
I'm sure the house would run itself.'

‘
But there is always the unexpected,' Héloïse said, looking
at her niece curiously. Polly had never looked more beautiful,
but she seemed quite to have given up all thought of being
married. Why would she not accept poor Penrith – who still,
to Hélo
ïse's
knowledge, wrote to Polly regularly, and what
would that be for but to renew his offers of marriage?
She would make a lovely marchioness, Héloïse thought,
and better that than a nun, or next thing to a nun. Polly had
become very devout of late, spent a great deal of time in the
chapel and reading religious literature, and was taking
instruction in the Roman Catholic faith from Father
Moineau. There could be no truer Catholic than Héloïse, but
she believed in worshipping through one's normal life, and
she couldn't help regretting all that loveliness and passion
being wasted on purely intellectual religion. And yet Polly did
not look dried-up or thwarted:
au contraire,
she had about
her the glow, the particular look of loveliness that Héloïse
associated with fulfilled love. She looked the way Sophie had
looked that Christmas after Jasper had proposed and been
accepted.

Ah well, Héloïse sighed inwardly, it is not my business. 'I
am glad you are here to take care of things,' she said aloud. 'I
should not feel happy about going away for so long otherwise.
But if there is anything that worries you, you know that Miss
Rosedale is not far away. You can always ask her advice.’

Polly laughed. 'I expect she'll be here more often than not,
bringing the little girls to visit. But I shouldn't dream of
troubling her anyway. Father Moineau and I should be able
to answer all questions between us.’

A few minutes later they were driving away, circling the
yard before pulling out through the barbican and taking their
last glimpse of the group on the steps. Moineau, Polly,
Nicholas, Bendy: father, mother and two children, Héloïse found herself thinking rather randomly. Now why on earth
did that come into my head?
Héloïse and Sophie were enjoying a
tête-a-tête,
comfortably
alone by a roaring fire amongst the elephants in the morning-
room. The menfolk were out: Jasper had taken James to see
the weaving-shed, which had not been in operation the last time he visited Manchester, after which they were going to
dine at Jasper's club and meet some of the other mill-masters.
James had retained, on Héloïse's behalf, a fifteen per cent
interest in the mills, for which he was extremely grateful now
they were doing so well. The Morland Place debts were in a
fair way to being paid off at last, with profits from the
spinning operations alone.

‘
I always liked the elephants,' Sophie remarked, stitching
the hem of a baby-dress, 'but now I like them even more. I
don't feel so out of place when I'm amongst them.'

‘
I don't think you are so very big,
ma mie,'
Héloïse said
judiciously, looking at her little dark daughter who
seemed
to
be sharing the armchair opposite with a very
large bundle of
washing. 'It's only that you are small
and
slight, so it shews
more on you.'

‘
I can't believe I shall ever be small and slight again,'
Sophie said. 'Jasper shakes his head at me at night and sighs
and blames himself for ruining my figure.’

Héloïse smiled. 'You are happy, aren't you?'

‘
Oh yes! So much, Maman! I think I love Jasper as much as
you love Papa. And he is so good to me. He cares for me, you
know. He can't bear the slightest thing to upset me. He is
really just like the brave and gentle knight in the stories we
used to read when I was little – and I'm the maiden he
rescued from the dragon.’

The dragon, of course, being unhappiness, Héloïse
thought. 'Well, that is everything I could have wanted for
you, my Sophie,' she said.

Sophie looked up from her work, a little anxiously. 'Then
you don't mind – I mean, about Jasper not being tall and
handsome and rich and titled and all the other things mothers
are supposed to want?'

‘
Of course not. I like your Jasper. I always liked him.' But
there was, of course, always the tiniest wisp of a lie in it when
she said that, for every mother wanted her cherished
daughter to marry someone tall and handsome and rich and
titled, however illogical she knew that wish was. It was just the way God built mothers.

‘I wish Rosamund were happier,' Sophie said thoughtfully,
following a logical line of connection. 'Her letters are always
full of news and chat, and she never quite says anything
about it, but I can tell that she's not happy.'

‘
Still no sign of a child for her and Marcus?' Héloïse asked.
‘No. And they've been married nearly four years.'