The Reckoning (50 page)

The result, according to Owen, was that the hands worked harder, made fewer mistakes, and produced more, and better
quality, goods. The mill made more profit, and it was possible
to increase wages, so that the hands could buy more food and
were thus healthier and stronger and again worked harder.

‘
Mr Owen says that he has proved a healthy individual
produces more goods than one permanently on the brink of
exhaustion. He believes that as you take care of the wooden
and metal parts of the machinery in the mill, you have to take
care of the living parts, too,' Sophie pronounced, repeating
what Jasper had told her.

‘
What a disgusting idea,' Héloïse said, surprising her
daughter out of her enthusiasm. 'Living parts of a machine? These are not pieces of machinery, these are human beings, possessed of a soul, and responsible to God for themselves.
They are not to be denigrated, reduced to the status of spin
dles or wheels, to be oiled and fuelled for a mill-master's
profit!'

‘
Oh, no, of course not,' Sophie stammered. 'I'm sure he
didn't mean that, Maman. Perhaps I haven't explained it
properly. You see –'

‘
Yes, I do see. I understand very well, and I do not at all
agree, my Sophie. People cannot be bullied into virtue, or
planned into honesty and industry. This "scheme" is all very
well, but people are what they are, and they are placed in that
condition of society which pleases God. He has His plan for
all of us, from the highest to the lowest, and it is not for Mr
Owen to try to change it.’

Sophie was distressed. 'Oh, please, Maman, don't be angry.
I'm sure I have not explained properly. Please wait until you
hear Mr Hobsbawn tell it before you condemn it.'

‘
My love, why is it so important to you? Very well, I shall
say no more about it. But you know we have been talking
about selling the mills because we need money. How can it
help us .to cut the hours of work? We would surely lose money
that way. And as for building a school, look how much St Edward's costs the estate every year. In any case, it's well
enough for house-servants to be able to read and write, but
how could it help mill-hands? How would they ever be able to
afford books, or have time to read them? It would only make
them unhappy.’

Sophie bit her lip. 'I don't know. I suppose you're right,
Maman,' she sighed. 'Only it did sound very good when Mr
Hobsbawn said it.’

 
Great was the excitement in Manchester's best houses when
the invitations arrived to a rout at Batchworth House. It
seemed that Agnes was right – though the house was Jesmond
Farraline's home, the invitations came from Lady Batch-
worth, who was evidently playing the hostess in order to allow
her son to entertain respectably; and the fact that she was
giving her specific countenance to the occasion gave rise to all
manner of rumour and speculation.

Farraline was, after all, of marriagable age and unmarried:
what could it mean, other than that the dowager meant to
parade the eligible young ladies of the country before her son for him to make his choice in comfort? Some older gentlemen
with no interest to pursue might use such disparaging terms
as 'cattle-market' and ‘Tattersalls come to Manchester', but
the young ladies themselves had no objection to being
paraded, and on the whole the mamas were all for it. Farra
line might only be a second son, but he was the second son of
an earl with an ancient name, a country seat and some
extremely profitable mills.

His brother, the present earl, was known to be a hot
headed young blood with an excellent chance of breaking his
neck before he ever got round to begetting an heir; and if by
some unlucky chance he did survive long enough to cut
Farraline out of the succession – well, there was his mother's
fortune unaccounted for, and all money must be left some
where, after all. Besides, the spinning-mills were not part of
the entail, and it was well known that Kit Batchworth loathed
anything to do with manufacturing. What could be more
equitable and altogether
likely
than that he should give them
to the brother who put so much of his time and energy into
the running of them?
Thus ran many a line of reasoning on the great evening, as
papas forced themselves grumbling into the black silk small-clothes and hose which seemed to get unaccountably tighter
year by year, while mamas opened the boxes newly delivered
from the bank to inspect the family diamonds with the fond
ness engendered by absence. Meanwhile, in the inferior
bedrooms, the Misses Jane and Georgiana and Augusta were
being hooked and buttoned into their new gowns from
Madame Renée's, with no thought further than that Jesmond
Farraline was an Honourable, and the most handsome and
romantic man in the world.

‘
Mr Farraline said that he had the house built to be conve
nient for the mills,' Sophie said in wonder as the carriage took
them ever further from the heart of Manchester.

‘
I suppose it depends on your definition of convenient,'
Héloïse said, holding on to the strap as they lurched over the ruts. Plainly the landlords around Cheetham Hill were not as
passionate about road maintenance as Edward Morland had
always been. 'The mill-masters of old may have built their
houses overlooking their mills, but no-one who had the choice
would wish to live near the Irwell now, would they?’

Sophie agreed, remembering the mean and crowded streets
she had glimpsed from the carriage that day. There had not
yet been an opportunity for Maman to hear from Mr Hobs
bawn's lips his ideas for bettering the lot of the mill-hands.
Sophie had been again to the mission, this time in the
company of Agnes Droylsden, who had nothing to do that
day. By a wonderful chance, Sophie had encountered Mr
Hobsbawn there a second time. He had been deep in a discus
sion with Father Rathbone, but had broken off with flattering
promptness when she came in, and seemed eager to engage
her in conversation.

On that occasion he had told her his idea for pulling down
the old tenements that were crowded between the mills, and
building new ones along rational lines, with a pump and privy
for every ten families. They would be let to the hands for a
small rent for as long as they remained in employment at
Hobsbawn Mills. The hands would be obliged to keep them
clean and decent, with regular visits by an inspector from the
mill, and fines – to be taken from their wages – for any dirt
or damage or disorder that was discovered.

It sounded very sensible to Sophie at the time, but when
she had left his company and went over it in her mind, she
decided against repeating it to Maman, remembering her
statement that people could not be bullied into virtue, or planned into honesty. Sophie had the feeling that Maman
would regard the cleanliness inspectors as an attempt to do
just that. But Mr Hobsbawn's words had renewed in her a
desire to visit the worse areas of the town, and to see for
herself the extent of the problem.

She found herself envying the freedom of Agnes Droylsden – even of Miss Pendlebury, who, having reached an age where
no-one any longer expected her to marry, might do things
and visit places that Sophie might not. It might even be
worthwhile marrying, she thought, to acquire that freedom –provided one could marry a person who would not object to
benevolent activities. It was a year since her conversation with
Rosamund about the horrors of marriage, and she felt she
had grown up a lot in that time. One could surely put up with a husband's attentions, if they weren't too frequent, and if, as
Rosamund had said, one liked him sufficiently. After all,
many women did – Agnes Droylsden for one. Sophie didn't
think Maman would approve of all of Agnes's conversation:
she was certainly very indiscreet, but Sophie had gathered
quite a lot from her in a sidelong way that no-one else would
have thought to tell her.

Still, thoughts of marriage were all academic, since it
seemed unlikely to her that anyone would ever offer for her –
in spite of Agnes's mysterious hints on the subject. No, she
must simply wait until age released her from the maiden's
bondage, like Miss Pendlebury
The carriage pulled into the sweep, and they saw the new
and handsome façade of Batchworth House, which had an
abundance of large, clear windows, and a great deal of
wrought-iron about it. In a few moments they had shed their mantles and were walking up the stairs to be received by the
dowager and her son. Lady Batchworth was frighteningly
splendid in puce satin and diamonds, but perfectly affable,
greeting Sophie kindly and asking after her cousin, and
telling Héloïse how pleased she was to meet her at last.

‘
We have so much in common,' she said, making Héloïse
blink a little with surprise, and went on to explain, 'An old
name and estate, linked to the new wealth of manufacturing.

I do feel we old families ought to look after each others' inter
ests, don't you?'

‘
But of course,' Héloïse murmured, puzzled.

‘
And the fact that our estates are on opposite sides of the
Pennines must not be allowed to prevent us from becoming very good friends, dear Lady Morland. I quite dote on your
daughter already, and I know you and I will have a great deal
to talk about.’

Héloïse managed to say what was necessary. Meanwhile
Sophie was rediscovering how handsome and charming Mr
Farraline really was, being warmly claimed as an old
acquaintance, and being engaged to eat supper with him. As
they passed on to allow the next corners to be greeted, Héloïse
 
looked at Sophie with new eyes.

‘
Things must have stood very differently between you and
Mr Farraline from what I believed,
chérie,'
she said.

Sophie looked pink. 'He is very agreeable, but I am sure he
was never interested in me in
that way,
Maman. How could
he be?’

Héloïse smiled. 'No use to ask a mother that, my Sophie. I
should always rather ask how anyone could
not
be. But I
cannot otherwise account for Lady Batchworth's friendliness.
Voyons,
she has nothing to gain from me.'

‘
Perhaps she just likes you,' Sophie said teasingly. 'I should
always ask how anyone could not.’

Héloïse smiled and they passed into the first reception room. At once it became plain to her that something was
going on that she had not been aware of, for they were
quickly surrounded by young men, and mothers of young
men, occasionally thrusting daughters forward as the excuse
to scrape acquaintance. Sophie was plainly the centre of
attraction in the room, and even allowing for a mother's
partiality, it did seem a little odd. As her own attention was
engaged by the matrons, Héloïse watched Sophie being
surrounded by the sons, and gradually disappearing into a
jostling throng of them which increased by the minute.