The Reckoning (67 page)

‘
It was all part of the Reform movement,' James said,
‘whether they knew it or not. Ned was quite right to con
demn it. Such a lot of nonsense – and dangerous nonsense at
that!'

‘
Pardon me,' said Moineau, 'but why is it nonsense? Could you perhaps explain why it is wrong for these men to want to
be represented in Parliament?'

‘
But they
are
represented, that's the whole point,' James
said impatiently. 'Each member of Parliament represents the
interests of the entire people, not just of his constituents. Parliament isn't a congress of ambassadors from different
sections with hostile interests, whatever the radicals might claim. It's a deliberative assembly with
one
interest, that of
the nation as a whole – as they very well know.'

‘
But some of you have the power of choosing your
member,
and
some of you do not,' Father Moineau said mildly. 'Is that
not unfair?'

‘
Of course not. Representation has nothing to do with elec
tion. Every member represents everyone, whether he was
directly chosen by them or not. Yes, very well, we choose a member, but once he's been chosen, he isn't the member for
York or Exeter or wherever, he's simply a Member of
Parliament: a representative, not a delegate. Parliament is
there to guard the interests, not to echo the will, of the people.
It's a Trustee, just as the King is, and the Lords, and the
Judges.'

‘
Yes, I see,' said Moineau. 'I think, though, that it might be
too intellectual an answer to satisfy your weavers and spin
ners and orators. They will think it is a rationalisation of
interest.'

‘
They may think as they please,' James said generously, 'as
long as they act within the law. But if they choose riot and
disorder, they will be punished under the law.'

‘
Poor things,' Mathilde said. 'I know they shouldn't have
allowed themselves to be persuaded, but if they were hungry
and couldn't afford to buy bread –'

‘
The harvest is good this year,' Moineau remarked. 'That
should quiet the situation.'

‘
Yes, that's a point,' James said. 'Wheat has fallen to
seventy-five shillings a quarter since June – that's a third less.
I don't think we'll be getting any more marching and rick-
burning this year.'

‘
Trade is picking up, too,' Skelwith said. 'The foreign
markets are recovering, and orders for goods of all sorts are
coming in. With plenty of work, and cheaper bread, the lower
orders will have nothing to rebel about.'

‘
Is that true, James?' Héloïse asked. 'Are things better for
the manufactories now?'

‘
Yes – Jasper Hobsbawn was right about that. He said
trade would improve, and it has. I'm glad, now, that we
didn't try to sell the mills back in June. We should get a much
better price for them as things are.'

‘
But are you going to sell them at all?' Skelwith asked, just
beating Héloïse to the question. 'Surely if they're beginning to
do well, you'll want to keep them?'

‘
But who knows if the trend will last? It's too chancey – up
one year and down the next.’

Skelwith smiled. 'What way of life isn't? What about the
harvests, for instance? You don't sell the land because the
harvest has been poor.'

‘
Owning land,' James said simply, 'is a different matter.
That's life itself, not just a business.'

‘
Papa, if you do mean to keep the mills,' Sophie put in
eagerly, 'would you consider Mr Hobsbawn's plan about the
tenements?'

‘Now, Sophie, don't begin that again,' James said.

‘
But I only said
consider,'
Sophie said coaxingly. 'It
couldn't hurt just to look at the plans, could it?'

‘
I must say, I'd be quite interested in seeing them myself,'
Skelwith said.

‘
I'll bet you would,' James laughed. 'It would mean a great
deal of work for you, wouldn't it, if we took it on?’

John Skelwith smiled. 'I should never press you in that
direction, sir, as you must know very well. But there are other
mill-masters in Manchester, and if trade does go on
expanding, there'll be a need for new accommodation, irre
spective of pulling down the old. People will always need
somewhere to live, and the builder whose name is first known
will be offered the contracts first.'

‘
But the houses must be built on the
rational
plan,' Sophie
put in, seizing gladly on the unexpected appearance of
an ally. 'I'm sure that if you only saw Mr Hobsbawn's
plans...’

Mathilde and Héloïse allowed the conversation to slip away
from them. 'Sophie's become very interested in benevolent
works, hasn't she?' Mathilde said. 'What's brought that on, I
wonder? Is there a man in the case, Madame?’

Héloïse raised her brows. 'I suppose it's natural to think so.
But Sophie always had a warm and generous heart.'

‘
Of course she has,' Mathilde smiled, 'but when a young
woman suddenly develops an intense interest in something,
one hasn't usually too far to look. I suppose it must be
someone she met in Manchester?'

‘
I really don't know that there is anyone. Since she came
home, she hasn't spoken of anyone except Jesmond Farraline, and I don't think he is particularly interested in philanthropic
missions.'

‘
But I thought Mr Farraline was one of those who "cut"
you?' Mathilde said. Héloïse had told her all about the unfor
tunate incident.

‘
He was, but it seems that when he returned to Manchester
– after I'd left – he came to Sophie to apologise. Oh, not in so many words, of course, for that would have been disloyal, but
he hinted that his mother had obliged him to leave with her,
and that nothing was further from his wishes than to insult
Sophie.'

‘
That seems handsome enough. It sounds as though he is
interested in her.'

‘
I'm not sure. From what she says, he did pay her atten
tion, calling at the house quite often, and taking her driving,
but always with Mrs Droylsden in attendance. I gather that
he behaved very nicely: friendly and polite, but without any particularity that might arouse expectations.'

‘
Then you don't think he means to make her an offer?' Héloïse
shrugged. 'I don't see how he could. He is still a
younger son.'

‘
Then I wonder why he troubled himself to heal the
breach.'

‘
I think perhaps his pride was touched by being forced to
behave like a fortune-hunter,' Héloïse said. 'He is after all an
earl's son from an old family.’

Mathilde nodded. 'You may be right. Well, if that's all he
means by it, I hope Sophie won't become too attached to
him.'

‘
She doesn't seem to be,' Héloïse said, and there was a faint
note of puzzlement in her voice. 'She finds him agreeable
company, but I don't see any other symptoms there. I do wish
for her sake that she might fall in love again – though not, of
course, with someone who doesn't return her affections. I
would sooner see her happily married than using herself up
with benevolent acts.’

There was a pause, during which they could hear that the
mill-talk was still going on at the other end of the table. Then Mathilde lowered her voice to ask, 'Have you heard any more about the situation at Stainton? It was such a dreadful thing! I
was so shocked when John told me! He tried to break it
gently, you know – he thinks I'm still in a delicate condition
after Mary's birth – but I knew at once from his face that
there had been a death.'

‘
I heard from Rosamund yesterday,' Héloïse said. 'All the
burden fell on her shoulders, of course, since Lucy is away.'

‘
How awful for Lady Theakston, to hear news of that sort
by letter, and at such a distance from home.'

‘
Yes,' said Héloïse. 'She will be dreadfully shocked. Rosa
mund sent word by Mr Rothschild's courier, but advises her
mother not to break off the tour, since there is nothing to be done. She has coped with everything very well, I think. She
went down to Stainton straight away when she heard, and
stayed there until after the funeral, and then took Polly back
with her to London.'

‘
Polly was very shocked, I suppose? She and Lady Harvey
were very close.'

‘
Yes, she's been very ill, Rosamund says. For a time they
almost despaired of her, but she's recovering now – out of
bed, at least, though still very low. But Stainton was not a
healthy place, you know, and her health may well have been
impaired before the accident. Rosamund thought that Harvey
Sale would want to shut up the house, having such sad
memories for him, but it seems he's been living there on and
off since the accident, much as before.'

‘
I suppose it was an accident?' Mathilde said, a little care
lessly, speaking her thoughts without properly considering
their effect.

‘
Good God, Mathilde, what are you saying?' Héloïse said,
low and shocked.

Mathilde coloured disastrously. 'Oh, Madame, I'm sorry! I
didn't think – I didn't mean – I only wondered whether,
having lost her daughters so recently –'

‘
Don't wonder,' Héloïse said sharply, glancing to either
side to see they were not overheard; but the other conversa
tion was still occupying all attentions but theirs. 'Poor Minnie
was deeply grieved, but not deranged. Of course it was an
accident. She was in the nursery which, being up under the
roof, grew very stuffy on warm days, when the sun shone on
the tiles. She must have opened the window to let in some air,
and then, leaning out for some reason, lost her balance and
fell.'

‘
Yes,' Mathilde said. 'I see.' She struggled with her curi
osity for a moment, and lost. 'But what was she doing in the
nursery? And why was she leaning out? She'd have to have
leaned a long way, surely –?’

Héloïse grew angry. 'That is enough! I forbid you to
speculate in that way, in this or any other house! Don't you
know that is exactly how wicked rumours begin?'

‘
I'm sorry, Madame,' Mathilde said, lowering her eyes. Of
course she had no wish to contribute to gossip, or to bring
shame on her cousin's memory. All the same, she couldn't
help wondering – and the fact that Madame grew so angry
could perhaps be an indication that she was not entirely sure about the matter either. It did have some strange elements to
it, and it would be no more than natural to have doubts,
however loyally suppressed.