The Reckoning (8 page)

Héloïse studied his anxious face for a moment, and then said, 'I think you should persuade him to go back to Lough
borough as soon as possible.'

‘
I will, my lady, I will! Thank you, my lady!’

She climbed up onto the seat, took the reins from Stephen,
and drove away, leaving Batty standing beside the road
looking frightened.

*

The bays knew they were going home, and trotted smartly,
their slender black muzzles leaning together as if they were whispering secrets. The phaeton bowled along the road, and
the little harness-bells tinkled sweetly on the cool, damp, grey
air.

‘
Stephen,' she said after a while, 'are there many political
meetings in the area?’

Stephen didn't seem to find the question surprising. He
had been her eyes and ears on many past occasions. 'Well, my
lady, there's the Debating Society meetings upstairs at Lunt's Coffee-house. That's the second Monday of the month.'

‘
Yes, but those are for gentlemen. What about – amongst
the common people? Working men – do they have political
meetings?’

Stephen thought for a moment or two. 'Not here-abouts,
not as a regular thing, my lady. In the Hare and Heather there's a bit of an argle-bargle sometimes, and since the Peace, it's often about change and such-like. And in the
barber's shop – well, every Saturday afternoon there's
someone laying down the law, and someone else disagreeing with him – but that's barber's shops, my lady. It's always like
that. It's where they go to read the newspapers and pamph
lets, my lady – the barber gets 'em all.'

‘Do they talk about Reform?'

‘
Everyone's got his own idea about how to save the world,
my lady. Some of 'em talk about Reform.' He looked side
ways at her. 'But there won't be any trouble here-abouts. Everyone knows everyone else. It's where there's a lot of
manufactories, that's where the trouble will be.'

‘
How do you know?' she asked sharply. She looked at him.
‘Has there been trouble already?'

‘
In Nottingham, mainly, my lady,' Stephen admitted. 'And Leicester. The stockingers, my lady – like the last time, back
in the year 12, you remember?'

‘
Yes, I remember. Frame-breaking. They talked about
King Ludd living in Sherwood Forest.'

‘
That's right, my lady. Well, there's been something of that
going on lately. I think it's the unemployment, and the high
price of bread. Just the night before last, Heathcote and
Boden's mill at Loughborough was broken into, and all the
machines broken – fifty or more, they're saying. Thousands
of pounds' worth of damage – my lady? Are you all right?'

‘
Take the reins,' Héloïse said. 'Drive home as quickly as
you can.’

*

As Edward was hurrying out, Héloïse stopped him. 'Ned –
you won't arrest Batty?' He looked at her questioningly,
surprised. 'Our weaver Batty. He hasn't done anything
wrong.'

‘
He knew about it. He should have reported him.’

‘
But he's his brother,' she protested.

‘He should have given him up.’

James stood beside her. 'Would you give me up?’

Edward looked from her to him and back again. Then he
grunted and turned away. 'Don't wait dinner for me.’

When he was gone, James looked at his wife's troubled
face, and put his arm round her shoulders. 'Don't worry, he
knows his own people.' She didn't appear comforted, and he
drew her with him to a chair, to sit down and take her on his
lap. 'Come, come here, that's right. What is it, Marmoset?
You don't mind so very much about Batty, do you? I expect
Ned will let him off with a caution.'

‘
Oh no, James, it isn't that.' She was silent for a while, and
he waited, seeing that she was marshalling her words. At
times of deep emotion, she sometimes had difficulty thinking
in English. 'It was the things he said – they took me back.
Reminded me of Olivier – my first husband. I've heard it all
before, you see – this talk of a new world.’

She had lived through the Revolution in Paris. She had seen it grow from its earliest days, from the salons of her
father's mistress, where the
philosopher
had talked about the Condition of Man – as though there were only one man, and
one condition!

‘They played with words, you know, like children tossing a
glittering ball back and forth. That's how it starts, always,
with words.’

But words were dangerous, words had power – they were
the progenitors of deeds. They broke down barriers, accus
tomed men to thinking the unthinkable. You could make
even the most beastly crime sound noble if you were clever
with words. And if you spoke of it often enough, it ceased to
be something no decent man would contemplate.

‘
I've heard them before, all the fine, resounding phrases,
the clichés, the rhetoric, the promise of better days to come.
But first there must always be suffering – that's always part
of the plan! Suffering and bloodshed, so that a new and better
world might be born. He didn't say much, but I could see it in
his eyes, James, that black passion.'

‘Yes,' James said, holding her.

‘
The gutters of Paris ran with blood – literally ran with
blood. Thousands of ordinary people were butchered – bewil
dered, you know, like cattle. And Olivier and his friends –
they said it didn't matter! People must die so that the new world could be born. But if the people didn't matter, what
was the new world for? Who did they do it for, if not for
people?'

‘I don't know,' James said.

She held him tighter. Her mind was full of images, pictures
burned into her brain that would never leave her, no matter
how long she lived in peace and safety. 'He had my best
friend arrested – Mathilde's mother. She was executed. Poor
Lotti, who knew nothing of politics, who never thought about
anything but horses. And my father ... So many people died,
James, but there was no new world.'

‘
There never is, my love. Just the same old one, a little
more battered than before. Yet change does happen.'

‘
Yes, but not like that. When it comes, it comes gradually,
so that you hardly notice. You look back, only, and see that it
has come, like the growth of a tree. Women know that – why
don't men? Why do they delude themselves, generation after generation?'

‘
I don't know, my darling. But don't be afraid, it won't
happen here. There won't be a revolution here. This is
England.' He smiled. 'More than that, this is Yorkshire.’

She could not smile. 'James, that man, Tom Batty – he
spoke to me in such a way – he looked at me – as if there were no difference between us. As if we were the same. No-one has
ever spoken so to me.’

He didn't understand. 'We are all equal before God,' he
tried.

‘
I don't mean that. We are all made equal in God's sight,
but He puts us in different places, with different tasks to
perform, and different duties and responsibilities. If we don't
fulfil them, it makes trouble for everyone. And I've met men
who were out of their place – but I've never met a man before
who didn't seem to know he had one.' She looked at him,
troubled, afraid. 'What will happen if there are others like
him? How can we go on, if all the world becomes like that?'

‘
It won't happen. You've said yourself that things don't
change that much. It's just the time we're living in – every
thing's upside down, but it won't stay that way. Things will
get back to normal again – it's just a matter of time.’

The servants had their dinner at noon, and the nursery
dinner was served at the same time. When it was finished,
Héloïse went up to the day nursery to see her younger son,
Benedict. She felt uneasy, afraid. No news had yet come back
from Ned, and her mind had been dwelling so on the past that
she caught herself listening, jumpily, for the sound of
tramping feet outside. In the nursery, with Benedict, she
hoped to find distraction for her thoughts.

One of the problems that had arisen on Father Aislaby's
departure was what to do with Benedict and Nicholas, whom
he had taught along with the choir boys. A family debate back
in February had brought forth the suggestion, from Miss
Rosedale, Sophie's former governess, that Nicholas should go
to school.

Héloïse had been instant in her opposition. 'Send him away? Oh no, how could you think it? He's too young!’

‘
Surely he isn't strong enough?' Sophie said.

Edward, who had been to Eton, concurred. 'It is a hard
life, you know. There's a good deal of bullying, and Spartan
conditions – essential for toughening up the normal lad, I
grant you, but Nicholas has never been robust, and he's, well,
what I'd call
sensitive.'
He sounded embarrassed at using the
word, but everyone knew he was thinking of Nicholas's
attacks of asthma, and the occasional skin rashes, which Dr
Ross said were of a nervous origin.

‘
In any case,' James said, 'it's far better for the heir to
Morland Place to be brought up at home, and learn about his
duties from the earliest possible moment.’

Miss Rosedale waited patiently until they had finished, and
then said, 'I didn't mean to Eton. I agree that the regimen
there would be too harsh for him. I only meant that he might
benefit from going to St Edward's, as a day-boy. He would
still be under the proper influence of home, but it would give
him a chance to mix with other boys of his own age.'

‘
Yes, that would knock a few of the corners off,' Edward
said approvingly. 'Oh, very gently, of course,' he added,
catching Héloïse's eye.

She smiled. 'I am not such a foolish, protecting mother as you may think, dear Ned, and I have sometimes thought it a
pity he should not have friends of his own age.'

‘
Well, at St Edward's he'll meet all sorts,' James said. 'The
sons of tenants as well as the sons of neighbours, Yes, I think
it's a good idea, Rosey. Let him learn amongst the people he'll command one day – if you think his health is up to it.'