The Silk Vendetta (4 page)

Mrs. Dillon was disturbed. She was the one who had been persecuting him. She wasn’t at all sure about that leg of lamb. It might have been one of the other dogs. She wished she hadn’t asked one of the men to shoot the animal. She hadn’t meant it really. It was no use blaming her; she was only doing her duty to to house.

There was great relief when Willie came back. He was un-kempt and half starving. Mrs. Dillon made gruel for him and told him not to be such a silly happorth again … going off like that. Nobody was going to shoot his dog. It was just said in a manner of speaking.

They were a little kinder after that. So the incident had done some good and both Willie and the dog quickly recovered.

Life went on much as before. Julia was sometimes friendly but she could be suddenly imperious as though remembering that I was not quite one of the family. She would be impatient with Cassie who tired easily, but she was not averse to copying my work in the school room and asking me to supply certain answers to the work which Miss Everton set us. I suppose we got along tolerably well and I think that on the whole she was glad to have me there. I was more of a companion to her than Cassie could be. We practised jumping in the paddock and there was a certain friendly rivalry between us.

With Cassie it was different. She had to lie down in the afternoons. I used to take off her boots for her and sit with her and we talked. We played guessing games and sometimes I told her about Mrs. Halliburton’s troubles or the trials of Lady Isabel in East Lynne. She enjoyed these conversations and wept quietly for the tribulations of those unfortunate ladies.

The boys were at school most of the time. We all looked forward to their coming home for the holidays, but when they did come, it was never quite as we had imagined it would be and often I was glad when they went back—when Charles did any way. It was different with Philip.

Philip was rather like Cassie, with a kind and gentle nature. I expected they took after Lady Sallonger, who might have been like that before going through what she did with Cassie had made her rather peevish.

Charles was the elder brother—that meant about six years older than I. He was very lordly, and strutted about the house as though he owned it—which I supposed he would one day. He looked down on his brother and sisters, so it was not surprising that he had a contempt for me.

During the holidays the boys spent most of their time riding or fishing in the River Roding. They seemed to have so many exciting things to do from which we were excluded. I envied them their freedom. Philip, however, used to ride with us sometimes. He asked me questions about Grand’mere’s work. He was very interested in it. He used to go and see her sometimes. She liked him, and told me that he had real feeling for materials and knew a good silk when he saw one.

“His father will be pleased with him when he goes into the business,” she said.

“Charles does not seem interested at all,” I observed.

“It could come. At the moment he feels himself to be the big man … very important. That is here … where his brother and sisters are younger than he is. Perhaps he is different with others, eh? We shall see. But it is good that there is Philip who will be a blessing to his father.”

I noticed that Charles was quite interested in Grace the parlourmaid who was rather pretty. I saw them talking together on one occasion. Grace was giggling and was quite flushed; and he was being pleasant and friendly in a condescending way. So clearly he did not despise all females.

Once Charles did not come home. He was staying with a friend. Philip came alone and that was quite a pleasant holiday, for when Charles was not there Philip did not feel that he ought to hold us in contempt. He spent quite a lot of time with us.

I remember sitting by the lake with him and Julia and Cassie when he talked about the family and how wonderful it was that their ancestors had settled here all those years ago, driven from their homes because of religion.

“All we could do was weave our silk and so we arrived here without anything, for all we had we had left behind. We started up a silk industry in this country. Don’t you think that was a wonderful thing to have done?”

I said fervently that I did.

He smiled at me and went on: “In a few years we were producing materials that were as good as anything that came out of France. It was hard work, but we wanted to work. We were all very poor for a long time and then we began to prosper.”

“I’m glad we did,” said Julia. “I should have hated to be poor.”

“It’s really an exciting story, don’t you think so, Lenore?”

“Oh, I do. I do,” I assured him.

“To come to a new country with nothing but your faith and hope and determination to succeed.” His face shone with zeal. I thought: There is something very nice about Philip. I shall be sorry when he goes back to school.

“But there were endless troubles,” he went on. “When the country started importing French silks the Spitalfields workers were near to starvation. People wanted French silks although those we were making were just as good. They just thought French silk sounded better than Spitalfields silk. My father told me all about the trouble they had. The people were very fierce. There were riots. The workers roamed the streets. There was no work for their looms. If they saw a woman in a calico gown they tore it off her. ‘Silk! Silk!’ they shouted. ‘Everyone must wear Spitalfields silk!’ ”

“They must have been very fierce,” I said. “I should not have wanted my dress to be torn off me however good the cause.”

“They were fighting for their livelihoods. They had come over here leaving behind everything they possessed; they had set up their looms; they had produced beautiful materials; and just when they were beginning to prosper, the government allowed French silk to be brought into the country and people foolishly thought it was better and sentenced our workers to starvation.”

“If their work was so good why did people want to buy the French?”

“English people always think foreigners do better work than their own people. Besides the French had a reputation. They thought French clothes and materials must be better than the English. In any case, they almost put us out of business.”

“Why do you feel so strongly now?” I asked. “It is all over.”

“I feel for those poor people because I know how they suffered. And it could happen again.”

“Poor things,” said Cassie. “It must be dreadful to be hungry. And the little children too …”

“They are the first to suffer,” said Philip. “Oh, it has been a long and violent history. There was a time just over a hundred years ago when there was great trouble. The government had just signed the Treaty of Fontainebleau which allowed French silks to be brought into the country free of tax; and the workers were desperate. When the King was on his way to Parliament they decided to present a petition to the House of Commons. They were of the opinion that the Duke of Bedford had been bribed by the French to agree to the Fontainebleau Treaty. After they had marched to the House and forced an adjournment they went to Bedford House and attacked it. The guards were called out and the Riot Act read. The workers fled, but not before many of them had been trampled down by the horses. Many died. They had thought they had come to a safe haven when they left their homes, but they have had to fight all the way through to keep going.”

“And they did,” I said, “and all is well with them now.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “One never really knows what difficulties are going to arise. That’s how it is in life, Lenore.”

“But people find a way out of their difficulties.”

“Some do,” he replied.

Julia yawned. “It is time we went back,” she said.

I grew fond of Philip during those holidays. It was so different when Charles was not there. He used to come up to see Grand’mere. He would handle the bales of material knowledge-ably and talk about the weave. He was very interested in the loom she had there.

“Do you use it much?” he asked.

“When Sir Francis has something he specially wishes me to do.”

She talked of Villers-Mure and the factory with the bougain-villeas on the walls and the big workroom with all the big windows letting in the light.

Philip was clearly absorbed by the subject. He talked about the new process of spinning which was turning what had hitherto been waste into good material.

“A certain Mr. Lister of Bradford has invented a special loom to do this,” he told us. “It will revolutionize the trade because there must be quantities of chassum silk waste in many warehouses in London.”

I did not understand a great deal of what they said but I liked to listen to them as they talked. Grand’mere’s cheeks were flushed and Philip was talking enthusiastically. They liked each other and it is very pleasant when people whom one likes are interested in each other. Grand’mere made tea and we left the workroom and went into her little sitting room to drink it and continue talking. Philip told us how he would eventually be coming into the business. He found the waiting irksome. As soon as he had left the university he was to start. His father had promised him. He would have liked to dispense with the last stages of his education, but his father was adamant on that point.

” And your brother?” asked Grand’mere.

“Oh, he is bent on having a good time. I daresay he’ll grow out of it.”

“He has not your enthusiasm,” Grand’mere commented.

“It will come, Madame Cleremont,” Philip assured her. After all, once he begins to understand something about this fascinating business, it couldn’t fail to, could it?”

She smiled at him. “I am happy that Sir Francis has you to follow him. It must be a great joy to him.”

“My brother will probably be good at another side of the business. It’s the actual production of silk that intrigues me … the whole process. Those worms feeding on the mulberry leaves . . spinning their cocoons to produce the most exquisite material in the world …”

He talked a great deal about processes which I did not understand. I sat there in a haze of contentment watching Grand’mere and Philip liking each other more every minute.

When he had gone she showed her pleasure. As I helped her clear away the cups she was singing softly to herself:

En passant par la Lorraine

Avec mes sabots

J’ai rencontre dans la plaine

Avec mes sabots dondaines

Oh, Oh, Oh,

Avec mes sabots.

She always sang that when she was happy. I had asked her why once and she said she had always sung it as a child and it had always made her happy because the soldiers had thought the singer ugly. They did not know that a King’s son loved her. I said: “And did she marry the King’s son?” ‘ ‘We do not know. That is why I loved the song. He had given her a bouquet de marjolaine. If it flowered she would be queen. We do not know because the song ends before it tells.”

She kept smiling at me. She said: “There is one who loves this work. He is like his father. Sir Francis is lucky to have such a son.”

“You like him very much, don’t you, Grand’mere?” She nodded looking at me and smiling rather wistfully; and there were dreams in her eyes.

We were growing up. Julia was nearly seventeen. I was fifteen. Julia had changed; she was very anxious for us to know she was not a little girl any more.

She was to have a season in London.

Lady Sallonger talked of it often. It was one of our customs to take tea with her in the drawing room. I would often be there already, reading to her, and pausing now and then to thread the skeins of silk she needed. She was taking more and more of my time.

Julia and Cassie came down promptly at four o’clock and spent an hour with her. Clarkson would wheel in the tea trolly and Grace would stand by to pour out the tea and wait on us; but Lady Sallonger often dismissed her and dispensing the tea tell to my lot.

“Lenore can manage,” she would say. Then it would be: “Lenore, a little more cream please. Oh, and do bring me one of those scones.”

She would sit there, not eating, but crumbling the scone on her plate. The conversation at this time was all about Julia’s coming out which would soon take place. ” Dear me, I should be there … but it is impossible. Lenore, my feet are quite numb. Just take off my slippers and rub them, will you? Ah … that’s better. Such a relief. In my state of health it is alas impossible. The dresses you will have to have, Julia … Madame Cleremont will of course make them. She will have to get some patterns. Perhaps your father can send for them from Paris. …”

Julia clasped her hands and listened ecstatically. She was longing to be “out.” She talked about it to Cassie and me. Balls, banquets … gaiety … and armies of young men all seeking her hand in marriage.

I had heard Miss Logan, who knew of such things, talking to Miss Everton. She said: “Well, of course, it’s trade when all’s said and done… and that puts a damper on it. Mind you there’s money and money talks.”

So Julia was to be taken forth to the marriage market to display her assets. She was young, quite pretty sometimes when she was in a good temper, and very eager to find a husband but handicapped by that label “Trade”—enhanced though by the other one: “Money.”

Lady Sallonger said: “I have heard that the Countess of Bal-lader is very good. Poor soul, she needs the money now that the Earl is dead. He left her practically penniless… . Gambling they say, and drink … it swallowed up the estate and on his death it all came out. Poor Countess. Of course she was not quite … to start with. Actress or something. The Earl’s third wife and he was in his dotage when he married her. Well, now she has to eke out a living this way. She’s expensive but she was very good with Maria Cranley. Quite a plain little creature but she married well … money mind you, not much of the blue blood.”

I could not resist saying that perhaps the money would bo more useful than blue blood.

”That’s true, Lenore. Would you put another cushion behind my back. That’s better. I get so tired. And I have dropped my fan. Oh there it is. And another cup of tea, Lenore. Take this scone away. Oh dear, it seems to have gone all over the floor. Is that Madeira cake? I’ll have a piece… . No. I think I’ll try the fruit. And more cream please. Yes, the Countess is considered to be ideal. She knows her way about society and her origins make her pushing… and practical. But everyone seems to have forgotten all that and the name Ballader counts for a good deal. It is a great tragedy that I, as your Mama, Julia, cannot do what should be done for you.”