“Aye.”
“It seems like a dangerous job for a child.”
“T’machine makes it easier to get caught, miss. Sorting and carding were a bit easier when I was young. And ye have t’softest hands from pulling at t’wool,” she added with a quick grin.
“I was here before Christmas, you know, Mrs. Talbot, but I didn’t have much time to talk to people.”
“I wouldn’t think so, miss, not with Mr. Trantor keeping tha in tow. I was surprised tha made it to t’shed.”
Anne gave a little sigh of relief. At last, here was someone who would speak to her openly.
“Tha Christmas bonus was a great help, Miss Heriot,” Mrs. Talbot added.
“I hope to be more of a help to the workers here, but I cannot do that unless I know what some of the problems are.”
“Then I’ll be telling tha, Miss Heriot.”
“So there are problems? Why would no one else speak frankly?”
“If tha needs t’job, tha keeps quiet. I’ll be leaving t’first of next month. My George has got himself a small farm,” she announced proudly.
“How have things changed since my father died, Mrs. Talbot?”
“Tha must understand, no mill is a good place to work, Miss Heriot. Not one owner would listen to us, and t’Combination Acts got rid of those who tried to do something. That and t’troops.”
“Were you in favor of General Ludd, then?”
“Not in favor of killing, miss. But there wasn’t much of that. General Ludd’s men mostly went after t’machines.”
“But that cost the owners money. What is wrong with improving a mill, Mrs. Talbot? Better machines mean better production, which then means higher wages.”
“Higher profits for t’owners, more like! And those that brought in steam engines will end up laying off workers. Replacing them with machines that do t’work of a few men.”
“But isn’t that a sign of progress?” Anne asked. “Surely if machines can do the work of several men…”
“Then what? There will be nowt for them to do. They can’t go back to home weaving. There’s very little land for farming…”
“I hadn’t thought about it in that way,” admitted Anne. “And I don’t know what I can do about it, for the steam engine is here, whether we like it or not. But I
can
deal with what goes on in this mill,” she added.
“Aye, if tha is ready to get rid of Peter Brill and maybe Trantor too. But then, he is tha cousin, so tha could hardly do that!”
“Tell me about Brill.”
“He is a nasty piece of work, and he gets a percentage of any fines he imposes.”
“Why, that means he’d be looking for infractions.”
“He’s on us day and night, miss, for things tha father would have let go.”
“Was he foreman under my father?”
“No. Tha cousin raised him up.”
“I see. So Mr. Trantor is far stricter than my father.”
“Tha father was a fair man, though he was an owner. At least he knew what it was like to work a loom. Mr. Trantor, he coom from a shop, I believe?”
“Yes, his father and mother were shopkeepers. And I cannot fire my cousin, Mrs. Talbot, nor would I want to,” Anne added. “He has been a loyal friend to my father and to me.”
“Aye, and word is, he’d like to be more than that.”
Anne raised her eyebrows. “My private life is not the business of my workers, Mrs. Talbot,” she said coolly.
“Only if it means tha are under Trantor’s thumb, which would make life harder for us,” Martha Talbot fired back.
Mrs. Talbot was irrepressible, and Anne couldn’t help but like her because of her honesty. “So you recommend that I fire Brill?”
Mrs. Talbot’s face lit up. “Tha would do a good thing if tha did that, miss.”
“And who would you put in his place?”
Mrs. Talbot thought a moment. “I’d say Ned Gibson, but he’s too young yet, though he’s been here so many years.”
“Ned Gibson?” Anne’s tone was cool again.
“I think tha has met him.”
“Aye, he came to see me about his fiancée.”
“And tha gave her a bonus instead of her job back.”
“I could not reverse Mr. Trantor’s decision. It would have set a precedent and ruined discipline.”
“I don’t agree with tha, since he made a bad decision. But I can see summat of tha point. If tha puts a man in charge, tha must abide by his decisions. Which is why it is so important who tha has under him.”
“I am glad you can see something of my side, Mrs. Talbot,” Anne said ironically.
Martha Talbot smiled. “Oh, aye, even though we are only mill workers, we can see t’sense of things.” Her tone became more serious. “It is too bad Ned doesn’t have a few more years. He is the only one able to see both sides—some of t’time, at least,” she added with another smile.
“And yet his brother was jailed twice for conspiracy.”
Mrs. Talbot shook her head and sighed. “He were a fine man, Tom Gibson, till they took him off to jail. That was tha father’s doing, Miss Heriot. We didn’t expect it from him, but it was only after Arkwright died.”
“Then the Gibson family has every reason to hate me,” Anne said quietly.
“I wouldn’t say hate, Miss Heriot. But there’s anger there, all right.”
Anne stood up and Mrs. Talbot quickly did too. “I am very grateful for your honesty, Mrs. Talbot. I assure you, I will consider your advice very carefully, and though I would like to keep you here, I wish you and your husband well on the farm.”
After she left, Anne sank down in her chair.
“What do you think, Patrick?”
“I liked the woman,” he said with a wide grin.
“So did I, but I meant what did you think of her advice?”
“Getting rid of Brill seems a wise move to me. When a man makes a profit off other’s troubles, ‘tis not good for anyone.”
“I’m sure Joseph won’t approve,” Anne said with a sigh. “But I can’t dismiss my cousin.”
“I agree, miss. Ye have no good reason to. We have no real evidence against him…or against Ned Gibson.”
“Do you suspect one over the other, Patrick?”
“ ‘Twas interesting to hear more about Tom Gibson. He’s had a strong influence on his younger brother, I’m sure. But on the other hand, Tom seems a broken man, drowning himself in ale, so his influence may be less these days.”
“Yet Ned Gibson may blame my father for turning his brother into a drunkard.”
“ ‘Tis the man who lifts the tankard, Miss Heriot. Others have spent time in jail and not become like Tom Gibson.” Patrick hesitated. “I still think yer cousin has a strong motive. If ye marry someone else, he has a fortune to lose.”
“But he was left a very generous legacy in my father’s will. And is well paid as a manager, I assure you,” protested Anne.
“Some men are never satisfied with what they have. And some turn a little mad with jealousy. It may be both love and greed, Miss Heriot. Trantor may feel if he can’t have ye, no one should.”
“I can’t believe Joseph’s feelings for me are that extreme.”
“Ye never know, miss. Love can make a man do things he’d never have imagined.”
By the time Anne returned home, she was so tired from her day that she asked Sarah if she would mind having supper alone. “All I want is some tea and a muffin in my room. Could you have them sent up, and I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Of course, Anne.”
Sarah ate her supper slowly, noting how the light was lasting longer these days. It meant that spring was coming and they would be on their way to London soon. She wondered what Anne had discovered at the mill and whether Patrick knew the details.
She had found herself thinking a lot about Patrick these past weeks. She supposed that was not surprising, given his solicitousness after her accident. What was more surprising was the
way
she was thinking. Despite her disclaimers to Anne, she had entertained the occasional fantasy in London. Captain Scott had danced with her twice at the Hythes’ ball. And what if Sir David Bertram’s interest was more than friendly?
How could an avowed romantic not have such fantasies amid the whirl of London society! But she had no such dreams of ex-sergeant Patrick Gillen. Was it easier to be romantic about men who were more present in one’s fantasy life than in one’s real life? Sarah wondered. And if her feelings for Patrick weren’t romantic, then what were they?
She couldn’t imagine him sweeping her away from her life at Heriot House. For one thing, she would choose to stay, if it weren’t for Anne’s marriage plans.
And for another, Patrick was only a head groom, not a baronet or a retired army captain. He had no means to sweep her away.
No, whatever was drawing her to Patrick Gillen was not the part of her that reveled in Cinderella-like tales. It was something she couldn’t quite articulate even to herself, except to say that she was drawn to him as though he were a sort of lodestone.
After she finished her supper, she sat for a few minutes sipping a small glass of port. She didn’t want to wait for the morning to hear what had happened at the mill. She wanted to find out now. And there was no reason she shouldn’t. It was about the time that the horses were being settled for the night. She would walk down to the stables and see if Patrick was there.
* * * *
He was, and just finishing up his evening work.
“Good evening, Patrick.”
“Good evening, Sarah,” he said with a welcoming smile. “ ‘Tis a bit late for ridin’, don’t ye think?” he added teasingly.
“Anne went right up to bed, and I was too curious about what happened today to wait until morning to find out.”
Patrick looked around. “I can’t offer ye a seat in the stable, but I could offer ye a cup of tea and a biscuit, if ye wanted to come up to my rooms, if you think it would be the proper thing to do,” he added.
“I think at my age and so far away from Society, it would be safe for me to accept your offer without compromising myself,” Sarah said humorously.
Patrick’s rooms surprised her. She’d expected that a man on his own might be living in a bit of a mess, but the rooms were spotless, and Patrick’s few possessions were arranged with great care.
He sat her down in the room that he obviously used both as “parlor” and bedroom, but the alcove with his cot and washstand was halfway screened off so Sarah was able to convince herself that she wasn’t really sitting in a man’s bedroom.
“Here ye are—some of Mrs. White’s ginger biscuits and tea.”
Sarah took a sip and looked up in surprise. “Why, the tea has a ginger flavor too!”
“I got a taste for it in the army. ‘Tis a good settler of the digestion. I hope ye like it,” he added worriedly.
“It is delightful.”
Patrick took the chair opposite and tilted his head a little to the right. Sarah had unconsciously taken in that habitual tilt, but only now did she realize that it was compensation for the loss of his eye. Without thinking, she said, “I have never thought much about your injury, Patrick. Your right eye must get tired, doing all the work.”
“Sometimes. But the hardest thing about it is that ye can’t judge the depth of things.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ye need two eyes to see things as they are. With only one, things sort of flatten out, but because ye know how things
should
look, yer brain helps ye out. At any rate, I only have trouble when the place is unfamiliar. Then it takes a minute to ‘see’ where a wall ends and a chair begins! ‘Tis a good thing I’m a groom and not a butler.”
“I am sorry. I didn’t know there was more than the obvious difficulty,” Sarah said softly.
“ ‘Tis nothing. Except once in a while, ye want to touch something, just to see the all of it,” Patrick said quietly, looking at her face with such concentration that Sarah knew Patrick wasn’t talking about chairs. There was something between them that was almost palpable.
She put her cup down and clasped her hands, trying to keep them still, and asked the question she had come to ask. “What happened at the mill today?”
Patrick sat back in his chair. “Miss Heriot interviewed several of the workers. I don’t think any of them like Joseph Trantor. But the one they want to get rid of is the foreman, Peter Brill, who gets a percentage of any fine he levies.”
“But that means Trantor has given him an incentive.”
“Yes, but Miss Heriot is determined to dismiss Brill and hire someone at a higher salary, so there will be no reason to respond to Trantor’s offers.” Patrick smiled. “One woman even suggested Ned Gibson.”
“Ned Gibson!”
“This Mrs. Talbot spoke highly of him, though she admitted he is a bit of a radical.”
“Anne would never hire Gibson after what has happened. But do you think she will dismiss him?”
“There is no reason to, Sarah. Not yet. His Nance will vouch for him, so there is no proof that he was over here.”
“And what about Joseph?”
“There is no evidence against him, either. And wouldn’t he have known Miss Heriot’s holiday plans?”
“I don’t know that Anne told him when she was leaving for the Astons’. And I can’t imagine he would have done the deed himself, anyway. He could have hired someone who delayed. And Anne would have used the saddle, sooner or later.”
“ ‘Tis a good explanation, but I think we’ll just have to watch and wait.”
“Well, we will be in London soon, where Anne will be safe.”
“Are ye both lookin’ forward to the balls and breakfasts, then?”
Sarah gave him a smile. “I think Anne is. I enjoyed the Little Season, but the closer Anne comes to choosing a husband, the more I realize how my life is going to change.”
“Wouldn’t ye stay here?”
“I could, I suppose, but if Anne and her husband choose to spend much of their time here, I would not feel comfortable. And if they didn’t, I think I would come to feel lonely and useless.”
“Aye, I understand that. But ye might just meet someone at one of these balls, Sarah,” Patrick suggested with a quick grin.
“Oh, I don’t think so, Sergeant Gillen,” said Sarah, stung into formality by his apparent belief that this would be a good thing. She stood up, and as she moved away, her knee jarred the small table between them. Patrick’s teacup rolled off and shattered on the floor.
“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry.” Sarah went down on her hands and knees and started brushing the pieces together with her fingers, when Patrick’s hand covered hers. “Leave it, Sarah, or ye’ll be cuttin’ yerself on the splinters. I’ll get it later.”