A few minutes later Jimmy burst in, carrying a heavy pair of shears. “Here, Ned.”
“Tha did well, Jimmy. T’danger’s over now, but t’only way to get her out is to cut her out.”
It took some effort to cut through the bunched and twisted fabric, and by the time Ned succeeded, Katie was conscious again. When she was finally free, she gave a little moan and Ned opened his arms. “Tha needs soom fresh air and maybe a sip of tea, lass,” he murmured, and he scooped her up and carried her out.
“Jimmy, go get her mother. She’s on t’second floor.”
Ned was in the yard in the center of a crowd of children when Joseph Trantor rode in.
“What the devil is going on here, Gibson?” he demanded.
“Aye, t’devil truly has something to do with it,” Ned responded. “That devil machine. ‘Tis old and needs replacing, as tha well knows. Katie Hyland got caught in it.”
“Is she hurt?” asked Joseph, in a softer tone.
“No, no thanks to tha or Miss Heriot,” Ned announced angrily.
At that moment, Mrs. Hyland, white-faced and trembling, came out the mill door. “Where is she? Where’s my Katie?”
“She’s right here, Mrs. Hyland. She’s not hurt, just a little frightened. She’s a brave lass, your daughter. She stood still till we got her out.”
“Oh, thank God,” cried Mrs. Hyland, pushing her way through the children and taking her daughter into her arms. “Thank God! And thank tha, Ned Gibson,” she added with a sob.
Joseph had dismounted. “Get back to work.” In a gentler tone he added, “Mrs. Hyland, tha may stay with tha daughter for a few minutes.”
“Thank tha, Mr. Trantor,” she said, bobbing her head.
After she left, Girton came hurrying out. “Mr. Trantor, thank goodness tha’rt here.”
Trantor turned to him. “What happened here? Why isn’t t’machine running?”
“Gibson threatened to feed me to it if I didn’t turn it off, sir,” Girton whined. “I told him we could have cut her out.”
“And I told tha if she moved she could have lost a hand. It’s not like tha could do anything till t’lass was free, anyway, tha witless bastard.” Ned turned to Trantor. “Tha knows t’machine is old and needs replacing. But it seems we only buy new machines if it will get rid of some workers, not save them.”
“And how did tha get involved in all of this, Gibson?” Trantor demanded.
“I was outside, taking a piss when I heard t’children screaming.”
“Why didn’t you get Girton?”
“There wasn’t time.”
“Well, tha may or may not have saved t’lass from injury, Gibson, but tha has lost thaself tha job. Get tha things and go.”
“What for?”
“For threatening a supervisor, for one, and for disrespect to me, for another.”
“I have nowt to collect, Trantor, and I’m glad to show this place my back.” Ned clenched his hands to keep himself from punching Trantor in his self-righteous face. It was bad enough he was losing his job; he didn’t need to add a jail sentence. He turned his back on them both and walked out whistling the same tune Nancy had been whistling the day she was let go.
* * * *
His whistling stopped soon enough. As soon as he was out of earshot, his shoulders slumped. “Tha’rt a fool, Ned Gibson. Tha might have gotten off with a fine from staying away too long from t’loom if tha hadn’t called Girton a sheep-buggering bastard. Now there’s two Gibsons out of work.”
He made his way through the narrow lanes till he came to the Muttons’ house. Nance’s shock at seeing him there in the middle of the day turned immediately to worry. “Tha’rt not hurt, Ned?”
“No, lass, I’m fine. Can I coom in for a cup of tea?” he asked with a rueful smile.
“How does tha have time for a cup of tea, Ned? What are tha doing here in t’middle of afternoon?”
“I’ve been dismissed, Nance.”
Nance gave a helpless laugh. “Just when I thought things were looking up, tha gets thaself dismissed. I don’t see how we will ever get married.”
“What does tha mean, looking up?” Ned asked.
“Just today I got word that Mr. Yates in north part of town is looking for help—soomthing between a maid and a shop girl. I’ll be keeping his rooms clean and helping with the stock.”
“You got t’job?”
“It were almost like it were made for me. And t’pay is what I were making at t’mill, and I’m free after four o’clock on Saturday!”
Ned sighed in relief. “Thank God tha’ll be all right, Nance. I’ll have to start looking tomorrow. I won’t find anything in town, by t’time word gets around. But maybe one of t’local farmers…”
“But then tha’ll be traveling long hours back and from work, Ned,” Nance protested.
“Sometimes a farmer boards his help, Nance,” Ned said slowly.
“Oh, Ned, then we’ll never see one another, married or no. Whatever did tha do?”
“Little Katie Hyland got caught in t’rollers, Nance. I made Girton turn t’machine off. And I told both him and Trantor what I thought of them and their damned machines.”
“Then there is no chance of doing work at any other mill?”
“No, word will get out. I’ll be like Tom.”
“Oh, no, tha won’t! I will not let tha turn into an ale-soaked do-nothing, Ned.”
“Now, Nance.”
“I know he’s tha brother, Ned, but tha’rt willing to look for other work, where Tom gave up.”
“But I’ve never been to jail, Nance. I don’t blame Tom for what he’s become. But, by God, I do blame that damn Miss Heriot and her cousin.”
Nance nodded in agreement. “ ‘Tis true, Ned. ‘T’mill has never been easy, but Mr. Heriot would never have let tha go for soomthing like this. He’d have fined tha or even suspended tha. But it seems Miss Heriot is t’spoiled bitch Tom thinks her.”
“Mrs. Talbot thinks she’s behind Brill’s dismissal,” said Ned, in a halfhearted attempt to consider another side.
“And she’s t’only one! We all know ‘tis more likely he and Trantor had a falling out.” Nance hesitated.
“But does tha think if tha approached Miss Heriot…?”
“I did that once and what did it get me? No, I have other ideas for Miss Heriot and Trantor, Nance,” he said, his face suddenly hard and closed.
“Tha won’t do anything foolish, Ned?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.”
* * * *
Joseph Trantor rode over to the hall the next day and met Sarah, Anne, and Patrick as they were returning from their ride.
“Good morning, Joseph. This is a surprise.”
“I did not wish tha to go back to London without my good wishes, Anne.”
“Thank you, cousin. I appreciate that,” Anne told him warmly.
“I also needed to inform tha about a situation at the mill.”
“Not another accident, I hope!”
“Only a minor one, Anne. In the sorting shed.”
“Was another child hurt?”
“No, the Hyland lass’s skirt got caught in t’rollers, but Girton turned t’machine off so she could be cut out.”
“Thank God for that!”
“And I had to let Ned Gibson go,” Joseph added.
Patrick, who had been riding in front, turned all the way ‘round in his saddle when he heard that. “And why did ye need to do that, sor?” he asked quietly.
“Because he threatened Girton and was insubordinate to me. And may I suggest that the management of the stables and not the mill is tha business, Sergeant Gillen?”
“Patrick has been very helpful to me in a number of ways, Joseph. Why did Gibson threaten Girton?”
“Because he wasn’t sure the machine needed to be turned off.”
“So it was Ned Gibson who saved the little girl?”
“They were going to cut her out, Anne. It was only her skirt that was caught.”
Anne shuddered as she tried to picture what it would be like to be trapped so close to that threatening machine. “The child must have been terrified,” she whispered.
“I am sure it was frightening,” Trantor admitted. “But it wasn’t her hand or arm, after all. At any rate, we are lucky to get rid of Ned Gibson at last.”
“What will he do, Mr. Trantor?” Sarah asked.
“He’ll never find work in a mill again, I’ll make sure of that. Happen he’ll get something on a sheep farm soomwhere.”
Anne took a deep breath. “I can’t ask you to rethink your decision, Joseph, for I have no time to hear both sides out. We are leaving for London the day after tomorrow. But I am not sure I agree with it. Despite his insubordination, it sounds like Ned Gibson did the right thing.” Anne hesitated. “It also sounds like we need to replace that machine.”
“Now, Anne, a new machine would be an enormous expense.”
“Yet we are considering a steam-powered loom?”
“But that will pay for itself,” Trantor protested.
“I want you to have the machine inspected. I also want you to visit some mills that have the newer machines. I am sorry to add this to your responsibilities, Joseph.”
Anne could see that her cousin was angry, but he merely said politely, “Of course, cousin.”
“Do you have time to join us for nuncheon?”
“I have too much to do already, and given tha requests, I’d better decline. I wish you well in tha London, er, ventures.”
“I want you to know that I appreciate your good wishes and your hard work for me, Joseph,” Anne told him. Despite her sincerity, however, she was relieved to see him go.
Anne never slept well before traveling, but she got hardly any sleep the night before they left, what with her usual nervousness and the horrifying images of a child caught in the carding machine.
“You look dreadful, Anne. Did you sleep at all?” Sarah asked her sympathetically the next morning.
“Very little,” Anne confessed. “I could not help thinking about the accident at the mill. I hate leaving all that unfinished business behind. And leaving Patrick here! I’ll have to hire an interim groom in London, but I want someone at the hall who is capable of dealing with any trouble that may arise. Ned Gibson has even more reason now to wish to harm the Heriot family.”
“I had already thought of that,” Sarah admitted.
“Well, there is nothing he can do to either of us once we are safely on our way, and Patrick will inform me if anything happens at the mill.”
* * * *
After Anne went upstairs to see to last-minute packing, Sarah walked over to the window. She supposed she should be excited at their return to London, but instead she felt reluctant to leave Yorkshire. The truth was, as she was well aware, she, too, was reluctant to leave Patrick behind.
It wasn’t that she expected anything more from him. In London, the social distance between them would have been more emphasized, for she would be taking part in the Season, albeit peripherally, while he would be restricted to taking care of the horses and accompanying them on rides in the park. Where it was possible they would meet a prospective suitor, like Captain Scott.
She had never expected anyone to take much notice of her, but Lord Faringdon and the Astons had made sure that a few suitable men had sought her out. The trouble was, she didn’t want any of those suitable men. She wanted someone utterly unsuitable—a one-eyed Irish soldier whose kiss had stolen her heart. And she hadn’t even had the opportunity to say good-bye to him.
Sarah could feel her heart beating a little faster. Her packing was done. There was no reason in the world she couldn’t walk down to the stables to bid her mare good-bye. And if Patrick Gillen happened to be there…well, then, she would say her farewell to him too.
* * * *
Patrick was nowhere in sight. “I just wanted to wish Gypsy a good-bye,” she told the stable lad, feeling very self-conscious.
“Sergeant Gillen has got her out back, Miss Wheeler. She picked up a stone and he’s picking it out.”
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” she whispered and made her way to the paddock.
Patrick had Gypsy’s hoof on his knee and was probing it with his hoof pick.
“Good morning, Patrick.”
He looked up in surprise. “Good morning, Sarah. I thought ye’d be packin’ yer last ball gown this morning.”
“I wanted to wish Gypsy good-bye.”
It seemed the flimsiest of excuses to Sarah, but Patrick only smiled, and releasing Gypsy’s hoof, led her over to the fence.
Sarah reached out and stroked the mare’s nose. “I’ll miss you while I’m in London,” she murmured. She felt so foolishly obvious that she actually started blushing.
“I’m sure she’ll be missing ye, too, Sarah. Sure and we all will,” Patrick said with a smile.
Sarah took a deep breath and, keeping her voice steady, said, “I am very sorry you won’t be with us, Patrick.”
“To tell the truth, Sarah, I’m not,” he confessed. “I had enough of London to last a lifetime, and I’m needed here.”
Sarah blushed even deeper. Clearly Patrick Gillen wouldn’t miss her at all. The few moments that she cherished probably meant nothing to him. She reached out and patted Gypsy again, muttered a good-bye, and turned to go.
“
I
suppose ye’re lookin’ forward to it? ‘Tis the world in which ye really belong, isn’t it?”
Patrick’s tone was light, but Sarah heard something more in his question. She could ignore what might be there or she could take a risk. She turned back and, looking at him directly, said quietly, “
I
have been very happy here this winter, Patrick. And I will miss you as well as Gypsy.” She extended her hand.
He captured it between his, warming her with his body heat and something else entirely. “I will miss ye too, Sarah. I wish the best for ye.” After a moment or two he let her go, and mumbling another good-bye, Sarah hurried away.
Patrick looped the reins over Gypsy’s neck, and she turned and nuzzled his shirt. “She deserves the best, yer mistress. I should be hopin’ she meets someone in London, someone better suited for her than an old soldier like me. But God forgive me, I can’t, for I want her for myself.”
Once again, they were fortunate in the weather. There was one rainy day on the trip, the last, but the rain was light and intermittent and the roads stayed fairly dry. But it seemed they had brought the rain with them to London, for the whole first week it rained every day. By their third day in the city, Anne knew Sarah was going crazy, but she herself was quite satisfied to stay in bed until late morning and return to her bed in the afternoon for a nap. All her excitement over the Season and deciding on a husband and the direction of her new life seemed to have drained away, leaving her uninterested in anything. She knew part of her strange lassitude was a result of the trip and the dreariness of the weather, which kept them from morning exercise. But she also suspected that her mood had something to do with the unsolved problems she had left behind. Now that her eyes were opened to the realities of the mill, she couldn’t close them again. At the same time, she had no idea what she could do. Children shouldn’t be working in such dangerous circumstances. But if she didn’t hire the children, their families would lose much-needed income and send them to work elsewhere anyway. She could replace the carding machine and perhaps even reduce their hours without reducing their wages, but whatever small changes she made would hardly affect the British factory system. Surely more widespread reforms were needed, but how could she help make them? She couldn’t vote, couldn’t run for Parliament.