“Don’t touch me, you monster!” she cried, jerking away from him.
“I’m not a monster. Why do you think they had to kidnap me too?”
“It was probably all a trick to make me trust you.” She looked round wildly. “I’ll kill myself if you touch me!”
He squatted down so that he was on a level with her, picking up her hands and holding them in his. “Georgie, it wasn’t a trick. I did refuse to be part of this kidnapping. But unfortunately, once we’ve been here for a few days you’ll be compromised.”
She shuddered and pushed him away, flailing out with her hands.
He pulled her to her feet, though she resisted.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t speak to you properly like this. Come and sit on the bed beside me.”
“No, no!” She began to scream and struggle wildly.
* * * *
When Martha woke up, she couldn’t think where she was for a moment. She jerked upright and stared round. The room was filled with dim grey light and her sister was sleeping peacefully beside her. Pen always could sleep anywhere, she thought resentfully. Getting up, she found her cloak more by chance than by remembering where she’d laid it, and swung it round herself, shivering in the icy air.
In the grate some embers were still alight so she poked a stick of kindling carefully into the centre, trying not to disturb the small glowing patch. To her relief the kindling caught and she began to build up a fire with small pieces of wood and coal.
While she was waiting for it to take hold she moved across to the window, her bare feet silent on the thick carpet. Outside she could see no sign of life, nothing except shadowed whiteness. What time was it? Surely at this hour there should be people at the mill getting the machinery ready for the workers to arrive? But there was no sign of footprints in the pristine snow in the yard below her. Was the whole world still asleep?
At that moment a man came out of the back door, which was just below this bedroom. He stood for a moment on the kitchen steps, huddled in a cloak. Ben. She recognised him at once. Only as he began to move did she realise that the snow was at least two feet deep. He went across to the big gates and opened the little doorway in one of them. Some people were waiting outside and after a few words with their employer, they went away again, all except a boy and three men, one of whom was Daniel, she realised.
The men tramped through the snow to the mill, following Ben in single file and using his tracks, then vanishing inside.
Though she felt cold, she stayed there staring out, her thoughts churning round in circles. She’d been so tired she’d fallen asleep straight away last night, even though this was a strange bed and she was wearing one of poor Georgie’s nightgowns, which was far too short for her. She’d meant to think about things before sleeping. No, she corrected mentally, to think about the way Ben had kissed her.
It had just been a kiss of friendship, surely? Only how was she to judge, she who’d never been kissed on the lips before? It had been very gentle and not at all alarming, in fact, very pleasant. She touched her lips, remembering.
He hadn’t meant anything by it—had he?
She clutched the cloak around her, trying to understand her own feelings, and all she could think of was the way people had laughed and sneered back in Woodbourne when a spinster of many years’ standing eventually got married. She’d hate people to talk like that about her. Of course 28 wasn’t 48, but still . . . she had learned many years ago that gentlemen weren’t interested in her in that way and therefore she mustn’t get her hopes up. Or let herself be made a fool of.
She saw movement at the mill door and a man and boy came out with shovels and started digging a proper path through the snow. Of Ben and Daniel there was no sign.
“Are you going to stand by that window all morning?” a sleepy voice asked behind her.
She summoned up a smile and turned round. “I didn’t know you were awake.”
Penelope yawned and stretched with little murmuring sounds of satisfaction. “I slept very soundly.”
Martha tried to divert her sister’s thoughts from herself. “Daniel arrived a few minutes ago. He and Ben went into the mill.”
“You call him Ben now, do you?”
“When something like this happens, it makes you feel closer to your friends.” She changed the subject hurriedly. “I wonder how Georgie and Hepzibah are—and where they are.”
“For a minute I’d forgotten. Oh, Martha, I do hope they’re both safe! Let’s get dressed at once and see if there’s anything we can do to help find them.”
“I doubt there will be. The snow seems to be about two feet deep, so they won’t be able to send out search parties until it thaws.”
“Well, we can try to keep up Ben’s spirits, at least.” She looked down at herself and grimaced. “Though I think perhaps we’d better go home and get some clean clothes. If we’re going to stay here, we should bring our own night things too.”
“We may not be able to get home so easily.”
“Oh, I think they’ll dig paths round the town centre. If we wait till later, we’ll get through without trouble.”
When they went down after a quick wash in icy water, they found Sally in the kitchen with Nan and Meg, preparing breakfast.
“You should have rung for some hot water,” Sally scolded.
“We managed,” Martha said. “We got the fire burning again so weren’t too cold.”
The kitchen was wonderfully warm, though, and Penelope went stretch her hands out to the glowing stove.
“I’ll have some tea ready in a few minutes and Meg’s lit the fire in the parlour if you ladies would like to wait there,” Sally said pointedly. “I don’t want you under my feet. Nan and I have to get breakfast for Mr Seaton and yourselves, and then who knows what? I’ve already got some bread proving.”
“Whatever time did you get up?” Martha asked in surprise.
“I couldn’t sleep. No use lying here, I thought, so up I got.” She looked at them and her gaze softened. “I’ll keep praying for that lass and Hepzibah, but my place is here, helping look after those people as can
do
something to rescue them. At my age I couldn’t go tramping across the moors, even if it hadn’t snowed. Now then, off with you!”
Penelope rolled her eyes at Martha behind their stern handmaiden’s back and followed her to the front of the house and the parlour, which wasn’t nearly as cosy as the kitchen.
Martha wished she were as certain of her role as Sally was. How could she best help Ben? She knew her presence here helped keep his spirits up, but what would happen when he went out looking for Georgie and Hepzibah? As she thought the situation through, she realised that if Georgie had been interfered with—everyone’s unvoiced fear—the poor girl wouldn’t want a group of men rescuing her. She’d need a woman’s help.
And if Hepzibah was hurt, she wouldn’t want men tending her, either.
That’s what I can do!
Martha thought as she went across to look out of the window.
I can go out with the searchers and be ready to help Georgie and Hepzibah. I’m a good walker, as strong as most men. I’m sure I won’t hold them back.
She watched people struggling through the snow to get to the mill entrance and then returning with joyful faces. The word “holiday” rang out more than once as those who’d arrived early turned back the others. Since the parlour looked out to the front, she could see that the nearby snow was well trodden down on the footpath, though still lying deeply on the street, with no signs of wheel marks.
She looked up at the sky. It didn’t look as heavy today, surely it didn’t? Would it snow again or not? How soon would they be able to leave the town to search for Georgie? And would she be able to persuade the men to let her go too?
Her lips tightened. She’d find a way. She had to. She was quite sure that she would be needed.
* * * *
Ben returned to the house soon afterwards, trying to keep at bay his desperate anxiety about his sister and Hepzibah’s safety. The steam engine was idling and keeping the mill from freezing, but he couldn’t in all conscience let his operatives spend the day in wet clothes, then go out again into the bitter cold. Nor could he settle to anything himself until he knew what had happened to Georgie.
A few people were staying at the mill to keep an eye on things and he’d make sure hot food and drink were sent out to them. They would have the old mill house to retreat to, with a fire to keep them warm. And maybe after this was all over, he’d build a covered walkway from the gate to the mill and also across to the house, or a room where the workers could get warm and dry their outer clothes.
Spoiling them, Brindley would call it. Well, Owd Noll was heading for real trouble the way he ran his mill. There had been plenty of accidents there, though not fatal ones, thank goodness. That was a miracle in itself. Daniel had left rather than take the guards off the machinery, but the new engineer was a dull fellow, barely capable of doing his job and was certain to do anything his employer asked of him without question.
Well, that wasn’t Ben’s business. He had enough on his own plate. But he and Jonas had discussed the situation quite a few times, worrying about those poor, thin children and stunted, hollow-eyed adults. And if they ever worked out a way to help them, they would take action.
Before he went inside he looked up at the sky, wondering if it was his imagination that it seemed lighter, looking as if it’d lost some of its grey heaviness by dumping its load of snow. Yesterday had been the worst snowfall he could ever remember, a real blizzard, and there would be deep drifts out on the moors for days. Even if it didn’t snow again, he knew they’d not be able to get far out of town for a day or two—and by that time, who knew what would have happened to Georgie and Hepzibah? He stood still for a moment, oblivious to the icy wind as anguish about where his sister could be washed through him yet again.
He had failed her!
The minute he got inside the back door, Sally greeted him with a pair of slippers and an order to get out of his wet shoes before he tramped snow all over the house. “And you’d better change your trousers, too, sir. Those are soaked.”
“But I’m going out again as soon as I’ve eaten.”
“Then you can change back into the wet ones before you do that, can’t you? But if you sit around in them, you’ll catch your death of cold and that will help no one.”
She sounded so like Hepzibah he didn’t protest further.
And it was comforting to be gently scolded like that. Almost as comforting as holding Martha’s hand had been.
* * * *
Noll watched his operatives arrive for work, chilled and soaking. They should get sacks for weather like this and put them round their shoulders, he thought, forgetting that he’d refused to give them the old sacks from the mill, because he could get money for them from a rags dealer he knew.
When he went out to make his first round of the mill, he found himself beyond his knees in snow and yelled at Gerry to get a path to the house cleared at once. Ignoring his soaking trousers, he marched round, yelling at one group of workers who had let the fluff pile up under the machines. “Get that lot cleaned up.”
“We’ll do it as soon as they turn the machinery off for the night,” Gerry said soothingly. “And they’ll not get paid extra for staying behind, neither.”
“They’ll get it done straight away. I don’t want dirty fluff blowing up on to my clean yarn.”
“Them kids are stiff with cold. They’ll not be as nimble today,” Gerry said placatingly. “Best leave it till later.”
“They’d better be nimble. If they’re not, they can find work elsewhere. I want it done now.”
Behind him he heard someone muttering a protest and swung round, yelling, “Quiet!” If he’d known who it was, he’d have sacked them on the spot.
As he left the mill to go back for his breakfast and change his trousers, he turned back to Gerry. “Don’t forget to get the fluff cleaned out.”
Shaking his head, Gerry went back inside.
Noll went to change his trousers, then stuffed himself full of good food and toasted his feet in front of the fire.
His pleasure was rudely interrupted when someone hammered on the front door and refused to be told by the maid that the master wasn’t available. Noll stood up and shoved his feet into his slippers, intending to go and tell whoever it was to clear off.
But before he could get to it, the door of his cosy parlour was flung open and Ben Seaton burst in.
“I want a word with you, Brindley!”
“I’m busy.” Noll saw such determination in the other man’s face that he yelled, “Fetch Gerry!” to the maid.
Ben turned and shut the door in her goggling face, then moved across to the older man. “I want to know what’s happened to my sister?” He watched Noll stare at him as though in puzzlement and yet felt quite sure the fellow was involved. Well, as Daniel had said, who else could it be in a small place like Tapton?
“How should I know what’s happened to her? Have you lost her?”
“She’s been taken away—in a carriage that stopped for a while in your mill yard.”
Noll was so shocked that Seaton knew about this, after all the care he’d taken, that he stammered, “How did you—” before he realised he’d given himself away. He snapped his mouth shut on further careless words.
“How did I what?” Ben moved forward till he was standing toe to toe with Brindley. “How did I find out?”
“I was only wondering how you came to that conclusion,” Noll said, forcing himself to speak mildly. Seaton seemed bigger than he’d remembered. How had he found out about the carriage, dammit? They’d had the operatives shut inside the mill while the vehicle was there, so who could have betrayed him? Whoever it was would lose their job and be booted out of town as well. He decided not to say anything about Georgie marrying Peter, not yet. He’d send round a note in a day or two, make Seaton sweat until then.
Ben guessed what Noll was thinking and said quickly, “I was told by several people who saw the carriage going into your yard and coming out again yesterday afternoon.”
“Nothing to do with me. I was inside the mill all afternoon. Had a bit of trouble with one of the machines.”