The Master of Liversedge (12 page)

THIRTEEN: AN EVENING PARTY

Mary’s hands trembled slightly as she fastened the small buttons at the back of her simple yellow muslin gown. She picked up the locket that contained miniatures of her parents, and clasped its slim chain about her neck. This done, she surveyed herself anxiously in the ancient spotted mirror that stood on her dressing table.

Her russet hair was piled high on top of her head, exposing her small ears to view more than was usual. For a moment she toyed with the idea of pulling it all down again, and doing it more in her everyday style. After all, she was only the governess, and Mr. Arkwright might think it a liberty for her to dress like his other female guests. But just then her uncle knocked quietly on the door to signify that he was ready, so there was no time to alter anything. She snatched up the fine white woollen shawl which had been lovingly fashioned for her by her mother, seized her reticule and gloves, and hurried from the room.

They were conveyed to the Arkwrights’ house in Dr. Walker’s carriage; the doctor and his wife lived not far from the Vicarage, and had kindly offered to take up Mr. Booth and his niece. John, who had not been included in the invitation, saw them off with a solemn face. Mary had not found many opportunities of talking alone with him lately; but she knew that he was disturbed by the arrival of yet another consignment of shearing frames to Arkwright’s mill. News of this event had spread throughout the district with alarming rapidity.

Somewhat surprisingly, the Greys had accepted William Arkwright’s invitation. When she set eyes on Lucinda, Mary wished heartily that they had not. Miss Grey always looked lovely: tonight, in a blue satin shot with gold, she certainly surpassed herself. She wore a narrow sequined ribbon threaded through her shining golden curls, and this enhanced her usual regal air. At the side of her, Mary felt positively dowdy.

Lucinda greeted her with a nod of immense distance, which prompted Mrs. Shaw, an old friend of the Arkwrights, to ask Mrs. Arkwright who was that beautiful, stuck-up girl in the blue.

‘That’s Miss Grey — I’ll present her to you just now, my dear,’ promised Mrs. Arkwright, resplendent in purple and lace. ‘She’s Colonel Grey’s daughter, and, of course, they move in the best society in York, so it’s a great honour to have her here at all.’

‘Happen it is,’ said forthright Mrs. Shaw, with a sniff. ‘But she means us to know it, don’t she? Myself, I reckon more to that little lass in yellow — Caro’s governess, isn’t she?’

Mrs. Arkwright nodded. ‘Yes; you must meet her, too. Oh, here come the Websters! I must go and welcome them.’

‘I’ll come, too,’ replied Mrs. Shaw. ‘I don’t need to stand on ceremony with Martha Webster, for I’ve known her ever since I can remember. I wonder when that boy of theirs means to take a wife? He’s five and twenty now, and no sign of anything serious. I don’t know what ails the lads nowadays — take your Will, for instance.’

‘Oh, Will’s not the marrying kind,’ said Mrs. Arkwright, bustling towards the newcomers.

Mrs. Shaw shot a shrewd glance at Arkwright, who was at that moment talking to Lucinda Grey with earnest attention.

‘All men’s the marrying kind — think on,’ she said, meaningly.

But fortunately, Mrs. Arkwright was too involved in her duties as a hostess to heed the words of a very old friend.

Altogether, they numbered sixteen at the dinner table, including the family. The Colonel and Lucinda sat one on each side of Arkwright, who was in his place at the head of the table. Mrs. Arkwright sat at the foot with Caroline on one side of her, and Mr. Booth and his niece on the other. Mary found that Arthur Webster had been placed on her right; he was a pleasant, easy-going young man who looked after her diligently, and soon coaxed her into laughing.

‘You’re not from Yorkshire, are you, Miss Lister?’ he asked her, after a time.

‘No — how did you guess?’

‘You haven’t the twang — and your voice is softer. Our women have loud voices, for the most part.’

‘But warm hearts,’ retorted Mary.

‘Oh, as to hearts, ma’am, I can’t say. I’ve no experience in such matters, more’s the pity.’

‘Indeed?’ she smiled incredulously.

‘I see you don’t believe me, but I assure you it’s true. I’m still hoping to meet someone who will instruct me. Now, you’re a governess, Miss Lister — ’

‘You’re absurd,’ she said, smiling faintly. It was impossible to take him seriously, but she did not quite like him to flirt with her so openly on such a short acquaintance. ‘Mrs. Arkwright is trying to catch your attention.’

While Arthur Webster was talking to his hostess, Mary let her glance wander to the other end of the table. She was surprised to find that Arkwright was staring straight at her, a disapproving frown on his brow. For a moment, their eyes met; Mary’s dropped before his, and to her discomfiture, she felt a blush rising. What was wrong? Did he think she was forgetting her place in chatting too freely with one of his guests? Or did he disapprove of the interest which Mr. Webster was showing in her, believing that she had encouraged it? Either way, she thought ruefully, he evidently judged her conduct unbecoming.

‘You’re very quiet,’ teased Arthur Webster, returning to the attack as Mrs. Arkwright turned her attention elsewhere. ‘A penny for them.’

‘They wouldn’t be worth it,’ returned Mary, with a quick glance down the table again.

He noticed the movement, and looked in the same direction.

‘Don’t let our friend Arkwright put you off,’ he said, guessing her thoughts with uncomfortable precision. ‘After all, he’s been amusing himself until this very moment in the most enviable way.’

‘I — I don’t know what you mean,’ said Mary.

He gave her a quizzical glance. ‘Don’t you, ma’am? But just wait a moment — there, look now! What did I tell you?’

She looked again, and was unable to take her eyes away for several minutes. Arkwright was bending over to talk to Lucinda Grey; the dark head and the fair one were very close together, their attitude suggestive of a tender intimacy that brought a quick pang to Mary.

In that moment, she made a surprising and most unwelcome discovery.

‘Well, don’t stare them out of countenance,’ whispered her lively neighbour. ‘Have some fellow feeling, eh?’

Mary bestowed a brief, vague smile on him, and forced herself to ignore what was going forward at the head of the table.

The meal was drawing to a close, and the final course was laid before the guests. A babble of talk and laughter filled the room; eyes were bright, and faces animated. Mrs. Arkwright looked around her with a complacent smile, and thought how pleasant it all was, and that they must certainly do it again soon.

And then the smile froze on her face.

A sudden crash of shattering glass broke into the cheerful buzz of conversation: it was followed by a dull thud as something landed on the carpet underneath the windows, not far from the dining table.

The chatter died away. Several of the women uttered half-stifled shrieks. Arkwright jumped up from his seat, brushing past Lucinda almost roughly as he made his way to the spot where the object lay. He stooped and picked it up: it was a heavy stone.

He pulled back the curtain from the unshuttered window, releasing a shower of glass splinters. There was a large jagged hole in the window pane where the stone had passed through.

He dropped the stone, and dashed from the room. Colonel Grey threw down his napkin and followed him almost at once.

An uneasy murmur of voices arose, and one of the younger lady guests, Louisa Shaw, burst into tears. Her husband bent over her, whispering words of comfort in her ear. Caroline looked for a moment as though she might follow young Mrs. Shaw’s example.

‘What is it, Mama?’ she asked, in a frightened whisper.

‘Nothing, love,’ asserted Mrs. Arkwright, with a stoutness of heart she certainly did not feel. ‘Just some lads playing about, I dare say — your brother’ll soon teach them a lesson, you mark my words.’

‘Do you really think it’s that?’ demanded Caroline, doubtfully.

‘Well, I don’t, for one,’ said Arthur Webster quietly to Mary. ‘When my father told me that Will Arkwright had got some more shearing frames, I knew there’d be trouble.’

‘You don’t think — ’ the colour receded from her cheeks.

‘Nay, who can say? All the same, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll just see if I can lend a hand out there.’

It seemed that several of the men had formed a similar intention, for they began to rise.

This brought an immediate outcry from their womenfolk. ‘Don’t go and leave us alone!’

Doctor Webster took charge. ‘You young fellows go,’ he directed. ‘The rest of us will stay with the ladies, unless you call for us.’

Pretty little Louisa Shaw began to cry with renewed vigour at the threat of losing her husband: but her mother-in-law took her firmly but gently in hand, while she signalled quietly to Tom to do as the doctor suggested. He and Arthur Webster went quickly from the room.

‘Well, there’s no sense in the rest of us sitting here,’ said Mrs. Arkwright, trying desperately to rally the party. ‘Our pudding’s spoilt, so why don’t we all go into the parlour, and Nell will bring us a few of her cheesecakes, and some sugared plums. The gentlemen can bring the decanter along with them, and we shall all be comfortable again. Louisa, my dear, perhaps you would be the better for a very little — just a spot, you know — of port wine in some warm water — ’

Louisa thanked her hostess tearfully, but said she really could not bring herself to take anything of that nature.

‘Oh, well, you know best, child,’ replied her hostess. ‘Shall we move, then?’

Everyone seemed agreed on this, and the change was quickly made. But the spirit had gone out of the party. Mrs. Arkwright did her best, ably aided by Mary; but the tempting sweetmeats which they pressed on the guests were refused, and only the level of the decanter showed signs of appreciation.

‘I’ll have the tea-tray brought in,’ whispered Mrs. Arkwright to Mary. ‘It’s too early, really, but the ladies need a stimulant more than the men do, I reckon, and they’re punishing the port handsomely.’

‘Should we try some music?’ suggested Mary.

Mrs. Arkwright brightened. ‘A good idea, Miss Lister! I’ll ask Miss Grey to sing to us; for, upon my word, she’s as cool as a cucumber — not a bit put out.’

Lucinda was willing, in her calm, assured way, to oblige the company. Mary offered to play for her; and, after the usual preliminaries of selection were over, they both applied themselves to the task of entertaining a more than usually difficult audience.

After a time, the atmosphere grew calmer. Young Mrs. Shaw, fortified by tea and the smelling-bottle, dried her eyes, and was able to listen to Miss Grey’s song with the appearance of attention. It was just finishing when male voices were heard in the hall, and a moment later the party of men, headed by Arkwright, burst into the room.

‘Any luck?’ asked Mr. Shaw, senior.

Arkwright shook his head. ‘Whoever did it has either got clean away, or is in hiding somewhere close at hand. I’m inclined to favour the first — he had five minutes’ start of us, and knew where he was making for, which gave him a decided advantage.’

‘Hiding somewhere?’ echoed Mrs. Webster, nervously; while Louisa Shaw showed signs of breaking down again.

‘No, I don’t really think so,’ replied the mill-owner, looking around at the ladies with a reassuring air. ‘In any case, I’ve set the men on to keep a sharp look-out, so you’ve nothing to fear.’

Colonel Grey added the weight of his opinion to this pronouncement, and Mr. Tom Shaw went to sit by his wife’s side.

‘Well,’ continued Arkwright, ‘we mustn’t allow this unfortunate incident to spoil our whole evening, must we? Miss Grey, we seem to have interrupted your song. If you will pardon our somewhat dishevelled state, perhaps we can prevail upon you to favour us with another?’

Mrs. Arkwright seconded this appeal, and several of the men also took it up: but it was evident that a mood of uneasiness had settled over the party, particularly among the women. Excuses were brought up which made an early start for home desirable; some mentioned the fact that there was a good deal of cloud tonight obscuring the moon.

At last, Miss Grey did give one more song in a style that was faultless, yet failed to make much impression on her audience. No one seemed inclined to follow her example; and once again, the excuses began to be heard.

Arkwright applied to young Mrs. Shaw, but she shook her head, begging in a faint voice to be excused, as she feared her nerves were too greatly overset at present.

‘We’d best get her home,’ said Mrs. Shaw, senior. ‘Bella, love’ — to Mrs. Arkwright — ‘you’ll forgive us, I’m sure.’

‘Oh, but you can’t go yet, Mrs. Shaw!’ protested the incorrigible Arthur Webster. ‘Miss Lister will sing for us, won’t you ma’am? I’m sure you’ll not wish to go until you’ve heard her,’ he added, turning to Mrs. Shaw again.

Mary declined hastily, not at all happy at being thrust into notice. But Arthur Webster, faced with the prospect of an abrupt ending to what he had found a pleasant evening, was determined. He picked up a book of duets from the pianoforte, and handed it to Mary.