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Authors: Catherine Palmer
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week. And that horrid Richard Warring! Dick the Devil, they call him. I can see why. He is a cruel taskmaster. Mr. Sherbourne hired him for the express purpose of beating his charges into submission.”
“Mr. Sherbourne has not been in Yorkshire these many months, Pru. Perhaps he does not know about the abuses of his overlookers. I am sure he will put it all right tomorrow and your silly crusade must end.”
Prudence dropped into a chair, picked up a pair of tongs, and tossed two lumps of sugar into her tea. Each gave a healthy splash, spilling the hot liquid down the sides of the cup to puddle in the saucer. She did not care.
“Oh, how well he looked today,” she moaned as she stirred in a dollop of milk. “If you had seen him, Mary, you would understand exactly why my heart is broken.”
“I did see him, and I thought him among the handsomest gentlemen of my acquaintance.”
“You saw Mr. Walker?”
“I saw William Sherbourne.” Mary took a sip of tea. “I shall never forget his kindness to me. He ordered a stool brought over, and he settled me onto it with the most tender and kindhearted concern.”
“Then marry him yourself if you like him so well. He treated me abominably.”
“Measure for measure,” Mary intoned. “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”
“I would knock out all his teeth if I could. Horrid man.”
A knock on the door brought Mary to her feet. A housekeeper stood in the hall bearing a tray that held a letter. In a moment, the door was closed again and Mary had broken the seal as she returned to her chair.
“It is from Lady Thorne,” she exclaimed. “She invites us to dine with the family again tonight. She most particularly wishes us to play the pianoforte and sing, for she has rarely heard anything that gave her such pleasure. Several friends and neighbors will be in attendance, she writes, for everyone is eager to know us.”
Mary set the letter on the tea table. “How honored we are by this invitation, Pru. What a fine beginning to our acquaintance with that good family.”
“But we cannot go! He will be there and no doubt determined to gloat over his victory today.”
“We most certainly shall go. The innkeeper informed me that the last coach to Nottingham departed while we were at the mill humiliating ourselves before the peasantry. We have nothing better to do this evening than visit Lord and Lady Thorne and their friends, and we must make what we can of it.”
Prudence shook her head in misery. What would Betsy Fry say to her friend’s sad attempts as a crusader? Every time the memory of Mr. Walker’s grim expression crossed Prudence’s mind, she winced. He surely hated her now, for she had exposed and shamed him before all his society. Why had she ever gone to the mill? If only she had thought her actions through to the end, she would have abandoned the idea at once.
“I believed God wanted me to better the lives of the children,” she murmured. “How could I have been so mistaken?”
“You were not mistaken at all, dear heart. Those poor children ought to be taught to read and count. They should have fresh air and the chance to run about. Certainly they must be given tasks where they will be safe and cannot fall into the millworks. But I am sure there is a better way to help them than taking the mill by storm and shouting insults at their employer.”
“There is no better way. Indeed, there is no way at all to help those little ones. If Mr. Sherbourne is making a tidy profit, why would he alter anything at the mill?”
“Perhaps because he has a good heart.”
“His heart is black and cold.”
“I am going to write to Sarah at once and ask her to find out everything she can about William Sherbourne. I believe our sister will tell us that our new friend is good and kind— just as he was to me this morning. He is a gentleman, Pru. His breeding and education are excellent. He served England in the Royal Navy. Perhaps the mill has not been at
“Mr. Sherbourne has not been in Yorkshire these many months, Pru. Perhaps he does not know about the abuses of his overlookers. I am sure he will put it all right tomorrow and your silly crusade must end.”
Prudence dropped into a chair, picked up a pair of tongs, and tossed two lumps of sugar into her tea. Each gave a healthy splash, spilling the hot liquid down the sides of the cup to puddle in the saucer. She did not care.
“Oh, how well he looked today,” she moaned as she stirred in a dollop of milk. “If you had seen him, Mary, you would understand exactly why my heart is broken.”
“I did see him, and I thought him among the handsomest gentlemen of my acquaintance.”
“You saw Mr. Walker?”
“I saw William Sherbourne.” Mary took a sip of tea. “I shall never forget his kindness to me. He ordered a stool brought over, and he settled me onto it with the most tender and kindhearted concern.”
“Then marry him yourself if you like him so well. He treated me abominably.”
“Measure for measure,” Mary intoned. “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”
“I would knock out all his teeth if I could. Horrid man.”
A knock on the door brought Mary to her feet. A housekeeper stood in the hall bearing a tray that held a letter. In a moment, the door was closed again and Mary had broken the seal as she returned to her chair.
“It is from Lady Thorne,” she exclaimed. “She invites us to dine with the family again tonight. She most particularly wishes us to play the pianoforte and sing, for she has rarely heard anything that gave her such pleasure. Several friends and neighbors will be in attendance, she writes, for everyone is eager to know us.”
Mary set the letter on the tea table. “How honored we are by this invitation, Pru. What a fine beginning to our acquaintance with that good family.”
“But we cannot go! He will be there and no doubt determined to gloat over his victory today.”
“We most certainly shall go. The innkeeper informed me that the last coach to Nottingham departed while we were at the mill humiliating ourselves before the peasantry. We have nothing better to do this evening than visit Lord and Lady Thorne and their friends, and we must make what we can of it.”
Prudence shook her head in misery. What would Betsy Fry say to her friend’s sad attempts as a crusader? Every time the memory of Mr. Walker’s grim expression crossed Prudence’s mind, she winced. He surely hated her now, for she had exposed and shamed him before all his society. Why had she ever gone to the mill? If only she had thought her actions through to the end, she would have abandoned the idea at once.
“I believed God wanted me to better the lives of the children,” she murmured. “How could I have been so mistaken?”
“You were not mistaken at all, dear heart. Those poor children ought to be taught to read and count. They should have fresh air and the chance to run about. Certainly they must be given tasks where they will be safe and cannot fall into the millworks. But I am sure there is a better way to help them than taking the mill by storm and shouting insults at their employer.”
“There is no better way. Indeed, there is no way at all to help those little ones. If Mr. Sherbourne is making a tidy profit, why would he alter anything at the mill?”
“Perhaps because he has a good heart.”
“His heart is black and cold.”
“I am going to write to Sarah at once and ask her to find out everything she can about William Sherbourne. I believe our sister will tell us that our new friend is good and kind— just as he was to me this morning. He is a gentleman, Pru. His breeding and education are excellent. He served England in the Royal Navy. Perhaps the mill has not been at
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