Part 1 (1/2)
The Temptation of Torilla.
Barbara Cartland.
AUTHOR'S NOTE.
It was not until 1842 that the first report by the Children's Employment Commission awoke the conscience of the country. The descriptions of the conditions in the British coalmines described in this novel are all taken from that report.
Safety devices were slow in being introduced. The John Buddles Air Pump in 1807 was the first, the Davy lamp in 1816, then John Martin's Air Lock and Fan, which was not in use until 1835.
What struck the moral minded Victorians, even more than the ever-present danger of explosions, was that girls and boys were employed together. Naked to the waist with chains between their legs, the future mothers of Englishmen crawled on all fours down tunnels under the earth drawing gigantic burdens.
Women by the age of thirty were often old and infirm cripples, worn out by the harsh conditions as well as the exhausting regime of bringing up large families on very low incomes. Such labour was often accompanied by debauchery and terrible cruelty.
When, a month after the report, Lord Ashley introduced a Bill to exclude all women and girls from the pits, as well as boys under thirteen, he was acclaimed a national hero.
CHAPTER ONE.
1816.
The Dowager Marchioness of Havingham picked up a gla.s.s of Madeira wine as she said, ”The doctors have forbidden me to touch alcohol, but I must celebrate your arrival, dearest.”
”Have they done you any good, Mama?”
The Marquis, as he asked the question, had a note of anxiety in his voice that did not escape his mother's ear.
She was used to the lazy, languid tones fas.h.i.+onable amongst the Bucks and Dandies who surrounded the Prince Regent.
She disliked, although she was far too wise to say so, the manner they had of drawling their words and looking at the world from under drooping, supercilious eyelids.
”I think the water a nasty as it is a has helped to relieve the pain,” she replied, ”but I find Harrogate very dull and quite frankly, I am longing to return home.”
”Then I have brought you a very good excuse to leave,” the Marquis said.
As his mother looked up at him enquiringly, he rose from the chair on which he had been sitting to stand with his back to the fireplace.
The suite in which the Dowager Marchioness was ensconced in the best and most expensive hotel in Harrogate was quite pleasant, and the Marquis noted that she had brought to the somewhat austere furnis.h.i.+ngs of the sitting room many touches that were peculiarly her own.
There was both a portrait in oils and a miniature of himself arranged on one of the side-tables and there were many vases of hothouse flowers a he could never imagine his mother without them.
There were soft cus.h.i.+ons which decorated the sombre damask chairs, and most important of all there were her two little King Charles spaniels, who had greeted him effusively on his arrival.
”You are quite cosy here,” he said, as if it suddenly struck him that even a hotel could have some points to it.
”Quite,” the Dowager Marchioness replied briefly. ”Now Gallen, what have you come to tell me for I am quite certain, my dearest, you have not made this long journey just to see if I am comfortable.”
As she spoke, the Dowager's eyes rested on her son admiringly.
There was no one, she thought, who could look so handsome, and, while being so exquisitely dressed could yet remain overwhelmingly masculine.
The Marquis's clothes fitted his broad shoulders and accentuated his narrow hips, but in fact, since he was so athletic, he was the despair of his tailors.
It was not fas.h.i.+onable to have strong, rippling muscles under the superfine whipcord coats.
But the Marquis was noted as an exceptionally fine pugilist in 'Gentleman Jackson's Rooms' in Bond Street, just as with the rapier he found it hard to find anyone good enough to give him a match.
Combined with this he was the outstanding Corinthian among his contemporaries, and the younger Bucks and Blades envied him his expertise with his horses and strove ineffectually to emulate the manner in which he tied his cravats.
And if to the world, or rather the Beau Monde, the Marquis appeared indifferent, cynical and autocratic, his mother knew that where she was concerned he could be considerate, kind and occasionally surprisingly affectionate.
She knew therefore that he spoke the truth when he said, ”If I thought you really desired my company, Mama, I would come to Harrogate or anywhere else to please you.”
”You know I would not impose on you to such an extent,” the Dowager Marchioness replied fondly. ”But tell me why you have come.”
There was a little pause before the Marquis declared, drawling his words, ”I have decided to get married.”
”Gallen!”
The word was a startled exclamation and now the Dowager Marchioness quickly put down her gla.s.s of Madeira in case she should spill it.
She clasped her hands together and, raising her eyes to her son's face, she asked, ”Do you really mean it? After all these years, you have met someone you really wish to make your wife?”
”I have decided to marry, Mama, because, as you well know, I must have an heir,” the Marquis replied. ”I also require a wife who is well-bred and will not bore me to distraction.”
”Whom have you chosen?”
”I have offered for Lady Beryl Fern,” the Marquis answered, ”and as I did not wish you to read of the engagement without warning in The Gazette, I ordered both Beryl and her father not to breathe a word of our intentions until you had been informed.”
”Lady Beryl Fern,” the Dowager Marchioness said slowly. ”But of course I have heard of her.”
”She is undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in England,” the Marquis explained. ”She has been acclaimed since she first burst upon the Social World. The Prince himself christened her 'The Incomparable' before the experts in the Clubs of St. James's got round to doing so.”
There was an undeniably mocking note in the Marquis's voice and his mother looked at him sharply before she said, ”What is she like, Gallen?”
Again there was a little pause before the Marquis replied, ”She enjoys gaiety, as I do, and is the life and soul of every party she attends. She will certainly embellish the Reception Rooms at Havingham House and The Castle, besides doing full justice to that Aladdin's Cave of jewels that you so seldom wear.”
”That is not what I asked you, dearest,” the Dowager Marchioness said in a low voice.
The Marquis walked with the grace that was peculiarly his own from the hearthrug to the window to stand with his back to her looking out at the trees, which so far North were only just showing the green buds of spring.
”What else do you want to know, Mama?” he asked after a moment.
”You know full well what I want to hear,” his mother replied. ”Are you in love?”