Part 11 (1/2)

She drew in her breath before she continued, ”And in the darkness there are not only explosions and underground fires and water in which children of five stand for hours every day and there is no proper ventilation.”

Her eyes met the Marquis's and she realised that he was looking at her with surprise.

The words tumbled from her lips as she continued, ”All the other mines in South Yorks.h.i.+re have installed the Buddle air-pump that was invented nine years ago, but in the Havingharn mine they cannot afford such luxuries!”

Her voice was bitter as she went on, ”Lord Fitzwilliam's mines use safety lamps, but apparently the Havingham mine cannot afford that either, nor can it afford any of the customary gifts or output bonuses.”

As if she could not bear to look at him, Torilla stood staring across the Park and added in a different tone, ”How do you think I feel when I hear how of many racehorses you possess? That you are one of the richest men in England and that you have more possessions and more houses than you can count?”

The Marquis did not reply and she went on, ”Have you ever stopped to think how you could exist on a weekly wage of thirteen s.h.i.+llings, which is all your miners get? Or how would you fare if you found that out of the three pounds. you received a month eleven s.h.i.+llings had to be spent on candles and powder?”

Torilla's voice trembled as continued, ”But it is the children who haunt me a children who never have enough to eat, children who, if they are frightened or sleepy in the stuffy darkness, get beaten!”

There were tears now in her eyes, and because she had no wish for the Marquis to see them she turned her back on him to add, ”I knew before I came South that you were the devil himself, a monster whom I a cursed every day I lived in Barrowfield. Do you really think I would want Beryl a whom I love a to marry a y-you a ?'

The last words were almost incoherent.

As if she could bear it no longer Torilla walked away, leaving the Marquis sitting behind her on the fallen tree. She did not look back. It was in fact impossible to look anywhere, for tears blinded her eyes.

Only as she neared The Hall did she wipe them away fiercely with her handkerchief and on entering the house she hurried up to her bedroom to wash her face and remove all traces, she hoped, of the emotions that had so upset her.

'Now he knows the truth,' she told herself defiantly, 'and he will hate me as I hate him!'

Only as her agitation and her emotions subsided a little did she wonder what the Marquis had felt on hearing what she had revealed to him.

She remembered the surprise she had seen on his face that seemed to be genuine and she told herself that perhaps he really had no idea of the conditions in the Havingham mine.

But still intent on hating him she thought that was no real excuse.

He owned the pit, the profit it made was his and no man should exploit human beings without concerning himself with the conditions under which they laboured.

Even as she told herself this, she realised she was only repeating what her father had said.

Yet it was beyond doubt so true that she could find no extenuating excuses for the Marquis even if he had not been aware of what was happening in a pit that actually bore his name.

'I hate him!' she told herself as she went downstairs to breakfast with Beryl to find to her relief that the Marquis was not present.

'I hate him!' she thought again at luncheon.

There were a large number of guests, but she found it impossible not to glance occasionally at the Marquis sitting at the other side of the table.

He had Beryl fawning on him on one side and a very attractive married Peeress on the other.

'They do not care what he does,' Torilla thought scathingly.

Then remembering what she had felt when he touched her wrist, she thought that perhaps he had the same magical effect on women.

'He has the charm and the guile of the devil,' she told herself severely. 'He is everything that is wrong, wicked and contemptible! But once he is married to Beryl, I shall seldom see him again.'

Wondering why the thought was dispiriting rather than elating, she continued to force herself into remembering the conditions in Barrowfield and not to let them fade from her mind in the comfort, beauty and luxury of Fernleigh Hall.

It was difficult, however, when Beryl told her there was to be a large dinner party that night to celebrate her engagement.

”I want you to look attractive, dearest,” she said to Torilla, ”so come to my bedroom and we will choose one of my prettiest gowns for you to wear.”

Torilla longed to reply that as far as she was concerned there was nothing to celebrate.

But it was impossible to refuse Beryl as she pulled glamorous and expensive gowns from her wardrobe, holding them up against Torilla to see the effect before finally deciding upon the one she thought suited her best.

”You would look like a bride in white,” she said, ”and it is what I should wear. But Gallen has given me some magnificent turquoises and I have a gown of exactly the same colour.”

”I could wear pink,” Torilla suggested.

”Wear white and you will look like an angel,” Beryl answered, ”or should I say a saint?”

She gave a little laugh.

”Saint Torilla a that is what I think I will call you in future. You are so good, my dearest, that you make me feel guilty when I think of all the things I have done which you would disapprove of.”

”I am no saint,” Torilla retorted in a low voice. ”I also do things which I a know are a wrong.”

”I don't believe it,” Beryl expostulated. ”You are good a you always have been. What is more, Torilla, you have the power of making other people want to be good.”

”Please a please, Beryl a don't talk like that,” Torilla said in a strange voice.

It made her feel inexpressibly guilty to know that she had allowed the Marquis to kiss her, but was also deceiving her cousin by not telling her.

And she had remembered her mother saying once many years ago, ”We should confess our sins to G.o.d, Torilla, but never if it would hurt them, to other people.”

Torilla had not understood exactly what her mother meant at the time, but now she knew there would be no point in making Beryl unhappy.

If anyone must bear the consequences of a wrong action, it should be the person who had done it.

”Whatever you may say, Torilla,” Beryl went on, ”you make me want to be good and who knows a perhaps one day I shall succeed!”

She spoke seriously, then with a puckish look in her eyes, she added, ”What a bore I should be! I am quite certain Gallen would leave me at once!”

She danced across the room holding the white gown she wished Torilla to wear, in her arms.

”Can you not see how dull it would be for everyone if I became saintly and thought only of good works?” she teased. ”Lord Newall would stop wis.h.i.+ng to kiss me! Gallen would undoubtedly return to the arms of one of his flirts and half the dressmakers and the caterers in London would go out of business!”

She flung the white gown over a chair.

”No, no!” she laughed. ”Each to his proper place, yours on a pedestal, mine in a bath of champagne!”

Torilla could not help laughing.

”A bath of champagne?” she questioned.

”It is really true that some of the beauties in London do bathe in champagne because they think it is good for their skin,” Beryl explained.