I met this cousin the day after I returned. His grandfather was the brother of Mr. Wilson’s father, he said, and he seemed a decent enough sort. He had been a manager at a mill that had been forced to close after Luddites had broken in and destroyed nearly all the frames, and he had come to Mr. Wilson in hopes of a position at Maysbeck. On hearing that the mill was now for sale, this younger Mr. Wilson opined that he had a small inheritance, and perhaps he could manage to actually buy the place. The sum he had to offer was much less than what Mr. Landes had hoped, but given the difficult times, it seemed—as the proverb goes—that a bird in the hand was worth quite a bit, and he and Mrs. Wilson were taking the offer under consideration.
It was not my place to argue one way or another, but if I had been asked, I would have thought to wait a bit and see if any additional offers came. Still, I could not blame Mr. Landes for wanting to get out from under the burden, and Mrs. Wilson for having no reason to delay and perhaps much desire to get the whole unpleasant business finished, now that her husband would never run his mill again.
I was sorry to see her suffer, with both her loved ones in such disastrous states, and to distract her mind, as well as to further my fledgling musical abilities, I asked her to teach me to play the piano in the evenings, after tea. She did not have Miss Kent’s skill, but she was good enough to teach me and seemed to enjoy it. Even Mr. Wilson appeared pacified by the music.
At the mill, I felt myself in a rather awkward situation—David Wilson was clearly set on taking charge, and it was sometimes difficult for me to be gracious about teaching him so that he could take over what had been my responsibilities, for it seemed I had become more used to being in that position than I had realized. One of the first things David Wilson did was send Rufus Shap packing, for the simple reason that he had not liked Rufus’ attitude. Indeed, I had not liked his attitude, either, but I had put up with him, as Mr. Wilson had urged. But David Wilson did not see it that way at all, and it might have been that he was right and I had probably been too unsure of myself to do what needed doing. He reminded me a bit of my father in that way. At any rate, Rufus was gone and the weight of his gaze was lifted, and the whole mill seemed chastened as a result.
Indeed, with fewer burdens at the mill and without the responsibility to recount each evening the activities of the day to Mr. Wilson, I had more time than I knew what to do with. The hard fact was that I had no good friends at Maysbeck. I did still go to services with Mrs. Wilson—it was the least I could do for her—and as always, she took pleasure in introducing me to the local families. I began to take greater notice of the young ladies in the congregation, who glanced at me from under their bonnet brims when I passed. Not so many young men were in attendance, for most of my age and class were at college somewhere or off making their fortunes in larger cities.
I had never gone to the holiday balls that were held at the town hall each year: I did not know how to dance, and I was reluctant to make a fool of myself. But that winter Mrs. Wilson suddenly seemed determined that I escort her there. Her sudden passion for the dance bewildered me, since she was certainly not in the market for a husband, but I was loath to disappoint her.
But in fact, I found the evening perfectly enjoyable. The young ladies saw no obstacle at all in the fact that I had never danced before; indeed, they appeared to make a contest of who could teach me the most. Although I was neither tall nor fair, they seemed to enjoy my company. The evening was half over before I realized that this was what Mrs. Wilson had intended all along. She sat there in her corner of widows, mothers, and maiden aunts, smiling smugly and eyeing each female with a seasoned and critical eye, and when the evening was over, on our way home, she bubbled with excitement. Did I not think Miss Howard was the prettiest? Did I suppose Miss Phillips the best dancer? Did I notice that Miss Grath, while shy, had a lovely smile—and such perfect teeth? Carrot would have had no end of fun with that: judging a woman by her teeth, as if she were a horse. Still, my pleasure in the evening made me realize how much I had been missing.
In the aftermath, there was a sudden flood of dainty envelopes arriving at the house, containing sweetly scented invitations to tea, to an evening musicale, to another ball, and I threw myself merrily into the game, finally putting my foolish, boyish attempts at flirtation with Miss Kent behind me. It’s true that some of the young ladies I met seemed to giggle to an annoying degree, and others gossiped as if they thought it mattered whether a dress and a hat matched or as if I cared who was flirting with whom. But there were others with whom I particularly enjoyed spending time, who seemed warm and intelligent and even quick-witted.
It was then that I became serious about learning to play the piano, for so often music was the entertainment at a tea or an evening gathering. I had already managed to pass myself off as an acceptable singer, and I wanted to be able to play as well, to hold that key to a woman’s interest. Mrs. Wilson taught me as best she could, and it was not too long before I was playing as well as or better than she.
Now, frequently on the street I would see a familiar face that smiled discreetly as we passed, and middle-aged men took a sudden interest in me and in my future, and such was the pleasure of this friendly attention that I chose not to remember that I was leaving in the summer, and that my future was still unknown to me.
*
That spring a short missive arrived from Carrot. We were not in the habit of corresponding with great regularity, but in the eight months since I had been to Lanham-Hall, he often let me know where he was bound—to the Continent, to Bath or Brighton or London; never, of course, to Maysbeck. David Wilson had taken hold at the mill, and sometimes I felt superfluous. I hardly knew what to make of that: on the one hand I was eager to get on with my life, but at the same time he had taken on a role that I had considered my own. I did not always think he made the right decisions, but I had to hold my tongue, for he had made it clear that it was not my place to question him. I understood that he and Mr. Landes had come to an agreement on the price, and I reminded myself that the issue did not much matter to me, for my future was not to be in Maysbeck.
The purpose of Carrot’s letter was to remind me of Derby Day at Epsom—only a week or so hence—and it clearly served as a summons to attend. I smiled at the presumptive wording, so sure was he that I had nothing to do other than what he was proposing. Indeed, I had been hoping to attend that year, now that David Wilson’s presence gave me more freedom from day to day. I wrote back that I would be there and looked forward to it with great anticipation.
However, I had not reckoned on Rufus Shap.