The Paper Cap. A Story of Love and Labor

CHAPTER XI – AUNT JOSEPHA INTERFERES

“Nothing seems to have happened so long ago as an affair of Love.”

“To offend any person is the next foolish thing to being offended.”

“When you can talk of a new lover, you have forgotten the old one.”

LIFE is full of issues. Nothing happens just as we expect or prepare for it, and when the squire returned home late in the afternoon, weary but full of enthusiasm, he was yet ignorant concerning the likely nomination of Bradley for the united boroughs of Annis and Bradley. He had walked all of fourteen miles, and he told his wife proudly, that “Jonathan was more weary with the exercise than he was.”

“All the same, Annie,” he added, as he kissed her fondly, “I was glad to see Britton with the horse and gig at the foot of the hill. That was a bit of thy thoughtfulness. God bless thee, dearie!”

“Yes, it was. I knew thou hed not walked as much as tha ought to hev done while we were in London. I don’t want thy fine figure spoiled, but I thought thou would be tired enough when thou got to the foot of the hill.”

“So I was, and Jonathan was fairly limping, but we hev settled on t’ mill site – there’s nothing can lick Clitheroe Moor side, just where it touches the river. My land covers twenty acres of it, and on its south edge it is almost within touch of the new railway going to Leeds. Jonathan fairly shouted, as soon as we stood on it. ‘Squire,’ he said, ‘here’s a mill site in ten thousand. There cannot be a finer one found in England, and it is the varry bit of land that man Boocock wanted —and didn’t get as tha knows?’ Now I must write to Josepha, and tell her to come quickly and see it. She must bring with her also her business adviser.”

“Does tha reckon to be under thy sister?”

“Keep words like those behind thy lips, and set thy teeth for a barrier they cannot pass. We are equal partners, equal in power and profit, equal in loss or gain.” Then he was silent, and Annie understood that she had gone far enough. Yet out of pure womanly wilfulness, she answered —

“I shall not presume to speak another word about thy partner,” and Antony Annis looked at her over the rim of his tea cup, and the ready answer was on his lips, but he could not say it. Her personal beauty smote the reproving words back, her handsome air of defiance conquered his momentary flash of anger. She had her husband at her feet. She knew it, and her steady, radiant smile completed her victory. Then she leaned towards him, and he put down his cup and kissed her fondly. He had intended to say “O confound it, Annie! What’s up with thee? Can’t thou take a great kindness with anything but bitter biting words?” And what he really said was – “Oh, Annie! Annie! sweet, dear Annie!” And lo! there came no harm from this troubling of a man’s feelings, because Annie knew just how far it was safe for her to go.

This little breeze cleared the room that had been filled with unrestful and unfair suspicions all the day long. The squire suddenly found out it was too warm, and rose and opened the window. Then he asked – like a man who has just recovered himself from some mental neglect – “Wheriver hev Dick and Kitty gone to? I hevn’t seen nor heard them since I came home.”

“They went to the village before two o’clock. They went to the Methodist preacher’s house, I hev no doubt. Antony, what is to come of this foolishness? I tell thee Dick acts as never before.”

“About Faith?”

“Yes.”

“What hes he said to thee about Faith? How does he act?” asked the squire.

“He hes not said so much to me as he usually does about the girl he is carrying-on-with, but he really believes himself in love with her for iver and iver.”

“I’ll be bound, he thinks that very thing. Dick is far gone. But the girl is fair and good. He might do worse.”

“I don’t like her, far from it.”

“She is always busy in some kind of work.”

“Busy to a fault.”

“I’ll tell thee what, my Joy. We shall hev to make the best we can of this affair. If Dick is bound to marry her, some day their wedding will come off. So there is no good in worrying about it. But I am sure in the long run, all will be well.”

“My mind runs on this thing, and it troubles me. Thou ought to speak sharp and firm to Dick. I am sure Josepha hes other plans for him.”

“I’ll break no squares with my lad, about any woman.”

“The girls all make a dead set for Dick.”

“Not they! It hes allays been the other way about. We wanted him to marry pretty Polly Raeburn, and as soon as he found that out, he gave her up. That is Dick’s awful way. Tell him he ought to marry Faith, and he will make easy shift to do without her. That is the short and the long of this matter. Now, Annie, thou must not trouble me about childish, foolish love affairs. I hev work for two men as strong as mysen to do, and I am going to put my shoulder to the collar and do it. Take thy awn way with Dick. I must say I hev a fellow feeling with the lad. Thou knows I suffered a deal, before I came to the point of running away with thee.”

“What we did, is neither here nor there, the circumstances were different. I think I shall let things take their chance.”

“Ay, I would. Many a ship comes bravely into harbor, that hes no pilot on board.”

“Did tha hear any political news? It would be a strange thing if Jonathan could talk all day with thee, and the both of you keep off politics.”

“Well, tha sees, we were out on business and business means ivery faculty a man hes. I did speak once of Josepha, and Jonathan said, ‘She is good for any sum.’”

“Antony, hes thou ever thought about the House of Commons since thou came home? What is tha going to do about thy business there?”

“I hevn’t thought on that subject. I am going to see Wetherall about it. I cannot be in two places at one time, and I am going to stick to Annis Mill.”

“Will it be any loss to thee to give up thy seat?”

“Loss or gain, I am going to stand firmly by the mill. I don’t think it will be any money loss. I’ll tell Wetherall to sell the seat to any man that is of my opinions, and will be bound to vote for the Liberal party.”

“I would see Wetherall soon, if I was thee.”

“What’s the hurry? Parliament is still sitting. Grey told me it could not get through its present business until August or later.”

“It will not be later. September guns and rods will call ivery man to the hills or the waters.”

“That’s varry likely, and if so, they won’t go back to London until December. So there’s no need for thee to worry thysen about December. It’s only June yet, tha knows.”

“Will tha lose money by selling thy seat?”

“Not I! I rayther think I’ll make money. And I’ll save a bag of sovereigns. London expenses hes been the varry item that hes kept us poor, – that is, poorer than we ought to be. There now! That will do about London. I am a bit tired of London. I hear Dick and Kitty’s voices, and there’s music in them. O God, what a grand thing it is to be young!”

“I must order fresh tea for them, they are sure to be hungry.”

“Not they! There’s no complaining in their voices. Listen how gayly Dick laughs. And I know Kitty is snuggling up to him, and saying some loving thing or ither. Bless the children! It would be a dull house wanting them.”

“Antony!”

“So it would, Annie, and thou knows it. Hev some fresh food brought for them. Here they are!” And the squire rose to meet them, taking Kitty within his arm, and giving his hand to Dick.

“Runaways!” he said. “Whativer kept you from your eating? Mother hes ordered some fresh victuals. They’ll be here anon.”

“We have had our tea, mother – such a merry meal!”

“Wheriver then?

“At Mr. Foster’s,” said Dick promptly. “Mr. Foster came in while Kitty and I were sitting with Faith, and he said ‘it was late, and he was hungry, and we had better get tea ready.’ And ‘so full of fun and pleasure we all four went to work. Mr. Foster and I set the table, and Faith and Kitty cut the bread and butter, and all of us together brought on cold meat and Christ-Church patties, and it was all done in such a joyous mood, that you would have thought we were children playing at having a picnic. Oh! it was such a happy hour! Was it not, Kitty?”

“Indeed it was. I shall never forget it.”

But who can prolong a joy when it is over? Both Kitty and Dick tried to do so, but the squire soon turned thoughtful, and Mistress Annis, though she said only nice words, put no sympathy into them; and they were only words, and so fell to the ground lifeless. The squire was far too genial a soul, not to feel this condition, and he said suddenly – “Dick, come with me. I hev a letter to write to thy aunt, and thou can do it for me. I’ll be glad of thy help.”