Yet at that moment, David despised him.
For the first time today, he was simply enjoying himself, and Benjamin had to interrupt. And with the other gentlemen on his heels, David knew the subject they wished to discuss.
“I was trying to explain what you were saying about that business in the South, but I fear I am doing a poor job of it,” said Benjamin with a smile, nodding at David to join a group of gentlemen, but with the sun shining down on him and Miss Leigh’s conversation to entertain him, he was quite content to remain precisely where he was.
“There is little to say on the subject,” said David, trying valiantly to keep the exhaustion from his voice. “Yes, the riots will likely spread farther and touch even our corner of the country, but it is unlikely to be any more disruptive than years with poor crops or heavy taxes.”
“Having the worker rise up and destroy our land and machinery is hardly a small matter,” refuted Mr. Pitt with a frown. “They are wrecking any improvements the gentry attempt to make to their lands.”
David rubbed at his face and forced himself upright. “That is what happens any time new improvements alter the way things are done. The new threshing machines are replacing the laborers, and they are understandably unhappy. We saw the same with the Luddites and the mills, but progress cannot be stopped. With innovation there is always a period of unrest when everything and everyone are at odds, but the world will right itself again and move forward—altered, to be sure, but it will move forward.”
“But I have just arrived from Kent, and the gentry are in fear for their lives,” said Mr. Standish. “I have been trying to convince my father that we should remove to the Continent for a time, but he refuses to leave our home unprotected.”
Why did people seem determined to fear the very worst from every upset? It was as though each generation expected theirs would be the last to walk the planet, and each calamity heralded the end. Yet their unfounded fears were forgotten the moment the storm passed, and they remained blind to their folly and began wringing their hands once more when the gales inevitably returned.
“As there have been no deaths or injuries reported, I have no idea why anyone believes themselves in danger,” murmured David.
“How can you be so calm? The newspapers are full of reports concerning the destruction the rioters are wreaking,” pressed Mr. Standish with a scowl.
David huffed out a halting chuckle. “Do not forget that newspapers are a business like any other. For all that they tout to be the purveyors of truth and knowledge, fear-mongering sells papers more than rational discourse. But as to your question, I assure you I have seen similar issues arise with the mill workers. Whether it be uprisings, shifts in our economy, bad harvests, or any number of unforeseeable downturns, something bad is bound to happen sooner or later. Any business can weather such storms with the proper preparation—set aside savings and diversify your investments.”
Benjamin’s gaze darted between the gentlemen, his brow furrowing as all the doomsayers continued to spout their poison, and David held back a sigh. Seven years’ difference was hardly noticeable in more advanced ages, but in their twenties, it was quite the span of time. More often than naught, David felt more like an elder brother than a friend to the young man.
Every other year some new fear swept through the country, determined to keep people convinced that death and penury were nipping at their heels. And at moments like these, David couldn’t help but think that perhaps he ought to be more concerned, as he was the only one in creation who didn’t seem bothered. Not that he didn’t foster concerns about what was to come, but this crippling belief that destruction was about to rain down was ridiculous and nonsensical.
Hardships would come, to be certain. One could not live without experiencing them regularly. David’s chest tightened at the thought of all those laborers displaced by the new threshing machines. Transition was always difficult, and people feared change. But even bad shifts in the world brought with them new possibilities in time.
The workers who had rioted against the mechanization at the mills now had other work, laboring in the factories that produced the parts for said machines. And though it was not a blessing to all, David knew the history of his family’s mill well enough to know that he had more journeymen on staff to maintain all those machines than they’d required in the past. Men who were mere weavers in the past now had new skills and higher pay.
No matter how often newspapers and politicians predicted ruination, the country still stood and life continued on as it had before. Altered, certainly, but not destroyed. The world would not end tomorrow, the next day, or anytime soon.
“Oh, I do believe you are underestimating the trouble,” said Miss Leigh, trotting out her driest of tones, and a smile tickled the corners of David’s lips. “Surely they will be beating down our doors and dragging us from their beds, ushering in a revolution unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. The streets will run red with the blood of our threshing machines.”
David forced himself not to laugh and give her jest away, though it was doubly difficult when the other gentlemen stared at her in varying states of confusion and horror. Her own brother blinked at her, shifting from foot to foot with a furrowed brow. David stared at him until Benjamin finally met his gaze, and with raised brows, he tried to send the fool a silent message. Could he not understand her humor? Certainly, it was odd, but that made it all the more amusing, for so few seemed to grasp it. But Benjamin simply frowned.
Shaking his head, David left the fellow to his confused thoughts and turned back to the lady at his side. The conversation continued on as it had, but Miss Leigh glanced at him, catching his eye. The faintest of smiles tipped up the corners of her lips as the pair shared a silent laugh.
***
Autumn was a trying time. Though Katherine enjoyed the changing foliage and shift from summer to winter, Michaelmas stuffed their social calendar to the brim. With that holiday starting to fall out of fashion, she’d hoped it would mean quieter Septembers and Octobers, in which she could simply enjoy blackberry tarts and the crisp autumn air.
Unfortunately, the popularity had simply shifted, bringing Christmas into more prominence, and with it, a slew of new parties and gatherings. Thankfully, that meant the time between events was greater. However, it also meant that the torture was strung out for months at a time as Michaelmas blended into Christmas. But with Rosanna’s masquerade and the Hyatts’ picnic concluded, the rest of September might be far more enjoyable. The concert was arriving shortly, but Katherine hardly counted that as a social event, as it involved music rather than conversation.
Mama’s voice buzzed in the background, recounting the many ills of the world (most of which were Katherine’s doing for being so unlucky as to be born plain, bespectacled, and with the likeability of a trout), but it was easy enough to ignore, for she rarely required responses. Papa tucked away his newspaper before alighting from the carriage and walking into the house; Benjamin and Mama followed suit, though the lady didn’t pause in her litany.
Tucking her hands behind her, Katherine drifted behind them, and the family scattered to their separate spaces in the house the moment they crossed the threshold. She took the stairs to her bedchamber, but as she stopped on the landing, she paused as Benjamin called behind her.
“Do you have feelings for Mr. Archer?”
Ice spread through her veins, freezing her in place. Despite her having counted the gentleman as a friend for some time, no one had ever asked that question before. Katherine quickly took stock of her actions and words, searching for any reason that Benjamin might ask such a thing.
Turning in place, she peered at him as Benjamin perched on the bottom step.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, her heart swelling with gratitude that her tone was even.
Climbing the stairs, he lowered his voice and watched her as he’d never done before. Benjamin’s eyes narrowed, and his tone was cautious, though it was certain enough.
“Do you care for Mr. Archer?” he repeated.
