“Noted,” he said. He cleared his throat again. “Sincesome of usare confessing, I should like to say a few words.”
The four women blinked at him in the dim lantern light. It was as if one of the chairs had suddenly begun to speak. Drew crossed her arms over her chest, transfixed.
“Right. I feel compelled to offer up my excuse for not riding on the Temple of Order in Eden and hauling the lot of you out. It is a bollocks excuse, considering all you’ve endured, but an excuse just the same.”
“You didn’t come because I bade you not to,” said Timothea. “I believed myself incapable of life at Avenelle.”
“Well, I should’ve ignored you, shouldn’t I have? If you’ll indulge me, I’ll endeavor to explain why I did not.”
The girls leaned in. Timothea rubbed her brow with a shaky gloved hand. Drew shuffled closer to him, her heart pounding. She could kiss the snobby debutantes on the mouth. No amount of engineering could have created a healing moment such as this. It was so much more important than dresses and curling wands and watercolors.
Beside her, Ian took a deep breath. “About the time you were entering into the Temple of Order in Edam,” he began.
“Eden,” corrected Ivy, laughing a little.
“Right,Eden. About that time, I’d become closely involved with a group of tenants at Avenelle who, as their life’s work, shear the wool of Avenelle sheep and then make it into cloth and lace. They have this conflict with local mill owners. I’ve alluded to this bit with each of you before.”
“The Flemish tenants,” realized Timothea.
“Right. The Flemish tenants were outraged at the competition posed by the mills. And, for whatever ill-advised reason—call it youthful naivete, call it arrogant miscalculation, call it sheer stupidity—I began to attend the angry meetings of these tenants to hear their complaints. However, I did not attend in my role as their landlord; instead I dressed as one of them, a tenant, a sympathetic lace maker from another estate. I wore a weaver’s clothing and spoke in a Cornish-y accent and let on that I, too, was concerned about the future of lace making and the threat of the mills. Because of this, they took me into their confidence—which had been my goal, for them to speak plainly. I had hoped, foolishly, to convince them toworkwith the mills, to find some compromise, to appeal to the new duke for help. Well, can you guess what happened?”
“They found you out?” said Ivy, enrapt.
“No, not at first. First, they took up arms and marched onboth the mills and the home of the local magistrate to demand that the mill owners stand down. They went in with torches and pitchforks, presumably to burn all of it to the ground and fight any man who opposed them.”
“All of your careful observation was for naught,” realized Drew.
“Yes,” said Lachlan. “For naught. Their final meeting evolved into a sort of fevered, violent rage, consumed by mob rule. There was nothing I could do to stem the tide. When I comprehended their true intent, I was given little choice but to ride ahead, to warn the mill owners, to warn the magistrate, to alert a company of army corpsmen at the nearby garrison. I feared for the safety of the village.”
“Ian, oh dear,” said Lady Tribble.
“Indeed,” Lachlan said. “The soldiers I alerted were bored after coming home from an actual war, not to mention partial to law and order. They leapt at the chance to fight. They stormed the road, meeting the craftsmen on the outskirts of the village.” Ian took off his hat, ran a hand through his hair, put it back on. He sighed. His face was tight with regret. “A terrible melee ensued,” he finished.
“Oh, Ian,” sighed Timothea. “But I had no idea.”
“How could you?” asked Imogene, “you were on your knees at T.O.E.”
Lady Tribble ignored her. “But were you drawn into the fighting?”
“I was horrified by the lot of it. My own tenants—seeing me now as an imposter and, ultimately, as a rat—fought me and launched themselves at this company of trained soldiers. The soldiers underestimated the grit and will of local men, fighting for their way of life.
“Honestly, it happened so fast and was so out of control, I could do little more than dive in and out of the chaos, dragging away injured men from both sides. Before the night was over, one man lost his life. Many were injured. Property was burned. The riot only served to intensify theill-will between the craftsmen and the mill workers, and it burns bitterly to this day.
“And do you know what? One man, alone, embodies all the blame for that night. And that man... is me. I’m seen as both the inciting force behind the riot and the traitor who beat back my own tenants. I am a rabble sympathizer and in bed with the devil mills. I am the cause and the effect.
“My own tenants distrust me, even now; and most informed people in London believe I demonstrated terrible leadership and poor discretion. Other riots have followed throughout the country, days from Dorset, and my name is referenced in every report of fresh unrest.
“Who can say? Perhaps they are not wrong to call me out. But where does that leave us—how am I to go on?”
“You could move to Denmark,” suggested Ivy thoughtfully.
“I could do, except that I have an obligation to Avenelle and also a love for it, despite my mishandling of the riot. I could also hide myself away,disengage—which is something I’ve tried, actually. It’s the reason I did not come for you at T.O.E. Hiding is ultimately a weak plan, and it does very little good for anybody. I regret not coming for you so very deeply.
“However—and this is the point of my story—whatever you’ve survived in the past need not define the rest of your life.
“What does this mean?” he continued, warming to his topic, “it means that regardless of the years spent at T.O.E., Timmie; regardless how out of your depth you girls may feel becauseReverend Sloggrobbed you of formative lessons or the outside world, however significant—regardless. IfIcan move on from the riots—which, admittedly, is a work in progress—then you can accept whatever’s happened in your past, face it, consider how you might improve in the future, and put it behind you. Move ahead, carry on. Find fulfilment and joy in your new life.
“Will you sometimes feel lost and untrained, Imogene? Yes, you will, but it is survivable, I assure you. I’ve survived. Avenelle is prosperous for the first time in half a century. I toil daily, even now, for some solution for the craftsman, whether they want my help or not. I’ve somehow managed the homecoming of you lot. We’re here in London, aren’t we? I’ve married Miss Trelayne here.” He gestured to Drew, and she could do little more than blink at him, so very captivated by this speech. She did love him so very much.
