My lord, she said. I never thought to see you here today.
Shh, he said, looking about to see if she had been overheard. Not so much of the my lord if you please.
I could shout it, she threatened.
And have me lynched? I had not thought you so bloodthirsty, Miss Wayland.
And not so much of the Miss Wayland either, she said.
He laughed. Then what am I to call you?
You do not need to address me at all.
He ignored that. I believe your name is Helen. A lovely name and most suitable for one as beautiful and fearless as you are.
My lord, you go too far. It was said in a fierce whisper.
My name is Miles, he said. Pray use it, then we shall be equal.
We can never be equal, she said. You, of all people, should know that.
All are equal in Gods eyes.
Then the Earl of Warburton must consider himself above God, for he would never accept that.
My father belongs to the old school, Helen. I doubt he could be persuaded to change his ways now.
They were being jostled by the crowd and he put a hand under her arm to steady her. She resisted her first impulse to knock it away. It was firm and warm and rather comforting. And you? she asked, turning to look up at him and found him looking down at her with an expression she could not interpret. It was full of wry humour, which she found unnerving. Her life until recently had been governed by her work with her father. The men she met were her fathers employees, friends and business acquaintances and she dealt with them accordingly. Meeting and dealing with this man was outside her experience. For one thing they had not been properly introduced, which was absurd since they had already encountered and spoken to each other twice before. But it was not the lack of an introduction that confused her; it was the way he looked at her and his self-possession, which somehow seemed to diminish hers. She took herself firmly in hand. If she was going to fight the Earl, she had better learn to stand up to his son.
I am my own man, Helen.
But you are also your fathers son.
Oh, undoubtedly I am that.
So, why are you here?
Curiosity. I want to know why men risk everything to take part in meetings like this which could have them arrested and can have no favourable outcome.
Desperation, I should think.
And you, I presume, are here to report it for your newspaper.
Yes.
And can you do that without bias?
I sincerely hope not. It would be excessively dull and achieve nothing.
It was not the answer he expected and made him chuckle. How long have you been producing the Warburton Record?
The Record was started by my father. He worked for a printing press in London, but when we moved to Warburton he set up on his own account as a printer; then he realised there was no way of disseminating local news except by pamphlets published by those with an axe to grind, so he started the Record. That was eight years ago.
I meant how long have you been doing it?
I used to love helping my father as a child and learned the business along with my growing up, especially after we moved here. When he died last year, he left the business to me. She did not add that it was all he had to leave. His many clashes with authority had left him almost penniless. No one was interested in buying the business as a going concern; the only offer she had ever had was for the machinery. She was not told who the prospective buyer was, but suspected it was someone who had no interest in running the Record, but rather wished to shut it down. Far from discouraging her, it had given her the impetus to keep going, especially as Tom and Edgar were both behind her.
Why did your father choose to leave London and come to Warburton? he asked. Norfolk is hardly the hub of government.
It was my mothers birthplace; as she was mortally ill, she wanted to die here where she had spent her childhood and where her parents had lived and died.
I am sorry for your loss, he said softly.
Thank you, my She stopped and corrected herself. Thank you, sir.
He bent over and whispered in her ear, so close his warm breath was having a strange effect on her limbs. Thats better than my lord, but its still not the address I asked for.
She pulled herself together. Oh, I cannot use that. It wouldnt be proper.
Is it also improper for me to address you as Helen?
You know it is, but no doubt you will continue to do as you please.
But I like the name. It rolls off the tongue so readily.
Now you are bamming me.
No. That would be ungentlemanly.
Ah, but at the moment you are not dressed as a gentleman. Why the disguise?
Do you think I would learn anything in my usual garb? I would be hounded off the common. At least this way I can be an ordinary soldier back from the war, which I am. He looked about him. I see a goodly number of those here, including Roger Blakestone. He was in my regiment, a troublemaker even then.
No one has said he is a troublemaker. He is out of work, as they all are. The farmers have stood the men off because the crops, if they ever grew at all, have been ruined by the weather; theres no work for the soldiers, either. There ought to be something they could do that is not reliant on the weather.
And how will listening to a man like Jason Hardacre help that? he queried. He is for insurrection, which will surely make matters worse.
Oh, I do not think the people will be swayed by him. They simply want to make their voices heard and have a day out that doesnt cost them anything but a copper or two for a pie and a glass of cordial.
The behaviour of the crowd seemed to bear that out.
Many of them were in family groups, having a picnic. I never thought of sustenance, he said. And Im suddenly devilish hungry. Would you like something to eat, Miss Oh, dear, it will have to be Helen, after all.
No, thank you.
I intend to have something. Theres a woman over there selling hot pies. I think I will try one of those.
He left her and she thought that was the last she would see of him; suddenly she felt rather alone, even with the noisy crowds pushing and shoving and threatening to topple her over. She made her way to the edge of the throng where she could breathe freely. Five minutes later he was beside her again. I thought Id lost you, he said, handing her a paper packet in which reposed a succulent meat pie.
But I said no thank you, she said. Do you never listen?
Oh, I heard you, but I did not believe you. We have been standing about an age and I was ready to wager you would eat it if it were put before you.
She considered refusing, but the pie did smell rather savoury. I hate to waste it, she said. Thank you. She took a bite and realised she was indeed rather hungry.
They stood together, enjoying their pies and not speaking, until a flourish of a bugle heralded the arrival of Jason Hardacre. A cheer went up as he mounted the cart with Mr Blakestone. But even before the latter opened his mouth to introduce the speaker, a troop of militia rode onto the common at a fast trot, right into the middle of the crowd, who attempted to scatter in terror, but they were so close-packed it was almost impossible to escape. There were shouts and screams as people were knocked over by the horses or hit by the blunt edge of a sword or the sharp point of a spur. Even if they had wanted to depart, which most of them did, they could not get away. In turning from one horseman, they were confronted by another.
They stood together, enjoying their pies and not speaking, until a flourish of a bugle heralded the arrival of Jason Hardacre. A cheer went up as he mounted the cart with Mr Blakestone. But even before the latter opened his mouth to introduce the speaker, a troop of militia rode onto the common at a fast trot, right into the middle of the crowd, who attempted to scatter in terror, but they were so close-packed it was almost impossible to escape. There were shouts and screams as people were knocked over by the horses or hit by the blunt edge of a sword or the sharp point of a spur. Even if they had wanted to depart, which most of them did, they could not get away. In turning from one horseman, they were confronted by another.
Miles was swift to act. He guided Helen into the shelter of an elder bush, then ran into the middle of the mêlée. Picking up two small children who were in danger of being trampled and tucking one under each arm, he pushed his way towards the lieutenant of the troop. Call your men off, he commanded. Someone will be killed. This was a peaceful gathering until you arrived.
It is a seditious meeting, the lieutenant said. In tended to encourage rebellion against the law of the land. I am empowered to put it down by whatever means I think fit.
By whose order?
His lordship, the Earl of Warburton, sitting as a magistrate.
And I am ordering you to call off your men before someone is killed.
And who are you to be giving orders?
He had obviously not been recognised in his lowly clothes. It made him smile. My name is Captain Miles Cavenham of his Majestys Dragoon Guards. As your superior officer, I order you to call off your men and ride slowly from the field. His manner of delivering the order left no doubt he was used to command, even if he did choose to dress like every other man there.
The lieutenant obeyed reluctantly, but it was some time before order was restored and the people had the common to themselves again. Roger Blakestone and Jason Hardacre had disappeared as soon as the soldiers appeared. Miles returned the children to their weeping mother and set about assessing the casualties. He was joined by Helen.
There were a few broken bones, some blood and many bruises, but mercifully no one had been killed. Helen put that down to the Viscounts timely intervention. He had undoubtedly also saved her, for there had been a horseman bearing down on them when he pushed her into the shelter of the bush.
This is what happens when people hold unlawful meetings, he said.
This is what happens when men like the Earl order mounted soldiers against innocent women and children, she retorted.
He knew she was right and did not respond. Instead he said, We need medical assistance. Will the doctor come?
Ill fetch him.
No, send a boy. Hell be quicker. I need you to help me with the casualties. We must separate those who can go home and look to their own wounds from those who need medical attention. And we need pads and bandages. You do not faint at the sight of blood, I hope.
No, I am not squeamish.
Looking about her for someone to send, she noticed a skinny fellow in rags watching them intently. It was difficult to tell how old he washe had a childlike look about him, though he must have been in his thirties. He was grinning and dancing from one foot to the other, his eyes bright with excitement.
Poor idiot, Miles said, as he suddenly darted away. I hope someone is looking after him.
Helen found a lad to send for the doctor and set about pulling up her skirt and undoing the ties of her petticoats and allowing them to drop to the ground. She picked them up and tore them into strips. They were busy binding some of the wounds when the doctor arrived and took over.
Those who had been bandaged were either sent home or to the towns small hospital in carts and carriages. When everyone had gone and the common deserted except for a scattering of waste paper, broken pies which were being attacked by pigeons and dogstorn clothing and churned-up hoof marks, Miles and Helen found themselves alone, their work done.
They stood and faced each other. He had lost his hat and his curls lay untidily over his forehead. His face was smeared with mud and blood; it was only when he raised his hand to try to wipe it that Helen noticed the long cut on his forearm. It had ceased to bleed, but there was a dirty crust of dried blood on it.
You have been hurt, she said, in surprise. Why didnt you say so?
It is nothing. I felt the edge of the sword of one of the militia. It is not deep.
It needs cleaning. And the doctor has gone. Come home with me and Ill clean it for you. Its nearer than Ravens Park.
They walked back to the centre of town. It was crowded with people who had managed to escape the melee; they were standing in groups discussing what had happened. They watched Miles and Helen go past and that set them talking again. Helen could almost hear them: Whats going on there? Thats Viscount Cavenham or Im a Dutchman. What is he doing dressed like that?
Did you see him scoop up those children?
And stop that lieutenant when he would have broken the head of everyone there. Seems a strange thing for him to do, seeing who he is.
And what is Miss Wayland up to? I wager it will be in the next edition of the paper. She is bound to be in trouble for sponsoring the meeting.
Well, if you want my opinion they are the most unlikely couple in Christendom.
Miles must have realised it himself, for he was smiling as Helen opened the shop door and ushered him inside. She led the way through the front office to the printing room at the back where a basin and a jug of water were kept for the compositor to wash the ink from his fingers. She left him there while she ran upstairs to find ointment and bandages. When she returned he had already put water in the basin and was splashing the wound.
It is only a scratch, he said.
Nevertheless, he allowed her to sit him down and sponge it clean. This necessitated touching him and that set up a tumult inside her she could not understand. The warmth from his skin seemed to radiate from her fingers, up her arm and over her whole body until she felt as though she were on fire. Carefully she cleaned the cut, trying to ignore the heat in her limbs and hoping it did not show in her cheeks because it was the height of foolishness to be so affected. There, I think I have it clean. A little ointment and a bandage and youre done. She was surprised how normal her voice sounded.
Done, he repeated and laughed. Perhaps you ought to turn me over and roast the other side, or perhaps stick me on a spit and set it turning slowly. Ill be cooked in no time.
And too tough to eat, Ill wager, she said, answering him in the same way as she tied off the bandage. She could not pull down his shirtsleeve because it had been torn off.
Will you report my little adventure in your paper?
What, tell everyone the Earls son was the hero of the hour? I thought you wanted to be incognito?
So I did, so I do, but I did not think you would take any heed of that.
Oh, I think I will. Otherwise it would spoil my story of the Earls infamy if his son turned out to be a hero. I fear he shall have to remain anonymous.
Why the Earls infamy? He was not even there
Of course not. He would not dirty his hands, but he was the one who ordered the militia out.