the Marquis evoked in her by his touch.
“Yes, Barrowfield,” she said, and now her voice was strong. “It is in Yorkshire, my Lord, and it is a filthy, foul, squalid place because the people who live there work in the Havingham mine!”
She drew in her breath.
“Does that mean nothing to you? Well, let me tell you what it means to the miners and their families.”
She turned round as she spoke and now the Marquis released her wrist.
“Do you know that your pit is unsafe? Do you know there are accidents practically every month, when, if the men are not killed, they are maimed and crippled for life?”
She drew in her breath before she continued,
“And in the darkness there are not only explosions and underground fires and water in which children of five stand for hours every day and there is no proper ventilation.”
Her eyes met the Marquis’s and she realised that he was looking at her with surprise.
The words tumbled from her lips as she continued,
“All the other mines in South Yorkshire have installed the Buddle air-pump that was invented nine years ago, but in the Havingharn mine they cannot afford such luxuries!”
Her voice was bitter as she went on,
“Lord Fitzwilliam’s mines use safety lamps, but apparently the Havingham mine cannot afford that either, nor can it afford any of the customary gifts or output bonuses.”
As if she could not bear to look at him, Torilla stood staring across the Park and added in a different tone,
“How do you think I feel when I hear how of many racehorses you possess? That you are one of the richest men in England and that you have more possessions and more houses than you can count?”
The Marquis did not reply and she went on,
“Have you ever stopped to think how you could exist on a weekly wage of thirteen shillings, which is all your miners get? Or how would you fare if you found that out of the three pounds. you received a month eleven shillings had to be spent on candles and powder?”
Torilla’s voice trembled as continued,
“But it is the children who haunt me – children who never have enough to eat, children who, if they are frightened or sleepy in the stuffy darkness, get beaten!”
There were tears now in her eyes, and because she had no wish for the Marquis to see them she turned her back on him to add,
“I knew before I came South that you were the devil himself, a monster whom I – cursed every day I lived in Barrowfield. Do you really think I would want Beryl – whom I love – to marry – y-you – ?’
The last words were almost incoherent.
As if she could bear it no longer Torilla walked away, leaving the Marquis sitting behind her on the fallen tree. She did not look back. It was in fact impossible to look anywhere, for tears blinded her eyes.
Only as she neared The Hall did she wipe them away fiercely with her handkerchief and on entering the house she hurried up to her bedroom to wash her face and remove all traces, she hoped, of the emotions that had so upset her.
‘Now he knows the truth,’ she told herself defiantly, ‘and he will hate me as I hate him!’
Only as her agitation and her emotions subsided a little did she wonder what the Marquis had felt on hearing what she had revealed to him.
She remembered the surprise she had seen on his face that seemed to be genuine and she told herself that perhaps he really had no idea of the conditions in the Havingham mine.
But still intent on hating him she thought that was no real excuse.
He owned the pit, the profit it made was his and no man should exploit human beings without concerning himself with the conditions under which they laboured.
Even as she told herself this, she realised she was only repeating what her father had said.
Yet it was beyond doubt so true that she could find no extenuating excuses for the Marquis even if he had not been aware of what was happening in a pit that actually bore his name.
‘I hate him!’ she told herself as she went
“Yes, Barrowfield,” she said, and now her voice was strong. “It is in Yorkshire, my Lord, and it is a filthy, foul, squalid place because the people who live there work in the Havingham mine!”
She drew in her breath.
“Does that mean nothing to you? Well, let me tell you what it means to the miners and their families.”
She turned round as she spoke and now the Marquis released her wrist.
“Do you know that your pit is unsafe? Do you know there are accidents practically every month, when, if the men are not killed, they are maimed and crippled for life?”
She drew in her breath before she continued,
“And in the darkness there are not only explosions and underground fires and water in which children of five stand for hours every day and there is no proper ventilation.”
Her eyes met the Marquis’s and she realised that he was looking at her with surprise.
The words tumbled from her lips as she continued,
“All the other mines in South Yorkshire have installed the Buddle air-pump that was invented nine years ago, but in the Havingharn mine they cannot afford such luxuries!”
Her voice was bitter as she went on,
“Lord Fitzwilliam’s mines use safety lamps, but apparently the Havingham mine cannot afford that either, nor can it afford any of the customary gifts or output bonuses.”
As if she could not bear to look at him, Torilla stood staring across the Park and added in a different tone,
“How do you think I feel when I hear how of many racehorses you possess? That you are one of the richest men in England and that you have more possessions and more houses than you can count?”
The Marquis did not reply and she went on,
“Have you ever stopped to think how you could exist on a weekly wage of thirteen shillings, which is all your miners get? Or how would you fare if you found that out of the three pounds. you received a month eleven shillings had to be spent on candles and powder?”
Torilla’s voice trembled as continued,
“But it is the children who haunt me – children who never have enough to eat, children who, if they are frightened or sleepy in the stuffy darkness, get beaten!”
There were tears now in her eyes, and because she had no wish for the Marquis to see them she turned her back on him to add,
“I knew before I came South that you were the devil himself, a monster whom I – cursed every day I lived in Barrowfield. Do you really think I would want Beryl – whom I love – to marry – y-you – ?’
The last words were almost incoherent.
As if she could bear it no longer Torilla walked away, leaving the Marquis sitting behind her on the fallen tree. She did not look back. It was in fact impossible to look anywhere, for tears blinded her eyes.
Only as she neared The Hall did she wipe them away fiercely with her handkerchief and on entering the house she hurried up to her bedroom to wash her face and remove all traces, she hoped, of the emotions that had so upset her.
‘Now he knows the truth,’ she told herself defiantly, ‘and he will hate me as I hate him!’
Only as her agitation and her emotions subsided a little did she wonder what the Marquis had felt on hearing what she had revealed to him.
She remembered the surprise she had seen on his face that seemed to be genuine and she told herself that perhaps he really had no idea of the conditions in the Havingham mine.
But still intent on hating him she thought that was no real excuse.
He owned the pit, the profit it made was his and no man should exploit human beings without concerning himself with the conditions under which they laboured.
Even as she told herself this, she realised she was only repeating what her father had said.
Yet it was beyond doubt so true that she could find no extenuating excuses for the Marquis even if he had not been aware of what was happening in a pit that actually bore his name.
‘I hate him!’ she told herself as she went
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