looking—well, you know what she looks like—issuing orders right and left, like a . . .”
“Like a man. Bloody right. Puts yer back up, don’t it?”
“No. No, that’s not it. I don’t care that she’s the boss.” He could even concede, from the little he’d seen, that she was probably good at it.
“Well, what, then?”
“I won’t be able to say much good about her mine in my report.”
“What’s wrong wi’ it?”
“The same things that are wrong with all of them—low wages, bad air, unsafe conditions, no contingencies for underground emergencies. Today I heard Jenks, the mine captain, talking about the loss of two or three miners a year as ‘natural wastage.’ ”
Jack sighed. “And so it is.”
“Now
that’s
the attitude I can’t abide. That’s the
very
—”
“Oh, Con,” Jack said, getting to his feet laboriously, “let’s not do this one again, eh? Not just now, anyways, whilst I’m this thirsty and in need of a sip. Come, let’s go and have our supper at the George.”
“The George? But Maura’s coming in twenty minutes to fix our meal. Why—”
“Yes, but she’m ugly as a hedgehog. Last night she spoilt my dinner just by lookin’ at it.”
Connor snorted. “She’s not ugly, you randy old goat. All that’s wrong with her is she keeps her legs together. So far. Not like
Rose.
”
“All? You can say
all
? Oh, my boy, ee’ve been working too hard and too long. Come wi’ me now,” he urged with mock solicitousness, “let ol’ Jack show you how to ’ave a good time.”
But Connor shrugged away. “Leave off, I’m not going with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m tired, because we’re paying this girl two shillings a week to cook for us, and because I’ve got work to do.”
“Rhad work, is it?” Connor nodded, and Jack let go of his arm. “Con, Con, I’m that worried. What ee needs is a woman, in the very worst way. If ee had a warm body in bed of a night, ee wouldn’t be ruinin’ yer health by readin’ books and writin’ dull tracts for yer maniac socialist cronies.”
Connor managed to laugh at that. But after his brother had gone, he couldn’t help thinking that he wrote his “dull tracts” for people exactly like Jack, workingmen and –women throwing away their youth and health just to stay alive, while their labors swelled the profits of adventurers and speculators who wouldn’t know a copper mine from a colliery.
Still, Jack had a point: there was something to be said for a warm body in bed of a night. What irritated him was that the picture that instantly sprang to mind at the phrase was the warm body of Miss Sophie Deene.
IV
It took time, but eventually nine hours of battling solid rock and bad air every day no longer reduced Connor to utter exhaustion. On Friday, when Jack issued his nightly invitation to step over to the tavern with him, he said yes.
One of the draws of the George and Dragon, besides a supper prepared by someone other than the spectacularly incompetent Maura, was a chance for Connor to see Rose again, although with her clothes on this time. She was a big-breasted, black-haired girl of twenty or so, with a cast in one eye and a great, booming voice. She was fond of smacking customers on the back and laughing raucously at their jokes, or hers. But he noticed that when she spoke to Jack, she softened her tone and touched him with great gentleness.
Although they’d been in the village for less than a week, Jack had already made friends with most of the regulars at the George. Many were miners at Guelder and Salem, but others were tenant farmers for Lynton Great Hall, Wyckerley’s manor house and the seat of its most exalted residents, Lord and Lady Moreton. The atmosphere was friendly and warm at the George, and even though the Pendarvis brothers, being newly arrived in a village that rarely saw new arrivals, were an object of much interest and speculation, no one pried into their personal histories or held
“Like a man. Bloody right. Puts yer back up, don’t it?”
“No. No, that’s not it. I don’t care that she’s the boss.” He could even concede, from the little he’d seen, that she was probably good at it.
“Well, what, then?”
“I won’t be able to say much good about her mine in my report.”
“What’s wrong wi’ it?”
“The same things that are wrong with all of them—low wages, bad air, unsafe conditions, no contingencies for underground emergencies. Today I heard Jenks, the mine captain, talking about the loss of two or three miners a year as ‘natural wastage.’ ”
Jack sighed. “And so it is.”
“Now
that’s
the attitude I can’t abide. That’s the
very
—”
“Oh, Con,” Jack said, getting to his feet laboriously, “let’s not do this one again, eh? Not just now, anyways, whilst I’m this thirsty and in need of a sip. Come, let’s go and have our supper at the George.”
“The George? But Maura’s coming in twenty minutes to fix our meal. Why—”
“Yes, but she’m ugly as a hedgehog. Last night she spoilt my dinner just by lookin’ at it.”
Connor snorted. “She’s not ugly, you randy old goat. All that’s wrong with her is she keeps her legs together. So far. Not like
Rose.
”
“All? You can say
all
? Oh, my boy, ee’ve been working too hard and too long. Come wi’ me now,” he urged with mock solicitousness, “let ol’ Jack show you how to ’ave a good time.”
But Connor shrugged away. “Leave off, I’m not going with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m tired, because we’re paying this girl two shillings a week to cook for us, and because I’ve got work to do.”
“Rhad work, is it?” Connor nodded, and Jack let go of his arm. “Con, Con, I’m that worried. What ee needs is a woman, in the very worst way. If ee had a warm body in bed of a night, ee wouldn’t be ruinin’ yer health by readin’ books and writin’ dull tracts for yer maniac socialist cronies.”
Connor managed to laugh at that. But after his brother had gone, he couldn’t help thinking that he wrote his “dull tracts” for people exactly like Jack, workingmen and –women throwing away their youth and health just to stay alive, while their labors swelled the profits of adventurers and speculators who wouldn’t know a copper mine from a colliery.
Still, Jack had a point: there was something to be said for a warm body in bed of a night. What irritated him was that the picture that instantly sprang to mind at the phrase was the warm body of Miss Sophie Deene.
IV
It took time, but eventually nine hours of battling solid rock and bad air every day no longer reduced Connor to utter exhaustion. On Friday, when Jack issued his nightly invitation to step over to the tavern with him, he said yes.
One of the draws of the George and Dragon, besides a supper prepared by someone other than the spectacularly incompetent Maura, was a chance for Connor to see Rose again, although with her clothes on this time. She was a big-breasted, black-haired girl of twenty or so, with a cast in one eye and a great, booming voice. She was fond of smacking customers on the back and laughing raucously at their jokes, or hers. But he noticed that when she spoke to Jack, she softened her tone and touched him with great gentleness.
Although they’d been in the village for less than a week, Jack had already made friends with most of the regulars at the George. Many were miners at Guelder and Salem, but others were tenant farmers for Lynton Great Hall, Wyckerley’s manor house and the seat of its most exalted residents, Lord and Lady Moreton. The atmosphere was friendly and warm at the George, and even though the Pendarvis brothers, being newly arrived in a village that rarely saw new arrivals, were an object of much interest and speculation, no one pried into their personal histories or held
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