Sweet and Twenty (15 page)

From the general injustice, Dorking began moving to particular local items. Was it not the very least to be done for these brave boys who returned without an arm or a leg that they be given jobs of a sedentary nature when the government had them to give? But of course it was not the case. This was recognized by all the locals as a reference to the post office job having gone to Jed Evans, the late M.P.’s nephew, who was well able to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow, when Corporal Winton had applied for it. Corporal Winton sat blushing, taking care not to look at his sleeve, which was pinned to his jacket as it had no arm to fill it. It was a moving, emotional speech, and even the Tories present were made to feel there had been some nefarious doings in their town under Tory management.

It was not fair for the Whigs to have two speakers at the dinner and the Tories only one, so Mr. Telford’s speech was given unofficially, from his chair rather than from his feet, while the port passed around. But it was a speech for all that, and it was equally as helpful to the Whigs as Colonel Dorking’s. Telford was a worldly, interesting man, and he spoke with authority as to the influence of the bridge he was building and the advantage it would be to the town. Even Bathurst became interested, and Alistair was the keenest listener in the room, interrupting the speech occasionally with a pertinent question, usually having to do with some technical matter.

Reising could find no opening to mention the toll and was in a poor humor with his protégé, who actually sat praising the project! It was Hudson’s turn to give a sympathetic smile to his rival. Tony was behaving pretty well, only mentioning a little more often than was necessary that it was to be known as the Fellows Bridge. But there was a definite wind of approval for Fellows in the air, and no one took exception to his repeated remarks.

After the port was finished, Dorking was taken to the parents of veterans and introduced to them. Then he spent some moments with the fathers of the two dead soldiers, and was invited in both cases to visit their homes on the morrow to meet the mothers. Both were Tory corn-growers, and Hudson was elated, but too clever to push either himself or Tony forward for the visit. This was not the time to push politics; he’d let Dorking, a confirmed Whig, do it for him.

* * * *

The campaign was reaching its final phase. There was now less than a week to go till voting, and spirits were high in the Whig camp. Turning the riding seemed now not only possible but assured. Between the Fellows Bridge, the visit of Dorking to the veterans’
do, and the subsequent pledge of a couple of farmers’ votes during the house visits and the alienation of a few more from Tory ranks by the depredation on their pockets of the dashers from the city who had made known their preference for Mr. Alistair, it was beginning to look as though Mr. Fellows would get his Honorable and his M.P. He felt that his own dispensing of the
sine qua non’s
had also been instrumental, though Mr. Alistair had come down more heavily in that department recently, and in fact Hudson found his candidate a particularly clutch-fisted man.

The gentlemen had not lately been to New Moon, but after Dorking left and they had nothing more pressing to do than go and admire the bridge site and go into the stores for a chat and a small purchase or two, they took time one morning to drop in on the ladies, their first supporters. Fellows had to repeat to them a jumbled version of a bon mot of Telford’s having to do with the bridge leading not only to Chepstow, across the river, but to London as well—for Mr. Fellows. He hadn’t quite understood the joke, but everyone had laughed, so he knew it was clever.

“By Jove, it’s a capital bridge,”
he began. “It not only goes north to Chepstow, but is to be turned around and take me south, eh Matt?”

The ladies naturally looked confused. “That’s right. The bridge is to carry the Honorable Anthony Fellows to Parliament,”
Matt explained.

“You want to be careful, Mr. Fellows,”
Sara adjured him. “I wouldn’t go on it for the world, and if they are to be moving it about, it will be even more unstable.”

“It’s a little joke, you see, Miss Monteith,”
Fellows explained to her. Certainly everyone had laughed last night at the Cat’s Paw when Telford had said it. “They ain’t really going to move the bridge, I believe. No such thing, eh, Matt?”

“That’s right. It’s just a joke.”

“Weighs a ton,”
Fellows went on. “The way of it is, I won’t go on the bridge at all. I’ll take the road and my carriage to London. My traveling carriage—and I think I should take my curricle too, don’t you, Matt?”

“Yes, certainly. You won’t want to lumber around the city in a traveling carriage.”

“Well then, it’s not a bridge to London,”
Sara pointed out. She had been perusing her papa’s map lately to see how far away Mr. Alistair would be when he went to London, and had discovered that London was on the same side of the river as Crockett. Not very far away, either—only about an inch, which couldn’t be very far, even in miles.

“Dash it, you don’t need a bridge to get to London. There’s a road goes straight south. The river is to the north,”
Fellows said, becoming angry.

“London is to the east, is it not?”
Martha asked.

“South to Bath, I mean, then east,”
Fellows said knowingly.

“That’s what I said,”
Sara told him. “You don’t need the bridge to go to London.”

“Ho ho, I see your point now, clever minx. She’s right, Matt. The bridge don’t lead to London in the least. It’s the member from the north of us will take the bridge to London.”

“Very true, I think you’d better just forget Telford’s little joke about the bridge leading to London,”
Hudson agreed, seeing what a quagmire his candidate would fall into every time he tried to repeat it.

“And him in charge of building roads.”
Anthony shook his head. “It’s a caution how fellows end up with jobs they ain't suited for in the least.”

“Some Fellows certainly do,”
Lillian said, risking a covert glance at Mr. Hudson.

“It’s a wonder they let him do it, and he not knowing south from north,”
Fellows said. “But he’s got the right spot for my bridge all right and tight. I saw the pilings going in, and they’re right where the bridge is to go.”

“That’s lucky,”
Sara said.

“Shall we all run down and have a look at it?”
Fellows asked, not having been there for over twelve hours. He enjoyed very much the sign announcing the new Fellows Bridge, and would enjoy it even more the day he could add the magic letters M.P. to the sign.

“I’ve had about enough of the bridge.”
Hudson remarked. “We were going to visit that family to the west today, Tony; Armstrong I think is the name. We haven’t been to see them at all.”

“Waste of time,”
Tony informed him. “Old Armstrong is on his deathbed. We’ll not get him hauled to the polls. He’ll never get to see the Fellows Bridge, poor soul.”

“Still, I think I’ll ride over and pay Armstrong a call. It’s a pleasant day for a drive. I’ll take my curricle. Perhaps one of you would like to come with me?”
His question was flung in the general direction of Miss Watters, but Mr. Hudson was not only nearly invisible but also inaudible to her since so often aiding Miss Ratchett up the ravine. She pointedly paid no attention him,

“Miss Watters, would you care to come with me?”
he was forced to ask directly.

“Sara might like to go,”
she replied.

“No sir, I’m taking Miss Sara to see my bridge,”
Fellows jumped in, determined not to get stuck with that stiff-faced Miss Watters, as he saw developing.

“I don’t want to go to the bridge,”
Sara objected.

“She wouldn’t like that, Tony,”
Hudson said blandly. “There will be Alistair and a bunch hanging around, you know, as they always are.”

“That’s true.”
Tony relented, not liking to pitch Miss Sara into such company.

“Oh, maybe I
would
like to go,”
Sara said, considering the matter further.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, eh?”
Fellows said to her, meaning heaven only knew what.

“I must warn you, Alistair is always there,”
Hudson repeated, to secure her going.

“In that case, I’ll get my pelisse,”
she said, and ran off.

“Miss Watters, will you come with me?”
Hudson repeated.

“I’m getting a headache,”
she answered.

“The fresh air will do you good,”
Martha intervened, seeing that it was Lillian Hudson preferred today. Really, the man was as fickle as Fate.

“Yes, you girls run along and get some exercise,”
Lady Monteith added, and got her own exercise by reaching for a bonbon.

“Very well,”
Lillian said, not averse to going so long as it was clear to Mr. Hudson that she was going against her will.

The two carriages set off, and very pleased Martha was to see both nieces sitting beside gentlemen of means for an unexceptionable outing.

“I think we have managed this pretty well,”
she remarked to Melanie.

“I told you it would be no job at all to get Sara a match.”

“She hasn’t got him yet, and what you must do, Melanie, is invite both of them to remain to lunch when they come back.”

“We’ll do that,”
Melanie agreed easily. She was not at all against socializing, so long as it did not involve much exertion to herself.

While Sara and Fellows went to look at the pilings for the bridge, and at the sign, and also at Mr. Alistair, who was there as promised and very attentive to Sara, Hudson and Lillian drove off to the west to visit the last uncanvassed voter.

“Have you really got a headache?”
he asked her.

“I wouldn’t say so if I didn’t,”
she answered shortly.

“Did you have it before I arrived, or did I bring it with me?”

“I have had it all morning.”

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do. After we have been to see Armstrong, I’ll drop you off at the eye doctor, for I think it is your eyes that are causing your headache. They are failing on you, my girl. Twice this week I have nodded and waved to you, and you didn’t appear to see me either time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my eyes. They see more than you might think.”

“They don’t see quite
what
you think, however. I must be polite with Miss Ratchett when her father is so heavily into this bridge with me. I thought you understood that.”

“Miss Ratchett has nothing to do with my headache, I assure you, and it is presumptuous of you to think so.”

“We can’t control our thoughts, presumptuous devils that they are. But I should have controlled my speech if you truly have a headache and didn’t wish to come. I thought it was merely a fit of pique. I’ll take you home if you like.”

“Suit yourself,”
she replied with great indifference, while raging inside at the suggestion.

“I am trying to suit you, and mighty hard you’re making it for me, Miss Watters. Home or not?”

“You have already gone half a mile. There’s no point turning back now.”

“We haven’t gone ten yards. If you mean to sit and sulk the whole trip, I might as well be alone.”

“I didn’t realize it was my chore to beguile the hours for you while you drive, but I might have known you had some job for me to do!”

This encouraging reply prevented his turning the carriage around, as he was feeling strongly inclined to do. “Is it a fight you want? I’m not in the mood to comply today; I am too happy after the veterans’
dinner. A great success, you know. Perhaps you heard?”

She had, but not from him, and there was the offense.

The several days of neglect had frayed her nerves and sharpened her temper. “I heard Colonel Dorking came and drummed up a few votes for you with his wooden leg. There is no cheap trick you wouldn’t sink to to get a vote—making hay out of a wounded veteran!”

“You can’t make bricks without straw. I am coming to rival Tony with my rapid epigrams, don’t you think?”
He smiled, but there was no response from his wooden-faced companion, so he changed his tack. “The Tories are treating the vets badly, and it is a fair thing to point it out, in my view.”

“Fair! Much you care whether it’s fair or not. You’d have your own mother out stumping for you if you thought it would do any good.”

“She stumped for me regularly in Kent, but I didn’t drag her around the countryside to every by-election. She was always my hostess, but she is dead now, unfortunately.”

“You think to make me feel guilty by mentioning that, I suppose? I shouldn’t be surprised if it was your shenanigans that killed her.”

“You’re wrong—she delighted in them. I couldn’t keep her nose out of my business. There was nothing she liked so much as a good, dirty fight. She taught me half of what I know. I thought you enjoyed it too. It was your suggestion, if you will recall, that we supply Tony with prearranged questions, and you gave me the idea of bringing in Dorking. Now you throw it in my face.”

“I never heard of the man till
you
spoke of him.”

“It was Wellington you actually mentioned, but that was impossible. Bringing a soldier-hero here was your idea, and don’t trouble to deny it. It was an excellent idea, too—worthy of my mother. A conniving female’s brain is a great help in work of this sort. They outdistance us simple men every time. Do you not think you would enjoy being involved in the world of politics?”

There were overtones to the question that were not to be ignored. How should she be involved in such a world but through him, and how should any involvement with him be kept up after this by-election except through marrying him? “I think it is a good deal too rackety for me,”
she said, and waited to be dissuaded.

“You don’t know yourself. You would love it. Oh, it comes as a little surprise the first time you realize there is some bribery involved, but you realize that now, and the next time you wouldn’t give it a thought. Your only interest would be how much, and could you afford it, and if not, what trick could you turn to come up with the money.”

“Very tempting, that I should become so gross I no longer recognized wrongdoing for wrongdoing! It is a sordid business, and I don’t know why you choose to involve yourself in it when you don’t have to.”