She was very persuasive. ‘All right.’
‘Perhaps you could make peace.’
‘I’d certainly be in favour of it.’ Britain had been at war withBonaparte’s France for twenty years and there was no end in sight. In fact, the conflict had spread around the world.
Britain had enraged the new American republic by hijacking American ships and forcing their sailors to join the Royal Navy – a new twist on the press gang idea – so the United States had declared war on Britain and invaded Canada.
Spain had been overrun by the French army and Bonaparte had made his brother Joseph king. Spanish nationalist insurgents were fighting the French conquerors with the help of a British force that included the 107th (Kingsbridge) Foot Regiment. The commander-in-chief there, the earl of Wellington, was highly regarded but he had made little progress.
And Bonaparte had now invaded Russia.
Perpetual war caused further decline in world trade and rampant inflation. British people became poorer and hungrier while their sons died in faraway places.
Elsie said angrily: ‘There must be a way. War isn’t inevitable!’
Amos liked how angry she got about such things. What a contrast with Jane, who was angry only on her own behalf.
‘Member of Parliament,’ he said musingly. ‘I’ll have to give this more thought.’
Elsie smiled, and as always her smile was radiant. ‘Keep thinking,’ she said as she walked away.
Amos crossed the bridge and went to the industrial zone on the south bank of the river. He had three mills now. In one of them, Barrowfield’s New Mill, Kit Clitheroe was installing a steam engine Amos had commissioned.
Kit had served five years in the militia, ending up with the rank of major; then he had resigned and set up the joint business he and Roger Riddick had long planned. Roger designed the machines and Kit built them. Despite the wartime slump they were making money.
Amos still thought of Kit as a boy even though he was now twenty-seven, prosperous, and an engineering wizard. Perhaps it was because Kit was still single and seemed to have no interest in finding a girlfriend, let alone marrying. Amos had wondered whether Kit was a slave to a hopeless passion, as Amos himself had been over Jane.
Kingsbridge was converting to steam power. The river was cheaper as a driver of machinery, but less reliable. Its force was sometimes strong, sometimes weak. After a dry summer the water level would be low and the current lethargic, and the wheels of the mill would turn lazily while everyone waited for autumn rain. Coal cost money, but it never ran out.
Amos’s new steam engine was enclosed in a room of its own to limit the damage if it exploded, which sometimes happened when a safety valve failed. The room was well ventilated, with a chimney for the exhaust. The boiler was cradled in a sturdy oak plinth. It would use water pumped from the river and filtered. ‘When will you be ready to connect up to the machinery?’ Amos asked.
‘Day after tomorrow,’ said Kit. He was always precise and confident.
Amos checked on the other two mills, his main interest to make sure he would be able to deliver to each customer on the date promised. At the end of the afternoon he returned to his office and wrote letters. The machines slowed to a halt at seven o’clock in the evening, and he went home.
He sat down to the supper his housekeeper had left on the kitchen table. A moment later there was an urgent knocking at the front door, and he got up to answer it.
Jane stood on his doorstep.
‘This has happened before,’ he said.
‘But it’s not raining and I’m not amorous,’ she said. ‘I’m furious. I’m so angry I couldn’t stay in the house with my husband.’ She walked in uninvited.
Amos closed the door. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Henry is going to Spain! Just when I thought I could start to live the life of a countess at last!’
Amos guessed why. ‘He’s going to join the Kingsbridge regiment.’
‘Yes. Apparently it’s a family tradition. When the old earl inherited his title, in his twenties, he spent three years on active service with the 107th Foot. Henry says he is expected to do the same – especially now the country is at war.’
‘It is one of the few sacrifices the English aristocracy make to justify their lives of idle luxury.’
‘You sound like a revolutionary.’
‘A Methodist is a revolutionary who doesn’t want to chop off anyone’s head.’
Jane was suddenly deflated. ‘Oh, don’t be smart,’ she said. ‘What am I going to do?’
