‘I don’t pay much attention to what the newspapers say,’ Jarge said grumpily. He did not take correction well.
Sal said: ‘Well, that was a lovely piece of beef, Kit, thank you, and I’ve made a nice suet pudding with currants in it.’
Baz said: ‘I love a suet pudding.’
The atmosphere cleared as the plates were cleared away and the dessert was brought. Baz said: ‘Business still good for you, Kit?’
‘Not bad. That oak mounting you made for Amos’s boiler was nicely done, very sturdy, thank you.’
‘It should last longer than the boiler.’
Jarge picked up his spoon but did not eat. He said: ‘Well, I don’t know, the two of you are making machinery to put other men out of work. Where’s the sense in it?’
Kit said: ‘I’m sorry, Jarge, but times change. If we don’t keep up with new developments we’ll find ourselves left behind.’
‘Is that what I am, then – left behind?’
Sal put her hand on his arm and said: ‘Eat some pudding, husband.’
Jarge ignored her. ‘You know what the Luddites are doing up north, don’t you?’
Everyone knew about the Luddites. They were said to be captained by a man called Ned Ludd, though that was probably a false name, if he existed at all.
Jarge went on: ‘They’re smashing the machines up!’
Kit said: ‘They’re mostly framework knitters, I believe.’
Jarge said: ‘They’re men who won’t put up with ill treatment from the masters, that’s what they are.’
Sal said: ‘Well, I hope you don’t wish for machine-smashing here in Kingsbridge.’
‘I say you can’t blame men who get angry about the way they’re trodden down.’
‘We may not blame them, but the government does. You don’t want to get transported to Australia.’
‘I’d rather spend fourteen years in Australia than let myself be exploited by the masters.’
Sal got cross. ‘You’ve got no idea what it’s like in Australia, and anyway, what makes you think it would be only fourteen years?’
‘Well, that’s what my sister got.’
‘Yes, but she left seventeen years ago and she hasn’t come back. Few do.’
Kit said: ‘Anyway, they’ve changed the law: it’s the death penalty now for breaking machinery.’
‘Since when?’ said Jarge.
‘Parliament passed the Frame Work Act back in February or March.’
‘They’re trying to break our spirit, that’s what it is,’ said Jarge.‘First the Treason Act and the Seditious Meetings Act, then the Combination Act, and now this. Any man who stands up for the rights of working people is liable to be hanged. We’re turning into a nation of milksops.’
He paused, looking belligerent, then said: ‘It’s no wonder we can’t beat the French.’
*
When Augustus Tattersall came to dinner at the deanery he asked Elsie about the Sunday school, questioning her closely with genuine interest, which pleased and flattered her. He ate enthusiastically but drank little wine. Kenelm was clearly irritated by the small talk and soon ran out of patience. When the fruit and nuts arrived he said: ‘I must ask you, Archdeacon, about the vacant bishopric of Melchester.’
‘By all means.’
