Hornbeam had heard a different version of that story, in which Sal had actually knocked Riddick to the floor, but it was understandable that Riddick left out that humiliating detail.
Hornbeam hoped that other justices would appreciate the danger, but he was disappointed. Alderman Drinkwater pushed a finger under his wig to scratch his bald head and said mildly: ‘I was at the meeting. It was about the solar system. There’s no harm in that.’
Hornbeam sighed. Drinkwater had never known anything but a comfortable life. He had inherited his father’s business, sold it to Hornbeam, bought a dozen large houses, rented them out, and lived in idleness ever since. He did not know that prosperity could be fragile; he had learned nothing from the French revoluti0n. His opposition was not surprising, but all the same Hornbeam had to resist the feeling of panic that rose within him when liberal-minded people turned a blind eye to the threat of insurrection by the low-born. He took a calming sip of the sweet wine, making an effortto seem relaxed. ‘Very crafty of them,’ he said. ‘But I happen to know that their second meeting will advocate reform of Parliament.’
Drinkwater shook his head. ‘You’ve got that wrong, Hornbeam, if you’ll pardon my saying so. I understand from my son-in-law, Canon Midwinter, that they’re studying Archdeacon Paley’s book, which argues that labouring people should be content, and not get agitated about reform or revolution.’
Riddick pointed a prodding finger at Drinkwater. ‘Your son-in-law won’t be a canon much longer. He’s broken with the Church of England and he’s going to be the Methodist minister. They’re already collecting money to pay him a salary.’
‘But Paley is still an archdeacon,’ Drinkwater countered. ‘And his book isintendedto be studied by the labouring folk. I really don’t see how anyone can object.’
Looking around the small group, Hornbeam could see that he had failed to convince them, so he quickly dropped the subject. ‘Very well,’ he said grudgingly. He had a fall-back plan, anyway.
The justices broke up, and Hornbeam walked away from the Guild Hall with Riddick. It was raining hard, as it had all summer, and they turned up their coat collars and pulled their hats forward. The second year of bad weather was sending the price of grain soaring; Hornbeam had bought a hundred bushels and stashed them in a warehouse. He expected to double his money when he sold.
As they walked, Riddick spoke hesitantly, which was unusual for him. ‘I must say...I admire your daughter, Deborah...very much,’ he said. ‘She’s...quite lovely, and also, um, very, um, intelligent, too.’
He was half right. Deborah was intelligent, and she looked pleasant enough, with the lithe figure that girls of nineteen had, but she was not really lovely. However, Riddick had fallen for her, or at least had decided she would make a good wife. Hornbeam was pleased: his plan was moving forward. But he tried to give no hint of his satisfaction. ‘Thank you,’ he said neutrally.
‘I thought I should tell you that.’
‘I appreciate it.’
‘You know my position and my means,’ Riddick said. He was proud to be squire of Badford, though as ruler of a mere thousand or so villagers he belonged only to the minor gentry. ‘I presume I don’t need to prove to you that I can afford to keep her in the style to which she’s accustomed.’
‘Indeed not.’ Hornbeam was more interested in Riddick’s position in the Shiring Militia. Hornbeam was paying him fat bribes – and getting good value for his money. Other suppliers queued up to pay Riddick backhanders and sell to the military at inflated prices. Everyone gained.
Riddick said: ‘I don’t know whether Deborah reciprocates my feeling, but I would like to try and find out – with your permission.’
Hornbeam muted his enthusiasm, not wanting to encourage Riddick to ask for a generous marriage settlement. ‘You have my permission, and my best wishes.’
‘Thank you.’
Deborah was sensible enough to understand that she should make a match that was good for business, and she seemed to like Riddick. But he had a reputation for treating his villagers harshly, and that might put her off. In that case Hornbeam would have a problem.
They reached the Hornbeam house. ‘Come in for a moment,’ he said to Riddick. ‘There’s something else I want to discuss with you.’
They took off their wet coats and hung them up, dripping onto the tiled floor. Hornbeam caught sight of his son, Howard, crossing the hall, and said: ‘Get someone to mop up here, Howard.’
‘Of course,’ Howard said obediently, and headed down the stairs to the basement.
That reminded Hornbeam that he had also to solve the problem of a bride for his son. Howard would not even try to choose a wife for himself. He would be content with whomever his father selected.But what woman would want to marry Howard? One who wanted ease and plenty but was not able to win such a life with her looks. Or, to be blunt, a girl who was ambitious but plain. Hornbeam would have to keep his eyes open.
He led Riddick into his study, where there was a fire. He noticed his guest looking eagerly at a decanter of sherry on the sideboard, but they had just had madeira in the Guild Hall, and Hornbeam felt it was not necessary for a man to drink wine every time he sat down.
Riddick said: ‘I’m sorry you didn’t get your way with the other justices. I did my best, but they didn’t follow my lead.’
‘Don’t worry. There’s more than one road to London, as they say.’
‘You’ve got a contingency plan.’ Riddick smiled and nodded knowingly. ‘I might have guessed.’
‘I didn’t tell Drinkwater everything I know.’
‘You kept something up your sleeve.’
‘Exactly. Jeremiah Hiscock is printing copies of a pamphlet from the London Corresponding Society calledA Reply to Archdeacon Paley.I understand it contradicts everything Paley says. They’re planning to distribute the copies at the meeting.’
‘Who told you that?’
