17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

I t was late afternoon when Ernest finally escaped the company of Caroline. She had insisted on their sitting in the window of the coffeehouse for almost two hours, seeing and being seen. A steady stream of well to do ladies and gentlemen had entered the wood-paneled room to take refreshment, and there was no doubt in Ernest’s mind as to the impression they were given. Once again, Caroline had manipulated events to suit her own ends, and it seemed they were, without agreement on Ernest’s part, a courting couple. To refuse her would mean the end of the hopes for the school, and the other good works they were now engaged in, something Ernest was not prepared to let go of. He had been a fool to allow Caroline to manipulate him in such a way, but now he could see no way of drawing back.

I’m trapped, he thought to himself, as he walked aimlessly along the riverbank towards Leamington Grange.

It was a beautiful afternoon, the sunshine sparkling on the river, where swallows flew low between the overhanging boughs of the weeping willows. The meadows were filled with wildflowers, and a pleasant scent hung on the air, sweet and fragrant. It would have been idyllic, had Ernest not been beset by such troubles as surrounded him, and with his thoughts elsewhere, he wandered steadily along the riverbank, lost in his own imaginings.

What if she wants to get married? I know she will…we’ll be engaged before Christmas. And then what? A lifetime of Caroline Pickering? She’ll be insufferable, he thought to himself, sighing, as he paused to look out across the river.

A heron was flying across the water, its wide wings flapping gracefully, before it skimmed across the surface and came to stand in the shallows, watching for fish. For a moment, Ernest was distracted by the sight, but a voice behind him caused him to startle, and turning, he was surprised – pleasantly so – to find Alicia standing on the path.

“I wondered if you’d still be in Manchester,” she said, as Ernest blushed.

He felt embarrassed to be in her presence, wondering if she had heard tell of Caroline’s ridiculous performance along the riverbank and in the coffeehouse. She had been picking wildflowers from the meadows and was holding a large bunch of blooms in her arms – purple and white.

“No… I…I got back early this morning. I detest the city – so much dirt and filth. It’s no wonder they have such trouble with disease,” Ernest replied, thinking back to the sad sights of poverty and squalor he had seen on his visit to the school and the surrounding area.

“It’s the same everywhere though, isn’t it? The poor exist wherever we look, though I think in the countryside they’re largely forgotten about. I visited the woman with the eight children this morning. They live in terrible squalor out on the moor in a tiny croft. It’s terrible. She was so grateful for the loaf of bread and the few biscuits I brought her. But it’s hardly enough, is it? I told her about the clothing – she’ll come to the soup kitchen, and we’ll see what we can do for the children then,” Alicia said, shaking her head sadly.

Ernest could not help but admire her. She was entirely altruistic, going about her good works with no expectation of thanks or praise. When Caroline did something, it was always for praise, but when Alicia acted, it was for the good of others, and never for her own gain.

“You’ve done so much to help these people,” Ernest said, as now they walked along the riverbank together in the direction of Leamington Grange.

The sun was shining down on them, and had Ernest not been beset by his troubles, he would have delighted in such company, as now he imagined the two of them to be a courting couple, promenading together. But they were not a courting couple, and neither would they ever be if Caroline Pickering had her way. There was so much holding them back, even as Ernest did not know if Alicia shared his feelings. She was so pretty, so vivacious, so determined, possessed of every admirable quality, even as Ernest could only lament the thought of never being able to truly express the feelings of his heart.

“Oh, but I always feel so…useless. I do these things – a soup kitchen, the clothes making, a penny here and there…but it’s not enough, is it? So much needs to change in our society. We need…a revolution,” she said, and Ernest looked at her in surprise.

Such language was unheard of in polite circles, and Alicia smiled, realizing perhaps what she had just said.

“A revolution?” he exclaimed, and she shook her head.

“I don’t mean…the guillotine. I just mean, a revolution in the way we treat our fellow man. Doesn’t the Bible tell us to love our neighbor? Aren’t we mandated to see the poor as blessed? Our good Lord himself said so,” she replied, and Ernest nodded.

Alicia was right. A change was needed. Society could not continue as it was, with the rich growing richer and the poor growing poorer. There were such inequalities, and the grotesque image of those men growing fat and wealthy on the profits of the slave trade haunted Ernest, as it surely did any moral man.

“You’re right. We plough our own little furrow, but it hardly seems enough, does it?” he said, shaking his head.

Here again was the difference between Alicia and Caroline. The viscount’s daughter cared nothing for the plight of the poor, even as she claimed to, but Alicia had gone out of her way to help those in need, despite her own resources being considerably less than those of Caroline.

“No, it doesn’t. But…we can only try our best,” Alicia said, smiling at Ernest, who nodded.

This was the first time they had talked properly, without the threat of Caroline making an appearance. She had returned home, telling Ernest she had some correspondence to see to – no doubt informing others of her apparent courtship – and Ernest and Alicia had met no one else as they walked along the riverbank.

“And you’re certainly doing that. You, Alicia – no one else,” he said, and Alicia blushed.

“I…no…it’s lots of people,” she said, and he shook his head.

“I know who you’re thinking about, but it’s not her…you’re doing far more than Caroline,” Ernest said.

He had no qualms in criticizing the viscount’s daughter in front of Alicia. She knew as well as him what Caroline was like, and whilst Ernest had never detected any form of resentment on Alicia’s part, he had no doubt she felt somewhat aggrieved as to Caroline’s constant attempts at taking over those things she herself had worked so hard to bring to fruition. Alicia smiled.

“Well…perhaps,” she said, and Ernest paused, turning to her, and looking down at her with a sorrowful expression on his face.

How he longed for things to be simpler – for the two of them to have a chance of something more, even as he knew it was an impossibility. She was so very pretty, her eyes wide and dark, her cheeks red and rosy, her ringlets trailing over her shoulders. He reached out and touched her face, withdrawing immediately in embarrassment.

“I…I’m sorry,” he said, as Alicia blushed.

“It’s…quite all right,” she said, but Ernest shook his head.

“I don’t know why I did that… I’m being foolish. You must think me a terrible rake,” he said, but Alicia shook her head.

“Not at all. I…I heard about you and Caroline,” she said, and Ernest sighed.

It was inevitable, of course. Caroline wanted it to be so. She wanted the whole ton to know she and Ernest were courting, even as there had been no formal declaration – or informal.

“It’s not what you think,” Ernest stammered, though he knew he could never explain the matter fully.

But Alicia nodded, as though in understanding of what he was forced to endure for the sake of the schools – for the sake of everything.

“I know what she’s like – she takes over everything,” Alicia replied, and there was a sadness in her voice, as she sighed and turned away.

They walked on in silence for a while, and Ernest cursed himself for being so foolish as to allow his feelings to get the better of him. He did not know what he had expected to achieve by making such an advance, the brief touch of his fingers against her face enough to change so much between them.

“Alicia, I…I hope you realize the respect and admiration I have for you,” Ernest said, pausing again, as Alicia turned to him and smiled.

“A respect and admiration I share for you, too,” she said, and now it was Ernest’s turn to blush.

He did not take praise well. It made him think more of his faults, and the many reasons why he was so undeserving of what Alicia had said.

“No…but you’ve no reason… I mean…you’ve done so much of your own accord. The soup kitchen, the clothes for the children, the gifts to the poor – they were all your ideas. You’ve helped so many people, Alicia. I’m so glad to know you,” Ernest said.

He would gladly have kissed her there and then, taken her in his arms and embraced, but so much held him back, and smiling, she shook her head.

“Well…we both have,” Alicia said, and Ernest nodded.

“And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Caroline. She’s undermined you at every turn. I know she pretends to be your friend and make it out to seem as though the two of you are in it together, but…it’s not true, is it? I know that,” Ernest said, but Alicia only shook her head.

“I won’t criticize her. She does…good work, but…it can be difficult at times,” Alicia said, and Ernest was glad to hear her acknowledge the fact of her grievances, even as she would not condemn Caroline openly.

“I just find it…so difficult. The way she lauds it over everyone, including me, she…” he began, but before he could finish speaking, Alicia let out a cry, pointing across the river, where a commotion was occurring in the water.

Looking up, Ernest could see a small child floundering in the water, as a dog struggled to swim upstream, caught in the current. The child had obviously gone in after its pet, and Ernest and Alicia now rushed to the side of the bank.

“Don’t go any further in, my darling,” Alicia called out, for the child was advancing through the water, already waist deep, and liable to be taken up by the current itself.

The dog was thrashing about in the flow, yelping, as Ernest and Alicia now waded into the river. The water was not deep, but it was fast flowing, and could easily have carried away both the child and its pet. As they crossed towards the other side, Ernest now saw it was a little boy, his eyes filled with tears at the sight of his dog struggling in the current.

“Please, miss – that’s our Ernie, the sheepdog. You’ve got to help him. Mother said to take him out and round up the lambs. She’ll be ever so cross with me,” the little boy called out.

Alicia waded over to him, scooping him up in her arms, as Ernest now set about retrieving the dog. Ernie was making a valiant attempt to swim, still thrashing in the flow, as Ernest approached him.

“It’s all right, I’ve got him,” Ernest replied, reaching out and taking hold of the rope the little boy had been using as a lead.

Ernie yelped, and Ernest leaned forward, trying to catch hold of him. But as he did so, he overbalanced, falling into the flow as the dog came with him downstream.

“Ernest!” Alicia cried out.

She had climbed out onto the far bank with the child, who now ran along the riverside, as Ernest struck out to swim to safety. The flow of the water had created a deeper channel along the river bed, and Ernest was being carried downstream, along with Ernie, who was now thrashing and splashing, as Ernest tried to get hold of him.

“Ernie, you’ve got to swim,” the little boy called out, and Ernest let go of the rope, allowing the dog to scramble to safety, even as he himself was carried along by the water.

Alicia, too, was running along the bank, and now she waded in up to her waist, as Ernest, unencumbered by the dog, was able to strike out against the current, swimming to safety. With great relief, he struggled into the shallows, coughing and spluttering, as Ernie – oblivious, it seemed, to the trouble he had caused – barked and shook himself off. The little boy seized hold of the rope around the dog’s neck, chastising Ernie, who simply shook himself off, as Alicia helped Ernest onto the back.

“Are you all right?” she exclaimed, as Ernest caught his breath.

“You bad dog – what did I tell you about running off? I’m going to tell Mother about you,” the little boy said.

Ernest smiled at him.

“What’s your name, my boy?” he asked, and the little boy looked up at him and smiled.

“I’m Thomas Roundhay of Roundhay Farm,” he said, holding out his hand.

He could not have been more than seven or eight, and Ernest took his hand and shook it.

“Well, Thomas Roundhay of Roundhay Farm, I think you’ve learned a valuable lesson today, haven’t you?” Ernest said, and the little boy nodded.

“I won’t let our Ernie pull me along anymore. He’s a bad dog,” he said, and Ernest smiled.

“Well, my name’s Ernest Howard, and I believe your father’s a tenant of my father, so we’d better be friends, hadn’t we? And it’s a pleasure to meet Ernie – a name not so different from my own. Now, here’s a shilling for you – and be careful of the river. It can be dangerous, though I think you’ve realized that,” Ernest said, taking out a shilling from his pocket and presenting it to the boy, who grinned.

“Come along, our Ernie. We’ve still got the lambs to round up,” the little boy said, and thanking Ernest and Alicia again, he ran off.

Ernest laughed and shook his head. He could not be cross with the boy, though the matter could easily have ended in tragedy. He glanced back at the river, where the sunlight was sparkling on the surface, remembering the chill of the icy water and shivering.

“Are you all right?” Alicia repeated, and Ernest nodded.

“Yes…but we should probably sit in the sun for a while and dry off. You’re soaked through, too, Alicia,” Ernest said, and Alicia smiled.

“Let sit over there in the meadow – we’ll drive off quickly enough,” she said, and taking him by the hand – much to his surprise – she led the way.