Page 56 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“I mean the air in itself. In one of the cotton mill factories, the cotton was like snow in the air. Men were breathing it in. They practically choked on the air they breathed, Walter.”
“Horace, please,” Lavinia said, raising a hand. “This is hardly an appropriate discussion for the dinner table, is it? Health… sickness, it should not be discussed.”
“In case it has passed you by, sister, sickness has been on my mind a lot as of late.” His words prompted her to have the decency to blush in embarrassment. “I think we could improve the factories. We can set a standard for clean air, and restrictions on the what the workers can and should do at specific ages.”
“What do you mean?” Walter asked, still not eating.
“I saw children climbing under machinery. If there had been an accident—”
“But there was no accident?”
“Not that day, but what about tomorrow?” Horace pushed the matter. “My mind is made up, Walter. We must change matters.”
“It cannot be that bad,” Lavinia said, forcing a laugh. “It makes you good money.”
“Well, maybe men’s sickness is what is making us good money,” Horace muttered with guilt. “You can appeal to Adam for the proof of it. He saw it all too.”
Every pair of eyes at the table swung toward Adam, who had placed down his wineglass. He no longer had a look of amusement in his eyes, but full of sincerity.
“I saw it,” he said, miserably. “It was no happy thing to see.”
“You exaggerate.” Walter’s tone was tight. Adam didn’t speak again.
Horace looked between the two men, something suddenly occurring to him. Walter had had a habit over the years of making Adam hold his tongue. He’d seen Walter brag once about his education and higher knowledge at a dinner some years ago. He had quite expertly belittled Adam into silence.
Strange. These days, I trust Adam’s judgement far more than I do Walter’s.
“Adam has seen to the care of my tenants while I have been… indisposed. I trust his thoughts,” Horace said staunchly.
Walter picked up his wineglass and took another gulp before placing the glass harshly down on the table. Miss Bonneville flinched again in surprise.
“I wonder at this sudden strike of inspiration, my friend,” Walter said, smiling, though both the smile and the buoyant tone were forced. “I have known you for years, and you never before thought about the common man.”
“That is an unkind thing to say,” Adam murmured darkly.
“Is it? Or is it honest?” Walter asked.
“I do not think this conversation is appropriate at this time.” Lavinia forced a laugh. “Miss Bonneville, tell us again about America. I would dearly love to hear of it.”
“Yes, if you like.” Yet Miss Bonneville got no further with her tales.
“What was it you said long ago?” Walter tapped his chin in thought. “I remember a phrase of yours most distinctly from when we set up our business ventures together. Oh yes, that was it. One has the good fortune to be born into power, one cannot squander it. It gives us the opportunity to control other men.”
Adam looked outraged. He didn’t meet Walter’s gaze.
I did say that.
Horace could remember it. He had been heavily drunk at the time, showing off, but to his shame, he knew he could not dispute it. Was it not a philosophy he had acted on at that age?
“We say foolish things when we are young. It does not mean we can’t change.”
“It is not foolish, my lord,” Miss Bonneville suddenly piped up. “My own father has said such things himself. At a plantation he owns in the Americas, we have men and women working for us there. He talks often about what a favor he is doing just by employing them. That in itself is a kindness. You are giving them a life. They should be grateful to you for it.”
Horace’s jaw fell slack. He knew exactly what sort of plantation now Miss Bonneville was referring to.
Slavery.
“We pay our employees,” Horace said coolly, though Miss Bonneville continued on, not taking note of what he has said.
