Page 64 of The Armor of Light
Why Spade? He knew, though he would hesitate to say it to anyone else, that women often liked him. He enjoyed chatting to women because they made sense. If he asked a woman a serious question, such as: ‘What are you hoping for in life?’ she would say something like: ‘Mainly I want to see my children become settled and happy adults, preferably with children of their own.’ If he asked a man the same question he would get a stupid answer, like: ‘I want to marry a twenty-year-old virgin with big tits who owns a tavern.’
If Spade was right, and Arabella would eventually give in to her desire and try to start a real affair, how would he respond? The question was superfluous, he realized immediately. He would not make a rational decision; it would not be like buying a house. His feeling for her was a dam ready to burst at any moment. She was a smart, passionate woman who seemed to be in love with him, and he would not even try to resist.
But the consequences could be tragic. He recalled the case of Lady Worsley, who had been agonizingly humiliated. He had been eighteen at the time and in love with Betsy, but he had already developed the habit of reading newspapers, usually out-of-date issues that had been thrown away by wealthier people. Lady Worsley had had a lover. Her husband had sued the lover for twenty thousand pounds, the value he put on his wife’s chastity. Twenty thousand was a huge sum, enough to buy one of the best houses in London. The lover, no gentleman, had argued in court that her chastity was worthless because she had committed adultery with twenty other men before him. Every detail of Lady Worsley’s romantic life had been revealed in court, reported in the newspapers, and drooled over by the public in many countries. The court had taken the lover’s side and awarded Sir Richard damages of one shilling, implying that LadyWorsley’s chastity was worth no more, a cruelly contemptuous verdict.
This was the kind of nightmare Spade would be risking if he made love to a bishop’s wife.
And Arabella would suffer most.
*
Spade passed through the grand pillared entrance to the Kingsbridge Assembly Rooms, where the first meeting of the Socratic Society was to begin shortly.
He was anxious that it should go well. Sal and the others had high hopes invested in it. Kingsbridge workers were trying to improve themselves and they deserved success. Spade himself thought it was a big step in the progress of the town. He wanted Kingsbridge to be a place where workers were seen as people, not just ‘hands’. But what if no one could understand the lecture? What if bored people became rowdy? Worst of all, what if no one came?
He entered the building at the same time as Arabella Latimer and her daughter, Elsie. The elite of the town were taking an interest. He shook the rain from his hat and bowed to the two women.
‘I hear you’ve been to London, Mr Shoveller,’ said Arabella stiffly. ‘I hope your visit went well.’
It was standard small talk for social occasions, and he was disappointed by her formality, but he played along. ‘I enjoyed it, and did some good business as well, Mrs Latimer. How have things been in Kingsbridge?’
‘The same,’ she said, not looking at him. Then she added quietly: ‘Always the same.’
Spade wondered whether Elsie could feel the tension. Women were sensitive to that kind of thing. But Elsie showed no sign. She said: ‘I want to go to London. I’ve never been. Is it as exciting as they say?’
‘Exciting, yes,’ said Spade. ‘Busy, yes. Crowded, noisy, filthy, yes.’
They entered the card salon, where the lecture was to be held. It was almost full, which eased one of Spade’s worries.
A wooden box stood on a table in the middle of the room, and Spade guessed that Roger Riddick’s orrery was inside it. The chairs and benches were arranged in circles around the table.
The audience was a mixture, the well-off in their best clothes and the mill workers in the drab coats and battered hats they wore every day. He noticed that the workers were all sitting on benches at the back, while the well-dressed had chairs near the front. That had not been planned, he knew; people must have instinctively created a social division. He was not sure whether that was amusing or just a bit sad.
Only a handful of women were there. Spade was not surprised: events like this were thought to be for men, although there was no prohibition against women.
Arabella turned away from Spade, pointed across the room to where two or three women sat together, and said to Elsie: ‘We should sit over there,’ making it clear that she did not want to sit with Spade. He understood, but he felt rejected.
Elsie turned that way. For a second Spade felt Arabella’s hand on his upper arm. She squeezed hard then instantly took her hand away and stepped across the room. It had been very brief but it was an unmistakable message of intimacy.
Spade felt slightly dizzy. An inexperienced girl might send false signals, but no mature woman would touch a man like that unless she meant it. She was telling him that they had a secret understanding, and he should take no notice of her superficial coldness.
He was thrilled, but he would do nothing about it. She was the one in most danger, so she had to be in control. He would just follow her lead.
Jarge Box came up to him, looking cross. It did not take much tomake Jarge cross, so Spade was not worried. ‘Something wrong?’ he said mildly.
‘So many masters here!’ Jarge said indignantly.
It was true. Spade could see Amos Barrowfield, Viscount Northwood, Alderman Drinkwater and Will Riddick. ‘Is that so bad?’ he said to Jarge.
‘We didn’t start the society for them!’
Spade nodded. ‘You’ve got a point. On the other hand, with them here we can hardly be accused of treason.’
‘I don’t like it.’
‘Let’s talk about it later. We have a committee meeting afterwards.’
‘All right,’ said Jarge, pacified for the moment.
