Shelley nodded vigorously. “I do not imagine there will be any difficulties. I shall arrange for the lawyer to be my proxy in all matters, and he shall write me under the name of Mr. Jones, concerning her welfare. I can retrieve the letters at the post office without alarming Mary. But if, as I say, some mischance befalls me—who knows, better than I, the tragic turns fate can take!—I shall be reassured, knowing that you know of this child’s existence, that she will have some friend in the world.”
The poet placed his hand upon his heart. “My dear Mrs. Robinson, my one motive, you may be sure, is to protect my wife from any further distress. We have lost little Clara, we have lost our boy William” —tears sprang to his eyes— “her spirits have been exceedingly low. I do not think of myself—for myself, any prospect of happiness in life is fled, but it is a sacred consideration with me to preserve my wife’s tranquillity and peace of mind.”
“As you say, Shelley.”
Chapter 24: Manchester,
Summer 1819
Mrs. Price intended for her son Charles to become an apothecary, like his brother Tom, but Price chafed at his indentures, first in Portsmouth and then in Huntingdon.
Every day Charles fetched and carried, cleaned and swept, fixed labels upon bottles of foul-smelling tinctures. He was still a boy with a boy’s feelings, and he felt more disgust than pity when the thin, pale, trembling men and women slid into the shop every day to purchase their laudanum. But even if Charles could have persuaded himself the medicines he sold were actually beneficial, he still would have longed to escape.
He liked his new master even less than his old, and most of all, he missed the cheerful, steady companionship of his older brother Tom, back in Portsmouth. His complaints to his mother went unheeded— “if you don’t care for hard work, remember that it should have gone harder for you, Charles, if I had let you go to sea, as you wanted! You must attend to your work and then Mr. Smith would not berate you as he does.” Charles hoped to find an advocate in Fanny, or his brother Sam, but he did not.
“You will at least have a profession, Charles,” Sam told his younger brother. “What do I have? Nothing. I have tramped all through London, and got nothing, and Fanny had to send me the monies to come here. I ought to be the one taking care of the family. You must get a trade, and if you break your indentures, no-one will take you as apprentice elsewhere.”
July was drawing to a close when Sam called again upon Charles at the apothecary shop to bid him farewell and announce his determination to journey to Manchester, for a great meeting to be called among the labouring people, on the subject of universal suffrage and reform.
“‘Orator’ Hunt will be speaking, Charles,” said Sam. “He is something astonishing. And we are to get up a great petition to carry to London, to demand our rights.”
Charles begged Sam to take him along. But Sam was obdurate. Though he felt for his brother, he trusted Charles would one day understand it was for the best. How well he managed to persuade his brother will be seen, for Saturday was a half-holiday, and the boy left the shop promptly at 1:00. He was not to be seen all of Sunday. When he failed to appear at work on Monday morning, Mr. Smith sent word to Mrs. Price’s house. The apothecary threatened to discharge Charles for running away, and it was very doubtful whether he might be persuaded to forgive him, even if the boy were found and promptly returned.
Mrs. Price was exceedingly perturbed by the intelligence, and lamented anew the loss of her husband. “If only your father was still alive, or William was here! What am I to do if Charles is thrown back on my hands?” Charles might be faulted for neglecting the feelings of an affectionate mother, but in fact, he had slipped a note under her door. The note, unfortunately, lay unnoticed on the floor of the entry-hall, and the housemaid (a most unsatisfactory local girl) only discovered it on Tuesday. The note read simply, “Gone to Manchester.”
Fanny’s brother William was half way to London with his convoy of coal ships, entirely unable to be of service in the present emergency. A few hours of reflection convinced Fanny that she herself should, and could, pursue Charles to Manchester, and another few hours completed her preparations—she took only a small valise, and reckoning that Charles was making the journey on foot, determined to follow him by mail coach, and make enquiries at the inns along the way. Once in Manchester, she would find Sam, and together they would take Charles back to resume his indentures.
Mrs. Price made no objections to the plan. To her credit, she did bid Fanny to be very careful, and expressed herself alarmed on her behalf, but Fanny was not a young girl and had travelled without an escort before; she had no great apprehensions on that score.
* * * * * * *
In fact, Charles had almost emptied his slender purse for an outside seat on the coach to Peterborough, the better to put distance between himself and any pursuers. Thereafter he walked or cadged rides from obliging farmers.
The boy revelled in his freedom, and was amazed at the variety of landscapes and modes of
