Chapter Nineteen #3
He’d met with as many lords as he could, attempting to persuade them to vote in favor of the bill.
Some were eager for it to pass. Others had hesitations and Ralston was unsure of their support.
And then there were those who completely opposed him—the number of which had seemed to grow over the course of the previous two weeks.
No doubt Lord Weber, calculating and dangerous, had gotten to many of them.
Adler clapped him on the back. ‘I know you, my friend. You are the most prepared lord in the House. And you have my vote.’
It helped. It wasn’t enough to soothe the knot in his stomach, but he appreciated his long-time friend’s support.
Head held high, Ralston stepped from the robing room into the marbled corridor and then into the chamber. The air inside was warmer, loud, and alive with conversing scarlet-robed lords sitting on benches. A few turned to nod in recognition as Ralston passed. Others avoided his gaze.
As he’d expected.
Ralston took his seat just as the Speaker sitting on the woolsack raised his hand. The chamber quieted as he called the session to order.
‘The second reading of the bill, The Cotton Mills Act, which is sponsored by Lord Ralston, is presented. Debate, if any, shall commence.’
Ralston rose. His mouth was dry. Silence stretched, every eye fixed on him.
He cleared his throat, then spoke. ‘It’s time,’ he said, ‘that we vote not for politics, but for conscience. The Cotton Mills Act seeks to do what we, as lords of this realm, should have done long ago: to protect our vulnerable children.’
A few voices murmured assent. Ralston continued. ‘The bill as written poses no hardship for our nation’s textile factories. As written, no child under the age of nine shall be employed in textile mills and no child from nine to sixteen shall work more than twelve hours in a single day.’
‘Here! Here!’ Lord Adler said.
Others nodded. The Duke of Huntington grinned. Lords Barnes and Reynolds murmured their approval. But Ralston knew better than to mistake nods for votes.
‘In my opinion,’ he added, his voice firm, ‘the bill does not go far enough.’ He recalled the little girl who’d lost her hand from a mill accident and died from blood loss. The image was as fresh in his mind as when he’d first witnessed it years ago.
Silence followed. Robes rustled. Ralston scanned the chamber. His mind calculated votes. Too many were uncertain. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Lord Weber as he stood.
Ralston turned to face him, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Weber’s voice was level and confident. ‘Others may not agree with you, Lord Ralston.’
Ralston was prepared for the argument and for further debate. ‘Pray tell me, Lord Weber, are those others being paid for by the factory owners?’
Silence resonated in the chamber. Weber’s lips twisted in a cynical smile. ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But that is no crime.’
Ralston was surprised at the man’s admission.
No crime, perhaps, but hardly an honorable admission.
He also knew not everyone shared his own ethics, and it would not sit well with others in the room.
Even more shocking, Ralston expected more finesse from his fiercest opponent.
The man was no fool and was sharp as a whip.
Rather than argue further, he stayed seated.
What was Weber playing at?
Before he could press further, the Speaker rose again. ‘As there is no further debate, it’s time to vote.’
Ralston’s pulse pounded as each lord wrote down their vote on a piece of foolscap and placed it in the ballot box on a table near the Speaker.
Clerks counted the votes and then the tally was read out loud.
Ralston stood stunned, scarcely believing his ears.
The bill passed by a good majority, not the slim margin he’d predicted.
Lords shook his hand as they departed. The Duke of Huntington was one of them. Others nodded as they walked by. Afterwards, he found himself back in the robing room.
‘Well done, my friend!’ Adler embraced him with a grin. ‘The mill owners will be shocked and licking their wounds today. How do you feel?’
How did he feel? Exhilarated. Excited. Relieved that it was all over. Charged with energy and thinking of his next sponsored bill, possibly the one he had in mind to aid veterans.
And confused. A sense of uncertainty pervaded his victory. There was one man he needed to speak with.
He approached Weber in the corner of the robing room. ‘Weber.’
The man turned. When he realized it was Ralston, he gazed at him with a bland half-smile. ‘Are you here to gloat?’
‘No. But I would like to know what changed your mind.’
‘I never changed my mind about your bill.’
‘Then why the weak argument?’
Weber let out a puff of air. ‘Ask your wife.’
Ralston blinked. ‘My wife?’ What did Nora have to do with the vote?
Weber picked up his discarded robe. ‘She can be most persuasive.’
With that cryptic response, Weber departed the room, leaving Ralston alone with more questions than answers.