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Bellman & Black: A Novel
Bellman & Black: A Novel
Bellman & Black: A Novel
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Bellman & Black: A Novel

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

3.5/5

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#1 New York Times bestselling author

“An astonishing work of genius.” —Bookreporter
“Magically transformative.” —Bookpage

Can one moment in time haunt you forever?
From the instant #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Thirteenth Tale comes a “poetic and mysterious” (Booklist) story that will haunt you to your very core.

Caught up in a moment of boyhood competition, William Bellman recklessly aims his slingshot at a rook resting on a branch, killing the bird instantly. It is a small but cruel act, and is soon forgotten. By the time he is grown, with a wife and children of his own, William seems to have put the whole incident behind him. It was as if he never killed the thing at all. But rooks don’t forget…

Years later, when a stranger mysteriously enters William’s life, his fortunes begin to turn—and the terrible and unforeseen consequences of his past indiscretion take root. In a desperate bid to save the only precious thing he has left, he enters into a rather strange bargain, with an even stranger partner. Together, they found a decidedly macabre business.

And Bellman & Black is born.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 5, 2013
ISBN9781476712000
Bellman & Black: A Novel
Author

Diane Setterfield

Diane Setterfield is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Thirteenth Tale, and a former academic, specializing in twentieth-century French literature, particularly the works of Andre Gide. She lives in Oxford, England.

Read more from Diane Setterfield

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Reviews for Bellman & Black

Rating: 3.5930232558139537 out of 5 stars
3.5/5

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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This was an interesting book. Though it was billed as a ghost story, it isn't one in the traditional sense. To keep the spoilers to a minimum, the book revolves around William Bellman, who kills a rook with a slingshot as a child and then as an adult notices a man in black dogging his steps.

    I started this book looking for a creepy, ghostly read and did not find it. This book is not about chills and creepiness but rather about mortality. It was not a bad book, and the writing style was well-done and readable, but it wasn't the kind of book I was expecting.
  • Rating: 1 out of 5 stars
    1/5
    It could easily have been a fantastic short story, finished in 3500 words and should have been. As a lover of The Thirteenth Tale, I wanted more but I easily could have accepted this as an entirely different novel if it had a story I could get behind. What was the point of the tale though?

    As a parable, I hated it. Bellman does an act unthinkingly (as many kids do) and it has ripple effects throughout his life. Did "bad" things happen "because of" the childhood action or would they have happened regardless? Who knows, because the books ends without conclusion on the topic.

    While I would never condone killing anything in such a wanton way, the punishment feels too harsh for the action. Bellman, as a man seems decent enough. He cares for people, finding them work when he could, looking out for his workers by providing meals. That the meals/housing/clothing were given because they were good business, doesn't negate their goodness, in my mind. Nor, is he despicable. He doesn't prey on others or take advantage of them. He provides a desired service, employs many and seemingly does it in a benevolent way.

    On a different level, this is about control, with Bellman's avoidance, other's acceptance and Dora's resignation of it. Bellman can't control Nature or Death so refuse to think about or doesn't like them "[Bellman] never liked birds". This is a foolish way to live your life, but again, I don't fault him for doing it. Dora isn't so much more enlightened since she is not in control eiter. Yes, she paints and observes but just because she is an artist doesn't mean she is somehow a better person. That Bellman refuses to remember and acknowledge his past tragedies, is regrettable but not so horrible. He didn't strike out at others, become mean spirited, villainous or sink into ennui.

    The tale seems to be cautionary but I still cannot fathom about what exactly. Therein lies why the book fails.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    Disappointing
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Note: My review of this book is based on an uncorrected digital copy sent to me through NetGalley.Like most readers, I came to this novel because I loved Diane Setterfield's first novel, The Thirteenth Tale. If you have not yet read this book, I'll give you a heads up: Bellman & Black is distinctly different from The Thirteenth Tale. If you head into this story expecting more of the same, you will be disappointed. Additionally, if you go into this story with the subtitle "A Ghost Story" at the front of your mind, you will be disappointed. But if you head into it with an open mind, however, you'll likely find that this book has its own unique charm.Even though the book clocks in at just over 300 pages, it covers the span of William Bellman's life, from age 10 until old age. At age 10, young William uses a slingshot to kill a rook sitting in a faraway tree. Although this seems at first to be a trivial incident, the consequences of his action will follow him all throughout adulthood.At first, William is a young, energetic man working and learning at a nearby textile mill. But then an raging epidemic sweeps through town, and after a series of excruciating losses, William finds himself entering into a macabre business deal with the mysterious Mr. Black. And so, Bellman & Black is born - an emporium of the finest funeral garb & supplies.There isn't much in the way of plot, at least not in terms of suspense or escalating action. What we have instead is a series of decisions and actions made over the course of William's life that ultimately affect the outcome of the novel. There's not much of a climax, not much in terms of suspense. It's a very even and measured story.Setterfield also includes a wealth of historic details, particularly in terms of textile production in the late nineteenth/early twentieth century. (It's not entirely clear what time period the novel is set in.) While I don't generally choose novels with such a wealth of historical detail, the information made the story compelling and gave it a rich texture that I enjoyed.William's character is very structured and orderly, and these characteristics transferred well into the reading experience. The measured pace and careful precision of Setterfield's writing made the novel feel like clockwork, which is especially fitting, since much of the novel deals with death and the passage of time. Everything felt less chaotic and I enjoyed that, especially since most of my reading choices are anything but orderly.This is not a book for everyone, and it's not a book I'd suggest if a person told me they loved the Thirteenth Tale. But it will find its readers and is quite enjoyable in its own right. With that being said, however, I do hope Diane Setterfield decides to turn to something similar to the Thirteenth Tale for her next novel!Readalikes (from Novelist):This House is Haunted - John Boyle. Although this novel has more of a supernatural focus, both atmospheric Gothic novels take place in a similar time period and create a slow, yet steady build-up of suspense from subtle supernatural elements.The Woman in Black - Susan Hill. Again, much more of a traditional ghost story with a more formal writing style, but readers looking for an atmospheric Gothic tale that revolves around mysterious figures in black will find much to enjoy here.The House of the Seven Gables - Nathanial Hawthorne. Atmospheric, Gothic novels that focus on the consequences of a person's actions, even years after the event occurred.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    BELLMAN & BLACK was a curious book, and not at all what I was expecting. It was a haunting tale, but not scary, and not a ghost story in the traditional sense.This book follows the life of William Bellman, beginning when he kills a rook with his slingshot as a child. Even though he blocks out the memory of that day in his mind, his killing of the bird follows him throughout his life and shapes who he becomes, yet he doesn’t realize it. The book is packed with minute details of Bellman’s life as a successful businessman, and the plot dragged from time to time. What kept me going was the mystery surrounding “Black,” a stranger who continually pops up at the funerals of Bellman’s friends and family.I thought the author missed a great opportunity with Bellman’s daughter Dora to create a strong female character in the book. I was so intrigued by Dora and her situation that I wished she had a bigger presence. Though, after reading the ending, I can understand why Bellman took center stage.What did I like? BELLMAN & BLACK contained stunning Gothic imagery. Black. Rook. Cold. Death. Funeral. Mourning. Dark. (This was not a happy tale!) The author's vivid descriptions of rooks were amazing.While I enjoyed the first part of the book, in the end I felt like I missed the point. The story was weak, and it lacked the spookiness and suspense that I anticipated. I did enjoy the gorgeous imagery and prose.I listened to the audiobook performed by Jack Davenport. The narration was well done, and I enjoyed the voices of the secondary characters as well as Bellman.Rating: 2.75 StarsSource: Review copy from the publisher.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    I anxiously awaited this novel by Setterfield because I loved "The Thirteenth Tale" so much, but this was a huge disappointment.
    Have you ever listened to someone talk in a monotone and wished for a little undulation and emotion in that voice? That's what this book was like. It was an outline of a story with potential, but it had no peaks and valley, no waves, no feeling, just the bare bones and no meat.

    I am as sorry as anyone that it was a dud.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Ms. Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale is one of my all-time favorite books, so when I received this galley in the mail I was thrilled. I was even more excited to see that this was a “ghost story” as I love a good suspenseful story. Although in the end it was not the thriller I was expecting, I did enjoy the novel and hurried through it until the end. Bellman’s story is full of symbolism and reminders of what is important in life. Although I did enjoy reading the story of Bellman, I can’t say that this book was on par with The Thirteenth Tale, and for that I was a bit disappointed. Overall, it is definitely worth the read. Thanks to Atria for sending me the advance copy.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Deftly written with gorgeous language and phrasing, Diane Setterfield's newest novel, Bellman & Black, is sure to resonate with readers. Subtitled A Ghost Story, the novel fulfills the role in an unexpected manner: it isn't a specter or monster that haunts the main character Bellman and the reader, it's everyday actions, intentional and otherwise.Bellman & Black tells the tale of William Bellman, a man blessed with good health, good fortune, and happiness. No one would dispute that Bellman works hard what he has. Smart, attractive, and successful, Bellman leads a charmed life. But what is his happiness worth? Because, as Bellman comes to realize, all actions have a consequences and time always comes at a price.Bellman's story is interspersed with information and anecdotes about the rook, which plays both a literal and symbolic role in Bellman's life. These short chapters are beautifully written and are sometimes factual, sometimes anecdotal. The rook itself becomes a central character in the novel, who, if not mentioned for a period time, becomes, curiously, almost missed.It's hard to describe the premise of Bellman & Black. What struck me most after completing the novel was how little actual action was contained in its pages compared to the amount of thought and contemplation spurred by the story. This may come as a surprise to some who see the subtitle A Ghost Story and expect the typical scary story. To be clear, Bellman & Black is most definitely a ghost story - and I would say it is, in many ways, much scarier than any paranormal story might be. Bellman's story forces readers to consider the price of their own lives... To consider the happiness and fortune they've been blessed with in their lives and how much payment might be owned to the figurative man in black that haunts Bellman's every conscious - and often unconscious - thought.I haven't read Setterfield's first, and immensely popular novel, The Thirteenth Tale, but, after Bellman & Black, I feel I need to. Setterfield is a powerful storyteller who leads readers with a light hand to thoughts and feelings that, even if we might now acknowledge them often, have a steady weight that influences our lives and choices. Bellman & Black is not to be missed.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    There were some lovely things about this book. It was very atmospheric & full of symbolism .It read almost like a fairy tale at times and I enjoyed the writing. However, I thought the plot was a bit unsatisfying. It was always hinting at some great moment to come that actually never happened. I enjoyed the ending which I thought was clever and which made me appreciate everything that came before it.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Yesterday around noon a flock of black birds, heading south, entered my New Jersey neighborhood as they do every year. I had just finished reading Bellman & Black so this clearly was a sign. I’ll never look at crows or black birds the same way ever again (now I call them “Jersey Rooks”).IMHO Bellman & Black is a ghost story, an allegory and gothic tale sprinkled with magical realism – small threads of all 4 building the novels’ atmosphere and suspense. Setterfeld is a master at weaving these threads to create an engaging story. B&B will get into your head without you even knowing. Readers should beware, however, you may find this a deeply scary story about your own walk through life. I too read The Thirteenth Tale years ago and loved it. Everyone I knew read it. The publishers marketing hype, pretty much saying Satterfield wrote in the vein of Daphne du Maurier, did the trick. But I’m glad I read it years ago as I believe that all authors deserve to have their work stand and be judged individually. Make no mistake this novel is about Bellman’s life – from childhood to his death bed – and not a mirror of her earlier work. The only thing these two novels have in common is the authors’ skill as a writer. Bellman & Black was well worth the wait and proves Setterfield is not a one hit wonder and will author works far superior to a genre maven that some would like her to be. Scale of 1-10: 7.5
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Bellman & Black: A Ghost Story by Diane Setterfield is a book that I read in two days and it kept me captivated. I read it quickly for several reasons including the mystery of Mr Black, the promise of a ghost story and because I am fascinated with ravens, crows, rooks, and black birds. I was drawn in by Setterfield’s quotations about rooks, which I will not quote because I am reviewing an uncorrected advanced copy. My own research confirmed that these are four distinct birds and that crow, ravens and rooks are all part of the same direct family. It is easy to see the size difference between crows and ravens as the latter, thinking of Poe, are very large birds that I was able to observe on a visit to the East coast. Crows are in abundance in Bodega Bay, California as featured in Hitchcock’s “The Birds.” In my imagination Setterfield conveyed the sense of mystery and tension when describing both a lone black bird (rook) or a large grouping of them flying together is what seem to be perfect communication. I absolutely fell in love with Setterfield’s first novel “The Thirteenth Tale” and it was the cover that drew me in and the story and characters that kept my undivided attention throughout the novel. I was not quite as taken with “Bellman & Black” although I really enjoyed the book. The novel begins with the scenes of young boys who are both friends and relatives, playing together and children do, and how they watched William demonstrate his beautifully crafted slingshot. This novel follows William as he matures, makes a life of his own and lives through wonderful and difficult times. He has such a unique and driven personality and it was very interesting to see how the writer used his character to form and move the story as the years progressed.I had a bit of trouble making the connection with the man “Black” though there are strong scenes painted along the way which give an impression of the meaning. My mind kept flashing on other movies and books such as a new PBS series which I will not name for fear of creating a spoiler. I would recommend this book but caution the reader not to expect a second, “The Thirteenth Tale” as it is uniquely different, and although it is a ghost story, it is not of the sort that is scary in a traditional definition. Setterfield does a very good job of creating depth to her characters and I found his daughter Dora and Lizzie, a seamstress, two of the most well developed supporting characters. I give this book a 3.5 rating and look forward to her next novel.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Bellman & Black explores “The Butterfly Effect” on a gothic, morbid scale; Will Bellman’s seemingly unintentional act of animal cruelty as a young boy has lasting and spreading effects as he continues to age. Throughout the novel, the “rook” (a crow, essentially) is cast as the harbinger of death, interspersed by factual tidbits about the rook’s eating habits, scientific names, and so on. The juxtaposition of the rook as a death symbol with these reminders of the unavoidability and impersonality of nature serve to remind us that death does become us all. So why was Will Bellman targeted?Will takes over a family business and his life becomes consumed with entrepreneurship; the book does become immersed in the details of his businesses, which I personally found engrossing. However, for each bit of happiness Will experiences, the rook flits through the pages, bringing another round of death and sadness for Will. Instead of properly dealing with his losses, they propel Will to work harder, shunning any kind of pleasure for the sole purpose of work. At each funeral Will attends, he meets a man simply named Black. They go into business together; the terms are vague. The business consumes Will and he becomes determined to “pay back” Black his portion of the profits. The ending, while not necessarily a surprise, is still a bit of a letdown—while Will is not a warm and fuzzy character, he is not a moral reprobate. Which brings us to the crux of the problem with Bellman & Black – why did the simple act at the beginning of the novel, something that, truly, was not fully intended in a malicious manner on Will’s part, bring about such devastation in the end? Will killed a rook—so everyone he loves dies. I feel that Setterfield wants us to dig deeper into the allegory of the novel; one small act can wreak larger havoc, yes, but if a person does not boldly face a problem or an issue, Setterfield seems to say, it all becomes exacerbated. If only Will had taken small moments to enjoy his pleasures more (as evidenced at the very, very end of the novel, when he went through just the very few happy memories he had). If only Will had been, yes, a bit more selfish and lived his life more for himself instead of being regulated by the external world.All in all, this novel is more profound than what it seems. I also found the minutiae of running a mill and starting a goods business quite fascinating; it fed into the larger theme of small gears making everything else tick (or break, as it were).
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    The story begins with William as a young boy killing a rook with his slingshot. Then, moves to his young adulthood where he is gifted and blessed with wealth, family, etc. However, when tragedy strikes, he becomes obsessed with death creating a large emporium to meet the needs of those grieving. I really loved Setterfield's Thirteenth Tale, so I was excited to begin this book. The overarching theme of rooks with memory was strong but I found the book too choppy and too long to be cohesive.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    While Setterfield's beautiful, vivid writing is as engaging and atmospheric as it was in The Thirteenth Tale, the plot of Bellman & Black bogs down as it meanders toward an unsurprising end.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Where I got the book: e-ARC from Edelweiss.Like many people, I was attracted to Bellman & Black because it was written by the author of The Thirteenth Tale, which had stuck in my mind as an awesome story. Like many reviewers, I feel a bit let down by Setterfield’s latest excursion into the realms of the slightly creepy. The story begins well—as a child, William Bellman kills a rook, and it is obvious from the rook-lore surrounding the story that this action is going to have its consequences. And then it takes forever to get anywhere near those consequences, as William grows up, leaves old relationships behind, marries and has children. During this part of the story I learned a great deal about dying cloth, which was pretty interesting, and loved Setterfield’s language as she painted vivid pictures of William’s life and the landscape in which he moved.And then the story took a darker turn and William met Mr. Black and set up a department store for mourning goods. Again, fascinating details, world-building, and so on. And then the story really failed to go anywhere. I felt that a whole lot more could have been made of the link between the rook and the consequences, and of Mr. Black.Setterfield is a great writer, there’s no doubt about that. I found myself easily comparing her prose style to such literary greats as Thomas Hardy and D.H. Lawrence. But there’s more to a novel than just good writing. To make a book really sing you also need a rock-solid story that the reader can latch onto, that makes them nod their head and say “yes, that’s what should happen here”. To fail to do that produces a sense of disappointment, and that’s what I felt by about the last fifth of the book. Still, if you’re into atmosphere and love Victoriana in general, you might enjoy this read. Two stars for the story but an extra star for the writing.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    ARC provided by publisher through Edelweiss.
    I was skeptical of reading something that hints of a ghost story, but was drawn into this book and accomplished little else until I finished it.
    William Bellman is a character who is so blessed with good fortune until his relationship with Black slowly pulls him away from all happiness. And who is Black? Ghost, Guilt, Death, Obsession? I am not sure I ever figured that out.
    Great historical fiction with just enough sinister undertones to make this story unique. You will never look at crow the same again.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I loved Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale, so when I was given a chance to receive a galley of this newest novel, I jumped at it.This book is an altogether different kind of beast, but I thoroughly enjoyed it, too. William Bellman led a charmed existence in 19th Century England. Until he didn't. “There was a man at the funeral.”Innovative, thoughtful, generous – William is all of those but his character changes with time and circumstance. The reader, if I am a typical reader, is taken on a journey with him, wishes him well but sometimes wishes him to behave differently. He is still a good man but he becomes obsessed. Setterfield skillfully and inexorably moves us along his path. This is labeled “a ghost story” but it is about our own demons.Rooks. Don't ignore the rooks. Some of my favorite parts of this book were the little interludes between the numbered chapters, a page or two headed with &. Charming, wonderful information about rooks, and especially about their collective nouns. The last sentence of the book turns this around, and it is delightful. You'll never look at a rook, or a crow or raven, the same.The ampersand, too, is not to be ignored in this book.There is symbolism throughout, and it is meaningful and important to the story, but it doesn't weigh down the story. Lovely writing kept me completely engaged.Thank you to Atria for giving me an advance reader's copy of the book.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    As usual, I received this book not through actually purchasing it but because someone gave it to me for review. In this case the book came from a galley giveaway on ShelfAwareness. Despite that kind consideration I'm still not afraid to roast even a free book with a scathing review. Luckily in this case, no such conflagration is necessary.Firstly, it should be noted that I religiously avoid reading the back jackets of books, so going into this one I had only the cover and the subtitle "A ghost story" to go on. Because of that I spent a fair amount of time looking for the literal ghost only to find that the ghosts that haunt William Bellman are of a completely different sort than one generally expects from children's literature.On the positive side of things, this book is a deliciously subtle story of one man's haunted life. Setterfield weaves her story and her characters together with a sagacious and haunting assiduousness that pulls the reader gently along from one short chapter to the next. This is an acutely wrought novel with a tenacious grip on realism while still washing the entire scene in an afterglow of the supernatural. I've not read anything this well written in quite some time. Our author brings us a tale as unhurried and as natural as life itself. The only real negative I can put forth is really more of a warning to potential readers. This is a great book but it's likely not for everyone. For those accustomed to the pablum of easy modern literature, I suggest humbly that you look elsewhere. For those reading by the pool in the joyous light of day, perhaps your time is better spent between other pages. But if you find yourself in a darkened room listening to the rumble of far-away thunder, then this may be the book for just that setting. It is not a gripping thrill ride, but it does take you gently by the hand and pull you quietly into another world where the sky harbors a thousand watching eyes and time does not undo all wrongs nor heal all wrongs.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This is the sort of novel that left me saying “hmm…” at the end, but in a good way. We meet William Bellman on the day of the event – the killing of the rook. And then we follow him through most of the rest of his life.William is a driven man, smart and interested in improving things at the family mill, which he ultimately takes over after the untimely death of his Uncle Paul. As various tragedies come through his life, William begins to notice a man dressed in all black who attends the funerals of everyone he knows. Desperate to find out who this man is, William starts to go a little mad in some ways, eventually believing he has struck some sort of deal with this man…even though he doesn’t really know what that deal is.This novel is billed as a ghost story, and I think if you go in expecting that to be the case, you may end up disappointed. It’s closer to historical fiction combined with the question of: what happens to a man who refuses to acknowledge grief? Is the man in black a figment of William’s imagination, a ghost, a real person, or a representation of William’s own mortality? These are questions I had throughout the book, and I’m still not sure what the answers are!This is the second novel by Diane Setterfield, and after reading comparisons between this and her first novel, I deliberately read this one first. I wanted to give it a fair shake and not compare it to her other work. As a result, while it wasn’t my favorite novel ever, I did enjoy it. It’s one of those stories where not much happens, but you get an interesting look into the textile business in Victorian England, which moves into a story about the mourning industry during the same time frame. As a historical study, it was fascinating in a lot of ways.More than anything though, this is a story about tragedy. I was moved to tears a few times because of things that happened, and it reminded me of how fragile life was, and still is. This isn’t a novel for everyone, so you’ll probably either really like it or really hate it.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Not at all as good as The Thirteenth Tale but still gorgeously written and exquisitely told. Diane Setterfield writes like an artistic magician. Recommended for the writing if not the story itself.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Rooks and the industrial revolution.This novel was an interesting book for group discussion because, like The Thirteenth Tale, there were aspects of the narrative that were left to the discretion of the reader to unravel. It also contained passages of sheer brilliance; Ms Setterfield has a wonderful way with words. Unfortunately The Thirteenth Tale had a finale that left me blown away and that was missing from Bellman and Black. Our book group was also a bit underwhelmed by all the references to rooks.The introduction suggests that this is a ghost story, but I think readers would be disappointed if that is what they are hoping for. It's a painting of a man in the industrial revolution, who comes from a lower middle class family but makes good through sheer hard work and determination.William Bellman is an absolute workaholic. He starts out employed at his uncle's mill and eventually opens a one-stop-emporium for the sale of funereal items. I admired the author's descriptions of his work ethic, I almost felt exhausted just reading about how much he fitted into a day!Although the story opens with William shooting a perfect curve and slaying a young rook, it was questionable as to how this fitted in with the rest of the narrative. Did the rook haunt him throughout his life, or was it just an inspiration for all the shades of black that are later available in his mourning goods business? His life had its share of sorrows too - were these pay-back for the death of the rook?I loved the descriptions of industrial life in the textile mill, William's interactions with the staff and his dedication to the job. Then he opens his emporium and pours all of himself into that. Partly this is a reaction to the grief that is in his life, partly, I think, his whole work ethic. I had expected more to come of Girl 9, I had hoped for some denouement. Who was the man lurking at the funerals and later named Mr Black? (My book group had a theory about that but no spoilers here!)The Thirteenth Tale was a hard act to follow and this fell a bit short. I shall still be rushing out to get a copy of anything else Diana Setterfield writes, but next time I hope we'll get a stunning ending :)
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    As a child, William Bellman once took aim with his slingshot, and on a lucky shot, took down a rook. While the moment was just a blink in time, faded by the years, the rooks never forgot, even after William did. Working his way through life, successful in almost all his business endeavors, he begins to let himself think he’s a lucky man. But William’s not. A chance meeting with a stranger changes his life forever and he enters the business of death with an unseen partner.I’ll say this, Bellman & Black is an interesting book. There are some strange twists and sad moments (it’s not a happy book by any means) and it is, overall, a dark novel. I read it on the train on a snowy evening and it was the perfect companion on that ride. It could have easily been the worst book choice ever if I’d been traveling on a warm, sunny day though. It all depends on your mood for this one. I know that’s true for almost all books and most people but I feel it’s particularly true in this case. Setterfield is a great writer. A dark and dreary and somewhat strange writer but ultimately, a strong writer who can evoke that sense of time and place complete with subtle drama. She gives you just enough to imagine her world before she twists it ever so slightly. However, there are times in this book where it just began to feel a bit repetitious. Something about Bellman repeating figures and tasks over and over began feeling, well, like he should be doing something else and she didn’t know what that was. This is supposed to be a ghost story but in reality, it’s a story about a haunted man. Is the book as strong as her first book, The Thirteenth Tale? No, but I think it’s an introspective story on the things that haunt us.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    This was an interesting mashup of historic fiction, mystery and ghost story. The setting – England in the the early 1800s - is one of my favorites so that was a big plus for me. The book starts with a group of young boys playing in the woods. Will, showing off his updated and improved catapult brags that he is so good that he can hit a rook sitting on a branch of a distant tree. His aim is true and Will hits and kills the bird, leaving him feeling very remorseful. Fast forward several years and Will is a young man, working in the family mill business. Will is not only industrious, but he is clever and creative and quickly turns the business into a very profitable enterprise. But lurking in the background is an ever present feeling that something bad is going to happen and that disaster will somehow turn around this prosperity. I really enjoyed some aspects of the story - The setting, Will’s challenge of improving the family business, the various characters in day to day life. But, the ominous feeling of something bad about to happen, made this book feel a bit like Edgar Allen Poe’s Tell Tale Heart - imminent doom, disaster about to strike. But where Poe’s story is scary and totally captivating, that part of the book was only ok for me, and maybe a bit disappointing. Not a bad story, but not great.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    Great disappointment. Wonder if she blew it all in the Thirteenth tale.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    4.5 stars

    The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield is one of my favorite books. I read it around the same time that I read The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton and Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger. All three books were similar yet very different and I loved all three. I’ve been waiting for a new book by Diane Setterfield and this month, I got my wish!

    Bellman and Black is a beautifully written dark tale. I’ve heard some readers complain that the story is slow moving but I found I enjoyed the slow pace. Setterfield’s writing drew me into her setting like few authors have been able to do. Her setting was unmistakenly English but still so magical. The time period was a little more vague (something I’ve seen other reviewers complain about) but that didn’t bother me. I felt like the book was set somewhere in the early to mid 19th century, and that was precise enough for me. Everything was just so dark and beautiful. I can still conjure up the little village and also the interior of Bellman & Black in my mind.

    I was in love with this book up until the very end. I have to say that I was a little disappointed with the ending..at least the last 20-30 pages or so. It was enough to make me dislike the book but it was enough to keep me from rating Bellman & Black a full 5 stars.

    I do recommend Bellman & Black to anyone who enjoys a well-written character driven novel and doesn’t shy away from the macabre. ;)
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Confession, I thought this book was trippy as hell and half the time I had no idea where it was going. BUT I really liked it. People try to mimic the Gothic style a lot, and few succeed. I felt like Setterfield really got what makes a Gothic novel a Gothic novel including the eeriness, and the way that sometimes you feel like you're fighting through a veil to understand what's really going on. The setting definitely helped in that regard. I wasn't a fan of the happy life of Bellman hour in the beginning of the book but it was so clear that something terrible (wonderful) was going to happen that it was worth it. Loved the ending, loved the whole funeral store in general, and the daughter's story line was interesting, if incomplete.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    I really wanted Bellman & Black by Diane Setterfield to be as good, if not better than The Thirteenth Tale. Unfortunately I did not enjoy Bellman & Black, which is not to say it is in any manner poorly written. Setterfield is an exceptional storyteller; unfortunately this story is just not one that grabbed me.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    ‘Without the past to cast its long shadow, might you see the future more clearly?’Bellman & Black is the story of William Bellman who’s life was irrevocably altered after killing a crow with a slingshot when he was eleven years old. The brief yet ominous event foreshadows his life to come. William leads a prosperous life for many years having a large family and doing wells in business until it slowly begins to decay. A sickness spreads through his family and one by one they die yet at each of their funerals William Bellman is stricken to realize there is a smiling man dressed all in black, watching him. When William finds him one day in the graveyard, waiting with a suspicious proposition.I think the fact that I actually have not yet read the much touted ‘The Thirteenth Tale’ was a benefit as I didn’t have the lofty expectations that others seemed to have going into this story. Alas, despite my lack of expectation this was still a dreadfully dull and disappointing tale. It had a very ‘Dickens’ writing style to it yet was less adroit. William Bellman even took on a similar feel to Ebenezer Scrooge who was obsessed with his business and making money (except William Bellman had a family to come home to). The attempted moral of this story is one choice can change everything, which is a powerful message, yet the deaths surrounding William Bellman didn’t even seem to be written as a result of him killing the crow but rather it was just an implied assumption. That powerful message was definitely diminished.The beginning part of the story dawdles along telling the story of an unexceptional man and detailing his factory and the business he conducted. While it was evident that the author conducted the research necessary to make her detailing convincing, it didn’t generate an ounce of interest in me. It was historically interesting but not appealing in the least as it overwhelmed the story completely. I found myself halfway through and realized that I had no interest in any of the characters, there wasn’t a single ghost to be found in this ‘ghost story’ and any sort of plot was completely nonexistent. I was confused and incredibly bored. The second half didn’t get any better and the plot (and purpose of the story) remained absent. The one saving grace of this was my decision to opt for the audio route. Jack Davenport was a fantastic narrator and managed to make this a tolerable tale.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Bellman and Black is the first book that I have read by Setterfield, and I found it to be a well written haunting tale. Bellman & Black is not written as your typical ghost story, but it does haunt the reader just the same. William as a young boy kills a rook, and that moment ends up haunting him the rest of his life even if it is not always in the forefront of his mind. William leads a full life with a wife and his children until tragedy strikes, and William enters into a deal that changes things dramatically. Black is never really present in the book except for a few moments here and there, but William is constantly awaiting his return. Building his new business, William tries to bury himself in work, but nothing can stop what haunts him for long. Setterfield does deliver a compelling tale that proves hard to forget.Received a copy of Bellman & Black through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    After reading and raving about Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale, I was excited to get a chance to read her latest novel, Bellman & Black.In the English countryside during the reign of Queen Victoria, a ten year old boy, trying to impress his friends, kills a rook with a slingshot. Although William Bellman feels remorse, he soon forgets this incident. But rooks, apparently, never forget. As Bellman grows, his life seems charmed. He goes to work for his uncle, who owns a mill. William becomes the manager, and the mill grows more and more successful. He spends his evenings at the local pub, and is popular with all.When William's mother Dora dies, he notices a mysterious stranger at the funeral. Thereafter, he encounters this man at every funeral he attends. William marries and eventually has four children. When his uncle dies, William takes over the mill and the business grows and strengthens. When a devastating disease spreads through the town, Bellman's wife and three youngest children (as well as many villagers) die. His eldest, Dora, is dying. At the churchyard, Bellman sees the mysterious stranger. Bellman comes to an agreement with him. Dora is spared, but not unscarred. Bellman goes on to open a successful London emporium, which he names Bellman & Black. This macabre store caters to all things funerary. Mourning clothes in shades of black; coffins; stationery.Bellman sees "Mr. Black" the night before the store opening. Although he sets aside a generous portion of the profits from the store for him, Bellman does not see Mr. Black for many years.This is quite a bizarre story. It is interspersed with facts and lore about rooks. William Bellman is as strange a character as the mysterious Mr. Black. He works relentlessly, rarely sparing time for his beloved family. In London, he owns several homes, but lives at the store. And for such an intelligent man, it just takes him too long to realize who Mr. Black actually is.So-did I like this book? Yes, but I didn't love it. The concept is bizarre, and the plot is nowhere near as interesting as The Thirteenth Tale. But I would definitely look forward to reading anything that Diane Setterfied writes, as her style is so elegant and precise.

Book preview

Bellman & Black - Diane Setterfield

Part I

Verily, the rook sees far more than we give him credit for seeing,

hears more than we think he hears,

thinks more than we think that he thinks.

—THE REVEREND BOSWELL SMITH, FROM BIRD LIFE AND BIRD LORE

CHAPTER ONE

Six days out of every seven the area along the Burford Road resounded with the clattering, booming, clanging, rattling, thundering noise of Bellman’s Mill. The shuttles that hurtled back and forth were the very least of it: there was also the churning, crashing roar of the Windrush as it turned the wheel that powered all this hectic to-ing and fro-ing. Such was the racket that at the end of the day, when the shuttles were brought home to rest and the mill wheel ceased to turn, the ears of the workers still rang with the vibration of it all. This ringing stayed with them as they made their way to their small cottages, was still there as they climbed into their beds at night, and as often as not, continued to sound through their dreams.

Birds and other small creatures stayed away from Bellman’s Mill, at least on working days. Only the rooks were bold enough to fly over the mill, seeming to relish its clamor, even adding a coarse note of their own to the music.

Today though, being Sunday, the mill was peaceful. On the other side of the Windrush and down the high street, the humans were making noise of another kind.

A rook—or a crow, it is hard to tell them apart—alighted with aplomb on the roof of the church, cocked its head, and listened.

"Oh come and dwell in me,

Spirit of power within,

and bring the glorious liberty

from sorrow, fear, and sin."

In the first verse of the hymn, the congregation was tuneless and disorganized as a herd of sheep on market day. Some treated it as a competition where the loudest wins all. Some, having better things to do with their time than sing, rushed to the end as quickly as they could, while others, afraid of getting ahead of themselves, lagged a safe semiquaver behind. Alongside and behind these singers was a mass of mill workers whose hearing was not what it had been. These created a flat background drone, rather as if one of the organ pedals had got stuck.

Thankfully there was the choir and thankfully the choir contained William Bellman. His tenor, effortless and clear, gave a compass bearing, according to which the individual voices found north and knew where they were going. It rallied, disciplined, and provided a target to aim at. Its vibrations even managed to stimulate the eardrums of the hard of hearing, for the dull drone of the deaf was lifted by it into something almost musical. Although at sorrow, fear, and sin the congregation was bleating haphazardly, by Hasten the joyful day it had agreed on a speed; it found its tune when old things shall be done away, and by the time it reached eternal bliss in the last verse it was, thanks to William, as agreeable to the ear as any congregation can expect to be.

The last notes of the hymn died away, and soon after, the church door opened and the worshippers emerged into the churchyard, where they lingered to talk and enjoy the autumnal sunshine. Among them were a pair of women, one older and one younger, both abundantly decorated with corsages, brooches, ribbons, and trims. They were aunt and niece, or so they said, though some whispered otherwise.

Doesn’t he have a fine voice? It makes you wish every day was Sunday, the young Miss Young said wistfully to her aunt, and Mrs. Baxter, overhearing, replied, If you wish to hear William Bellman sing every night of the week, you need only listen at the window of the Red Lion. Though—and her undertone was audible to William’s mother standing a little way off—what is pleasant to the ear might be less so to the soul.

Dora heard this with an expression of benign neutrality, and she turned the same face to the man now approaching her, her brother-in-law.

Tell me, Dora. What is William doing these days, when he is not displeasing souls who loiter at the window of the Red Lion?

He is working with John Davies.

Does he like farmwork?

You know William. He is always happy.

How long does he intend to stay with Davies?

So long as there is work. He is willing to turn his hand to anything.

You would not prefer something more steady for him? With prospects?

What would you suggest?

There was a whole story in the look she gave him then, an old story and a long one, and the look he returned to her said, All that is true, but.

My father is an old man now, and I have charge of the mill. She protested, but he overrode her. "I will not speak of others if it angers you, but have I done you any injury, Dora? Have I hurt you or William in any way? With me, at the mill, William can have prospects, security, a future. Is it right to keep him from these?"

He waited.

You have not wronged me in any way, Paul, she said eventually. I suppose that if you don’t get the answer you want from me, you will go to William directly?

I would much sooner we could all agree on it.

The choristers had disrobed and were leaving the church, William among them. Many eyes were on William, for he was as agreeable to look at as he was to the ear. He had the same dark hair as his uncle, an intelligent brow, eyes capable of seeing numerous things at once, and he inhabited his vigorous body with grace and ease. More than one young woman in the churchyard that day wondered what it would be like to be in the arms of William Bellman—and more than one young woman already knew.

He spotted his mother, widened his smile, and raised an arm to hail her.

I will put it to him, she told Paul. It will be for him to decide.

They parted, Dora toward William, and Paul to go home alone.

In the matter of marriage, Paul had tried to avoid his father’s mistake and his brother’s. Not for him a foolish wife with bags of gold, nor love and beauty that came empty-handed. Ann had been wise and good-hearted—and her dowry had just stretched to the building of the dye house. By being sensible and choosing the middle path, he had ended up with a harmonious domestic life, cordial companionship, and a dye house. But for all his good sense and solid reason he chided himself. He did not grieve his wife’s passing as a loving husband ought and in painfully honest moments he admitted in his heart that he thought more of his sister-in-law than was proper.

Dora and William went home.

The rook on the church roof gave an unhurried flap, lifted effortlessly from the roof, and soared away.

·  ·  ·

I’d like to do it, Will told his mother in the small kitchen. You won’t mind?

And if I do?

He grinned and put an easy arm about her shoulders. At seventeen, there was still novelty in the pleasure of being so much taller than his mother. You know I wouldn’t hurt you if I could help it.

And there’s the rub.

·  ·  ·

A while later, in a secluded spot screened by sedges and rushes, Will’s easy arm was around another shoulder. His other hand was invisible beneath a mass of petticoat, and the girl sometimes placed her hand over his to indicate slower, quicker, a change of pressure. Clearly he was making progress, he thought. At the start she had kept her hand over his all the time. The girl’s white legs were whiter still against the moss, and she had kept her boots on: they would have to make a run for it if they were disturbed. Her breath came in sharp gasps. It still surprised Will that pleasure should sound so like pain.

She fell abruptly silent and a small frown of concentration appeared on her face. Her hand pressed so hard over his it was almost painful and her white legs clamped together. He watched closely, fascinated. The flush on her cheeks and chest, the quiver of her eyelids. Then she relaxed, eyes still closed, and a small pulse beat in her neck. After a minute she opened her eyes.

Your turn.

He laid back, arms behind his head. No need for his hand to teach her. Jeannie knew what she was about.

Don’t you ever think you’d like to come and sit on top of me and do it properly? he asked.

She stopped and wagged a playful finger at him. William Bellman, I mean to be an honest married woman one day. A Bellman baby is not going to get in my way!

She returned to her task.

Who do you take me for? Do you think I wouldn’t marry you if there was a baby coming?

Don’t be daft. Course you would.

She caressed him, gently enough, firmly enough. It was just right.

Well, then?

You’re a good boy, Will. I’m not saying you’re not.

He took her hand and stopped it, propped himself up on his elbows to see her face properly.

But?

Will! Seeing he would not be satisfied without an answer, she spoke, hesitant and tentative, the words born straight from her thoughts. I know the kind of life I want. Steady. Regular. He nodded her to go on. What would my life be if I were to marry you? There’s no way of knowing. Anything might happen. You’re not a bad man, Will. You’re just . . .

He laid back down. Something occurred to him, and he looked at her again.

You’ve got someone in mind!

No! But her alarm and her blush gave her away.

Who is it? Who? Tell me! He grabbed her, tickled her, and for a minute they were children again, shrieking, laughing, and play fighting. Just as quickly adulthood repossessed them and they set to finishing the business they were there for.

By the time the leaves and the sky came back into focus above his head, he discovered his brain had worked it out for him. It was respectability she wanted. She was a worker, unimpressed by the easy life. And if she was killing time with him, while waiting, it meant it was someone who hadn’t noticed her yet. There were not so very many candidates the right age, most of them you could eliminate for one reason or another. Of the remainder, one stood out.

It’s Fred from the bakery, isn’t it?

She was appalled. Her hand flew to her mouth then, more aptly, but too late, covered his.

Don’t tell. Will, please, not a word! And then she was crying.

He put his arms around her. Hush! I won’t tell. Not a soul. Promise.

She sobbed and hiccoughed and then was quiet and he took her hand in his. Jeannie! Don’t fret. I bet you’ll be married before the year is out.

They parted, heading off in different directions in order to arrive home by different paths.

Will walked the long route, upriver and over the bridge, down the other side. It was early evening. Summer was clinging on. It was a shame about Jeannie in a way, he reflected. She was a good sort of girl. A rumble came from his stomach and reminded him that his mother had some good cheese at home and a bowl of stewed plums. He broke into a run.

CHAPTER TWO

William extended a hand. The hand that met it was like a gauntlet, thick pads of skin as unyielding as cowhide. Probably the man could hardly bend his fingers.

Good morning.

They were in the delivery yard, and even in the open air the stink coming from the Spanish crates was high. Unpacking, counting, and weighing all go on here, Paul explained. Mr. Rudge is in charge, he’s been with us—how many years is it?

Fourteen.

Six men here with him today. Some days more, some days less. It depends on the deliveries.

Paul and Mr. Rudge talked for ten minutes, underweight crates and settling and the Valencia supplier and the Castilian one. Paul followed the order of the work: The crates were levered open and tipped up, the fleeces dragged out—their stink with them—to be attached to the hook; then all the business with the weights, the fleeces rising, suspended like grubby clouds, and when the balance was found, Rudge—talking to Paul all the while, speaking of Valencia and Castile as though they were places just beyond Chipping Norton—noted the weight and signaled for the next. Then the fleeces returned to earth to be carted away for cleaning. William studied the work, all eyes, keen to take in every detail. And as he watched, so he was watched in turn. None stared openly, all appeared to be looking at their work. But out of the corners of their eye and out of the backs of their heads, he felt their gazes all over him.

Paul and his uncle followed the donkey to the next stage.

Let me introduce my nephew, William Bellman, said Paul Bellman. William, this is Mr. Smith.

A rough hand in his. Good morning. William watched. William was watched. And so it went on all day.

The wool had to be cleaned, dried, and picked. William concentrated hard. Willying, scribbling, oiling, carding, slubbing: he tried to commit it all to memory.

Sometimes it goes on from here to the dye house, to be dyed in the wool, but since it can also go as finished cloth, we’ll leave it till later.

There came an introduction with no handshake. In the spinning house the eyes that scrutinized him were all female ones—and they were not shy of looking either. He gave a half bow to Clary Rigton, the most senior of the spinsters, and giggles burst out in the room, immediately repressed.

Onward! Paul said.

To weaving, where the shuttles traveled so fast the eye could scarcely keep pace and the cloth grew so fast you might believe the rattling rhythm alone was enough to beget cloth. To fulling, with its urine and hog’s dung fumes, filth to clean filth. To the tenterfield, cloth stretched out on frames, yard upon yard of it, drying in the fine weather—

Unless it’s wet, in which case, and off they strode again. Paul opened a door on the air house. Self-explanatory, really, and gave William a glimpse of a long, narrow room, perforated all along the walls. And once it’s dry, the cloth next passes—

On they went.

—to finishing, but they were not finished at all, for finishing meant scouring and more fulling and more drying and raising, where William was too dazed to do more than stare as the cloth passed through a machine and emerged with a haze of fiber on its surface, like felt.

William’s nostrils were on fire with the smell of it all and his ears were ringing with the noise. His feet ached, for they had crossed the site a hundred times, from north to south, from east to west, from field to yard to house to shed, one building to another, following the cloth.

Shearing, Paul said, opening another door.

The door closed behind them and William was stunned. For the first time that day, he found himself in a place of hush. It was so quiet in the room that his ears seemed to vibrate. There were no hands to shake. The two men—equal in height, in stature—barely glanced up, so great was their concentration. They worked their blades along the cloth from end to end, in a silent and precisely choreographed ballet, and where the blades passed over the cloth, they left not so much as a memory in the pile. The haze was cut away, it drifted like down, slowly to the floor, and what was left behind was perfect and firm and clean and sound: finished cloth.

William didn’t know how long he stared at it. He was in a numb reverie.

Mesmerizing, isn’t it? Mr. Hamlin and Mr. Gambin.

Paul looked at his nephew. You’re tired. Well, that’s enough for one day, I should think. There’s only pressing after this.

William wanted to see the pressing.

Mr. Sanders, this is my nephew, William Bellman.

A handshake. Good evening.

Sheets of heated metal had been inserted between pleats of folded cloth and were cooling. Along the wall packaged lengths of cloth awaited dispatch.

There, said Paul as they came away. So now you’ve seen it all.

William’s eyes were glazed with looking.

Come on. Get your coat. You look worn-out.

William held his coat between his hands. Cloth. Made from fleeces. It was nothing short of miraculous.

Good evening, Uncle.

Good evening, William.

Before he was quite out of Paul’s office, he spun on his heels.

The dye house—!

Paul lifted a weary hand in the air. Another day!

·  ·  ·

So, how was it?

Dora understood not one word in three of her son’s reply.

He hardly chewed her food before swallowing, but nineteen to the dozen he talked, and his mouth was full of billies and jennies and burling rooms and double giggs and fulling stocks and she knew not what else. Rudge does deliveries, and Bunton has charge of cleaning. The senior spinster is Mrs. Rigton and—

Was Mr. Bellman there? The old Mr. Bellman, I mean?

He shook his head, his mouth full of food.

Mr. Heaver is the fuller and Mr. Crace is in the tenterfield—no. Is that right?

Don’t speak with your mouth full, Will. You know, your uncle doesn’t expect you to know everything on the first day.

In fact the chop and potato was already cold, but that hardly mattered. William ate without tasting. In his mind he was still at the mill, seeing it all happen, working out how it all fitted together, every process, every machine, every man and woman, all part of the pattern.

And the others? Everyone else? Did they take to you, do you think?

He gestured to his mouth and she had to wait.

She never learned the answer. He swallowed, closed his eyes, and his head began to nod.

Up to bed, Will.

He jerked awake. I said I’d go down the Red Lion.

She looked at her son. Red eyed, white with tiredness. She didn’t know when she’d seen him happier.

Bed.

And he went.

CHAPTER THREE

So had they taken to William Bellman at the mill?

A nephew was an object of curiosity, and William’s arrival was much discussed.

The first result was the resurrection of the old scandal surrounding his father. What was known was this: Phillip, brother of Paul, had run away to marry Dora Fenmore against his parents’ wishes. She was pretty enough to justify his actions, poor enough to explain theirs. A year later he ran away again—this time leaving his wife and baby son behind him.

Seventeen years being neither a very short nor a very long time, Phillip was remembered and misremembered in equal measure. The story itself was weighed and picked and cleaned and oiled and spun and woven and pounded with hog’s dung until it bore about as much resemblance to reality as a cloth cap to a sheep in a field. By the hundredth retelling Phillip Bellman himself could have eavesdropped without recognizing his own story. With every retelling the roles of hero and villain, betrayer and betrayed, were shuffled, sympathy being reallocated accordingly.

The truth of the matter went like this:

When he married, Phillip was perhaps not so much in love as he believed, but only dazzled by beauty and in the habit of taking what he wanted when he wanted it. His father was always hard on him, and Phillip fully expected him to harden his heart against the couple. However, he had counted on his mother to smooth things over for him. Mrs. Bellman was a foolish woman who, to spite her husband and for other private reasons, had indulged her younger son too much. She surprised him though by being not the least bit indulgent in the matter of his marriage. What he had not calculated for was the jealousy of his mother’s love. When his father sent them to live in a small cottage inconveniently situated on the edge of the town, Phillip’s considerable pride was hurt.

With the birth of his son, Phillip expected his parents’ severity to soften. It did not. His reaction was spiteful: there were three male names in the Bellman family—Paul, Phillip, and Charles. Heedless of the price his son might pay for his act of familial vengeance, Phillip chose none of them: he named his son William, out of nowhere, for nothing and for nobody.

Banished from the comfort of the parental home and short of money, he discovered he had paid too high a price for beauty. Love? He could not afford it. Three days after the christening, while his wife and infant were sleeping, he crept from his house by night, stole his father’s favorite horse, and left Whittingford to go who knows where and do who knows what. He had not been seen or heard of since.

There was no reconciliation between Dora and her parents-in-law. She raised the child alone. Neither party cared to broadcast the details of the falling-out within the family, and since the only one who knew all the ins and outs of it was gone, that left ample scope for gossip.

The truth is one thing, the imagination of a mill’s storytellers quite another. If a father gives a child a name that is not a family name, there has to be a reason, people said. It was tempting to cast Dora in the light of wayward wife. There are always men ready to imagine a quiet and pretty woman a wicked one. There was a serious impediment to this though: William had the square, unstill hands of Phillip Bellman, the long stride of Phillip Bellman, the easy smile of Phillip Bellman, and the noticing eyes of Phillip Bellman. He was, indisputably, his father’s son. He might not have had the Christian name you expect of a Bellman, but he had Bellman written all over him.

Spitting image! said one of the old hands, and there was not a single dissenting voice.

When the tale had been told so often that the tellers had exhausted every variation, the gossip changed direction. It was proposed and quickly agreed that a nephew was not a son. A son was an easy thing to understand. It was straightforward. Direct. A nephew, on the other hand, was on the slant, distinctly diagonal, and it was hard to know what it might mean. The new Mr. Bellman had taken his nephew under his wing, that was clear as day, but old Mr. Bellman, so it was said, had no high opinion of the lad. A nephew, once you came to think on it, was a walking uncertainty. It could be anything or it could be nothing at all.

Theories wandered far and wide, and at the end the only thing that could be pronounced with confidence was spoken by Mr. Lowe the dyer, who was the one person who had not yet seen him: He is not heir. He is not master over us.

CHAPTER FOUR

Mr. Lowe, said William, extending a hand. I’m William Bellman.

The man spread his palms and William saw that his hands and arms were black to the elbow. He’d shaken hands yesterday with calluses, scars, and burns. He couldn’t see what harm a bit of staining would do, but the lack of warmth in the man’s eyes told him not to insist.

Moreover it appeared Mr. Lowe had no intention of speaking.

My uncle showed me the work of the mill yesterday. You may have heard.

An incline of the head. As if to say, I have heard and I am not greatly interested.

We did not come to the dye house though. I hoped you might have a few minutes to show me what it is that you do here.

The man raised an eyebrow. We dye.

Of course. Will smiled. The other man did not. Presumably he had not intended humor.

Perhaps you would prefer me to come back some other day.

A muscle twitched in the man’s face. A tic or a communication? Whatever it was, it wasn’t an invitation.

Will knew when he wasn’t wanted.

·  ·  ·

In the courtyard crates were being offloaded.

William approached Rudge.

Need a spare pair of hands?

You again? Haven’t you seen enough yet? This was better. Rudge was smiling as he extended his great leather glove of a hand. They shook.

I’m here to work today.

With these hands?

Will knew what work was, he’d chopped enough timber and scythed enough hay.

Rudge handed him a jimmy, and for half an hour Will levered crates open. Then he lugged fleeces. Then he attached them to the hook. The men were reticent, awkward at first, but the work left no room for the intricacies of sentiment. He was a pair of hands, there with the next fleece when the first was weighed, and as he found his place in the process they forgot who he was and called Next! and Ready! to him with the same ease they had for each other. Here! and Ready! he called back, as if he had never done anything else.

When his palms got sore he rubbed grease in and bandaged them—like a hundred little knives, a fleece is, when you start out, they told him—but worked on, till the delivery was cleared, and when they were done and he said good-bye, all the men could say about him was that he’d put his back into it.

In the next days and weeks, Will did every job that a pair of willing hands could do in the production of cloth. In the spinning house, the women laughed and flirted—as did he—but he also sat for long hours at a jenny and blundered with his bag of fluff till his hands were sore. That was nothing new! Every job he did found a new patch of tender, uninjured skin to torment. Over and over again his yarn broke, a thousand times he found himself spinning thin air, but by the end of the day he had spun a length of thickish, uneven yarn.

I’ve seen worse from a beginner, Clary Rigton admitted, and a saucy, dark-haired girl who’d been giving him the eye added, And for a man, it’s a blimmin’ miracle!

In the fulling stocks, he inhaled a lungful of noxious fumes from the seg barrel and fainted clean away. He came to his senses, nauseated and gasping for air. When he got his breath back he laughed at himself, and said to the apprentice who had helped him outside, You’re brother to Luke Smith, aren’t you? Is he still arm wrestling? He knew it was not by accident that the lid was whipped away just as he came by, but by the end of the day he was in with the apprentices enough to have a game of cards with them, and he even made a penny from it.

In the tenterfields William crouched low to be taught by rough-handed children how to stretch the wet cloth on the lower pegs of the frame for drying. He barrowed wool from here to there and back again with Mute Greg. He decanted fermenting seg into the fulling stocks. He was not too high to feed the donkey and shovel shit.

At the other end of the scale, nor was William too low to meet the millwright. He stood beside the northerner, watching the mill wheel turn, all ears. There were different types of wheel, undershot and overshot, high breast, low breast. Will asked a question, then another. The millwright explained, first in general terms then, encouraged by the boy’s enthusiasm and general intelligence, in greater and greater detail. The diversion of rivers to create reservoirs of energy, the calculation and management of flow so as to engineer continuous, regular supply of power, all the ingenious means by which a man might harness nature to multiply his own efforts.

When the man went to speak with Paul in the office, William remained standing by the wheel. Hands in pockets, blank faced, he stared at the water and the turning wheel. He went over and over the science of it all, time slipping by unremarked, and it wasn’t until Paul tapped him on the shoulder—Still here?—that he came out of his absorption.

What time is it?

And when he learned, he swiveled and took off at a run.

Got to see someone, he shouted over his shoulder. Red Lion.

By

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