Replenish the Earth

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘Then my Harry keeled over in the lane and died one day. Sudden, it were. No time to say goodbye. After Squire died, I stayed on here. Don’t allus eat so good, but we manage, me an’ Petey do. He gets bits of work sometimes an’ I do washin’ an’ such for Mrs Pursley. An’ there’s stuff growin’ in the garden still.’

  After a moment or two they continued the tour, but Mary kept harking back to the subject of the Squire's losses. ‘Sold off Hay Nook Farm, your granfer did, and Downleigh Meadows and Uppercombe Edge. Sold some of his cottages in the village too.’

  And his London house and business interests, mentally added Sarah, who had had the whole list from Mr Jamieson.

  ‘That Mr Sewell bought ’em,’ Mary went on. ‘Bought everythin’ he could lay his hands on. Foreigner, he is. Comes from up Bristol way. Made hisself a fortune from sellin’ tea an’ such-like, they d’say. He were wild to buy the Manor, but the Squire wouldn’t part with that, choose how. Said he intended to die in his own home an’ they could fight over it afterwards. He did it, too.’

  ‘Did what?’

  ‘Died here. Just like he said he would. Died in the great parlour. That Frenchie found him one evening, sat there in his chair, stiff as a board. An’ now Mr Sewell tries to call hisself Squire. Built a big house down on Marsh Bottom, he has, an’ calls it The Hall. I d’call it Marsh Bottom still! That’un’s no Squire! Don’t know nothin’ about the land, he don’t. Proper townie, he be.’

  She scowled. ‘Them as work there has to call him Squire, though, else they’ll lose their places. Throw you out of your job an’ cottage soon as look at you, he would. So folks don’t dare say nothin’ ’cept what he wants to hear - specially if those two men of his be near. Tell their master all they hear, they do. Then bad things happen to folk.’ She looked sideways at Sarah and added, ‘Be you goin’ to sell to him, mistress, or be you goin’ to live here?’

  ‘I’m staying, though I don’t know how we’re going to manage,’ she admitted. ‘There isn’t much money.’

  ‘Old Master did allus live very fine,’ volunteered Mary, ‘right to the end. You could feed ten families for a year on what Old Master spent on clothes, let alone the wages he paid that Frenchie.’

  Sarah stared at her. ‘How much does it cost to buy food in the country? Can you tell me some prices?’

  Mary blinked and struggled to gather her slow thoughts. ‘I couldn’t rightly say, mistress. Folks don’t buy much food, if they can help it. They d’grow things themselves.’

  ‘Grow what sort of things?’ Oh, it was galling to be so ignorant of country life!

  ‘Well, they d’keep pigs an’ chickens an’ such. White bread d’cost a lot, full sixpence a loaf over in Sawbury, but rye bread be cheaper. If you d’buy a rabbit, he’ll cost you twopence, but my Petey d’catch ’em in the woods sometimes an’ that costs nothin’.’ She clapped her hands to her mouth in dismay at what she had revealed. ‘Oh, mistress, don’t have him taken up for poaching! They’ll hang him for sure. What hev I said?’

  ‘It’s not poaching. They're my woods, and I give Petey permission to catch rabbits there any time he wishes. Go on! Tell me some more!’

  Mary relaxed again, took a breath and rattled off a list of foodstuffs. ‘Mistress Pursley d’make fine cheeses, but they be tenpence the pound. She sells the best ones in Sawbury, not here. Stewin’ meat be twopence a pound when someone kills a beast. Roastin’ meat costs more. We got plenty o’ fruit, though, and that don’t cost nothin’. There be some nice apple an’ pear trees in the orchard. Me an’ Daniel Macey d’make cider still, just for ourselves, like. Well, them apples'd go to waste otherwise, wouldn’t they? Mr Jamieson said me an’ Petey could eat the fruit, so I stored ’em up careful an’ there be plenty left still. Bit wrinkled, but they d’make a nice pie. An’. . . Mistress! Mistress! What be you a-doin’?’

  For Sarah had grabbed her by the waist and swung her round in a clumsy, lop-sided dance, which only came to a halt when they stumbled against the bed and sat down abruptly on it.

  ‘Oh, Mary, Mary! That’s it, don’t you see? When Mr Jamieson told me I wouldn’t be able to manage, I couldn’t understand it. We managed on far less in London, with rent to pay and seacoal to buy. But he seemed so certain it was impossible - and my grandfather hadn’t managed well, had he? But it was my uncle’s debts which caused the trouble. I see that now.’

  She paused a minute to frown and wonder why everyone seemed to have got into debt to Mr Sewell, then pushed that thought aside and continued eagerly, ‘I’m sure I could manage here! I’m strong and healthy, in spite of my lameness.’

  Then she became aware of the anxiety in the other woman’s eyes and guessed what must be the cause of it. ‘Will you stay and help me, Mary? You and your son? I can’t afford to pay you wages, not at first, but one day, if things go well, I’ll make that up to you. And I will feed you properly and clothe you better.’

  The wrinkles on Mary's weather-beaten face multiplied a hundredfold as she smiled and reached out to grasp her mistress’ hand. ‘Aye, Mistress Sarah, we’ll stay. This be our home too. An’ don’t you worry ’bout wages. Petey don’t understand money anyway. It be kindness as he needs. Kindness an’ shelter an’ food. He’s a strong lad an’ he’ll earn his keep, never you fear! An’ I’m not too old to work hard, neither.’

  Sarah persuaded her beaming maidservant to return to the kitchen and spent the rest of the time till Will Pursley came back for her going over her house on her own, peering into every chest and cupboard, gloating at the sight of so many things which she could use. Linen, clothes, tableware.

  She decided to move in the next day and sleep in the great chamber. However, the room needed a thorough airing, because you could feel the dampness. She found Petey and directed him to carry the feather mattress down and put it to air before the kitchen fire. Mary was set to scrubbing the bedroom floor and washing the windows, while Petey took the carpet outside into the frosty air and hung it over a line, beating it with great gusto, clumsy thwacks that made him laugh aloud and also caused him much sneezing.

  So when Will came back, it was to find a woman glowing with hope and bubbling over with ideas, a woman who wouldn’t even listen to the fresh arguments he’d marshalled for her not living here.

  Did she not realise that Sewell’s bullies would be back? Or that Sewell would try other nasty tricks on her? She couldn’t possibly manage on her own, however hard she was prepared to work.

  When he left her at the inn, he went away to worry about it all, but for some reason, he couldn’t get the memory of her glowing face out of his mind. She’d been so happy. He wished desperately that he could keep things that way for her.

  There was too much unhappiness in this world, that was sure. And men like Sewell caused more than their share of it.

  * * * *

  The following morning, Sarah again hired the gig from the inn, and got the lad to drive her and her luggage to the Manor, plus a basket of food packed by Prue Poulter. She’d borrowed a walking stick from Prue, one with a nobbly end to it, and she set it close at hand, keeping a careful eye out for attackers as they drove. But nothing disturbed the peace and beauty of the day.

  Left alone with her new retainers, Sarah wondered that she felt no fear, only great joy at being here. But she couldn’t spare the time to savour the moment, for two faces were staring at her expectantly, waiting for orders.

  She unpacked the basket, whose contents brought tears to her eyes, for it was a gift from the landlady of the Golden Fleece and Prue had done her proud. There was a pie, a crusty four-pound loaf, a jar of fruit preserve, a pat of golden butter, stamped with a rose, two wax candles and a jug of milk, its top stoppered by a wrinkled apple.

  She set to work to finish her bedroom, removing her grandfather’s things from the chest and laying her own meagre belongings inside it instead. Not nearly enough to fill it - just as she would feel lost on her own in the huge bed with its high pedestal.

  At noon sh
e shared the food with her new retainers, watching them eat with the hunger that only long deprivation can give. She had lived among such hunger for too long to mistake it. If she was able, she vowed to herself, she would ensure that Mary and her son never went hungry again.

  ‘I think I’ll have to send to the village to buy more supplies,’ she said while Mary was clearing the table.

  ‘Yes, mistress. Janey Bell keeps a little shop there. She sells all sorts of things.’

  ‘Would Petey go with me to carry the baskets, do you think?’

  Mary's hand went up to her mouth in a gesture of dismay. ‘Oh, mistress. Oh dearie me. I’m sorry to tell you no, but he daresn't.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘It’s them men of Sewell’s, mistress. They d’torment my poor lad something cruel. He ent been into the village for over a year, now. But if you ask her, Janey Bell will lend you one of her children for a ha’penny to carry a basket back for you. Or she has a handcart. Maybe you could use that - if you’re buying a lot of things. If you got some wheat flour - she buys the good stuff from the miller in Sawbury - we could make proper bread.’ She licked her lips at the thought.

  ‘I’ll go to see her myself tomorrow, then.’ Sarah wasn’t looking forward to the long walk, though - especially if those dark skies meant rain.

  To her relief, Will Pursley turned up that afternoon to ask her if she’d like him to take her into the village to buy anything

  ‘That’s very kind of you.’

  ‘It was my mother who thought of it.’ It wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell Mistress Bedham he’d been worrying about her.

  They hardly spoke to one another on the way there. Perhaps one day she’d be able to afford a pony and a small conveyance of some kind. You needed them in the country, it seemed. She’d have to learn how to drive one first, but it didn’t look hard, not on these quiet country lanes.

  ‘You should call on Parson,’ Will said after a few minutes’ driving in silence. ‘It’d be proper for you to make his acquaintance.’

  ‘Oh, yes. I’d be happy to do that. Is he married?’

  ‘No. And he’s quite old now.’ He pointed. ‘Mrs Bell's shop is the third house after the inn, the one with the bow window. It’s one of your properties still, actually, and she’s a good tenant, Janey Bell is. I’ll come across and tell you if Mr Rogers is well enough to see you. He’s been ill. And ‘I’ll drive you back afterwards, if you like. I have some - er, things to attend to in the village.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She guessed he was waiting for her on purpose, but she couldn’t afford to be proud. And in any case, she didn’t think she could face the journey back to the Manor on foot, especially with a load of provisions.

  Sarah went into the inn first to return Prue’s basket and found herself being catechised about how she had found things at the Manor, all in a very respectful but nonetheless determined way. Prue had clearly decided to take Miss Elizabeth's daughter under her capacious wing.

  Will peered through the open door to say, ‘Parson’s happy to see you, Mistress Bedham,’ then vanished before Sarah could say anything.

  Prue watched him walk away and sighed. ‘Had a hard time, Will has. Fine young man, though. ’Tis a pity there aren’t more like him.’

  Sarah made her way across the village green towards the cottage that Prue had pointed out to her as Mistress Bell’s shop. The door was open, but when she went inside, there was no one waiting to serve her. She could hear voices coming from the back room, so after a moment or two, she called out, ‘Hello! Is anyone there?’

  The sounds ceased abruptly and a thin-faced woman of about Sarah’s own age peered through the low doorway at the back of the shop. ‘Dear, oh Lord!’ she exclaimed. ‘I never heard that door go. Just a minute, please.’ She vanished again, to be heard yelling, ‘Susan! You see that our Bessie eats her bread, then you can scrub that table.’

  When she reappeared, she was smiling brightly, ready to give her full attention to her customer. ‘I’m that sorry, mistress. I usually hear the door opening when folks come in.’

  ‘The door was already open.’

  ‘Drat the boy! I told him to shut it behind him!’ She looked at Sarah with frank curiosity. ‘What can I get for you, Mistress Bedham?’

  ‘I have a whole list of things that I need.’ Sarah made as though to hand over the piece of paper and Mistress Bell went red.

  ‘I can read a bit,’ she said stiffly, ‘but it’d be a sight quicker if you read your list out to me. I’m not very fast.’ She went even redder and added, ‘And I’ll hev to ask you to pay for the things now, if you please. I can’t afford to give credit, not even to the gentry. Hoping I don’t give no offence, mistress, but me bein’ on my own, I hev to be careful.’

  Sarah smiled reassuringly. ‘That’s all right. I prefer to pay as I buy, then I know where I stand, too.’

  Mistress Bell's sigh of relief was audible. ‘What be you wantin', then, Mistress Bedham?’

  ‘Just about everything, I’m afraid. Mary helped me to make a list, but if you think of anything else I might need, please tell me, for there are few stores of anything left at the Manor and I’m not used to country ways.’

  ‘I’ll be very happy to oblige.’ Mistress Bell beamed at her, then yelled, ‘Susan! Fetch my stool for Mistress Bedham this minute!’

  The stool was brought within seconds by a little girl who gaped at the newcomer till her mother hissed at her not to stare like a scarecrow in a field! Then Mistress Bell settled down to fill a satisfying large order.

  As Sarah left the shop, two men turned round to eye her speculatively and with a sinking heart she recognised Sewell’s bullies. They were standing on their own in front of the blacksmith's forge and everyone was giving them a wide berth. However, they made no move towards her. More conscious than usual of her limp, she made her way across the green.

  The front door of the parsonage was opened by a dignified older woman, who dropped a small curtsey and begged Mistress Bedham to step inside. ‘Parson’s waiting for you in his study. We’ve had to take the sofa in there for him, for he would be near his books!’

  She bustled across the hallway and raised her hand to tap on a door. From inside the room came a scuffling sound. ‘There!’ she exclaimed, dignity forgotten. ‘If he hasn’t been an’ got up off his sofa again!’ She flung the door open. ‘I heard you, Parson! You've been walking around again! What did the doctor say about resting? How will you get better if you don’t do as you're told and rest! Now, here's Mistress Bedham come to see you,’ She straightened the blanket over his legs. ‘I’ll go and fetch your tea-tray.’

  Sarah looked across at Mr Rogers, longing to laugh, and he smiled at her conspiratorially. ‘I can’t call my soul my own,’ he murmured, ‘but she’s an excellent housekeeper and makes the most splendid scones and cakes.’

  ‘You’re fortunate in having such a loyal servant, sir.’

  ‘I am. The Lord has been truly kind to me. Mistress Jenks undoubtedly saved my life by her devoted nursing this winter. I’m well enough now to chafe at my bonds, but not well enough to be independent of her good offices. However, we mustn’t waste your time today in talking about me. First, let me welcome you to Broadhurst and tell you how happy I am to meet you, my dear. I’m only sorry that I wasn’t able to welcome you in person when you arrived.’

  Sarah fumbled in her muff. ‘I have here the deposition made to identify me, which you will wish to see.’

  ‘No, no, my dear! I really don’t . .. ’

  ‘I would prefer to show it to you, sir, in case anyone queries my right to Broadhurst. You are the proper person, I believe.’

  ‘Well, if you insist.’ He skimmed through the parchment rapidly, then returned it to her. ‘All in order, as I expected, my dear. Now, is there some way I can help you?’

  Sarah found herself telling him her whole story and asking for his advice.

  ‘Well, if your mind is set on staying, I see no reason why y
ou should not do so, my dear. The Manor has been sadly neglected, both house and land - what land is left, that is - and I would be glad to see it kept from Sewell, even if you cannot maintain it all in good repair. He’s a harsh master, that man is, though I don’t like to speak ill of others. As for Will, he’s a good farmer and an honest man, and any advice he gives you about the Manor would be well worth following. I have to own to being a little prejudiced in his favour, though, for he is by way of being a protégé of mine.’

  The door banged open and Mistress Jenks marched in, carrying a large tray set with a snowy cloth. On it stood a silver chocolate pot and a plate of fluffy scones. ‘Now, you be sure to eat something, Parson,’ she scolded. ‘You won’t get any better if you make such poor meals as you have lately!’

  ‘Mistress Jenks - could we find a few of your delicious cakes or scones for Mistress Bedham to take with her, do you think? They’ll not have had the chance to do any baking yet at Broadhurst.’

  'Certainly, sir. That Mary Hames is no cook, though an honest body and a hard worker, and I respect her for keeping that son of hers off the parish. Yes, Parson, I’ll see to it at once.’

  As she left, Mr Rogers sighed and looked at the food. ‘I would be glad of a dish of chocolate, my dear, but I must confess that I don’t feel like eating.’

  So Sarah found herself joining the ranks of those who loved and bullied their impractical and absent-minded parson. ‘Just one scone. See, I’ll spread a little of this delicious-looking preserve on it for you and you can eat it quickly while I pour the chocolate. Then it’s over and done with, and I shan’t press you to eat any more.’

  Not for nothing had she nursed her mother over the last few months and learned how to coax a failing appetite.

  After a while she saw him looking tired, so took her leave.