‘There’s no need for that. I’ve made up my mind.’
Tom’s face fell.
Mary quickly added, ‘Yes, Tom, I’ll marry you.’
Tom smiled broadly and, leaning forward, he wrapped Mary in his arms. He kissed her firmly on the lips and stayed there, holding her, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his.
‘I’ll be a good husband to you, and a good father to Josie, I promise. We’ll be happy together.’
When they returned to The Moss, Mary invited Tom into the house. He followed her through the low door and into a pleasant kitchen where she gestured for him to sit down.
A whimper came from a room at the back of the house.
‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ Tom said kindly.
Mary went to fetch her daughter. She carried her out and leaned over Tom’s chair so that he could see her baby. ‘Josie Watson, this is your Uncle Tom.’
‘Uncle Tom? Don’t you mean Dada?’ he asked.
‘Soon-to-be-Dada,’ she said, and smiled at him.
‘And when we’re married, I’d like her to have my name — she’ll be Josie Milburn.’
‘Thank you, I’d like that,’ said Mary. She was very touched that Tom had even thought of it.
She placed Josie in Tom’s arms and he held her for the remainder of his visit, talking to her and cooing. Mary wished that everyone would accept her and her baby as easily as Tom had.
Chapter 23
Upper Weardale
November 1873
Tom came to visit Mary every Sunday. Leaving Josie in Lizzie’s care, they walked together and talked for hours. On the last Sunday before their wedding day, Tom came to the door as usual, but he was clearly hiding something under his jacket.
‘Hello Mary,’ he said as he kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’d like to see Ben, if he’s around?’
‘Yes, he’s cleaning out the hen house.’ Wondering what this was about, she said, ‘I’ll come with you.’
Ben saw them walking towards him and stopped shovelling. He said, ‘Hello Tom.’
‘Morning, Ben,’ said Tom. ‘I have a surprise for you.’
‘Oh, what is it?’
Then they all heard a little whine coming from inside Tom’s jacket. Ben’s eyes lit up.
‘A pup?’ he asked expectantly.
Tom removed his hand from under his jacket and in it was a little black and white collie pup. He held it out to Ben.
‘Is it for me?’
‘Yes, she’s yours. Our Floss had a litter and I’ve been waiting until they were old enough to leave her.’
Ben took the pup into his hands and looked into her face. The pup stuck out her tongue and Ben laughed. The pup got excited and tried to wriggle towards him to lick his face.
‘I think she likes me.’ Ben grinned. ‘Thanks, Tom, she’s great!’
‘You’re welcome, lad.’
Mary and Tom watched him carry the puppy around the smallholding, introducing her to all of the animals, the hen house cleaning forgotten.
‘That was a lovely thing to do, Tom. He’s been so sad since he lost Fly.’
‘It’s the least I could do after what happened. Are you ready to go?’
He held out his hand and she took it. They set off on their walk hand in hand. Mary realised they had wandered onto the track that she had taken the day she fled from Springbank Farm. It felt such a long time ago and she thought about how much her life had changed since then. She was now a mother and about to be a married woman. In just a few days, they would say their marriage vows and be man and wife.
She spotted a small hole in the hillside, the entrance to the mine that she had sheltered in on that snowy night, and she pointed it out to Tom.
‘This is where I stayed that night when I left the farm. I know I shouldn’t have. Father said it was bad luck for women to go in the mines. I don’t know if he really believed that or if he wanted to scare me and Annie from going in them because they’re dangerous.’
‘Aye, you have to be careful in old mines. Even experienced miners are wary about going into the old man’s workings.’
‘I remembered Father saying that it was warmer underground in the mines than outside in the winter. I was so cold by the time I got here that I didn’t care about his warnings — I went in anyway.’
‘Your father was right about the temperature. It doesn’t change much underground all year round, so in summer it feels colder than outside and in winter it feels warmer. I’m pleased you remembered what he said and that you weren’t too scared to go in because if you had stayed outside in the snow that night, I dread to think what would have happened. You would most likely have died up here. You definitely did the right thing.’
‘I didn’t have a light so I had to feel my way in by touching the walls and feeling the ground with my feet, step by step.’
Looking closely at the entrance, Tom said, ‘That’s a really old tunnel. It must be heading towards Pearson’s vein.’ He took a candle from his pocket, lit it with a match and walked towards the entrance. ‘You’re lucky it was an old mine, really. The more recent ones sometimes have shafts going down to the lower levels. They’re death traps.’
‘I was careful, and thankfully I was alright. But if the shafts are so dangerous, why don’t the miners fall down them?’
‘It has happened. Most are covered over with timber when they’re not being used, but wooden planks rot away pretty quickly when there’s water running over them.’
Tom led the way into the tunnel. There were ferns growing from the stone archway, as far as light could penetrate the mine. Spiders sat waiting for prey at the centre of their webs. Mary was pleased that she hadn’t seen them when she had been there alone. It didn’t seem anywhere near as scary with Tom by her side. She followed close behind him so that she could see the light from his candle. The flame flickered as he moved onwards, deeper into the mine.
‘I’ve never been in this one before,’ he said. ‘A lot of these old levels cave in at the entrances, where the timber supports or stone arching would have been, but once you get inside them, into the solid rock, they’re very well built. Amazing what they could do with just hand tools. They didn’t have powder for blasting the rock, back then. Look, you can see the chisel marks on the walls,’ said Tom, holding the candle next to the wall. Mary reached out and ran her fingers along the wall, feeling the grooves left by ancient chisels on the cold, damp stone.
Referring to the past miners of the dale, he continued, ‘I’ve a lot of respect for the old man. He knew what he was doing — where the veins were and everything. They didn’t have the advancements that we have, for pumping water and blasting rock, but they used their brains. You know, some miners won’t set foot in the old man’s workings, won’t go anywhere near them. I don’t know why. I think they’re interesting. Mind your head in here. There’s not much height to these old tunnels and they’re narrow. Did you know that they’re called coffin levels?’
‘Why? Because men died in them?’ asked Mary.
‘No. Well, I suppose they might have, but that’s not the reason. It’s because they’re shaped like a coffin stood on end: narrow at the top, widest at the shoulders and narrow at the bottom. They were made just big enough for a man to walk through.’
After they had walked about thirty feet into the tunnel there were no longer any signs of life; underground was an inhospitable place.
‘What’s that smell? I noticed it last time I was in here. Is it mould?’ asked Mary.
‘That’s a dead smell, maybe a ewe that came in here to die. They look for places to shelter when they’re on their last legs.’
She heard water dripping somewhere ahead and looked forward. There was something small and white on the ground up ahead. When they reached it, Tom bent down and picked it up. It was a handkerchief.
‘That’s mine,’ said Mary. ‘This must be where I slept.’
‘You chose a good spot. It’s nice and dry here. There’s wa
ter further on, but it must have found a way down into the limestone further back. This would have been a drainage level when it was dug, and the water would have run along here.’
Tom moved the candle around the small space and saw something else just a little further up the level. He stepped forward, hoping he was wrong. But he wasn’t. ‘Mary, you’d better go back now. I’ll be out soon.’
Before he had time to stop her, Mary leaned past him to see what was there. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The body of a woman was lying on the floor of the tunnel. Her clothes were old and tattered. Blonde curls covered a skeletal face.
Had she been in the mine when Mary had spent the night there? Oh no, the smell. She had spent the night in an abandoned mine — with a corpse. Tom took her in his arms and comforted her.
When she could speak, Mary said, ‘Thank God I didn’t walk any further. If I’d come across her that night, I would have died of fright. I wonder if she came in here to shelter, like I did.’
‘Who knows? If her clothes were wet, the cold could have killed her.’
Mary was pleased she had taken her wet cloak off that night, or she could have been rotting in here too.
‘The poor woman, whoever she is. Nobody deserves to die in a place like this, all alone,’ said Tom.
‘It’s very sad. What should we do? We can’t leave her in here.’
‘We have to, for now. I’ll walk you home and then I’ll let the constable know when I get back to Westgate. He might be able to find out who she is and, at the very least, he’ll make sure she’s taken out of here and given a decent burial.’
Chapter 24
Westgate
November 1873
The next morning, Tom met with Robert Emerson. He had a stretcher and sheet ready to take with them to the mine. When they arrived at the entrance, Robert was surprised at how small the opening to the level was. He was a large man and he struggled to get into the tunnel, frequently bumping his head and cursing as he followed Tom to where the body was. He wondered how miners could work in these places almost every day of their lives, and was thankful he didn’t have to spend much time underground.
Robert held a candle by the woman’s head.
‘She’s been here a while. You wouldn’t recognise her even if she was your wife. Let’s get her onto the stretcher and get her out of here.’
They lifted her carefully by her clothes onto a stretcher and began the journey back through the tunnel. They walked awkwardly in the restricted space.
‘They say it’s unlucky for women to go in the mines,’ said Robert. ‘It certainly was for this one.’
‘Aye,’ agreed Tom.
It wasn’t long before Robert said, ‘I can’t wait to get out of here. I need some fresh air. I don’t know how you miners stand working underground.’
‘You get used to it. And it’s interesting when you know about the veins and the minerals.’
‘I’ll take your word for that, lad.’
When they reached the surface, the policeman covered the stretcher with a sheet and they carried it back down to Westgate.
Robert’s first job was to determine what had happened to this woman and then try to identify her. He presumed that she had got lost and died of exposure, but he had to look for evidence. He asked Doctor Rutherford to come over and help him examine the body, and to look for any signs of how she might have died or of who she was. He made notes as they did so.
Body found in old mine above The Shieling.
Unknown female.
Bones — very little flesh.
Height approximately 5ft 4in
No distinguishing marks.
Blonde curly hair.
No grey hairs so probably young — under 35 years?
Her clothes were basic, and they were well-worn and dirty. From the poorer end of working class, he thought. During his examination of the body, he felt something in her skirt. He noticed that a small pocket had been sewn into the hem and in it was a locket. Robert thought it might be gold and, on closer inspection, he was sure it was. The initials CF were engraved on the front and there were hallmarks on the back. He was sure he hadn’t seen it before and the doctor didn’t recognise it either.
Robert opened it. Inside was a small piece of purple heather. His instinct told him that there was something amiss here. Why would a poor, young woman be hiding a gold locket in her skirt? He picked up his notebook and wrote a few more notes.
Fully dressed.
Clothes old and torn. Repaired in places.
Gold locket hidden in skirt. Engraved with the initials C.F.
No other items found.
Doctor Rutherford checked for broken bones and didn’t find any to the torso, arms or legs. He noticed an old fracture to the lower left arm that had healed, and it had left the arm slightly bent out of shape. He felt the skull, under the full head of hair, and it moved slightly. On parting the hair, he found that the skull was fractured. She had been hit on the head with something hard, something that would have killed her outright. The woman had been murdered.
There was no way they could tell exactly how long the woman had been dead. He guessed that it could be anywhere between six months and two years. Her clothes were similar to those worn by women in the dale now; they wouldn’t be considered old-fashioned.
Old injury to lower left arm.
Left side of skull smashed in with heavy object.
VICTIM OF MURDER
Death estimated at between 6 months and 2 years.
Robert always thought it particularly sad when he dealt with bodies of young people. What a waste of a life. He wanted to find out who this woman was. He wanted to find out who had killed her, and he wanted to find out why.
Chapter 25
High House Chapel, Ireshopeburn
November 1873
Mary walked from The Moss to Ireshopeburn, carrying Josie in her arms. She wore a blue dress that Lizzie had made for her, with a woollen shawl over it to keep her warm until she reached the chapel. Her hair was tied up in a braided bun that shone in the autumnal sunlight.
As she walked, she thought about the day ahead and was pleased that the marriage would be a private affair. She didn’t want everyone in the dale talking about her and Tom. When news of the wedding got out, they would think that Tom was Josie’s father, with her being just a few months old, but there would be some speculation as to why he hadn’t married her before the baby had been born. Well, they could talk, thought Mary. She would rather they wondered than knew the truth.
To Mary, it seemed such a long time since Tom had first come to visit her at The Moss and asked her to marry him, but it was just two months ago. During his weekly visits, Mary had got to know him better and looked forward to seeing him. She enjoyed his company and she liked feeling loved again, but she had to remind herself that he wasn’t marrying her for love. He didn’t love her, he was just marrying her to put things right. It was a marriage of convenience, that’s all, and after today, they would be together forever — for better or worse.
Tom and Mary had discussed their wedding day and they both agreed that they would like a quiet service at the chapel with just a few family and friends there. Tom had obtained a marriage licence so that the banns wouldn’t have to be read out in chapel three times prior to the wedding. They arranged a private ceremony with the minister and only those they wanted to be there were invited by word of mouth.
Jane Milburn and George Watson were asked to be witnesses. Mary would rather her father hadn’t been invited but, as she was under the age of twenty-one, she needed her father’s consent to marry — so he had to be there. Lizzie had promised to make sure he turned up and she and Ben had left early that morning to go to Fell Top so that they could accompany him to the chapel.
Joe wouldn’t be coming; Tom had told his brother, in no uncertain terms, that it would be better if he stayed away.
When Mary arrived, the guests greeted her, and she handed Josie to Ben who had offered to
look after her during the service. Tom had arrived early and was waiting inside the chapel with his best man, Watson Heslop, and Reverend Hodgson. Lizzie took the shawl from Mary’s shoulders and went inside with the others, leaving Mary alone with her father whom she hadn’t seen since the day she had gone to him for help — the day he had disowned her.
George spoke first. ‘Mary, I’m sorry about the way I spoke to you. It was the drink talkin’. I was upset, aye, but that’s no excuse for what I said. I’ve given up drinkin’. I’ve not touched a drop for over two months.’
Mary wasn’t sure she could forgive him for the way he had treated her or her sister, but she said, ‘I’m pleased to hear you’ve stopped drinking.’
Standing back to admire his daughter, he said, ‘You look beautiful, lass. Tom’s a lucky fella.’
‘Thank you.’
With their truce of sorts, George took Mary’s arm and led her down the aisle. They took their places and the Reverend began the service, ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Not to be entered into lightly, holy matrimony should be entered into solemnly and with reverence and honour. Into this holy agreement these two persons come together to be joined. If any person here can show just cause why these two people should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.’
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