The Lead Miner's Daughter

by Margaret Manchester

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Mary.

  ‘It was a blessing in the end, at least that’s what Annie says. He’d been bad since that cold spell back in February. That’s when he took to his bed. But the last week or so he could hardly breathe. He couldn’t eat or talk or anything,’ William said. ‘Anyway, Annie told me to let you know that the funeral will be on Friday, up at Lanehead Chapel.’

  While Mary made a pot of tea and spread some dripping on a thick slice of bread, she thought about how most of the miners ended up with bad chests, the ‘black spit’ as they called it. And it wasn’t just old men who were affected by it, some young men were too. She was thankful that Tom was no longer working underground. Her thoughts drifted to her sister Annie, who had looked after their ailing father for months. ‘Poor Annie, she must have had a hard time of it,’ she said, as she handed the plate to William.

  Misunderstanding what Mary meant, William replied, ‘Once he’d stopped drinking, he wasn’t so bad. When he’d had a skinful though, that was a different story. Did you know he used to hit us?’

  ‘I knew he’d hit Annie. I told her if it got any worse that she should take you all to Aunt Lizzie’s,’ said Mary. ‘I didn’t know he’d hit you though.’

  ‘Aye, Annie got the brunt of it. She used to keep us out of his way most of the time. I hated to see him hit her. Then there was this one day he was hitting her and I went down and shouted at him to stop. He took his belt off and hit me with it — over and over. I didn’t dare say anything after that,’ said William, with tears in his eyes.

  ‘Aw, William, that was a very brave thing to do, but you were just a boy, you couldn’t have stopped him.’

  ‘Well, I’ll not miss him,’ said William bitterly. ‘There’s something else as well. Annie said to tell you the agent’s been round and given us notice. We’ve got to be out of the house by the end of the month. We’re not sure what we’re going to do.’

  ‘By, he didn’t waste any time. Are there any jobs going at Killhope or Burtree? You’re nearly twelve now. They might take you on as a washerboy and let you keep the house.’

  ‘You know fine well a washerboy’s wages wouldn’t pay the rent and I’m too young to go in the mine yet.’

  ‘No, you’re right. I’ll have a word with Tom when he gets home and see if we can sort anything out.’

  ‘Oh, and another thing — our Annie’s courting!’ said William grinning.

  ‘Is she now? And who’s the lucky lad?’ asked Mary.

  ‘Jack Nattrass. He’s a miner at Killhope and he seems nice enough. Anyway, I should be getting back. Thanks for the food.’

  ‘Aye, Annie will want you home before dark. Right, we’ll come up on Friday and we’ll see you then.’ Mary stood at the door and watched as William began his long walk back to Fell Top.

  Mary hadn’t seen much of her father in the last few years. She had never forgiven him for turning her away when she needed him. He had been a good father when she was young, but hard times and losing his wife had turned him to drink and he had changed with it. Well, her parents would be together again now, she thought.

  It was several hours before Tom came home. He smelled strongly of sheep and had bits of wool all over his clothes. ‘What have you been doing?’ Mary asked, as he began to undress by the kitchen sink.

  ‘I’ve been on with the sheep, trimming the wool on their tails,’ he said, as he poured water into the sink.

  ‘Why are you doing that now, wouldn’t it be better to wait until you bring them in at clipping time?’

  While he washed, he said, ‘Not if we want to stop them from getting fly strike. It’s starting to warm up now and it’s still a few months before we’ll be clipping them. When it’s warm, flies lay their eggs in the wool around the tails, especially if they’re mucky. Me Dad lost a good ewe once. He hadn’t seen the maggots eating away at her flesh ‘cos the wound was hidden by her tail. By the time he noticed, it was too late to save her. Every year since then, either me or Joe have clipped every single one of them. It’s not an easy thing to do but I never want to see that happen again.’ He put on some clean clothes and sat down at the table.

  ‘Would you like tea, or ale?’

  ‘Some ale would be nice, thank you.’

  As she passed him the drink, she said, ‘I had a visitor this morning. Our William came down to tell me that Father died yesterday.’

  ‘Aw, Mary, I’m sorry. Are you alright?’ said Tom. He stood up and took her into his arms.

  ‘Aye, I’m fine — you know how things were between us.’

  ‘But he was still your father.’

  Not wanting to talk about him, she moved away and went over to the range to check on the pie that was baking in the oven.

  ‘The family’s been given notice to leave Fell Top. The agent’s been round already,’ she said. Turning back to look at Tom, she asked, ‘Is there anything we can do to help them?’

  ‘I could do with a lad to help me here. It would have been a lot easier today if I’d had another pair of hands. Do you think William would take to farm work?’

  ‘Aye, I’m sure he would. He’s almost twelve now and he’s growing up fast.’

  ‘Alright, that’s settled then.’ He took a long sup of ale and then continued, ‘I heard Mrs Peart is looking for a new girl — but I don’t know about telling Annie, you know, with Connie being there.’

  ‘Beggars can’t be choosers. She might have to if there’s nothing else going. They have to be out by the end of the month.’

  After a pause, Tom said, ‘We’ve got plenty of room. They could come here. Annie will find a place soon enough — she’s a good worker — and John can stay until he finishes school.’

  ‘Thank you, Tom.’ Mary went to his chair and hugged him. ‘They’ll be so relieved. I can’t wait to tell them.’

  William wasn’t the only visitor to High House Farm that week. When Mary answered the door on the second occasion, she was shocked to see Mrs Peart standing on the step.

  ‘Hello, Mary. I heard about your father and I’ve come to pay my respects.’

  ‘Mrs Peart, come on in. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘Yes please, that would be lovely.’

  Mary showed Mrs Peart into the rarely-used parlour. It was the best room and only used when they had visitors at the house. ‘Sit down in here and I’ll bring a tray in.’

  Mary hadn’t seen Mrs Peart since Connie’s wedding day, the day she had run away. She hadn’t seen her since Mr Peart’s death. There was so much she wanted to say to her, but she had been too afraid to call at Springbank Farm to see her. They were neighbours now and Mary was pleased that her former employer had come over to visit.

  When Mary entered the room with the tea tray, Mrs Peart smiled at her. As she set it down on the table, Mary said, ‘I’m sorry about what happened.’

  ‘Sorry, what for?’

  ‘I’m sorry for leaving Springbank Farm without saying anything and for making you worry. You and Mr Peart were so good to me, you deserved better. And I’m very sorry for what happened to Mr Peart. He was a lovely man. I went to his funeral...but I didn’t go into the church because I didn’t think any of you would want me there.’

  ‘Bless you, Mary. You worry enough for all of us. It’s all water under the bridge now, as they say. I do miss him though, God rest his soul. And I’m sorry for what our Connie did on your wedding day. I couldn’t believe it when Joe told me.’

  ‘It didn’t surprise me,’ said Mary.

  ‘Well, she shouldn’t have gone to High House Chapel and she shouldn’t have done what she did, and I told her so.’

  They heard the back door close, followed by Jane’s voice and Josie’s giggles.

  ‘I would love to meet your little girl,’ said Mrs Peart. ‘There’s no sign of our Connie giving us any grandchildren yet. I can’t wait to have some little ones around the place.’

  Mary smiled and went to fetch Josie.

  ‘What a pretty little thi
ng she is! She looks just like you.’ Mrs Peart sat the child on her knee and started to sing to her, much to Josie’s delight.

  With the air cleared between the two women, they chatted over tea like old friends.

  On Friday morning, Tom harnessed the horse and he and Mary set off up the dale road heading for Lanehead. Josie stayed at home with Jane. As they travelled up the dale, sitting side by side on the cart, Mary was reminded of the first time she had really talked with Tom.

  ‘Do you remember when you gave me a ride up to Ireshopeburn?’ said Mary. ‘We talked for ages that morning, didn’t we?’

  ‘Aye, I didn’t want to let you get down off the cart that day,’ said Tom. ‘If they hadn’t been expecting me at the mine office, I would have whisked you away for the day.’

  They were met at the chapel by Reverend Hodgson, who presided over George Watson’s funeral service. It was brief. After the service, his coffin was taken by cart to the churchyard at Heatherycleugh and he was buried next to the graves of Hannah, his late wife, and George, his first child who had died as an infant. There were few mourners — his children, Lizzie and Ben, his partners from the mine and a handful of neighbours.

  Afterwards, Tom and Mary went back to Fell Top where Annie had laid out some food. They all sat down to eat. ‘This tatie cake is delicious,’ said Mary. ‘You could get a job as a cook.’

  ‘I’m hoping I won’t need to,’ Annie replied, with a glint in her eye. ‘Will you come outside for a minute?’

  ‘Aye, I’d better come now ‘cos if I eat any more I’ll not get through the door,’ Mary said laughing.

  Once they were outside and could talk privately, Annie told Mary about her friend. ‘I met Jack last year when I was walking back up the dale one day, and we got on like a house on fire. We’ve been seeing each other as much as we can since then. He asked me to marry him a few months back, but I couldn’t leave here, with father being ill.’

  ‘Now that Father’s gone, you’ll be free to marry Jack. Are you sure that’s what you want?’ said Mary.

  ‘More than anything,’ replied her sister.

  ‘In that case, it looks like there’s going to be a wedding to plan!’

  ‘I’m not twenty-one though, Mary, and I don’t have a parent to give consent. Can I marry him, or will I have to wait until I’m twenty-one?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m sure there must be a way. Maybe you should go and see Reverend Hodgson, I’m sure he’ll know.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’

  ‘William told us about you having to leave Fell Top next week. Well, me and Tom have been talking and we’d like you to come and stay with us until you get something else sorted out. Tom’s going to offer William a job on the farm.’

  Annie was so relieved that she rushed to hug her sister. She had been worried about her brothers and, if they were safe with Mary, she would be free to marry Jack.

  ‘We’ll come up for you on Friday. Pack up everything up that you’d like to take from the house,’ said Mary.

  After the arrangements had been made, Tom and Mary said their farewells and returned home.

  Chapter 38

  Durham City

  June 1874

  Henry Forster’s trial was held in Durham. The courtroom was full. It wasn’t very often that someone from such a notable family as the Forsters appeared in court on such serious charges, so the case had received a lot of attention from the press.

  The local paper had printed that Henry Forster would be on trial for murder, but everyone assumed that it was a misprint and that he would be tried for attempted murder. The story about Frank Collins was well-known throughout the dale and there was widespread surprise that the man had not died from his ordeal. Many Weardale people had made the journey to the courthouse, including Tom and Mary who had been called as witnesses. They had left Josie at home with Jane, but Aunt Lizzie had decided that she would like to accompany them to Durham. As they entered the courtroom, they saw many of their friends and neighbours, including Joe and Connie. Sir Thomas and Lady Margaret were sitting at the far end of the gallery. Phyllis was not with them. The rumour was that they had sent their daughter away to stay with relatives in Yorkshire.

  When the courtroom was full and the doors had been closed, the clerk stood up and read the charges.

  ‘Henry Forster, you are charged with the murder of Miss Catherine Featherstone. How do you plead?’

  A collective gasp of surprise could be heard from the gallery. Lizzie grabbed Mary’s hand.

  ‘Guilty.’

  ‘And you are charged with the murder of Mr Jeremiah Peart. How do you plead?’

  ‘Guilty.’

  Another, louder, gasp was heard. Mary looked across at Connie. Joe was holding her tightly and it was obvious that she was distressed.

  ‘And you are charged with the attempted murder of Mr Francis Collins. How do you plead?’

  ‘Guilty.’

  ‘And you are charged with the theft of sheep from the late Mr Jeremiah Peart of Springbank Farm, Mr Joseph Milburn of High House Farm, Mr George Allison of Hope House, Mr John Peart of White Well Farm, Mr Edward Routledge of Wellfield Farm, and Mr Edward Curry of The Cleugh. How do you plead?’

  ‘Guilty.’

  People in the courtroom started chattering.

  The judge wielded his gavel and shouted, ‘Silence in court.’ He proceeded with the questioning and called the witnesses to the stand, one by one. Robert Emerson, the sergeant, Frank Collins, Doctor Rutherford, Mary Milburn, Jim Stoker and several Weardale men who had been on the fell the night Mr Peart was killed, all told their versions of events as they remembered them.

  As Henry was led to the stand, the room fell deathly silent. He took the stand and swore on the Bible that he would tell the truth. Six weeks in gaol had changed his appearance. He looked about ten years older, his clothes were creased and looked too big for him, and his hair was unkempt. He was hardly recognisable as the young man from Burnside Hall.

  The judge said, ‘Henry Forster, you gave a confession at Stanhope police station on Thursday, the 7th day of May, 1874. This will now be read out for all the court to hear.’

  The clerk shuffled some papers on his desk and began to read Henry’s confession:

  ‘I needed money. It’s as simple as that really. That’s how it started anyway. At first, they threatened to beat me but, as my debts grew, they threatened to kill me.

  ‘My father bailed me out several times, but he said that if I continued to gamble he wouldn’t help me again. But I couldn’t stop. I went to the club every weekend. Sometimes I won, but more often I lost. I owed over £3,000 and had no way of paying it back.

  ‘I did try. I took a few things from the house and pawned them. Most of them weren’t even missed. That silly girl, Kate Featherstone, saw me take a pocket watch. I had to keep her quiet, so I told her that I had liked her for some time and that I wanted to make her the lady of Burnside Hall. She loved the idea of that. She didn’t know that it was me who pointed the finger at her when she was accused of stealing. I told her that if she kept her mouth shut about the pocket watch, I would wait for her to get out of gaol and make my intentions plain. I wasn’t sure she believed me, but she kept quiet during the trial and went to Durham. Then one evening at dinner, Papa told us that the vicar had mentioned receiving a letter from Kate saying that she was innocent and that she knew who the real thief was. Nobody took any notice of her, but I couldn’t take any chances.

  ‘When my father gave me my grandmother’s locket, I realised the initials on it were the same at Kate’s. So, I devised a plan. Kate was due to be released from gaol shortly, so I took the locket to the gaol with instructions for it to be given to her on her release. There was a letter with it telling her where to meet me — up at Crooked Folds, above The Shieling. The locket must have been enough to regain her trust in me and she went straight there to meet me when she returned to the dale. She didn’t even go home to see her family first. She was that keen to
become my lady!

  ‘It was all a ruse though. There was no way I could marry someone who had no money, but I couldn’t risk her telling anyone about me either. I had no choice — I had to kill her. I hit her on the head with a stone. The noise was dreadful, and blood splattered everywhere. I pulled her into the mine and left her there. I didn’t think anyone would ever find her — not with all that ‘Owd Man’ nonsense the miners go on about.

  ‘Pawning those few items didn’t help much to pay off my debts, so I had to find another way. I was riding down the dale one day and noticed sheep grazing in the fields all around me. They were everywhere. Only that morning I’d overheard my father talk about the value of stock. I remember thinking to myself that there was money in those fields just waiting to be taken. I started with just one or two sheep at a time and I sold them to a dealer. He didn’t ask any questions. But once I began to pay back the debts, they demanded more and more until I was so desperate that I took larger numbers of sheep to stop them from hounding me.

  ‘That’s when the farmers took the thefts seriously and started to look for the culprit. I was lucky to get away with shooting Mr Peart that night. I had hoped to get away unseen, but he was right there in front of me. He saw me and recognised me too. I saw the look of shock on his face when he knew who I was and that I was going to shoot him. I lifted my pistol to his chest and pulled the trigger and then I ran. That bloody dog caught me at the bottom of the bank and grabbed me by the ankle. I couldn’t risk getting caught so I shot it to get it off me and I climbed onto the barn roof to hide. I waited there for hours until everyone had gone before I could climb down and go home.