The Lead Miner's Daughter

by Margaret Manchester

  ‘And then there’s Frank Collins, the man that was found down the shaft. He’s the dealer that fenced all those sheep for me. When he heard about Mr Peart being shot, he wanted out and threatened to tell the whole story to the police. He tried to blackmail me! I hit him in the face and he didn’t get up. He was lying so close to the mine shaft that I couldn’t stop myself from dragging him to the edge and pushing him over. I expected the fall would kill him, but obviously it didn’t. My mistake.

  ‘And what else am I guilty of, let me think. Oh yes. Connie Peart, dearest Connie. I proposed to her. After all, she was the richest heiress hereabouts, being the sole heir to Springbank Farm. Joe Milburn did well for himself there. I did my best to court her, and her father was all for the match, but Connie was one of the few people who saw me for what I am. She wasn’t taken in by my family name or my good looks. I never cared for her really, she was a spoilt bitch, but I have to admit that I did respect her for that. That didn’t stop me from spoiling her good name though. Well, what did she expect after refusing to marry me!’

  When the clerk stopped speaking, there were muffled sounds of astonishment from the gallery and the people started chattering. Mary still held her aunt’s hand.

  ‘Henry Forster, was this the confession made by you on Thursday, the 7th day of May, 1874, to Sergeant Parsons and Constable Emerson?’ asked the judge.

  ‘Yes, it was.’ Henry replied.

  ‘And was it made of your own free will?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is there anything you would like to add?’

  ‘No.’

  The judge summed up the case and the jurors huddled together for a discussion. After just five minutes, they had reached a verdict.

  The foreman of the jury indicated to the judge that they had made their decision and the courtroom fell silent once more. The judge asked for the jury’s verdict and the foreman stood up and said, ‘Guilty — on all counts!’

  The judge made his pronouncement to the packed courtroom.

  ‘Henry Forster, we have heard the evidence against you and it is condemning. Through your habitual gambling habit, you accrued large debts which you were unable to repay. These debts led you to commit a series of crimes whereby you stole from your neighbours and, in so doing, you shot a man dead. You planned and executed the false imprisonment and the murder of a young woman. You beat a man, pushed him into a mine shaft, and left him there to die. Henry Forster, you have shown no remorse for your actions.’

  The judge put on his black cap and black gloves. ‘You have been found guilty of murder, attempted murder and theft. The sentence of this court is that you be taken from here to the place from whence you came and there be kept in close confinement until Friday, the 19th day of June, 1874, and upon that day and date you are to be taken to the place of execution and that you there be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May God have mercy upon your soul.’

  Henry smiled as he was led from the courtroom by two guards. He had got the sentence he wanted. Just two more nights to endure in gaol and then he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

  Sir Thomas ushered Lady Margaret out of the courtroom, their faces devoid of emotion or colour. They had lost their only son and heir.

  On the journey home, Mary thought about everything that she had heard that day. Who would have thought Henry Forster could have done all those horrendous things? She had been aware of everything that had happened: Kate going to prison, the sheep going missing, Mr Peart being shot, Kate being murdered, and she had heard the accusation made by Frank Collins who he had beaten and left for dead. But even so, Henry was the last person she would have suspected of doing any of those things. Had she missed any clues? Could she have guessed it was him? Then she thought that was unlikely because nobody had suspected Henry of anything until Frank Collins had named him as his attacker. If Frank had died from his fall that night, Henry might never have been brought to justice.

  Mary felt so sorry for her Aunt Lizzie, having to listen to the confession, especially about how he had bribed and murdered her daughter. It must have been so hard for her. She felt as though she had to say something.

  ‘Aunt Lizzie, I’m very sorry for what happened to Kate. Henry was an evil man to plan all that, just because she’d seen him pinching a watch.’

  ‘At least her name’s been cleared. Now everyone knows it wasn’t her that did the stealing at Burnside Hall.’

  ‘But you must feel angry about what happened, about what he did?’

  ‘Well yes, of course I do. I wish none of it had happened and she was still with us, but you forget that for over a year now I haven’t known what to think. She didn’t come back from Durham, that’s as much as I knew. I didn’t know why she hadn’t come home, I didn’t know where she’d gone to, I didn’t know if she was happy or not, or even if she was alive. At least now I know where she is, and I can visit her grave.’

  Chapter 39

  High House Farm, Westgate

  August 1874

  Mary finished kneading the bread and left it by the range to prove. She would put it in the oven in an hour or so. The baby she was carrying had been restless all morning and Mary’s back and feet were aching. It was hot working in the kitchen, so she decided to go outside. Josie was playing with a ragdoll. Mary took her hand and they walked out into the garden together, leaving the door open.

  It wasn’t often that she and Josie had the place to themselves. Everyone had gone over to Springbank Farm for the day where the men were gathering the last of the hay. The women would be lending a hand where they could and providing refreshments for the workers.

  The sun shone brightly, even this early in the day. There was a slight breeze which would stop it becoming too hot. Part of the garden wall was in shade, so she sat down on it, lifted her skirt above her knees and took off her boots. She lifted her legs onto the garden wall and leaned back against the wall of the house. It was surprisingly comfortable, and the cold stone helped cool her down. Josie sat on the path pretending to feed her doll with a spoon.

  The garden looked beautiful. All the time she had spent tidying it up and pruning plants had paid off. There were shrubs and flowers on both sides of the flagstone path, and not a weed in sight.

  Mary watched a red admiral butterfly flutter from one flower to another; it seemed to favour the blue cornflowers over all the rest. A bumble bee buzzed lazily around the white roses that climbed up the house wall. She felt so relaxed and at peace that she didn’t want to get up and do anything. So, she sat there and enjoyed doing nothing for a change.

  She remembered that she needed to put the bread in the oven. She had stiffened up sitting on the wall, so she stretched and put her boots back on — not an easy task when her baby was due in a week or so.

  Once the bread was in the oven, she made dinner for Josie and herself, although she wasn’t very hungry. Once they had eaten, she laid Josie down for her nap. Mary was tired as well; she was struggling to keep her eyes open. Josie was sleeping peacefully, so she decided to lie down with her and rest for a while.

  When she woke, she felt much better. Josie was still asleep. Mary checked the oven and found that the bread was slightly overdone, but she had caught it just in time. She decided to launder everything in preparation for the arrival of her new baby. She washed sheets for the crib, baby clothes and nappies. Once washed, she hung everything out to dry on the washing line in the garden. It was a perfect day for drying clothes. She prepared tea while the washing dried, played with Josie when she woke and then set the iron by the fire to heat up. She had all the laundry ironed and put away before the rest of the household got back.

  Tom looked tired when he came in, and Mary noticed that his limp was more pronounced than usual.

  ‘Are you alright?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. It’s just me leg, it’s hurting a bit,’ he said. ‘You’re looking well today. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Great, thank you. I’ve got loads done this afterno
on,’ Mary said, proud of her work. ‘Tea’s ready. I’ll serve it out while you’re having a wash.’

  ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ offered Jane. Looking around, she said, ‘You’ve been feathering your nest all day. It won’t be long now ‘til the little one arrives.’ She turned to William and John and said, ‘You boys, go and wash your hands before you sit down to eat.’

  Tom reappeared wearing clean clothes and they all sat down at the kitchen table for tea. Mary chopped Josie’s food into small pieces so that she could eat it herself with a spoon.

  ‘How did it go today?’ Mary asked.

  ‘I couldn’t do as much as I wanted, because of me leg, but I had to go and show willing after they’ve done most of the hay-making over here. William did a good job though. Anyway, all the hay’s inside now and the barns couldn’t be any fuller.’

  Mary shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

  ‘Are you alright, Mary?’ asked Jane.

  ‘Me back’s aching a bit. I think I might have overdone it this afternoon.’

  ‘Why don’t you sit yourself down — maybe do a bit of reading? I’ll clear up tonight.’ Jane cleared the table and carried the dishes over to the sink.

  Mary stood up to move to a more comfortable chair, but a painful cramp gripped her belly and made her cry out. Tom took her into his arms and held her. When the pain subsided, Mary said, ‘I think our baby’s ready to meet us.’

  Tom sat her down and held her hand. The pains started to come regularly, and Mary got back to her feet.

  ‘It’s going to be a while yet and I’m more comfortable walking around. I’ll put Josie to bed and make up the crib.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ said Jane. ‘Stay here with Tom and I’ll see to everything. Don’t you worry about anything except this baby. William, take John up to your room and read him a story. We’re going to be busy tonight, so make sure he stays in bed.’

  ‘Alright Mrs Milburn, I’ll look after him. We won’t get in the way,’ William replied. He took his brother’s hand and they headed for the staircase. He turned back to Jane and said, ‘I remember when John was born, and Mother died. Mary won’t die, will she?’

  Jane went over to the boys and knelt down next to them, and said in a quiet voice, ‘I’m sorry your mother died. Mary is young and healthy, and she’s already had one baby. She’ll be fine. I’ll take good care of Mary, if you take good care of John. How does that sound?’

  William put his arms around Jane and hugged her tightly, and then he helped his brother up the stairs.

  ***

  Tom wanted Mary to sit down and rest. Even though she said she was more comfortable pottering about, he thought she should save her strength for the birth. She was obviously in pain and he wished he could do something to help her. When the pains came, he held her and she squeezed him tightly or gripped his hand.

  He had helped cows and sheep with difficult births; he knew what was involved and he knew the risks. Most births were straightforward, but sometimes things went wrong. Sometimes the mother died, sometimes the baby died and sometimes both were lost. Childbirth was a dangerous business.

  When Jane came back down, she looked at her son and said, ‘We’d better get her upstairs.’

  Tom waited until a contraction ended before helping her climb the stairs. He wanted to stay with her, but his mother shooed him back down. He was worried that Mary would tire herself out and not be able to manage the birth. He was worried for Mary. Yes, he wanted a child, but not at the risk of losing his wife. What if something went wrong? What would he do without her?

  He hadn’t realised he was pacing up and down until Jane said, ‘Sit down and relax, lad. You’ll have us all worked up. It’s going to take some time yet. You could go over to Joe’s if you want?’

  ‘I’m not leaving her, Mother. I need to be here.’

  ‘Well calm yourself down. I’d like a cup of tea; can you see to that?’

  Tom got up and put the kettle on. He realised his mother had given him something to do just to keep him busy, but focusing on doing something was helping him to relax a little so perhaps she knew what she was doing.

  He took a cup of tea and a glass of water up to the bedroom for his mother and Mary, and then he settled down in front of the fire. He started to think about Mary and how much he loved her. He had decided Mary was the woman for him long ago on that journey to Ireshopeburn. He had never found a lass as interesting as Mary was that day. Nobody knew that he had his eye on her, but he had intended to ask her out. Then she had gone missing from the Pearts’ farm and he found out she was pregnant. It tore him apart wondering who the father was and what the circumstances were between him and Mary. When they had gone to the wrestling at Newcastle and Joe had told him everything that had happened — that he had been meeting Mary, got her pregnant and then abandoned her — Tom had been furious. He had hit his brother that day, but he could have strangled Joe for what he’d done.

  When Tom had told his family that he was going to marry Mary, they thought he was marrying her because he felt bad about what Joe had done, and he’d never put them right. But he had loved her even then. He knew Mary had only accepted his proposal because she wanted Josie to have a father. He knew she didn’t love him when they married. He hadn’t minded though, it was enough that she had agreed to be his wife.

  Jane brought her cup down and washed it at the sink. She asked again, ‘Are you sure you want to stay?’

  Tom knew his mother wanted him out of the way and that if he went to Springbank he might stand a chance of getting some sleep, but there was no way he could leave. He had to be here for Mary. He wouldn’t be able to sleep while his wife was in labour, wherever he was; he’d be too worried about her. So he sat in the kitchen feeling useless while Jane busied herself preparing everything she needed for the birth.

  Four hours later, Tom wished he had left the house. It was dreadful listening to Mary’s cries and he wondered how Josie could sleep through the noise in the next room.

  At one point, when he thought he could stand it no longer, he had gone upstairs. His mother chased him out of the bedroom and he returned to his seat by the fire with some ale. The noises became more frequent and louder and then suddenly he heard a baby cry — but he couldn’t hear Mary anymore.

  Jane shouted down, ‘You’ve got a son. He’s a big, strong lad.’

  ‘Is Mary… is Mary alright?’ His voice faltered.

  ‘Mary’s fine. You can come up and see them in a minute.’

  Tom hadn’t realised that he had been holding his breath. He breathed deeply and relaxed. They were both alive and they were both well and he had a son. He smiled as he listened to his mother walking around upstairs. It wasn’t long before she came down and said, ‘You can go up now.’

  He climbed the stairs two at a time and rushed into the room. He saw Mary lying in bed, propped up with pillows. She held their baby in her arms and looked lovingly into his eyes. Tom went over and sat on the edge of the bed and looked at their tiny boy. With tears in his eyes, he kissed them both and wrapped them gently in his arms.

  Their son was christened Thomas Watson Milburn at Westgate Wesleyan Methodist Church when he was six weeks old. He was named Thomas after his father and Watson after Mary’s family name and also their friend, Watson Heslop. To avoid any confusion between father and son, they decided to call him Tommy.

  Chapter 40

  High House Farm, Westgate

  Christmas Eve 1874

  ‘It’s early for snow — it’s not often we get any before Christmas. It looks like there’s more on the way as well,’ said Tom, looking out of the kitchen window. ‘The wind’s picking up and the sky’s dark. There’s a decent covering already, and it’s knee high where it’s drifting.’

  ‘I hope Jane and the bairns got over to Springbank Farm alright,’ said Mary, who was clearing up after their meal.

  ‘They should have got there before it started to drift. There was just a dusting when they set of
f and it didn’t look like it would come to much.’

  ‘If I’d thought it was going to get worse, I wouldn’t have let her take the littles ones. I couldn’t have stopped your mother from going though. She was determined to take the Christmas presents over for Joe and Connie.’

  ‘William’s been wanting to go to the farm to see the stock over there ever since he came here, and you know she can’t go anywhere without John and Josie tagging along. They love going off on adventures with her,’ Tom smiled as he thought of some of the stories his mother had told.

  ‘Do you think they’ll get back alright?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. It’s drifting now, and it doesn’t take much to block the road. Maybe I should have a ride over and see what’s happening. I know you won’t settle until you know they’re all safe.’

  As he finished speaking, he saw Joe ride past the window and dismount in the farmyard. ‘Here’s our Joe now,’ he said as he went to open the door. His brother came in covered in snow.

  ‘How do! I was just saying to Mary that I should ride over and see what’s going on.’