When she opened the barn door she found that Amber was pleased to see her; she swung her head towards Linnett with ears pricked eagerly forward and she whickered softly in greeting. Linnett went straight to her and patted her soft nose, soothing the troubled mare. Both the horses seemed nervous and had obviously heard the bear during the night. The other horse snorted and pawed the ground, determined not to be left out of any reassurance being offered. Linnett reached over and patted and soothed her until she was calmer.
Linnett mucked out the horse stall and refilled it with fresh hay. The water trough she filled with snow, which would soon melt in the warmer air of the barn. Linnett settled down on a small wooden stool to milk the cow. The gentle, sweet creature stood patiently while Linnett rested her cheek against the animal’s warm hide and tugged on her teats with gentle firmness. Before long, the milk pail was half full of creamy frothy milk. Linnett moved the pail out of harm’s way, covered it with a clean cloth and then went to perch on an empty trough. She watched the three animals contentedly chewing their hay.
A small shuddering sob escaped her and soon she was crying wretchedly. Linnett stood up and threw herself down on the pile of fragrant hay and gave full vent to her misery. When at last she was completely cried out, Linnett dried her eyes and rolled over onto her back. What on earth should she do if the worst happened and John died?
Linnett shied away from such an unbearable thought. He wasn’t going to die, she would make as certain of that as she could. Linnett realised that part of her misery was anger with John for making such a dangerous mistake. Yet, he was as human as the next man, why should she expect perfection from him? Was it because he expected it from her and punished her for her mistakes? The wound he had received could kill him, the shock alone could do that and then what would she do?
Fresh tears welled up and impatiently Linnett brushed them away. It was strange how important John had become to her, so much so that Linnett could no longer imagine life without him. Yet she had been bitterly opposed to their marriage. John was, Linnett realised, quite simply, everything to her now. John was her life and without John, Linnett knew, she would not wish to go on.
Not for the first time since their arrival at the Lammers’ cabin, Linnett felt strong waves of homesickness for Lavenstock Hall sweep over her. She liked this country with its wide open spaces and yet she still yearned for the gentle safety of England’s soft countryside, for the temperate climate of that pleasant isle. Just how long would it be before she saw her homeland again she had no idea.
Linnett found herself longing for Sarah’s sensible kindly presence. Could she make the journey back to the farmstead in all this snow? Almost as soon as the thought entered her head she dismissed it, she knew the snow lay too thick on the ground. She would have to manage alone and John would get well because she would make him well again.
This time she would be the strong one and he, in his weakness, would need to lean on her. Linnett knew she was a woman now, no longer the proud, ‘green’ girl that John had married and she had to succeed in nursing John back to health for both their sakes; the alternative was unthinkable.
When Linnett sat up, determined, a new mantle of maturity had settled upon her. It was time to get on. She had to take on all the chores now and there was no time to sit and mope. She had bread to bake and had all the blood soaked clothes from last night to wash. John must have some wholesome broth to help him keep his strength up, that would need time to make. With new resolve, Linnett petted the beasts one last time, checked that all was as it should be and then locked up the barn and made her way back to the warmth of the cabin.
John was still asleep when Linnett returned to the cabin, which meant that she was able to get on with all the tasks she needed to complete. By the time John awoke some time later, the cabin was tidied and the aromatic smell of broth and the homely smell of freshly baking bread filled the cabin. Far from whetting his appetite, however, John felt sick. He lay quietly and watched Linnett moving efficiently around the cooking area; she looked so beautiful he thought tenderly.
Her hair, hastily pinned up earlier in the day, was tumbling free of its pins, wisps curled damply around her flushed face which was pink with exertion and a film of perspiration glistened on her brow. Who would have thought that the haughty and spoiled Miss Linnett Wainwright, correction Lady Linnett Wainwright, John grinned to himself, would make such an able and domesticated wife.
John moved slightly and winced, giving an involuntary groan as he jarred his pain racked leg. Immediately Linnett was at his side. “How are you my love?” she asked him, a concerned hand on his forehead checking for fever. “Thirsty,” he croaked, his voice ragged with pain. Linnett went at once and fetched him a cup of fresh milk to drink. “When you have quenched your thirst I have some nice broth ready for you.” John pushed the mug away.” No I’m not hungry.” He lay back against the pillows closing his eyes again.
John was surprised when a few moments later he was eased forward and more pillows were tucked behind him so that he was raised almost upright. Linnett sat down beside him, a bowl cradled in her hands. She tucked a cloth under his chin and raised a spoon to his lips. “Come now, open your mouth,” she ordered crisply. Without arguing, John did as she bid. To his surprise the broth tasted good and he found he was able to eat after all.
When he had consumed the entire contents of the bowl, Linnett calmly removed it and then fetched a bowl of hot water and another cloth. “What is that for?” John enquired suspiciously. “For your wash,” Linnett replied briskly. John shook his head “No I’ll attend to that in a day or two when I am feeling well enough.” Linnett ignored him and pulled the covers back. She unfastened the buttons of his shirt whilst all the while his hands slapped hers crossly away from him.
Finally she stood back, put her hands on her hips and glared down at him. “Now you just listen to me, John Foster. You will tire yourself unnecessarily with this futile behaviour and then, when you are exhausted, I will wash you anyway! So let us just make this easy for the both of us and get it over with quickly. I have a lot to do and you are not helping.” John glowered at her, “I am not a child and I will not be bathed like one!”
He glared up at her mulishly. Linnett considered him for a moment or two, before dropping to her knees beside him. “Listen to me, John dear, when I was sick you took care of me. Now that you are sick, allow me to care for you. You are my husband in sickness and in health, under the eyes of God. Now please, let me fulfil my obligation to you as your wife and don’t resist help that is my duty to give and yours to receive. After all, I allowed you to care for me when I was ill.”
John gave her a rueful look and finally with a sigh nodded “Get on with it then,” he said ungraciously, “and you can stop looking so damned smug!”
He lay with his eyes closed throughout the entire proceedings only wincing once, when she jarred his wounded leg. When he was clothed in a clean night shirt, Linnett placed the bedcovers over him, turning back the material at the end of the bed that covered his legs so that the air could circulate around them. Linnett fetched a bowl of clean freshly heated water and more cloths.
John watched her suspiciously and asked, “Now what torture are you planning?”
Linnett brought him a large pewter goblet with a little whiskey. “Here is your reward for being so brave.”
John cheered up immediately and sipped the liquor gratefully. Linnett left him to enjoy his reward in peace. She gathered up the pot of herb ointment that Sarah had given her for wounds. It had soothing qualities and was very healing. Glancing across at her husband, she saw that he finally slept, and Linnett hoped the effect of the whiskey would ensure that he stayed asleep while she changed the dressing on his leg. Gently, she wet the bandages until they were soaked and would peel away from the wound easily and then very carefully lifted the first of the dirty dressings away from his leg.
“Why you sly little vixen!”
Linnett jumped out of her ski
n with surprise, glancing up into a pair of twinkling grey eyes. “John, you startled me so! Your wound cannot be left or it will fester, do you wish to take some more whiskey? It might help with the discomfort.”
John kept his gaze steady on her as he shook his head. “No, I’ll not take any more liquor. I can see you are determined on this and so your lovely face will have to distract me from the pain.”
“Are you sure? This is going to hurt.”
Linnett had turned pale and John was touched to see that she trembled.
“Do what needs to be done, I know you will be as gentle as you can,” he reassured her.
“Oh darling, I promise I will try not to cause you any unnecessary pain,” Linnett said, as she tried to control her distress. But her hands shook as she continued with her ministrations.
John was very brave and did not move a muscle as she removed the final strip of cloth. His leg was a ghastly sight; the flesh looked mottled, angry and swollen. The wound was still seeping, but at least it did not smell putrid. Still, Linnett was apprehensive, knowing that the worst was yet to come, and she hesitated to continue.
John spoke gruffly. “Just get it over with, there’s a good girl....just get on with it.” Linnett poured some of the whiskey into the water as she had done the previous night, and resolute, she started to wash the wounds. John flinched and gritted his teeth, and beads of sweat stood out on his brow.
Linnett carried out the task with gentle efficiency and began to coat the wounds liberally in the herbal ointment. John ground his teeth and muttered under his breath but remained quiet for the most part. Linnett bound up the wounds once more and John visibly relaxed.
“Fetch me that whisky now!” he ordered, his voice hoarse. Linnett did as he bid and held the bottle out to him. “No you first” he said, “you look as though you need it, my love.”
Linnett nodded and tipped up the bottle, taking a large swig. Coughing, she wiped her hand over the back of her mouth and passed the bottle over to John.
“I wonder how many married couples have their first year spent in the company of pirates, are shipwrecked, meet natives and are attacked by wild bears?” she mused solemnly.
“Not that many, I should think,” John chuckled bravely before falling back onto the pillows and losing consciousness.
Linnett removed the whiskey bottle and smoothed the thick dark hair away from her husband’s chiselled face, saying, “Well, who wants a conventional marriage? Certainly not I at any rate!”
CHAPTER 7
“What is the date today?” Linnett asked John some weeks later.
“The twenty-third. Good grief, do you realise that in two days’ time, it will be Christmas!” John exclaimed in surprise.
Over the past few weeks, John’s leg had healed well, and although it was still very painful, the wound had scabbed over nicely and he had no fever or infection even though the scratches were deep. John assured Linnett that this was solely due to her meticulous care and cleansing of the wounds. Bears, he informed her, had very dirty claws and most who survived their initial attack died later from the infection that followed.
John sat in a chair, whittling himself a pipe. He marvelled as he watched Linnett competently kneading the dough for bread. John still found it astonishing that his butterfly girl had become such a domestic and efficient wife.
“Christmas -- it will seem strange with only the two of us. I loved Christmas at home with all the spicy smells, the dancing and the giving of gifts. The boxing day hunts...” Linnet’s voice trailed off sadly.
John rose awkwardly and hobbled over to her, slipping an arm around her waist, hugging her. “Our first Christmas together, we must make the most of it because it may be the last we ever spend alone together.”
John pressed his lips to her brow and Linnett blushed.
She sighed. She would love a baby, but it wouldn’t be born at Lavenstock Hall. She turned excitedly to face him. “John, we could visit Hans and Sarah! Oh please do let us try!”
John hated to disappoint her. “I’m sorry, darlin’, but quite apart from the snow, there’s my darned leg.”
Linnett nodded, crestfallen. “Oh yes, your leg. I’d quite forgotten but never mind. You are right; it may be the last Christmas we spend alone together so we shall make it special! This afternoon I will start baking some really tasty cakes and tarts.”
John laughed. “I’ll fetch some greenery and decorate the cabin. I want it to feel like a real Christmas for you.”
Linnett hugged him. “Are you sure you want to risk your leg walking outside?” Linnett asked worriedly.
“Yes,” John answered firmly. He was tired of being an invalid, cooped up inside.
Linnett kissed him chastely on the cheek and danced away from him. “Now I must go and tend to our animal friends. I have named the pony Pickle because she’s so naughty, at home the cook always called me a pickle.”
“I wonder why?” asked John facetiously.
Linnett ignored his comment. “She crept up behind me yesterday and pushed me flat on my face with her nose!”
John chuckled. “That’s because you spoil those damn horses.”
“I treat Amber and Daisy the cow in exactly the same way as I treat Pickle, and they are perfect ladies! I’m sorry, but Pickle is simply a monster!”
Linnett made her way over to the barn and began her daily chores of mucking out and milking. John went to a chest and fetched a small wooden cask that he had made for Linnett’s Christmas present, something to hold her jewellery. She had lost most of her finery aboard the ship, but the best and most valuable pieces they had saved. John was carving the top of the casket with fruit and entwined leaves. He was quite pleased with the way it was coming along and hoped he would be able to finish it in time for Christmas Day.
Linnett had finished milking Daisy, covered the pail of milk and went to a pile of hay in which was hidden her Christmas present to John. She had taken some of the green velvet that John had given her for dressmaking and was in the last stages of making John a fine waistcoat. Linnett had almost finished the embroidery work on the front panels of the garment. When that was complete, all that was needed to finish it off was the addition of five buttons. It was the buttons that were causing her the most worry. She had no spare ones available, and she couldn’t take any off John’s clothing without his noticing. What to do? She would just have to give him the gift minus the buttons and then he could decide which garment to take the buttons from.
After an hour of sewing, Linnett’s hands were frozen and she had had enough of sitting outside in the barn, so she petted the horses, then left them to their hay and closed up the barn. As she stepped into the warm cabin, the wonderful astringent scent of wet woodland wafted over her. Tangy and fresh, the smell of spruce and ivy mixed with the heavier lingering smells of wintergreen and fir. John was standing over a pile of freshly cut greenery trying to decide where to place it.
“It smell’s just heavenly in here!” Linnett exclaimed.
John looked up from his labours. “Thank goodness you are back. I have absolutely no idea where to put it all!” said John as he wiped his brow.
It had been a little more tiring than he would care to admit, cutting and dragging back branches, and his leg throbbed. He was quite relieved to have Linnett’s help. Linnett hung up her cape and examined the fragrant heap of greenery. “Let’s keep some outside to replace the dead as it dries out,” she said. She gathered up an armful and placed it to the side of the door ready to store outside.
Linnett stood on a chair, and John handed up the greenery to her. When they had finished, the cabin looked very festive. Linnett had found some red ribbon in amongst her hair trinkets. She had tied bunches of greenery together with the ribbon, and the splash of red enhanced the green. It gave a real feel that Christmas was here. Linnett and John spent a busy couple of afternoons preparing for their special Christmas Day. Linnett baked and cooked while John stocked up fire wood and melted snow over the fire
for their water supply.
Christmas morning dawned, and after kissing and wishing each other a Happy Christmas, John said a prayer for their family and friends. He asked the Lord to keep them safe and in good health. They even sang a carol, but then John decided they must complete all the morning chores. The routine was as any other day. They knew that certain tasks, such as tending to the livestock, still needed to be done, even though it was Christmas Day. They would wait until the work was out of the way before settling down to a proper Christmas celebration.
Linnett changed into her green velvet dress made from the gift of cloth John bought from the store for her birthday. She had set the meat to roast -- they were to eat a hunk of venison cut from the kill that John had made before the natives had appeared. The cold weather had kept the meat fresh. Linnett had made a herb suet crust to accompany the meat and had soaked some dried peas overnight to prepare them to cook with the meal. John looked resplendent in dark breeches and a fine lawn white shirt.
Linnett fetched him her gift, wrapped in a piece of plain calico and tied with a red bow made from hair ribbon; she placed the package before him. “Merry Christmas, my love!”
John unfolded the cloth and lifted the waistcoat. Holding it up, he admired the delicate embroidery on the front panels. Dark yellow ivy, entwined with flowers in rich shades of gold, brown and russet red. It was a beautifully made garment, and he knew that Linnett must have spent many hours working on it to have produced such fine work.
John was deeply touched, and he gathered her in his arms and held her close. “Thank you, my darling, it is the most beautiful waistcoat I have ever seen and I shall treasure it always. Now my gift to you, I hope you will not be too disappointed when you see it. I am afraid it lacks the skill and beauty of your waistcoat. Sit down and close your eyes.”
Linnett did as she was bid and John placed a heavy hard object in her lap. She opened her eyes and exclaimed with delight, “Why, John, it is lovely, a jewellery cask and so beautifully carved! Thank you my darling.”
His Defiant Wife, the Adventures of Linnett Wainwright, Book 2 Page 7