by Mary Wood
‘But Seth and George didn’t do owt wrong. They didn’t. They did their best. Please save them – please.’
‘I have said I will do what I can. You have my word on that and—’
The door opening, and the sergeant and the doctor entering the room, cut the Earl off mid-sentence.
As she sat next to the hospital bed that Elsie lay in, Amy tried to keep awake to watch over her sister, but her eyes kept closing, despite her mind racing and screaming possibilities at her as to what might happen. Would Elsie pull through? Would Ruth and her brothers die? Ruth of cold, hunger and exhaustion. And the lads . . . No, she couldn’t turn her thoughts to that. That lawyer would find a way of getting them off or, if not, would at least make sure they only got a prison sentence. They wouldn’t hang them, they couldn’t.
At times she’d thought, What if Ruth is dead? She knew in her heart there was every likelihood of this, if Ruth had set out on that journey over the Bowland Hills – especially as she’d be afraid to keep to the highway and would take the bridle path over the top. Oh God, I don’t want that to happen. Oh God, help me – help us all . . .
The flickering light from the candle that the nurse had left by Elsie’s bed glistened on the beads of sweat on her glowing red cheeks. Dancing shadows made Elsie’s eyes look sunken and her little face gaunt, deepening Amy’s worry. Closing her eyes, meaning to say the rosary over and over, but only getting as far as the first decade of Hail Marys, she found sleep overwhelming her.
At some point in the night a noise roused Amy – a rasping sound that would haunt her forever – but sleep clawed her back into its depths before she could react to it. When she did open her eyes again, the moon had taken over from the candle in throwing light over Elsie.
For a moment it seemed that her little sister was at last in a restful sleep, but she was too still. Too silent. Her face resembled the texture of the wax that had melted into a smooth puddle and set, where the candle had been. A lacy pattern made by the moon shining through the frost-covered window spread over the tiny form, making an almost magical picture of loveliness. Amy could only stare at the serene, angelic look on Elsie’s beautiful little face.
The scene held her captivated and in a wondrous place, until somewhere behind her a nurse called out to another, and reality took root inside her. Her moan came from deep within her. She could do nothing to stop it turning into a piercing scream as it reached her throat.
Someone helped her out of the chair as her joints seemed to have locked and her body didn’t want to work. Elsie . . . Dear, sweet little Elsie, gone. The reality of what had happened hit her. She couldn’t bear it and let the blackness that sucked her in take her, as she sank into a deep faint, welcoming the oblivion it offered her.
9
Ruth
Meeting the Hill Farmer
Ruth huddled against the wall of the cave. Cold numbed her, deadening the excruciating pain that had racked her body as she’d stumbled along. Willpower had kept her going, and the reason behind this strong urge to make it was the force that had given her the strength to get this far. For herself, she felt wretched and would have gladly given up and let death take her, but she had to find a way of saving the others. She had to! And for that, she’d suffer anything.
These thoughts were at odds with what she knew to be the reality of their situation. There was little hope that she could do anything to help her siblings. Acknowledging this finally caused her to curl her body up into a ball, as trembling sobs of despair coursed through her. But weeping hadn’t helped. It had only compounded her desolation, so she’d fought against giving in to the heartbreak that engulfed her and instead tried to find some hope, some strength to carry on.
Hunger gnawed at her, as did thirst, but both vied with the cold. Closing her eyes, Ruth rested her screaming mind for a moment, though she dared not go to sleep for fear of never waking again. Despite these thoughts, she must have drifted off, because when the sounds of another being nearby came to her, they startled her awake. Hardly daring to breathe, she listened. Had someone followed her? Or was the sound that of a wild animal?
Keeping stock-still, she listened, feeling great relief mix with her apprehension as the kindly tones of a man talking to his horse drifted into the cave.
‘Come on, me lass. We’ll not get any further in this darkness. I’ll tether you to your favourite tree. It’ll give you shelter, and there’s still some grass under it for you. There you go. I’ll unhitch the cart, so you can have your freedom. By, it’s cold the neet, me lass.’
The rasping of a match on stone brought a small flicker of light towards Ruth. This was quickly followed by a brighter one, as the sounds of an oil lamp being pumped and brought up to full power came to her. Her body wouldn’t move, though she didn’t feel any fear. Something told her this man wouldn’t hurt her. She’d ask him for help. But though she tried to call out, she could only manage a croaky sound.
‘What were that? Who’s there?’
Thank God he’d heard her. Trying again, this time a moan was all her throat would release, but it brought him nearer, and the light from his lamp now bathed the space around her in a soft glow. She could see his outline. He looked huge, fat even, but had the stance of a younger man than she’d first thought, from his talk with his horse.
Still, she didn’t feel threatened when he asked, ‘What’re you doing here, eh?’ His lamp blinded her as he leaned further over her. Her body cringed away from it. ‘Christ! It’s a woman! Eeh, lass, don’t be afraid. I’ll not hurt you. Me and Aggie, me horse, we come this way regular. I bring a cartload of me vegetables and me milk cans over, to sell in the early-morning market.’
The man’s logic in thinking that if she was afraid, this explanation would make her less so, marked him out as harmless. Though Ruth’s dry throat still wouldn’t let her talk to him.
‘Here, I’ll get you a drink o’ water, lass. You sound reet parched.’
The cool water choked her at first, but as Ruth swallowed some of it down, it soothed her and brought some life back into her. As it did so, her body shivered against the cold.
‘Eeh, lass, I’ll fetch you a blanket and then I’ll make a fire. We need to get you warm.’ It didn’t seem five minutes later that flames licked the wall of the cave near the entrance. ‘There, that’s better. I allus set me fire against the wall – gives more warmth that way, as the rocks heat up an’ all. Look, you can see where it has blackened them from me previous visits. Mind, smoke’s a problem, but you can sit out of its way.’
The flames warmed every part of her, helping Ruth to unfold her body, limb by limb.
‘That’s better, lass. Now, can you tell me why you’re here? Naw, on second thoughts, don’t do that yet. I shouldn’t have asked you. Wait a while whilst I get some hot water on. I have tea, though I don’t suppose you have ever tasted it afore. You’ll like it. It picks you up some. And I have some of me ma’s stew an’ all. She allus makes me some for me journey, along with chunks of her best baking of bread. I’ll soon have it all on the go. I’ll just take some water to Aggie and put a blanket over her. She’ll need it the neet.’
As her bones relaxed, Ruth felt this was a nice man. He made her feel safe and cared for. She’d tell him the truth of it – but not about her killing the Earl. She’d not tell him that, for fear he was a God-fearing man and would think it his duty to give her up to the police. But the rest, and her worries for her brothers and sisters . . . she’d tell him all of that.
The steam from the hot tea he handed her dampened her cheeks as she lifted the enamel mug to her lips.
‘There you go. Now then, me name’s Josh, short for Joshua. And like I said, I’m a farmer. I have a farm some ten miles afore you reach Pradley. Me land is on the edge of the Bowland Hills, but on the other side from here.’
His voice further soothed her as he told her how he made this trek to Blackburn once a month to the markets, but also sold his wares at Pradley market. He went on to describe w
here he lived. ‘Some of me land is flat – well, flat-ish – where I grow me vegetables, but most of it is high ground where me sheep graze. Me and ma’s house is up high an’ all. It has lovely views, though, and it’s peaceful. Not many visit, as it is a bit of a steep climb. But I’ve done it all me life now, and I’m used to it. I have to walk Aggie up and down it, as it’s safer to lead her than to ride on the cart, though she’s a strong carthorse and has managed some good loads. Now, that’s who I am. What about you, lass? What plight does you find yourself in, that you must take shelter in a cave, eh?’
‘Me name’s Ruth, and I have tasted tea afore. Nowt like this, though. Ma—’ Just to mention her ma brought a great sadness to her, but she swallowed hard against the constriction of her throat and continued, ‘Me ma used to say as what we had were the sweepings from the deck of the ship that brought the tea over the water, but it were thirst-quenching and hot. I come from Pradley, though we never went to market. Me da did, with sheep and stuff, but we ate the produce of the farm me da worked on. It were a hard life, but, well, we were happy in a way.’ To Ruth’s shame, she found that despite her best efforts not to, she was sobbing by the time she’d told all.
‘Eeh, lass, you’ve sommat to cry over there. Let it all out. It’ll do you more harm keeping it in. So now you’ve nowhere to go – well, except to this butcher fellow. Aye, I know of him and I crossed paths with your da an’ all. Nice man, your da. But that Whalley Bradstone . . . Eeh, I wouldn’t like to think of you hitched to him. He ain’t looking for someone to love and care for. He’s after a slave. He’d kill you off, as you don’t look strong to me.’
‘I – I can do a lot of stuff, but I have this curve in me back and this foot—’
‘Aye, I can see, lass. And that’s where the mystery is with Whalley wanting you, as you wouldn’t be a lot of use to him. I’m thinking it were more lust, as you’re a beauty. You may not look your best just now, but I can see as you’re an attractive lass and have a nice figure.’
This was said in a matter-of-fact way that didn’t alarm Ruth. He might have been talking about the merits of Aggie as much as about her own merits.
‘I don’t usually dress like this. Them as I told you of, they put these on me. I ain’t got any others.’
‘I realize that. Look, lass, you can come home with me, if you have a mind to. Ma would like that. You’d be company for her, and could help her with her mending and other little jobs as you could manage, like feeding hens and collecting eggs, and maybe a bit of churning, though we’d have to see about that. She’s a good ’un, me ma – hard-working and of a sunny disposition, but she’s getting on a bit; she’ll be sixty next, and she gets lonely when I’m off on me treks. And in return for your help, you’ll be fed well and will have warmth and a room to yourself. And when I make me visits to Blackburn, I’ll make enquiries as to your family. How does that sound, eh?’
‘Aw, ta, Josh, ta ever so much.’ Ruth had to fight against the tears coming again, but she managed it. ‘And I’ll make it up that hill of yours. I can, if I put me mind to it. I came across the Bowland Hills, walked all the way from Pradley to near Clitheroe, though I couldn’t manage the steep bridle paths.’
‘Naw, and you won’t manage the hill to mine, neither, but Aggie’ll give you a lift up it and bring you down, when you needs to. That’s settled, then. And with you nice and warm and fed, and having some prospect for the future, you should sleep well the neet. I have some bales of straw on me cart; I’ll get one in and make a mattress of it for you.’
Lying on the soft, sweet-smelling straw, once she’d managed to tame any prickly bits that dug into her, Ruth couldn’t believe her luck. She was saved. And the life in front of her sounded like heaven. She’d not have to give herself to Whalley Bradstone, or fear those in Pradley town, who would throw stones or call her names. Nor would she be in fear of one of the lads in the town kicking her crutch from under her arm as they sped by her, leaving her rolling on the ground, unable to get up until someone who dared touch her stopped and helped her, or one of her brothers came looking for her – but then she’d also be away from all of those she loved most in the world. And though she’d never see her ma and da again, she prayed to God that one day she’d be reunited with her sisters and brothers.
It wasn’t much after dawn when Josh woke her. ‘We’ve to get on the road, lass. I’ve made some more tea. It’s just brewing. Here, have this slice. It’ll put a lining on your stomach. Stays fresh for days, does Ma’s bread. I’ve put a bit of dripping on it. You need some fat in you on these cold mornings.’
The tea warmed her and the bread tasted delicious. Pork fat, she’d have said, though Josh hadn’t mentioned keeping pigs. She hoped he did, as she liked pigs. The saying ‘mucky as a pig’ weren’t true. They were clean animals in their habits; they just liked wallowing in mud.
‘Does you need a hand up, lass?’
‘Aye, I do, ta.’
‘Right, there you go. Now, I’ll get meself busy with Aggie, while you does what you needs to.’
Her cheeks flushed at this, as she knew what he meant. She didn’t say anything, but she went into the bushes as she had a strong need on her to relieve herself.
It took the rest of the day to reach Josh’s house, even though Aggie got up to a good trot on the smoother and straighter parts of the road. The last bit of the journey Ruth did with her heart in her mouth, convinced that she’d fall off the cart and over the edge of the cliff at any moment. ‘Eeh, Josh, why did your forebears build up here?’
‘You’ll see when you get there. It’s the only bit of our land we own that’s suitable. We need the lower fells for the crops, as they get plenty of moisture down there and a fair bit of sun in summer. But up here we have a kind of “table” of land, and the field for the cattle. That slopes, but only as much as they can cope with. Sheep are different: they can roam steep terrain, though we do lose a few to the elements, and the odd one slips and falls to its death. But up top we have enough space for our barns and the dairy, and a pen for our pigs.’
‘Eeh, I like pigs!’
‘Ha, so do I. They’re canny, are pigs. And they give us plenty of meat for ourselves, and for the market, as do all our animals.’ He spoke with pride and love. Aye, she could tell Josh loved his work and his home; it shone through every word he spoke. ‘We have a run for the hens, though you might fall out with the cockerel we have. He’s a noisy blighter. Mind, he’s nearly had his time, and he’ll be in one of Ma’s stews soon. He’s not doing his job so well; he just crows loudly about it, but doesn’t get on with it, so we’ll be bringing in a younger one afore long.’
She laughed at this. She felt at home with Josh. The daylight had shown that what she’d thought of as his large girth turned out to be muscle, not fat. His thick, unruly blond hair and bushy eyebrows looked almost white against his tanned, weathered face. His eyes matched what she thought of his nature – kindly. Pale blue, they twinkled when he laughed. Altogether, she thought Josh a handsome man who she’d put at around thirty, though he could be younger, as his hard-working life hadn’t done him any favours. It had calloused his hands and aged his skin, making it rough and thick-looking. Not that it mattered what he looked like, because Ruth liked him – liked him a lot. All of Josh, even down to the smell of him, which had wafted towards her when he’d lifted her up onto the cart. A fresh, outdoor smell – that of a clean man, but one who was always around animals and the land; and a familiar one that brought back memories of her da. But despite this sad memory, happiness was settling inside her, as was hope, and that was all down to Josh.
Though they had only just met, she could feel something between them: an ease in each other’s company and an awareness of each other. Not that Josh had the same effect on her as the new Earl of Harrogate had done. The memory of the moment when the Earl had stared into her eyes sent a tremble through Ruth, evoking a feeling that she couldn’t define. It had given her waves of anticipated pleasure that had rippled thro
ugh her body.
Oh, she was being silly! Nothing could come of it. But she knew that if it turned out that Josh wanted her and asked her to wed him, she’d do so gladly. Eeh, what am I thinking? I’ve only just met him. She giggled at this thought. Josh looked back at her, his eyebrows raised, but didn’t quiz Ruth as to what had amused her. If he had, she’d have told him it was down to excitement and the feeling of being safe. And some of that feeling was due to him not showing any revulsion at her affliction, and that boded well for her, as that was all she ever wanted from folk.
The first sight of the house pebbled her arms with goosebumps and had the hairs standing on end, as its bleakness filled her with foreboding. A large house, it stood as if in defiance against the elements. Its grey stone walls hadn’t weathered well: they had dulled with the constant hammering of the extreme weather conditions that prevailed in the area. Snow lay on the rooftop, and icicles hung from the windows like teardrops. The wind howled around the building and those surrounding it, and as it gushed through the narrow gaps between the buildings, it moaned in a long, drawn-out sound of despair. Doors creaked, and one of them banged and opened, then banged again. The fragile hope that Ruth held within her died, and trepidation took its place.
‘Aw, lass, don’t look so scared. You’re seeing it at its worst. Come spring, you won’t know the place. Daffodils dance all around the garden and the sun brightens everywhere. Anyroad, you’ll find it warm and inviting inside, no matter what the weather. Lean towards me. I’ll catch you and help you down, lass.’
She didn’t speak. The feeling the place evoked hadn’t left her, and Josh’s next words compounded it.
‘Eeh, it’s not this place that should have you scared. It’s over yonder, Pendle Hill. Can you see it in the distance, over there, that large hill in the direction of Clitheroe? That’s where—’