But, oh, how to begin? What could he say to persuade her into marriage? How should he appeal to her? Should he explain how he himself had given the matter much thought, and had come to the conclusion that it was only common-sense for her to accept his proposal. After all, was she not short of money? Was she not a widow? And did she not have the child’s future to think of? All of these things were on the tip of his tongue. But these were practical things, cold calculated issues that did not betray his real reasons for wanting her. But how could he say he wanted her because she was the most beautiful, delightful creature he had ever seen? How could he tell her he lay in bed at night, dreaming of her warm and naked beside him? Could he really tell her what was in his heart? That he was so lonely, so unwanted, so needful of another human being who might look on him with pleasure and love in their eyes. Could he tell her of his great longing to have and to hold her forever more? No! He dared not. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her away.
He looked at her now, seated in the chair, her small straight shoulders leaning slightly forward, the pronounced bulge beneath her shawl, the long wild hair that tumbled about her shoulders like fallen brown leaves after rain, and her face, such a strong yet lovely face, with those classic features, small straight nose and eyes that seemed to him like pools of water under a midnight moon. Suddenly, he began trembling inside. Suppose he failed to speak up now? Suppose he paid for such a mistake by losing her to someone else? The prospect terrified him… made his blood run cold. He had to speak out! He must!
‘Marry me.’ The words were blurted out before he was even conscious of his own intention. Just two words, but they might have been two rounds from a shotgun, such was their impact.
Beth had been looking away. Now she swung round, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at him. ‘What did you say?’ she demanded in a quiet shocked voice. It occurred to her that she must have misheard.
Amazed by his own courage, David Miller returned her stare, and with a degree of warm persuasion in his voice, said tenderly, ‘Forgive me for being so bold.’ A hot rush of embarrassment coloured his face as he went on, ‘What I said was… marry me.’ After his proposal, his nervous smile slipped away to be replaced by an expression of anticipation. He waited for her answer. He prayed it would be the right one. The one to set his heart soaring, and to give him a purpose in life.
It was a moment before Beth recovered. She had not misheard after all. He had asked her to be his wife. David Miller, this stranger, had asked her to be his wife! There had been no warning, only the affectionate look in his bright brown eyes and the way his quiet gaze had followed her every move. Only minutes before, she had felt a murmuring instinct that he had taken a fancy to her. But she had had no idea how deep his fancy had gone, or how serious were his intentions. ‘But… I hardly know you, Mr Miller,’ she told him now. ‘There is no question at all of my marrying you.’
‘I understand,’ he mumbled sadly, ‘and I hope you will forgive me for daring to ask, but ever since the day I carried you in my arms to your bedroom…’ he could feel himself growing hot with the memory… ‘I have thought about you… thought and thought.’ His voice tailed away and the ensuing silence was hardly bearable.
‘Please don’t go on,’ Beth entreated. She found herself affected both by his acute embarrassment and the obvious depth of his emotion. ‘The fault is equally mine. The reason I asked you to stay a while was because I must return the doctor’s fee which you so kindly provided when I was in need of help.’
‘No!’ He was horrified. ‘No, I will not… cannot accept it. Please. If you insist, it will be like throwing the money back in my face.’
Beth made no response, other than to regard him with a dignified curiosity. He was looking at her, appealing with such a forlorn countenance that she wondered for the first time whether she was doing the right thing in being so determined to repay him. In spite of her previous conviction that here was a man without a heart, a man who would not suffer the slightest compunction about throwing a family on to the streets, she began to harbour doubts. Perhaps Maisie was right after all? Perhaps he too was a victim, a mouthpiece, a man denied the opportunity to strike out and carve a life for himself beyond his stepfather’s influence? But then she was forced to wonder why he would let himself be suppressed in such a way. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Miller,’ she began,’ if I seemed to encourage you into believing that I would ever consider…’
‘Marriage?’ he finished. ‘No, you have not misled me in any way, I promise you,’ he assured her. Suddenly his courage was returning, and with it all manner of reasons as to why she should not dismiss his offer out of hand, but instead see the advantages of it. ‘Think, though, Mrs Ward, of what I’m offering you. Sadly – and you have my deepest condolences – you have lost your husband and find yourself alone in the world, except for the admirable Mrs Armstrong and her family. But as you see, life is not easy for your aunt, who also is without a bread-winner, and though I’m certain she’s a kindly, amiable person who gladly accommodates you, this is a very small house. You must agree then, that the situation is not at all suitable. Not at all.’
‘Are you threatening us?’ Beth wanted to know. ‘Is this your way of saying that the house is now overcrowded and it would be better if I were to leave?’
‘No, no!’ He was deeply offended. ‘Please don’t misinterpret my words. All I am saying is that this particular situation must be uncomfortable for all concerned.’ He raised his hand to stop her when it appeared she was about to interrupt. ‘Soon there will be another little body. Another mouth to feed.’ He paused for a moment, wondering whether his account of the situation here was having the desired effect; although judging by her expression, he was digging his own grave. Frustrated, he bowed his head a moment before going on in a gentler way, ‘What I’m saying is this, Mrs Ward… let me help. Allow me to take on board some of your responsibilities. As you can see, I do feel affection for you. Nothing would give me greater pleasure and satisfaction than to take you for my wife. I would be a good father to your child, if you would only allow it. And there is no shortage of accommodation in my stepfather’s house. It’s a large residence, with only myself and him to occupy it.’ Saying the words out loud made him see the miserable way of life he presently endured. And because of it, his boldness knew no bounds. ‘Marry me,’ he urged with conviction, ‘and I promise you will never want for anything again.’ He leaned forward in anticipation, his small brown eyes reminiscent of a puppy waiting for a bone.
For a moment, Beth was reluctant to heap more misery on the poor fellow, because to her surprise, she did have an inkling of sympathy for him. Indeed, she was warming to him by the minute. Unfortunately, though, not in the way he would have liked. She had no affection for David Miller, only a degree of compassion for his apparent loneliness and longing for a companion. She opened her mouth to explain that she was so very sorry, but what he suggested was out of the question, when Maisie appeared. So instantly and silently did she emerge from the foot of the stairs, that Beth wondered with some amusement whether she had been hiding round the corner listening. Later, it was confirmed that this was exactly what she had been doing and had been momentarily transfixed to the spot by what was being said between these two.
‘Maisie!’ Beth’s surprise at the little woman’s sudden appearance showed in her voice. ‘I didn’t hear you coming,’ she told her, at the same time holding out her hands to take the sewing-box which was securely tucked under Maisie’s arm.
Beth’s hands dropped back into her lap when Maisie made no immediate attempt to hand over the box. Instead she kept a firm hold on it and said in a friendly apologetic voice: ‘I wonder, Mr Miller, would you be so kind as to excuse me and this young lady for a while?’ When he seemed surprised by her request, she hastened to add, ‘We’ll only keep you a moment, I promise. You can step inside the front parlour and admire my late husband’s set of smoking pipes.’ Her grin was infectious. ‘Lovely they are.’ Ushering him
from his seat and propelling him across the room towards the door, she told him cheekily, ‘Off yer go, then. I’ll fetch yer in a minute.’ As he went with amazing obedience into the parlour, she reminded him, ‘I’ll be fetching yer afore yer know it.’ She then pleased him with a knowing wink and a whisper of, ‘Our Beth’s an obstinate little sod when she makes her mind up ter some’at, as you’ve soon found out, eh? But I reckon she’s apt to be a bit too hasty at times. You just leave the lass ter me, sir. I’m a bit older in the tooth and a great deal wiser on certain issues, wouldn’t yer say?’
She quietly chuckled, thrust him into the room and closed the door behind him. When she came back into the scullery, her smile was gone, and in its place was a look of utter frustration as she declared, ‘What in God’s name are yer thinking of, Beth Ward? What possesses yer even to think of handing over yer money to that fella? What! Him and his stepfather’s got more money atween them than the pair of us will see in a lifetime.’ She clutched the sewing-box fiercely. ‘I say no. NO! Whatever’s left in this ’ere box is for you and the babby. It’s not for giving away to them as don’t bloody well need it!’
‘Whether he needs it or not doesn’t come into it, Maisie,’ Beth told her with equal determination. ‘I owe him that money. I’m grateful for his kindness, of course I am…’
‘Well, yer wouldn’t damned well think so!’ Maisie interrupted. ‘Not the way you’ve flung it back in his face, yer wouldn’t. What he did, he did outta the goodness of his heart, not for any chance that yer might tek it into yer head to repay him. He never expected that, I’m sure. In fact, he said to me on that very day: “Think nothing of it, Mrs Armstrong. I’m only glad I was able to help.’” She pursed her lips and sighed heavily, her breathing erratic and her calm still not regained. ‘Oh, Beth! Beth! Can’t yer just allow the poor sod his bit o’ pleasure at having helped a lady in distress?’ she wailed.
Having seen that Beth was unmoved by her tirade, she abruptly changed tack and put on her best persuasive manner ‘Aw, lass… he aint such a bad fella after all, is he, eh?’ she asked in a cajoling voice. ‘Don’t yer reckon he’ll mek some lass a good husband?’
‘I’m not saying anything against him,’ Beth patiently pointed out. ‘All I’m saying is I don’t like being beholden to him, or to any other man.’ What happened with Tyler had long ago destroyed her trust in members of the opposite sex.
‘What? D’yer reckon he’ll demand payment in another way?’ Maisie insisted. ‘D’yer think he did what he did so he could have a hold over yer?’
‘No.’ Beth had to admit she believed nothing of the sort. ‘I don’t think that.’
‘Oh!’ Maisie sensed a weakening in Beth’s argument. ‘So you’ve nothing against the fella? Yer don’t think he’s got some kind of evil intent to make yer pay for his good deed? And on top of all that, yer mean to break yerself so’s there’ll be no money for when the babby’s born? Now then, Beth, yer must tell this foolish woman what kinda sense that makes, ’cause I can’t see no sense in it at all!’
After listening to Maisie’s very reasonable argument, Beth remained silent, her gaze lowered to the threadbare fireside mat and her dark eyes deeply thoughtful. She was acutely aware that Maisie was waiting for a sensible answer, but the truth was Beth could find none. Her wish to repay David Miller was not prompted by material considerations, nor was it instigated by a sense of her own dignity. Nor did it have to do with the man’s own character or his ‘devious’ intentions. It went deeper than all of that. Much deeper. It had to do with emotions, with love and cheating, and trust and betrayal. It had to do with her mother and father, with her turncoat brother Ben. With hopes and disappointments. All of these things combined to make her more careful, more independent, and, yes, perhaps she was being just a bit proud.
But now, because of Maisie, Beth had occasion to recall an old saying: ‘Pride comes before a fall’. Of all the things Maisie had said in defence of what she thought was right and wrong, the one statement that stood out bold in Beth’s mind was when her friend had scathingly demanded what was the sense of giving away those few remaining shillings when there was a baby soon to be born? Babies were notorious for needing things… little bonnets and shawls… maybe a perambulator to be pushed about in, and, if it was fortunate, a cradle that rocked at its mammy’s touch. Thinking about all of these things softened Beth’s aching heart. But then it ached a little more when she thought of one other thing a baby might want. Something more precious than all the cradles and bonnets in the world… a daddy to hold it close and make it laugh. A daddy to want it, and to love it like no one else could. Not even its mammy. Now the pain welled up in Beth’s soul, spilling over until she was overwhelmed by a great and terrible loneliness.
‘Hey! Hey, darlin’… whatever’s the matter?’ Maisie had seen the tears spill from her eyes, and in a moment was stooping to gather Beth in her chubby arms. ‘Aw, lass. Me darlin’ lass. Take no notice of a silly old woman,’ she whispered, rocking Beth back and forth as though she was her own small bairn. ‘I ain’t got no right ter say the things I did. It ain’t my few shillings that’s tucked away in this ’ere box, and Lord knows you’ve spent enough of yer little nest-egg on us that don’t deserve it.’ She had dropped the box to the floor, but now she picked it up and set it on Beth’s lap. ‘Here yer are, darlin’,’ she said. ‘Do what yer want with the blessed coins. If yer feel it’s right ter send that fella packin’ with his money paid back, then do it, sweetheart. I’ll fetch the scoundrel this very minute!’
She would have wasted no time in doing just that, but she was still having difficulty in setting the box on Beth’s lap; the truth was, with the baby being so big inside her and the entire uncomfortable bulge protruding towards her bent knees, Beth hardly had any ‘lap’ left at all, and Maisie’s frantic efforts to set the box so that it wouldn’t keep slipping forward towards the floor, were proving a difficult and exasperating exercise. Tears soon turned to laughter at the little woman’s comical dilemma and when she saw how Beth’s warm sense of humour had diffused a very delicate situation, Maisie too collapsed in a fit of giggling. ‘Yer little sod, Beth Ward!’ she cackled, ‘I’ve a mind ter tan yer bloody arse.’ After a while, she cuddled Beth to her, and gently stroking the wild wayward hair, said in a more serious voice, ‘Shall I put this ’ere box back where it belongs?’
When Beth silently nodded, her eyes soft and glowing, Maisie planted a kiss on her pale forehead and made her way across the room towards the door. ‘Right then, lass,’ she said with a knowing smile. ‘But first, I’d best put the poor fella next door out of his misery.’ She paused for a moment, carefully regarding Beth, who was looking at her with affection, her heart quieter now, and her emotions less turbulent. ‘This may not be the best time ter say it, lass,’ Maisie ventured cautiously, ‘but while yer reflecting on things… yer might give a thought ter what you’ve been offered this very day. It ain’t often a lass that’s big with child is smiled on by good fortune. An’ that’s what David Miller is, lass… good fortune smiling on yer. He ain’t yet forty, I shouldn’t wonder, and though he ain’t no oil-painting, he’s pleasant enough all round. Yer heard what he said with yer own ears… he possesses a big house and pots o’ money. An’ what’s more, it’s plain ter see that the poor bugger’s been starved o’ love. Happen the good Lord’s been helping him to save it all up to heap on you and the babby, eh?’
‘Don’t, Maisie,’ Beth warned gently. ‘You’ve persuaded me on one issue this afternoon. Don’t demand anything more.’
‘Right!’ she reluctantly conceded. ‘I’ll learn ter mind me own business, just see if I won’t.’ All the same, as she went to call David Miller, whose hopes had not dwindled since he’d been shut away with the late Mr Armstrong’s pipes, Maisie was convinced that here was the answer to all of Beth’s problems; a husband to give her the respectability she warranted, and a father to give the baby both a name and a deal of security. It was a certain fact that the lovely Beth w
as in dire need of a man to keep the wolves at bay. Once that babby was here and she was exposed to the outside world more often, there would be all manner of men who would make a beeline for her. And they wouldn’t all be of a kind that might improve her lot in life, that was for sure! Round these parts, that kind of fella was few and far between, an’ no mistake. Still, there was a very real danger that any charming, handsome young man with only one underhand thing on his mind might turn Beth’s head, because in spite of being part of Maisie’s own family now, she was terribly lonely. Lonely in a way that neither Cissie nor her mam could help. Lonely for a man to ease the ache in her young heart; lonely for someone to cuddle up against at the end of a long day and talk about the future and her own family, the children she would have, and the man who would always be there, long after Maisie was under the ground.
As she threw open the door to tell David Miller ‘Come on then, sir,’ Maisie took a moment to observe the manner of this certain gentleman; the way he made a polite little bow as he turned from the fireplace where he was studying the small oak cabinet on the mantelpiece which housed the handsome collection of smoking pipes; the manner in which he smiled… easy-like, but nervous enough not to be arrogant; the cut of his polished leather boots, no doubt costing enough to feed Maisie’s family for a whole month; and the way his brown eyes lit up when she told him, ‘Our Beth has had second thoughts about the little money matter yer discussed earlier.’ But when his eyes positively shone with delight she took him aside and whispered furtively, ‘She don’t like to be bullied, don’t Beth. But, if yer intentions really are honourable… an’ if they’re not then I swear I’ll skin yer alive meself!… all I can say is, don’t give up too easy on the other matter, if yer get me meaning. ’ ‘Maisie prided herself on knowing a good deal about character, and she felt in her bones that here was a good man who had been misled astray by a bad ’un. Threats of eviction and the like had only ever been just that… threats. In fact, if she were to cast her mind back to the time soon after her darlin’ man got himself killed, this ’ere David Miller had been most sympathetic. She had suspected then, and she knew it now, that he himself had put his hand into his own pocket to pay a two-week arrears on the rent. No man who was rotten at the core would ever have done such a thing. No, this one had a good heart, and Beth had won it over. It would be a crying shame to let it all go to waste.
Don’t Cry Alone Page 18