Daniel tried to wipe the smile from his face. The beat of his days was changed, now daylight and the farm just an interlude until he was once again with her. The scent of her skin, brush of her hair against his face, taste of her lips. Evenings of firelight and starlight. Whisper of a life together.
Bett snorted and tucked a clump of hair back into her coif. ‘May is the month for it.’
Father cleared his throat. ‘And check that ox, the one we thought was running lame the other day, and please God it’s recovered. I can’t abide the cost of a sick animal.’
‘I will,’ he said, passing Bett the cloth she pointed to, glad to talk of the farm once more. It suited him that they thought he was only shaking the sheets with a local lass he would soon tire of. Though he could imagine doing no such thing. The nearest he had come was the faltering initiation into the sweet pleasures of flesh that Bett had led him in many years past, and it was she who had wearied of their fumbling encounters.
With Sarah he felt their very beings had begun to meld into one. To leave her would be to rip part of himself away. And they had not even begun to explore the landscape that Bett had so willingly laid out for him.
Daniel took the basket, thanked Bett and left before they asked more of his night-time entertainments.
He led the oxen to the field, waiting as the stubborn beasts obstructed his will by stopping to eat the hedgerow. He had found none lame, at least, and was relieved to have good news for Father. There was no hurry. A scent of blossom, hay and dung sat sweet in the air and a wayward moon glimmered down from a clear sky, not ready yet to retire. The delay afforded him a moment to imagine exploring the white river of Sarah’s skin hidden from sight.
‘She is a lovely girl, is she not?’ a voice spoke in his ear. Parson Walsh.
‘I – who is?’
‘The young lady that holds your heart.’
Daniel feared for a moment that the parson had an actual godly power to read his thoughts. Or perhaps he had truly lost his grip on himself and spoken aloud. He stared speechless as the oxen began to stamp their impatience.
Parson Walsh stepped closer, a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. Too close, and Daniel fought the instinct to back away.
‘The dear child has confided in me and I sought you out, to let you know that I am to be your saviour, channelling the light and love of the good Lord as He so wishes. I – I have been waiting on the path here.’
The words spoken too fast for Daniel to take in. Sarah had confided in the parson, yet he could not imagine how their paths would cross, never mind that she would open the secrets of her heart to him. She had never so much as mentioned him. They had not spoken of their love in the real world, nor mentioned their families. He had assumed she’d told no one.
‘It is a challenging path you have chosen, no doubt, my son, but I am to intervene on your behalf and indeed on that of our dear Lord and His plan to bring together those pure in heart and welcome to the fold a family thus far cast aside.’
Daniel squinted at the parson, whose face was obscured by the sun behind him, and tried to make sense of the words he spoke. His disquiet communicated itself to the oxen. The beasts grew restless, and the parson at last stepped back.
‘I—’ Daniel looked about him. No one to hear. He dropped his voice nonetheless. ‘Sarah has confided in you?’
Parson Walsh nodded enthusiastically. ‘Indeed, and I impressed upon her, upon them all, that she has chosen a match of the most excellent qualities of kindness and purity as one can wish.’ A great smile broke out on his face, and disappeared just as quickly. ‘Though there are difficulties, to which I just referred and of which you are surely aware. But I shall speak to your father and we shall—’
‘My father?’ Daniel stepped forward, reaching a hand out as though he could physically restrain the parson. He imagined Father’s fury at such a discovery, himself and Sarah cast out. Where could they go but to the Haworth hovel? Living on buttermilk with her Devil-brother. Daniel swallowed his feeling of sickness. ‘No, please don’t do that.’
Parson Walsh shook his head, his face a scramble of confusion. ‘Then how are we to convince him of the desirability of the match?’
‘I – I don’t believe we can.’
No sound but the disgruntled lowing of the beasts. One of them dropped its filings right by the parson’s foot, but he did not react.
‘Then you are trifling with the girl? Using her for pleasures of the night only to abandon her? I had thought more—’
‘No, no. I – we plan to be together. But I – I don’t yet know how. We have not discussed it much.’
‘You are afraid your father will not approve?’ the parson asked.
A fat, slow bumblebee droned between them, settling on the pouch of a white-nettle. ‘More than afraid, I am certain. My – he will not allow it.’
‘But now you have me. To intervene on your behalf. To persuade. I have been chosen for this task, it is therefore impossible that I should fail.’
Bewildered as he was, Daniel understood that he must halt this plan now. ‘You are very kind to take on our cause, and I cannot express my gratitude. To have an ally is unexpected,’ he said, and meant it. ‘But if – if I could ask you to wait a while before you approach my father? Together we will find the best way, I’m sure.’
‘Of course. My enthusiasm has run me away, perhaps. I am told it does from time to time.’ He laid a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. ‘I will let you about your tasks. Come to me if you are in need of help. And when it is time to make our approach.’
Parson Walsh stepped right in the pile of ox filth as he left, though he did not appear to notice but marched straight on without faltering. Daniel watched him for as long as he could, trying to assemble and understand what had been spoken, but the animals’ needs must be seen to.
The oxen at last deposited in their field, Daniel hurried with the one Gabriel needed for harrowing, arriving hot-faced and gasping with effort. He would no doubt be in for some goading.
‘All right, don’t hurt yourself,’ Gabriel said.
‘Sorry. Delayed.’
‘Aye, all right then. Shackle her up.’
Daniel worked as quickly as he could, grateful for Gabriel’s cheerful mood.
‘Late waking, were you?’ Gabriel asked, winking.
‘Ah, no, it was—’
‘Too much a-bed and not enough sleep, was it?’
Daniel was horrified by Gabriel’s crudeness. ‘No, no, that’s not …’
Gabriel took his place on the other side of the ox’s head, slapping Daniel on the back as he passed. ‘No need to blush, it’s the natural way of things. We both are men and the blood will fire up.’ He grinned over the top of the beast. ‘Who is she, then, this lass that’s happy to let you dock? Not Molly after all, I hear she had a change of heart, as I knew she would.’
Daniel pulled on the ox until she moved, desperate to distract from this questioning. There was too much interest in his goings-on. He realised, heavy with disappointment, that he must keep away from the river for a few nights. They walked on at the ox’s uneven pace, but Gabriel would not break off.
‘Nor our Betty any more, I’m guessing, now she has a husband of her own to see to. Eh?’ He craned over the ox but Daniel stared straight ahead. He was in hell. God was punishing him at last for those sinful, unwedded touches he had once shared with Bett.
Those Within
These past two nights I’ve looked for the stone, and found nothing. Tonight I waited as long as I dared, hoping Daniel might come anyway, but he did not and though I know his feelings are true, I begin to wonder if something has happened that keeps him away. Perhaps his courage fails. Perhaps we’ve been discovered.
I usually take care to avoid the tavern on my way back, for the swill-bellies coming out bring all manner of troubles, but this night am distracted and stray too close. Keeping to the shadows, I skirt the path, hoping to go unseen by the figure staggering from the door.
&nb
sp; ‘You.’
The shout pulls me to a halt, chills my skin. I turn to face the farmhand, Gabriel. Look about, but no friendly face to help me. Though the only friend would be Seth, and he unlikely to be found at the tavern. I feel the shock, the fear, ripple over my features. Despise myself for showing it.
‘What are you doing, eh?’ he asks. ‘Loitering here to bring upon me some other, stronger curse? Be warned, your filthy witchery cannot take hold, for I have shook off your sorcery and none other from your hand will have an effect.’
He saunters towards me. I resist the urge to back away, and face him. I will not falter.
In the corner of my eye I see a figure running towards us. Small and slight, but swift. Strong enough to do me harm, no doubt. I wonder, if they’ve drunk enough, if I can outrun them both.
The farmhand leans forward. Close enough now to smell the ale on his breath. ‘Think you can hide from me? Think your home shall keep you safe? Dare to close your eyes at night and see what comes upon you. There’s things unfinished between us.’
The figure is upon us, pushing me aside and standing between me and the farmhand, and only now do I realise it is John. Chest heaving, legs apart and shoulders straight, a vain attempt to appear a greater threat. They face each other. John, smaller by far and half as wide. I see his fear in the set of his jaw, smell it in his sweat. He lifts his chin and eyes the brute, nonetheless.
‘Leave my sister be,’ he says. Voice thin in comparison to the farmhand’s, but steady.
‘Think I’m afeared of you?’ Gabriel attempts a sneer that does not quite convince. His sudden pallor and the widening of his eyes at the sight of John betray him.
John speaks slowly, leaving space between the words. ‘Leave my sister be.’
I watch. Frightened for John, for he will easily be beaten if this comes to blows, and moved by both his fear and courage. Grateful for his protection. Angry with myself for needing it.
The farmhand watches for a moment. He looks John up and down, and I know he’s considering setting about him. John holds his ground. I can barely breathe.
He laughs, an unconvincing sound. ‘You all have a happy fate today, being that I am needed for my tasks in a urgent manner and may not dally here to finish with you.’ As though we have not the wit to know he has no task at this time of night. He begins to step away, his eyes never leaving John’s face. Daren’t turn his back. ‘But ’tis a delay and no more. I shall return, and do not think you have ’scaped me.’
At last he runs off, almost tripping over in his haste to leave. We watch him go.
They tell stories of John in the village. Of terrifying powers and an evil spirit. Of an ability to summon demons to carry out his work. He, they fear more than any of us. And yet he has no skills of magic. I’ve always envied the simplicity of his life, and he the purpose of mine.
I turn to him now. We both are breathing fast.
‘John – I …’
He nods, pats my shoulder once. Together we walk home.
We creep in as quietly as we can. The house throbs to the rhythm of Mam’s snoring and Annie’s snuffling sleep-breathing. It’s warm in here, the air a fog of moist breath and the familiar scent of their warm bodies. My home, not the crumbling walls and drifting roof of this house, but the solid presence of those within. When I live in a new house, I will take my home with me.
We make no sound as we enter. John steps to his mat, curls under the blanket. I wonder if he is feared, shaken as I am. Turning towards my bed I almost fall backwards in surprise at seeing the little figure in the doorway.
‘What have you bringed?’ Annie asks, words distorted as she breathes out a yawn. Expecting that I have been with Daniel and brought back a parcel of food. How I wish it were so.
I put my finger to my lips. There is a little left from our last meeting, and I fetch the cloth from its place in the corner and lay it out. She runs and leaps over John, her bare foot just missing his head, scrambles on to a stool and leans on her elbows to inspect the food.
Her eyes are large and bright as she takes in the scraps of bread and cheese. No longer red-rimmed and sunken, no more do my hands strike bone when I search her skin every morning. She begins to look like any village child of her age. Though dirtier. And yet she is not one of them, and now, after our meeting with the farmhand, I see why Mam warns us to keep separate. I see why she says I shall never be a farmer’s wife, nor Annie accepted in the village. I feel the stalking of he that claims us.
Annie picks over the food with ragged black fingers, and gathers a small pile. Elbow on table, chin in hand, legs swinging, she chews her way through, stopping only to yawn and push back the sleep-taffled mess of hair that falls over her face.
I pour her a cup of water and sit opposite. ‘Steady, cub,’ I say. ‘It won’t disappear with the sun and we don’t want it going the way of the buttermilk, do we?’
She throws me a look that tells me she is unimpressed, but her mouth is saved for chewing not speaking. I sit back on my stool, try to enjoy watching her eat her fill. Try to stop wondering what kept Daniel away.
Soars too High
Daniel had rushed through his tasks, impatient to be done. After days away from Sarah, a means for them to be together had at last come to him, and he could not wait to put his plan to action.
As he ducked down now behind the hedge that lined the path out of the farm, he felt the sun warm on the back of his neck, the air sickly with the scent of pollen. He waited until he saw them. Bett usually left alone, but this evening was huddled speaking with Gabriel. Daniel shuffled as close as he could without being seen.
‘… want with me?’ Gabriel asked. ‘I have more tasks before I may be off and eat, and I’m gut-foundered already.’
Bett was turned away from Daniel and he could not make out all she spoke. He peered through the leaves and dog roses.
‘… of a brawl in the tavern,’ she said.
‘Well Nathaniel was mistook, it was another, for I was not even—’
‘I know,’ Bett’s voice rose a little. ‘… Wright was called and now they’re to be put in the stocks …’ Through a gap in the bottom of the hedge Daniel watched a worm writhe on the dusty path, distracted by its discomfort. ‘… wanted to warn you is all, you must watch yourself and that temper now, the new magistrate is not the same as the old. There’ll be no turning away.’
Daniel shifted quietly. He squinted to see Gabriel’s frown become a smirk. ‘I never knew you were so fond of me.’
Bett stepped back. ‘There are others that rely on you, Gabriel, how will your poor mam and sister manage with you in trouble?’
‘Fear not, lassie, I can care for my own affairs, no need for women to meddle.’
Bett began to walk towards where Daniel hid, leaving Gabriel to continue with his tasks. ‘My part is done,’ she said, pulling her neckerchief more firmly on.
Daniel reached through the hedge and lifted the worm on to the softer ground of the field, then rose to his feet. He whistled as Bett passed so as not to startle her. She turned to him with an expression of contempt, arms folded.
‘What am I, a dog? Speak, don’t call me to heel.’
He clambered over the hedge out on to the path, like a boy chastised. ‘Sorry.’
‘What is it that has you jumping out at me on my way home?’ She sighed and readjusted the fit of her petticoats around her middle. ‘It’s this girl, isn’t it? You’re wanting to run off and wed?’
Taken aback, he leaped in with protest. ‘No, it’s not – not that, we wouldn’t even know how to – no, no. Not that.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Wouldn’t put it past you, it’s just the kind of half-wit notion you’d take into your head. So it’s not the girl?’
‘Ah well, no, yes it is the girl. Just not that.’
Her expression warmed and he was reminded for a moment of the scent of her skin in sunlight, the sight of flesh revealed little by little as she rolled down her stockings. Bett placed
a hand on his shoulder, stepped closer, lowered her voice. ‘You’ve got her belly up, haven’t you? There are remedies to be had, I’ve heard, a brew. I know you don’t like the cunning woman, but she—’
Daniel shook her hand off. ‘Betts, no. Not that either, we’ve not—’
‘Oh. A real devotion, then.’ Her usual expression, that of a busy person delayed by the triflings of an imbecile, returned. ‘What, then? Speed to it, I’ve a home to be at.’
‘She – she is in need of work and—’
‘I’m hardly in a position to be offering work.’
‘No, I know. She is also in need of clothes.’
Bett eyed him shrewdly. ‘She has no clothes?’
Behind her Gabriel returned to the yard, dragging the plough and stamping mud from his boots. He glanced in their direction, faltered a moment in his task. ‘She has – not the right clothes.’
The unasked questions flowed between them. ‘Poor lass,’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll look something out tonight.’
‘Thank you.’ He knew he need not ask for her discretion. ‘You’ve gathered enough, I’m sure, with Father gifting you my mother’s clothes year on year, and you working since you were just a lass and now a maid of—’
She turned to him sharply. ‘A what? We’re all but the same age.’
He laughed. ‘Well, not really, you have a few years on me and now a maid of …’ Why did he not stop speaking?
She shook her head. ‘The same dolt you were at ten.’
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to – Betts, I really didn’t—’
She had gone, waving a dismissive hand to silence him.
Daniel awoke early, before the sun rose and called them all to their tasks, briefly questioning his boldness at what he had set in motion. He had asked the parson to bid Sarah meet him by the sheep field, and hurried there, hoping she would come. One look at her after days apart, the smile that lit her face as their eyes met, and he was certain of his plan once more.
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