The Disenchanted Soldier

by Vicky Adin

  “Ja. ’Tis wonderful.” Ignoring the view and resting on his chest, she didn’t take her eyes from him for one moment. He turned at the tone in her voice and looked into her adoring face. He lowered his head until their lips met. Their kiss was as gentle and sweet as the first soft breezes on a summer morning. He wrapped both arms around her, as her arms crept up further around his neck, their lips never parting. With increasing intensity and desire, their movements became more urgent and searching. As one, they stepped back from the door and fell onto a soft pile of hay, the rays of sun warming them.

  Hardly stopping for breath, Daniel rained kisses on her face and neck as he shook off his jacket. Pushing himself up on one elbow, he began to unbutton her blouse and chemise to reveal her soft, white breasts. She gasped as he ran his fingers and then his tongue over her nipples, arching her back in response. Never had she felt such longing, such burning. Her response inflamed his desire. With a husky voice choked with emotion, he looked down into her face. “I need you so badly, my little one. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Ja,” she whispered back. “I want to be yours forever.”

  And so it was.

  * * *

  “Vhat!!” roared Eduard. His temper was so great that Emma wanted to hide in the corner as far away from her father as possible. Instead, she pulled her shoulders back and held her head high.

  “I’m having a baby,” she repeated.

  “Mein Gott! I hear you first time.” Eduard’s voice was at fever pitch. “It sound no better second time.”

  In his agitation, Eduard’s English had become more broken and accented than normal, and he slipped back into his native tongue. He paced up and down the room making it look even smaller than it was. With each turn of the heel he flung his arms in the air, muttering under his breath, or ran his hands through his hair. “I kill him. I go to that place you vork. I find him. I kill him. He who did this to you, who thinks he can get avay with it?”

  In English, Emma begged, “It wasn’t anyone at the Dalrymples’, Papa. Please don’t be so angry. It’s what I wanted.”

  “Vhat!!” he roared again. “Vhat you talking about? You vanted? Make sense girl. How can girl of your age know vhat she vants? Vanted vhat? To be unmarried mother? To bring shame on family? You do not know vhat you talk.”

  “But Papa ...”

  “Be quiet, girl. Let me think. You vill have to go avay somevhere. I speak vith your mama. See if she knows vhere you can go ...”

  “Papa. Listen to me. Please. Keep your voice down. Charlie is outside. He can hear you. You will scare him off.”

  “What is Charlie doing outside?” Eduard turned to stare at his daughter, suspicious now. “Are you telling me Charlie did this to you?”

  “Charlie didn’t do anything to me.” Emma was angry now, wanting to defend Daniel, protect her child and make her father understand. “We love ...”

  Eduard cut her short. “Love!! Bah! Vhat you know of love? You too young.”

  “I’m the same age as Mama was ...”

  “Do not answer back. That vas different. It vas var time vhen ve married.”

  “I want to marry the man I love.”

  “It is not love that holds families together. It is respect. It is companionship. It is ...” Leaving the sentence unfinished, he continued, “Enough. I vill listen to no more. You vill go avay. You vill not see Charlie again. Do you hear me?”

  “No, Papa.” Defiant now, Emma stood her ground.

  “No!” Her father’s loud roar filled the space in the small cabin. “You say no to your father?”

  With the echo still ringing in her ears, Emma’s voice was quiet. “I don’t understand. You let me be friends with Charlie. You let me spend time with him.”

  “No. It vill not be. I decide who you vill marry. It is right.”

  “I want to be with Charlie. Please, let him come in and talk to you. Please, Papa.”

  “I never vant to see that man again. He betrayed my trust. If you vant to be vith him, you go,” Eduard waved his hand, “make your life vith him. But if you leave here now, you never come back. You no longer daughter of mine.”

  “Papa!” Shocked at the turn of events, Emma dropped to her knees, quivering inside. “No. Please. Don’t send me away. Please.”

  “Make your choice. Charlie, or your family.”

  “Charlie is my family now. Just like you and Mama, and the children. Please don’t make me choose.” Tears began to trickle down her face, her eyes enlarged as she took in the full meaning of what her father was saying.

  “Get up,” he ordered. “You no longer a child. If you old enough to go against your father’s vishes then you old enough to choose. So what’s it to be?”

  Emma wiped her face with her apron and pulled herself to her feet. The same stubbornness her father was showing was also a part of Emma’s character. If Papa can throw me out so easily, then I will go − and proudly. Straightening her clothes and pushing stray strands of hair off her face, she pulled her shoulders back, standing to her full height, little as it may have been, before she spoke. “Very well, Papa. If you insist, I will go. I will choose Charlie.”

  Silence.

  “May I say goodbye to Mama and the children before I leave?”

  Eduard leant his elbow on the mantelpiece. The precious cuckoo clock he’d ordered and Heinrich had collected on the day this began burst into its hourly routine. Ignoring the clock, he stared at Emma for many long seconds. As the chimes finished, he picked up his pipe and with trembling hands started to tamp tobacco into it. He nodded. Emma exhaled the breath she had been holding, turned and fled through the door of her father’s house for the last time.

  Once outside she kept her back ramrod straight, hands clenched at her sides. She walked down the path, hurrying past Daniel waiting for her. She wanted to find Mama and the children who would be tending the chickens. The younger children would be near, either helping with feeding out the grain or frolicking in the hay. Either way she had to see them.

  Daniel ran after her, calling. “Emma, what happened? Why are you in such a rush? Stop. Emma. Talk to me.”

  She stopped in her tracks. Without turning around, in a deadened voice she said, “Papa said I must leave this place if I choose you. I choose you.” She started walking away again leaving Daniel in her wake.

  “Emma!” he called again. “You can’t say things like that and then walk away. Emma!”

  She turned, angry. “Charlie, no. Please? I have to do this my way. Wait for me. I’ll tell you on journey.” She continued down the path, only slowing her steps as she got closer to the coop.

  “Mama,” she whispered when she was within earshot.

  Frederika turned from sorting the eggs to see her daughter standing by the door, silhouetted against the light.

  “Mama,” repeated Emma in a voice tight with emotion.

  “Vhat is it, child? Vhat is the matter?” Putting the eggs down carefully, Frederika moved towards Emma. In the light, Emma’s distress was clear but she would not give in to it, and backed away from the offered embrace.

  Taking a deep breath, she spoke on the outward rush. “I told Papa like you said. He said I must leave so I have come to say goodbye.”

  “Emma, mein Liebes. I am so sorry. Oh, why did it have to come to this?”

  Emma knew Frederika was asking herself that last question. “I knew something was between you and Charlie, yet I did nothing. Said nothing. I am sorry, my child. I have not helped. Is there nothing I can do now? Please?”

  Emma fell into her mother’s outstretched arms and sobbed into her shoulder. Frederika murmured soft, calming words in her native tongue. Words she had learnt from her mother, and her mother before her. Words used to comfort a small child.

  When Emma’s sobs had eased, she stood upright and wiped her face. “Will you gather together what’s mine? Can you do that for me? I can’t go back into that house now. I will say goodbye to the children while you do that, ja?�
��

  “Ja, child. I vill. My heart breaks to see you like this but you understand, ja? I am helpless to do anything to change your father’s mind.”

  Emma nodded, biting her bottom lip in an effort to stop herself crying again. Frederika took Emma’s arm as they walked together along the path until they reached the barn. With a soft kiss on Emma’s cheek, Frederika gathered up her skirts and hurried the remaining distance to the house. Emma shook herself into a better mood so she could put up a more cheerful front and went to the barn to find the children.

  “Fritz, Clara,” she called with a false lilt in her voice, as she entered the barn. “Where are you? I’m coming to find you.” Emma could hear girlish giggling as the called.

  Fritz was a strapping boy of nine. Clara, at six and a half, worshipped him, following wherever he went. He teased her unmercifully at times, but one could be certain, wherever Fritz was, Clara wasn’t far behind. Emma could see where the pitchfork had been left beside a newly thrown pile of hay. Fritz had been putting fresh hay out for the animals but had sneaked off to hide as she approached. Clara would be the magnet to finding him.

  “Am I getting warm?” She moved to the right of the barn.

  No response.

  “Am I getting warmer here?” Emma lifted a horse cover off the ground and laid it across the rails. Still nothing.

  “So, what about here?” She crept round the side of the stall and opened the door leading to the storeroom. A suppressed giggle and a ‘shh’ came from nearby. Climbing over the sacks of feed stacked beside the door, she looked down from the top of the stack to see them both crouching at the base.

  “Got you!” she shouted, giving them a fright, and making them jump.

  Clara laughed.

  “Come on, you two, out of there. I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “What is it, Emma?” asked the ever-inquisitive Clara as they clambered from their hiding place.

  “Come sit beside me ...” Patting the hay next to her, Emma settled down with her back against the sacks, “... and I’ll tell you.”

  Once the three of them were seated, Emma put one arm around each of them, crushing them against her. “I’m going on a big adventure and will be gone for a long time.”

  “Ooo ... What’s the big adventure then?” Fritz’s eyes were aglow with anticipation.

  “Nothing that would interest you at all, my boy. Just something your big sister has to do.”

  “Oh, what’s that?”

  “Charlie and I are going away to be married. I am very happy, but I have to go a long way away and won’t be able to see you for a long, long time.”

  Clara started to cry. “Don’t cry, little one.” Emma wiped away her tears, hugging her even tighter. “You still have your mama and papa and Fritz here. They’ll look after you. But I wanted to tell you that I love you very much, and to say goodbye.”

  “But Emma, I don’t want you to go,” wailed Clara.

  “Of course you don’t, my sweet, but my new life is with Charlie, and I must leave here to live that life.”

  Fritz had risen to his feet, hands in his pockets, and kicked the hay, trying not to cry. Emma got to her feet and took his face between her hands. “Now, Fritz. Listen to me. No, I shall call you Fred from now on. You are nearly a big man now. I want you to help Henry – and Papa. And look after Clara for me. And Clara, you must help Mama, especially with young William. Is that right with you? Ja.”

  “Ja, Emma. That is right, as it should be,” answered Fritz.

  “Gut. Now let me find Charlie so I can be away.”

  With a final hug for each of them, she took them by the hand and led them out of the barn. Frederika and Daniel could be seen standing together at the top of the rise, Daniel holding the horse by the reins, Frederika clutching a bulging tapestry holdall to her chest. The three of them climbed the rise together.

  The two younger children went to their mother’s side as Emma took the bag from her mother and placed it on the ground. They stood looking at each other for a few seconds, scanning each other’s face. Eyes sparkled with pent-up emotion. No words were spoken.

  Emma put her arms out; the two women hugged for a long time. Turning to Daniel, she said, “We can go now.”

  Daniel picked up the holdall and they walked, hand in hand, into their new life together.

  Chapter Twelve

  Foxton

  1882–1884

  15 June 1882

  “Ahhh,” grunted Emma with each contraction. Biting down as hard as she could on the wad of cloth the midwife, Annie, had placed between her teeth she was determined not to scream out loud. This is what she wanted, she told herself and what she had told everyone else she wanted.

  “Won’t be long now, love. You’re young and strong with many childbearing years ahead of ya. Take heart.”

  Her face red with exertion, the sweat trickling into her eyes as another contraction bit deep, Emma could only answer with another loud groan.

  Annie was a chatty sort who liked to distract her mothers-to-be – especially first-time mothers – with endless gossip about this and that. “I told your pa out there how things are. So he don’t fret like.”

  The woman’s comment registered in Emma’s brain. Taking the sodden cloth from between her teeth, she informed the midwife, “I’ll have you know that man is my husband, the father of this child, not my father. Ahhh!”

  “Ooh ... Well, I never! Ah well, sorry dear, but ay, ’e looks old enough to be your pa. Easy mistake. You just concentrate now on what’s happening with your babe and never mind me. You’re new in town, though, ain’t you? I don’t remember seeing you before, or I’d know your ma. I know most of the mothers of girls your age. I probably brought them into the world, that’s how long I’ve been doing this job. You’re lucky to have me really. I’m that busy. Still, it were Maisy at the big ’ouse as asked me an’ I couldn’t say no to Maisy, now could I? Not with her being housekeeper to Cap’n Robinson an’ all.”

  Annie fussed around, mopping Emma’s brow, checking all the towels and swaddling cloths were in place, and making up a wee bed for the babe as she went, using one of the drawers of the large oak dresser that sat to one side. All the while she chatted on.

  “Wonderful man, that Cap’n Robinson. The things he has done for this town is beyond all duty, but my, it do make a difference. Just look at all the work he’s done to improve the roads around here. He being a big wig on the board an’ all. And then buying the land so the school could be built. I tell you, that is generous, but those little blighters don’t appreciate what they got. Always wagging school to earn a penny or two planting veges and whatever’s on offer this week. Sends the teacher to despair but nuffin’ to be done. The parents need the money nowadays with so many out of work. Boom and bust – that’s what this town is. Just a boom-and-bust town. All’s going well and somebody starts up another mill, or store or something. Then you turn around and it’s gone, and all the people are out of work again.”

  She stopped what she was doing mid-stride.

  “Your fella in work still? ’Cos I need my fee, you know. Can’t be doing it all for love, now can I? Gotta eat too now, don’t I?”

  Emma managed to nod in response, hoping Charlie had kept a few coins to pay the woman. Satisfied with the answer Annie started up her prattling again. Emma lay waiting for the next pain. Without the strength to talk back to the woman or to stop her talking so much, she could only let it waft over her.

  “I read in the paper just the other day, the price of fibre has gone down again. That must be the third time this year. It’ll hurt the mills hard. They’ll probably have to cut back again. Maisy and I were talking about it not long since. We meet to have a cup of tea, see, just to rest our weary feet and pass the time of day, like. She said she overheard the cap’n talking with some men in the library, about the depression as they called it. And talking about the newfangled refrigeration trade. Sending frozen meat, they say, across the oceans back to the
home country. Seems hard to believe they could do that, but it’s a fact, so Maisy said. She heard them say, so it must be true then, mustn’t it? And butter. Butter, of all things. Fancy buying butter what’s months old when they gets it.”

  Annie stopped to catch her breath. “I’ll go make meself a cuppa, lass. All this talking has fair dried my mouth out. You just lie there for a minute, and I’ll bring us a nice sweet cup o’ tea. That’ll help no end.”

  In the silence that followed the door shutting, Emma could hear birds singing, but otherwise she had no idea of the time. It had still been dark when her waters broke and Daniel had rushed off to ask Maisy what to do next. Now the light had moved from her window, so it must be well into the afternoon. Her eyes fluttered closed as the silence enveloped her, but it felt like only seconds had passed before Annie’s voice penetrated her peace again.

  “Good cuppa, this. Sure you don’t want one? No? Ah well, don’t mind if I have a second one then. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the cap’n. He built the racecourse as well, he did. That’s given people the most pleasure around here, I reckon. Nigh on fifteen year it is now since it opened but the cap’n likes the horses, ’e does, an’ his boys all play polo. Fancy game that. Royalty back ’ome were the only ones I ever heard of what played polo. Never seen it meself until they had a game here.”

  Annie ignored the soft groans coming from Emma at regular intervals, knowing her time was still some way off.

  “Relax, girl. It’s not your time yet. Your fella a sporting sort? It must be a couple of year ago now since the new rugby club started using the racecourse during the off season. Of all things. In the middle like, I mean, not on the track. The men like it, but it looks like a bully of a game to me. The toffs used to play it in the old country but now ’tis the workers what like to rough it in the mud. Ooh, but it’s a fun day, though. Just like a good race day, people come from all over by train or carriage or whatever.”

  Every now and then Annie wrung out a wet cloth to mop Emma’s brow again, smoothing the hair back off her damp face, calming her while she kept up her constant monologue.