*
When Richard came to find Matthew, he was so upset he near on stuttered. A woman to take it upon herself to correct him, a minister! Matthew sighed inwardly as the wee minister listed one example after the other of how Alex had undermined his authority, and promised to talk to his wife. He found her in the parlour, singing under her breath as she worked. At the sight of him she fell silent, sitting up straight.
“Richard says you are purposely disrupting his teaching.”
“On purpose? I happen to be in the room. Surely I should correct him when he gets it wrong.”
“He doesn’t want you to be present.”
“Oh really? So now I’m not allowed to sit in my own front room?” The blue eyes narrowed dangerously, and Matthew found himself with a pile of mending in his lap. “In that case, dear husband, it’s best you take over the mending. Or do you want me to repair to the laundry shed to do it?”
“Alex,” Matthew sighed, shamed by the look on her face.
“Don’t you Alex me!” she spat and stormed off.
After that, Alex avoided the front room, remaining either in the kitchen or retiring early to their bedroom. And the mending lay untouched, with Richard commenting on how sad it was to find a woman idle.
On purpose, Matthew tore a gash in his shirt and came to Alex with the ragged sleeve.
“Will you mend it for me?” he asked, hoping she would see this as the olive branch he meant it to be.
“Ask your pet minister – he has sole access to my parlour these days.”
“Only for class.”
“Oh, good. In that case please ask him to take his leisure elsewhere. I have no intention of having him disrupt my evenings of calm and quiet with his grating voice and inane braying.”
“I can’t do that,” Matthew said. “He’s my guest and must of course be welcome in my home.”
She gave him a long look and handed him the shirt. “Mend it yourself. Or have one of the girls do it.” She sat down with her back to him to feed their son.
*
“But Mama says—“ Jacob began, only to be interrupted by Richard.
“Your mother has no idea what she’s talking about; she’s a woman.”
“Mama says women are as intelligent as men,” Mark put in.
“Foolishness!” Richard Campbell said. “Man is set to rule over woman on account of his intellect and spiritual strength. Women are more prone to be taken over by the devil, seeing as they’re weaker souls.”
“That’s nonsense,” Magnus said from where he was sitting by the window. “That’s like saying women are more given to evil, and yet, if you look about the world, men seem to be overrepresented when it comes to crimes.”
Richard sniffed. This tall Swedish man disconcerted him, and even more when he turned eyes as blue as his daughter’s in his direction.
“We were discussing the exodus from Egypt,” he reminded his class of three. “And here we have the truth.” He held up his Bible.
Magnus made a derisive sound. “I bet there’s no mention of Hatshepsut in there.”
“Hatshe who?” Jacob asked.
“A female Pharaoh,” Magnus said. “A fantastic ruler, as I hear it.”
“Hmph!” Richard straightened up. “One swallow does not a summer make. And, mark my words, had she been a man, she’d have been an even better ruler.”
“How would you know?” Magnus said.
“Common sense,” Richard said. “A quality men share but women rarely enjoy.”
With a snort Magnus left the room.
Richard sat back and unbuttoned his coat, quite pleased with himself. “Now,” he said to the Graham lads, “let’s get back to the Scriptures.”
*
An uneasy truce settled over the household. Richard seemed content enough with the lads’ progress, and from what Matthew could make out the lads were not suffering unduly from their imposed hours with the minister, even if Mark muttered something about not liking it: how Mr Campbell addressed his mother.
Matthew sighed inwardly. Alex remained aloof and distant, minimising her communication with Richard. All in all a good thing, Matthew supposed, but he didn’t like it that she treated him the same way, shoulders and mouth set in a constant expression of reproach. At times, he wanted to take her by the arms and shake her, telling her that he was doing this for their lads, for their immortal souls.
“A pretty lass,” Richard said, pointing at Ruth, who was out in the yard playing with her brothers in the summer twilight.
“Aye.” Matthew threw a look at his wife, sitting as far away from him as she could. “Like her mother.” He’d hoped for a smile, but was disappointed, Alex keeping her eyes on the bread she was slicing.
“Umm,” Richard said. “A bit wayward; should a lass really be allowed to run that wild? She’s old enough to spin and knit. As I recall, my own sisters went about with their spindles from their fifth year or so.”
“She helps enough as it is,” Alex said. “She’s not yet six.”
“She must be taught to be a good helpmeet,” Richard continued, ignoring Alex. “She should be knitting stockings for her brothers, learning to serve them first.”
Matthew looked at his lass, not quite sure he agreed with the minister.
“Not in my home; in my home we treat our children as equals. We do, don’t we?” Alex challenged, glaring at Matthew.
“Of course we do,” he said.
“Except, of course, that our boys have to put up with him.” Alex made a contemptuous gesture in the direction of Richard.
“Alex!” Matthew said.
“Luckily, there will be time afterwards to correct all the nonsense he’s trying to fill their heads with. After all, I don’t suppose you plan on having him here forever, do you?”
Matthew compressed his mouth, giving her a warning look.
“Well, do you?” she demanded. “Because if you do, please let me know so that I can start making arrangements to go elsewhere – with my children.” She banged the door on her way out.
“A cross,” Richard sighed, “a cross to bear.”
In reply Matthew flung himself out of the kitchen, hot on Alex’s heels.
“How dare you?” He towered over her, near on stuttering with rage.
“How dare I? How dare you! With what right do you force that idiot of a man on us all?”
“He’s a minister.” Matthew swallowed in an effort to keep his voice controlled. “He’s here to teach our sons the things we can’t teach them.”
“Which adds up to the impressive sum of zero, nada. And on top of that, you expect me to feed him, I’m forbidden access to parts of my home, and my boys...” She gave him a bright look, eyes wet with unshed tears. “I want him to leave; now.”
“We have accorded until the end of August. That’s four more weeks.”
Alex studied him in silence. “I see, your pride must come first, right?” Her tone cut him, even more because she was right.
“August, Alex. That’s what we decided.”
“That’s what you decided.” She turned to walk off; he blocked her.
“You’re making this more difficult than it has to be.” He brushed at a lock of escaped hair.
She reared back from his touch. “I am? I don’t think so, Mr Graham. I didn’t bring him here, did I? And now, if you’ll excuse me…” She dropped him an ironic curtsey. “…I’m going for a swim.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked, trying out a smile.
“No way,” she said. “Whatever for?”
*
Over the coming week, Alex more or less stopped speaking to Matthew – she was so pissed off with him she preferred not to. And he, typical man that he was, pretended things were just like normal, even if he was smart enough not to try cuddling her. He p
robably realised he risked being kneed in the balls if he did, given her present mood. So they went to bed together – in silence – they rose in the morning – in silence. Well, except for the more basic communication along the lines that were there any clean stockings, or was Sarah’s scraped knee healing as it should. And all day long that enervating, brain-dead excuse of a man hovered around her children and her man, a self-satisfied simper on his lips. Worst of all were the mealtimes, dinner conversation shrinking to Richard Campbell’s long, haranguing monologues.
“But that’s how it is,” Richard stated. “No matter how hard she tries, a woman remains a simple, immoral creature, ruled by her lusty nature, not by sense.”
Okay, that was it, she’d had it; not one more night listening to his misogynist crap.
“What?” Alex said.
“Oh, yes, Mrs Graham, that’s how things are ordered. Even a male child has more intellectual capacity than a grown woman, which is why, of course, it is so important that boys be schooled by men, not by their deficient—”
“Take that back!” Alex glared at Richard across the table. “Don’t sit in my kitchen and tell my sons that their mother is a simple creature on account of her sex!”
Richard gave her a bland smile. “It’s the truth. Eve was made a helpmeet to Adam, a weaker vessel that relies entirely on her husband for guidance and protection. Women lack the cerebral power of men.”
“Bollocks,” Alex said. “And I must say that for a man that professes such great insight into the mysteries of life you’re woefully ignorant.”
“Ignorant?” Richard cleared his throat. “And you’d know better? I think not, Mrs Graham. Loud you may be, opinionated too, but your understanding of intellectual matters is at best limited, at worst non-existent.”
“Oh, shut up! I know more than you do about everything – anything – but the Bible. And even there I’d argue that while you know huge chunks of the Bible by rote, you’ve totally missed out on the underlying message.” She stopped to fill her lungs with air, throwing an angry look in the direction of her silent men. Why the fuck didn’t Matthew or Magnus agree with her? How could Matthew allow this toad of a man to say these things? Richard opened his mouth but Alex raised her voice. “But of course you have; you lack context because you have no understanding of history or geography, and you scoff at any ideas that don’t fall exactly within your limited understanding – extremely limited, if you ask me.”
“Alex,” Matthew interrupted, “that’s enough. You’ll not insult the minister further.”
“Insult him?” To her irritation, her voice wobbled. “And what about when he insulted me just now? Why don’t you berate him for calling me a foolish, opinionated woman?” She slammed the pitcher of beer down so hard the earthenware cracked, leaking beer down the sides to puddle on the table. “So seeing as you won’t defend me, I’ll do it myself, okay? In my opinion, Richard Campbell, you’re nothing but an uneducated charlatan with your head so far up your own conceited arse all of you smells of the shit you spout.”
There; that shut him up. In fact, it shut all of them up. Matthew was looking at her as if he dearly wanted her to go up in smoke; Magnus was biting down on his lip, eyes glittering with laughter; and Richard, well, he’d forgotten how to close his mouth. Alex decided it might be wise to take a little time out and went to check on the soup.
*
For a couple of seconds, the silence was absolute. There were none of the normal sounds a dozen people would make while seated at a table. Instead, it seemed to Matthew that his household had turned into pillars of salt. And then Sarah sneezed, Jacob shifted on his rump, and life returned. Breathing was resumed, feet scuffed at the floor. Spoons were raised, bread was torn off in chunks, as his family continued with their meal. But Richard remained immobile, arms folded over his chest while he stared demandingly at Matthew.
“Apologise,” Matthew said. Goddamn the woman! Aye, Richard had been out of line, but how could she do this to him, humiliate him in front of a minister, showing him to be a man that had no control over his own wife?
Alex ignored him, busy stirring the pot. The kitchen filled with the rich scent of chicken soup, complete with sage and garlic.
“Alex,” Matthew injected his voice with ice, “you’ll apologise to Richard. Now.”
“Matthew…” Magnus said in a warning tone.
Alex turned to face the table. “No, I won’t. He’s a despicable narrow-minded little worm, and if anyone should apologise to anyone it should be he to me.”
“He’s a guest in our home, and you’ve insulted him.” Matthew was all too aware of their silent audience, his sons, his lasses, all looking at him with huge eyes.
“Not my guest, remember?” Alex shrugged, ladling up the soup.
“You must curb that wilful tongue, brother,” Richard said. “A wife to speak to her husband like that...sometimes the only thing that helps is the belt.”
Alex wheeled and swung at him with the ladle. “Get out! Get out of my kitchen!”
“Alex!” Matthew roared, leaping to his feet. He grabbed her, ignoring her angry struggles as he carried her to their room and set her down inside.
“You must apologise.”
“Go fuck yourself,” she spat, face red with anger.
He walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. He heard her shoot the bolt into place.
*
An hour later, Alex unbolted the door, stalked out to the kitchen, heaved a bawling David from Ian’s arms, and without a further word returned to her bedroom. She had a writhing snake pit inside of her. Never had they argued like this, and had she had Richard bloody Campbell in front of her, she would have been tempted to kick his teeth in. Her stomach growled with hunger and anger, but with an effort she emptied her head of anything but the image of her baby boy, his wide eyes smiling up at her as he fed.
She sat for a long time with him in her arms, hearing how the house went to rest as the summer sky shifted to the dark of an August night outside her window. Finally, she placed David in his cradle and tiptoed out into the kitchen for something to eat, only to find Matthew waiting for her with Richard beside him.
“Apologise to the minister,” Matthew said. In that moment she hated him. How could he betray her like this?
“No.” She blinked back tears she had no intention of spilling – at least not in front of them. “Not unless he apologises to me.”
Richard coughed. “You must go first. You’ve insulted a man of God.”
“A man of God?” Alex laughed hoarsely. “What a joke...an insufferable bigot, that’s what you are.”
“Alex,” Matthew sighed.
“What would you have me do?” Alex swung back to Matthew. “Prostrate myself and abjectly beg for forgiveness?”
“You’ll apologise for the name-calling and for swinging at him with the ladle.”
“Or what? I don’t get to eat in my own kitchen?” She was getting angry again, regretting she hadn’t whacked Matthew over the head with the ladle instead.
“Apologise, Alex.” His voice was cold.
She took a big breath, turned towards Richard and curtsied deeply.
“My apologies,” she said with no attempt at sincerity. “Happy now?” she asked her husband.
“Aye.” He tried to catch her eyes, but she wasn’t having it.
“Well, that’s good. At least one of us is.” She turned on her heel and made for her bedroom, closing the door in his face.
Chapter 28
On the surface, things were back to normal next day, with Alex her usual capable self around the children. She set Jenny and Agnes to do the laundry, busied herself with her preserves, and had Ruth sit on the kitchen table and go through all the multiplication tables. She joked with her boys, sang to David while she nursed him, and served the household both dinner and supper. Bu
t some things were different: she chose not to eat with them, and she avoided any kind of contact with Matthew. Richard she treated as if he didn’t exist, staring straight through him with a vague smile on her face.
“You’re making too much of it,” Mrs Parson said, serving Alex a huge slice of honey cake.
“You think?” Alex shook her head. “He humiliated me, in my own home.”
“Ignore him, aye? He’ll soon be gone.”
“I’m not talking about Richard Campbell; I’m talking about Matthew.” She traced a complicated pattern on the table top, a large loopy M. A warm, wrinkled hand came down on hers, giving it a little shake.
“Talk to him, lass.”
“I can’t.” She was tongue-tied with anger, a huge lump of hurt lying across her vocal chords whenever she saw him.
*
The boys didn’t know what to do. Intensely loyal to their mother, they became belligerent and downright rude to Richard, slyly commenting on things he so obviously had no idea about. After a particularly embarrassing situation in which Daniel made it clear he didn’t believe one word of what Richard had to say about the heathen Indians, Richard decided there was nothing to it but to administer a beating. Daniel shrieked like a gutted pig when Richard forced him down over the table, and suddenly Mr Campbell was flying across the room to land hard against the wall.
“If you touch any of my boys again, I will flay you,” Alex told him, eyes boring into him. “You have their father’s permission to teach them, but I, their mother, forbid you to touch them.”
Once again, Matthew came to berate her, demanding what she was thinking, to so discourteously throw his guest against the wall. Alex stared straight through him, giving no sign of hearing one single word.
“I’m talking to you!” Matthew snapped.
Eloquently, she raised first one then the other shoulder. For a moment her eyes met his, and Matthew’s stomach shrivelled at the absolute hurt in that blue gaze. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to make things better, but he never got the chance. Without a word, Alex left the room.
A Newfound Land (The Graham Saga) Page 25