Sentence of Marriage

by Shayne Parkinson

  Frank fought down his irritation at Lizzie’s abrupt change of mood. ‘What’s the point in being engaged if we can’t do anything we couldn’t do before?’

  ‘Being engaged means we’re promised to each other and we’ve told everyone. It doesn’t mean you can take liberties with me.’

  ‘You’re always going on about “liberties”,’ Frank grumbled. ‘Anyone would think I was a real ratbag. What’s wrong with you, anyway?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong with me. Just because I want to keep myself decent, you’re trying to make out I’m strange.’

  ‘I don’t see what’s so scandalous about letting your intended give you a cuddle.’

  ‘Well, you should,’ Lizzie flung back at him. ‘That was more than a cuddle you were trying, Frank Kelly.’

  Frank smothered a curse in time for it to come out as an unintelligible grunt. ‘What with you deciding I’m some sort of rogue and your pa looking as though he’d like to kick me all the way down the road, I don’t know why I bother coming here. I might as well go home.’

  ‘Go on, then. Don’t let me stop you.’ She turned away from him.

  ‘All right then, I will.’ Frank rose to his feet.

  ‘I suppose it’s my fault,’ Lizzie said, still facing in the other direction. Was that a catch in her voice? Frank wondered. ‘I must have behaved badly if you thought I’d let you do that. Yes, it must be my fault,’ she said pensively. ‘I wish I knew what I’d done wrong.’ Her shoulders heaved as though she were bravely smothering a sob. Frank felt a rush of affection and guilt.

  ‘Aw, Lizzie, don’t cry,’ he begged, dropping to one knee and putting an arm round her shoulder. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s my fault, you were right, I shouldn’t have done that.’

  Lizzie laid her head on his shoulder. ‘You sounded so angry with me,’ she murmured. ‘I thought you didn’t love me any more.’ Her breath tickled his ear as she spoke.

  ‘Of course I love you. I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I didn’t. I just wish we didn’t have to wait so long.’

  ‘Oh, Frank!’ Lizzie’s eyes were shining. ‘You’ve never said you love me before.’

  ‘Haven’t I?’ Frank said, surprised. ‘Well, I do. I guess I just thought you already knew. Hey, you’ve never said it to me, either.’

  ‘I couldn’t till you did.’

  ‘I’ve said it now.’ Frank grinned at her.

  ‘So you have.’ She smiled back at him. ‘I love you, Frank.’

  There was only one way to seal such a moment. Frank wasted no time in taking Lizzie in his arms and kissing her.

  *

  The hill that dropped from Jack’s house down to the flat paddocks by the creek was not steep, but it was thickly covered with stumps. Amy had to concentrate on placing her feet carefully as she walked, so that she would not trip over. It was even harder now that she could not see where each step was about to land without peering over the top of her bulge.

  When she reached the bottom of the hill the going was easier, and she lengthened her stride. The day was grey and cold. A light mist still lingered over the trees on the far side of the valley. That part of the bush was out of bounds to her. Susannah had repeatedly stressed that she must stay away from the road. She was too shameful for anyone to see.

  The forbidden trees looked beautiful to Amy, especially the patch of bush directly opposite where she stood. She longed to stroke the rough trunks; to look up at the sky through the leaves. There was plenty of bush on her side of the road, but none of it held the same fascination as that stand of trees.

  But she knew she would never be able to bear to enter it, even when she was once again allowed to wander freely on the farm. That patch was where she had led Jimmy the night of the dance. The place where he had asked her to marry him. Where they had lain together for the first time. She could picture every tree; she could feel the hard ground under her and hear his voice murmuring words of love in her ear. His face so close to hers was clear in her mind, the way he had looked on their last day together when she had held his face in her hands and printed it in her memory. Her hand went involuntarily to the place between her breasts where his brooch had been fastened; but the brooch had lain in her drawer, nestled in the blue velvet ribbon, ever since the day she had learned he was not going to come back to her. She no longer felt any desire to wear it, now that she knew the words that went with the gift had been untrue.

  Her eyes blurred with tears, and she hardly noticed that the ground had become rougher. She glanced down in front of her and was surprised to see water lapping over the toes of her boots; she had wandered right down to the creek. I’d better get out.

  But instead of backing out, she took a step forward. The water, muddy green under the pale grey sky, held a fascination for her. The creek was running at its higher winter level, and it swirled and eddied with the extra burden of water. It was quite opaque; even near the edge where the water was only a few inches deep the creek bed was invisible. Amy watched a small branch tumble along the surface and out of sight around a bend in the stream.

  She took another step, and the water came over the tops of her feet. She felt it seep into her boots around the laces. A few more steps and it would reach the hem of her dress, muddy green water touching the dark green of the thick woollen fabric. The water would clutch at her, drawing her into its embrace. Would she sink right away? Or would she float until she reached the sea? No, the heavy dress would drag her down as soon as the water was deep enough.

  What does drowning feel like? Maybe it hurts. But it wouldn’t hurt for long. Pa might be sad for a while, but everyone would be nice to him. They’d say how sad it was his daughter drowned. No one would have to know about how bad I am. He wouldn’t have to look at me any more. She had moved further into the creek without realising it. The hem of her dress was splashed with water. She leaned forward slowly, drawn towards the changing patterns of tiny whirlpools.

  A loud rattle caught her attention. She stood up straight and looked across the creek. It was the noise of the buggy coming along the road; her father and Susannah had come home from town with the supplies and the mail.

  Amy looked down at the water again, but now it looked frightening instead of inviting. Pa would know I’d done it on purpose, and he’d feel bad. Even worse than he does now. I mustn’t kill the baby—the baby’s not bad, only me. She backed carefully out on to dry ground, then turned and squelched in her wet boots alongside the creek, careful not to look at the water.

  When she struck a fence she turned again and walked parallel to it, too clumsy in her bulkiness to want to climb it. She had been following the fence line for some time before she realised it was the boundary fence that separated her father’s farm from Charlie Stewart’s. It’s a good thing I didn’t climb over.

  The ground started to rise, and walking took all her attention as she once more entered an area thickly dotted with stumps. She was so busy concentrating on where to put her feet that it was some time before she sensed someone was watching her. She stopped abruptly and looked around. With a sinking heart she saw Charlie standing just across the fence, barely a dozen feet away. He was staring fixedly at her.

  Amy looked at him in horror, hoping desperately that he had not noticed her bulge. But his eyes were on her belly. He lifted his gaze to her face, and Amy tried to think of something, anything, to say that would break the spell of the moment. Instead she gave in to her fear, gathered up her heavy skirts and turned away from him.

  She hurried up the hill as fast as her bulk would allow, and was puffing by the time Charlie was out of sight. That was stupid of me. I kept away from the road, but I forgot about the boundary. But Charlie never talks to anyone, so he won’t gossip about me.

  It was too early for her to go home and start making lunch; in any case, she wanted the tell-tale patches of water to dry out of her hem before she faced Susannah, and in this cold weather that would take some time. She climbed right to the top of the hi
ll behind the house, then looked down the valley and out to sea. It was little more than a habit now; whatever Susannah had meant about what they were going to do with her, Amy knew it would not include making any of her old dreams of seeing the world outside the valley come true.

  All those things I was going to do. I was going to be a teacher. I was going to live in Auckland. I even believed Jimmy when he said he’d take me to Australia. Plays to see, fancy clothes to wear. None of it’s going to happen now. She turned her back on the sea and sat down on a convenient stump to wait for her dress to dry. A tiny rifleman fluttered about in the grass near her feet, hunting for the insects Amy had disturbed.

  Half an hour later she saw a man coming up the track to her house. He was nearly at the farmhouse gate before she recognised the tall, slightly stooped figure of Charlie Stewart. Her heart gave a lurch. It would take something serious to make Charlie visit her father; she could not remember his ever coming to the house before. He must be really annoyed about me. I’ll be in trouble now. For a moment her heart beat faster, then she shook her head over her own foolishness. It doesn’t matter. Things couldn’t get any worse than they already are.

  28

  August 1884

  When the food stores had been put away, Jack waited while Susannah poured tea for them both and sat down opposite him.

  ‘You haven’t read the letter from your ma yet,’ he said, gesturing to the unopened envelope that lay near her hand.

  ‘It’s not from Mother, it’s from Constance. I don’t like reading in the buggy, it’s so bumpy.’ She opened the envelope and read quickly. Jack saw a small smile of satisfaction on her face. She folded the closely-written pages and put them back in the envelope.

  ‘Good news?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I think it might be. I’ll have to wait and see.’

  Jack had too little interest in the doings of Susannah’s sister to bother pressing for a less evasive answer. He helped himself to a biscuit from one of Amy’s cake tins and slurped at his tea.

  They both looked up startled at a heavy rap on the door. ‘I didn’t hear anyone ride up,’ Susannah said as she went to open the door. When Charlie was revealed in the doorway, Jack was more surprised than ever. ‘Oh. Good morning, Mr Stewart,’ Susannah said. ‘Can I do something for you?’

  ‘It’s your husband I want to see, not you,’ Charlie said stiffly. He still had a Scottish accent despite having spent all his adult life far from Scotland, and his voice had an oddly rusty sound, as if from lack of use.

  ‘I’m here,’ Jack said. He got to his feet, wondering what Charlie had come to complain about. Some nonsense about wandering stock or suchlike, no doubt. As if he didn’t have enough worries over his womenfolk without Charlie annoying him.

  When Jack reached the doorway Susannah moved a little to one side. Jack knew she was trying to leave the room as quickly as possible without being too obviously rude.

  ‘It’s about your girl,’ Charlie said. Susannah stopped in her tracks and flashed a look of alarm at Jack.

  ‘What about Amy?’ Jack asked, a warning note in his voice.

  ‘I saw her this morning, by my boundary fence. It wasn’t hard to see the state she’s in.’

  ‘I told her not to let anyone see her,’ Susannah said to Jack. ‘It’s not my fault.’

  ‘She’s not got a husband, has she?’ Charlie asked, ignoring Susannah.

  ‘I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of my family troubles,’ Jack said coldly.

  ‘And she’s not likely to get one, not in that state.’

  ‘What’s it to do with you?’ Jack growled.

  ‘I’ll take her.’

  There was absolute silence in the room while Jack wondered if he had imagined what Charlie had just said. ‘What?’ he said at last.

  ‘I’ll marry your girl, if you want. I’ll give her a home and a decent name. I’ll not take the bas—bairn,’ he corrected himself, ‘I’m not giving another man’s child my name. But I’ll take her.’

  ‘You?’ Jack said in amazement. ‘You think I’d give Amy to you? I’d sooner—’

  ‘Jack, dear, don’t be hasty,’ Susannah cut in. ‘Mr Stewart has made a perfectly reasonable suggestion, the least you can do is be polite to him. Won’t you come in, Mr Stewart, and have a cup of tea with us?’

  ‘No, I won’t,’ said Charlie. ‘I’ve said what I came to say. I’ll come back tomorrow morning when you’ve had time to think about it and hear your answer.’

  ‘You don’t need to wait till then to hear what I think of it.’

  ‘Jack,’ Susannah said warningly, putting her hand on his arm. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow, then, Mr Stewart.’ Charlie nodded to them, looked thoughtful for a moment, then as though he had just dredged some recollection of polite behaviour from deep in his memory he tipped his hat to Susannah. She closed the door on the sight of his retreating back.

  ‘Did you ever hear such cheek?’ Jack said in disgust. ‘He thought I’d give my daughter to him. Him! What did you bother being so polite to him for?’

  ‘Because I think you should consider things properly before you fly off the handle. No, be quiet and listen for a minute,’ she said, raising a hand to silence his exclamation. ‘I know he’s not the sort of husband you hoped Amy would have, but that was when she was still likely to get one at all. No one will ever want her, we’ve already discussed that, and then out of the blue she gets a proper marriage proposal. I don’t think you should turn it down without giving Amy a chance at some happiness.’

  ‘Happiness? With Charlie?’

  ‘Yes, with Charlie. Why not? He must be prepared to look after her, or he wouldn’t offer for her. What’s so terrible about the idea?’

  ‘He must be nearly thirty years older than her, for a start. And that farm of his is only a hundred acres, that’s barely enough to support himself. Anyway, he’s a sour, bad-tempered so-and-so.’

  ‘Right,’ Susannah said briskly. ‘One thing at a time, then. Of course he can support her, even if his farm’s not nearly as big as yours. He must have plenty of food, it’s a farm, after all. Amy wouldn’t take much keeping.’

  ‘What about nice things for her? I always hoped she’d marry someone with a good, big farm so she could have a decent life, not wear herself out like her ma did. A man of twenty-five or so, with his farm well established and a good house on it. Charlie’ll never buy her nice dresses and things.’

  ‘But she’s not going to marry someone like that, is she?’ Susannah said in a tone of utter reasonableness. ‘A man like that doesn’t need to take a wife who’s been soiled, he can pick and choose. It’s only someone like Charlie, whom no one’s got much time for, who’d consider her. And I don’t think he’s as sour as you make him out to be. He’s not a good mixer, that’s all. With a sweet little wife like Amy, I think you’d be surprised at the change in him. He must be fond of her already, to offer for her. And you’d like Amy to live close to you, wouldn’t you? If she’d married properly, she might have to go and live miles away. I miss my parents dreadfully, I’m sure Amy would miss you, too.’

  She made it sound so convincing that Jack could feel his certainty slipping away. ‘He’s still thirty years older than her,’ he tried.

  ‘I’d say it’s nearer twenty-five years.’ Susannah smiled rather wistfully at him. ‘Jack, that’s only a little more than the gap between you and I. I know we’ve had our differences lately, but I’ve never, ever thought you were too old for me.’

  Jack cleared his throat to cover the conflicting emotions Susannah’s last remark aroused. ‘I never thought of it that way,’ he admitted. ‘I suppose he’s not as old as all that.’ He frowned. ‘I still don’t like it. I’d rather keep her here.’

  ‘And deny her the only chance she’s ever going to have to be mistress of her own home? She’s always resented me for taking over this house, and I suppose I can’t blame her, really. She was only a child then, but she thought she was running it herself. What do you think
will happen when you and I are gone? It’ll be John’s house then, and John’s wife running things. No one will take much notice of Amy. She’ll just be the one who couldn’t get a husband because she’d been shamed. It seems a hard thing to condemn a girl of fifteen to, just because the man who proposes to her isn’t as fine as you wanted.’

  Jack was moved by the bleakness of the picture Susannah had created. ‘That would be hard on a woman,’ he admitted. He fastened on the missing piece of the jigsaw. ‘What about the child, though? He says he won’t take the child.’

  Susannah gave a deep sigh. ‘Yes, that’s sad. It would all be perfect if he’d accept the baby. But you can’t really expect him to, can you? The law would say it was his child. If it’s a boy, Charlie would have to see the farm he’s sweated and slaved over go to another man’s son. That’s not fair, is it?’

  Jack mulled this over. ‘There’s sense in that, I suppose. One more child wouldn’t make any difference here, anyway.’

  ‘What do you mean, Jack?’ Susannah asked, her eyes suddenly wide.

  ‘Well, we’d say it was ours. No one would think anything of it, you’ve got two little ones already. If you stayed home from now until the child comes the nurse is the only one outside the family who’d need to know it was Amy’s and not yours.’

  ‘Jack!’ Susannah looked at him in horror. ‘How could you even think of something so cruel?’

  ‘Don’t start that nonsense. It’s not cruel to ask you to look after three children. I know you’re not keen on having babies, but you don’t have to bear this one, just bring it up.’

  ‘No, I don’t mean that.’ Susannah was still looking at him as though he had said something monstrous. ‘How do you think Amy would feel, having to pretend her own child was only her brother or sister? Living next door, she’d see it every week, but she’d never be able to claim it as her own. To hear her child call me mother instead of her? I think that would break her heart.’