‘So this business with Pa Strong’s new will, then; does it mean you’ll be moving back down here?’
Walking companionably arm in arm, he could feel her looking sidelong at him.
‘No. At least, not for now. Seems I’m not needed,’ he replied, purposely keeping his focus straight ahead.
‘You’re needed by me.’
‘Aye an’ you get me, don’t you?’ he replied, the picture in his mind softening his own expression.
‘Not enough. I need you here every day.’ When she tightened her grip on his arm he sighed, recognising how such games on her part always jarred no matter how jokingly she intended them, and for what felt like the hundredth time he felt duty-bound to attempt an explanation.
‘Annie, be reasonable. I’m wed. I live up the hill. My wife and my son are part of this family. And by the way, don’t think I’ve forgotten the mazed thing you did at the wedding randy, plying me with cider to get me up in that hayloft, since in my drunken stupor I’m fair certain I almost confessed to Mary what we’d been about.’ Noticing that his revelation merely met with a shrug, he frowned at her. ‘You know I’d like to be here more often but how many times do I have to I remind you that I can’t afford to go arousing suspicion? My wife is very… tolerant of my… activities. I mean, put yourself in her place for a moment; wouldn’t you be a bit curious about what I was up to so many evenings?’
‘I wouldn’t give you reason to stray in the first place,’ she replied, and skipped lightly on down the slope, pulling him awkwardly after her, until, reaching the edge of the field, she sat heavily in the grass and held up her hand to him.
‘Well, that’s not really the matter at hand here, is it?’ he asked, purposely sitting several feet away from her.
‘Ain’t it? What is the matter at hand then? Only I seem to have lost interest,’ she said, crawling over to him and reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
‘Annie, just for one moment, I beg you, be serious,’ he replied, pulling the fabric from her grasp.
‘What?’
‘Look, I want to be honest with you. You ask me often enough to tell you what I’m thinking, so now that I’m trying to explain, at least look as though you’re listening.’ In what struck him as an infantile gesture, she pressed her lips tightly together and nodded, but with a shake of his head, he continued. ‘If you want this… this thing between us to last, we’d be best not inviting trouble. I’m fair certain that if I said I wanted to come back here to live and work, Pa would be more than happy. But the point is, how would you and me do this…’ he cast his hand vaguely about them, ‘…if Mary and I lived here? Eh?’
‘But I need you. James needs you. Luke will need you too, later on. If you moved back down here, I’d see you all the time,’ she wheedled, and then, looking away from him, reached to pluck a solitary day’s-eye from nearby in the grass.
‘No, see, that’s what I’m saying; truth is you’d see less of me since I’d be creeping around worrying where Mary was and about the chances of gettin’ caught.’
‘Hmm.’
‘And that aside, I can’t risk being under Pa’s nose right now.’
‘What do you mean?’
From the corner of his eye, he noticed that she had stopped pulling the slender white petals from their sunshine-yellow floret.
‘Well,’ he said – and then paused, wondering exactly how much to disclose; Ezra Sharpe was forever reminding them not to talk about the Radicals’ business, even to members of their own families. ‘The time’s coming when… when I’m likely to be called upon to… you know help again.’
‘Those damned Radicals,’ she said, her lips compressed to a firm line and her eyes glowering back at him. ‘So they even hold sway over where you live, now. But then me an’ my sons have always been a long way down your list of concerns.’
‘Annie, don’t be sour. You know how important this business is to me, and you’ve said to me many a time that you understand. You assured me you did.’
‘An’ I do, just not so much when they keep us apart.’
‘I didn’t realise they were.’
‘Well, seems to me they get more of your time than I do. You’re always up there talkin’ with them.’
‘Aye, well, the time for talking’s done. Now’s the time for action,’ he said, staring past her into the darkening copse. ‘The harvest will be upon us again soon and ʼtis time to show the squires and landowners that our threats over the months of summer ain’t been idle ones.’
‘Rick-firing, you mean,’ she said wearily. He nodded slowly. ‘When?’
He shrugged.
‘Couple of days’ time, most likely. I’m just awaiting the word.’
‘Take me with you.’
‘What?’
‘Take me with you.’
‘Don’t be daft, Annie.’
‘I’m not. I’m deadly serious. I want to see what it’s about. I can help.’
‘No you can’t.’
‘I can. Why do you think me less able than a man?’
‘I’m not saying you are—’
‘I should’ve thought you could trust me far more than some fellow you barely know; someone who might choose himself over you in a scrape.’
‘But there’s dangers, Annie. Anything could happen. Not only might it all go badly awry but I can’t afford to be thinking about you when my mind should be on my task.’
‘I can look after myself.’
‘I know you can. And I’m not saying it on account of you being a woman, since you’re a darned sight more capable of looking after yourself than any other woman I know. No, I say it more because I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you.’
He could see from her widening eyes that his admission startled her.
‘Truly?’
‘Course truly,’ he said, reaching for her hand and feeling her fingers tighten around his own. ‘Why would I lie about a thing like that?’
‘But you still won’t take me with you?’
‘No.’
She gave a sigh, apparently of defeat and taking back her hand, looked thoughtful for a moment.
‘Well I ain’t put off easy and I shan’t give up askin’ but if you’re going to be busy soon come the evenings, then let’s not waste this one with talking about protests,’ she said, and without warning, pulled her blouse over her head. ‘Or about your Pa’s will and whether you should be coming to live here now,’ she added, tossing it aside and wriggling out of her skirt.
‘Tell you what,’ he said, grinning up at her as she positioned herself astride his thighs. ‘You mentioning Pa’s will makes me think how Tom would’ve been proper riled to know that his death was going to hand me the farm.’
And with a grin back, she bent low over him to whisper, ‘An’ I’ll show you summat else that would’ve proper riled him, too.’
*
With George’s excursions once again taking on a predictable pattern, Mary found herself spending most of the late-summer evenings on her own. Sometimes, to take her mind from her loneliness, she worked outside until the failing light left her no choice but to give up and go indoors; some evenings she just sat, miserably reflecting on her lot.
For some reason, though, tonight she felt more than usually morose, and standing in the doorway, she stared out across the garden, listening to the bees still droning in the sweetsuckle and the crickets rasping rhythmically from the fading grasses. Exhaling a lengthy sigh, she realised that it was a long time since her afternoon with Francis and that, sadly, the glorious afterglow – which had initially done so much for her mood – had now faded almost beyond recall. Briefly, it had been so wonderful, even making her nicer to George – although if he had noticed, he never commented – but now, much as she had secretly feared, it had left her feeling acutely bereft. The days since their meeting had been long and empty, but until recently she had been able to banish loneliness with thoughts of the astonishing things they had shared. Thinking about it now, she
could still barely believe what she had done or what she had discovered. But now, as another week passed, the memories were beginning to blur and her mood with George was beginning to revert to one of resentment, especially on the odd night when he dragged himself rather wearily on top of her and monotonously relieved some need or other. In a way, she pitied him the paucity of his knowledge and the simplicity of his imagination, but recognised that there was no way to disabuse him, even if it might ultimately improve her lot. She wasn’t even sure that she wanted to improve it any longer; at least, not with him, anyway, which felt like sad comment indeed on their marriage. But in her own mind, and this was the worst part of all, she knew that in truth, for her newly found distress, she had only herself to blame.
She turned to look back into the disarray of the room, trying to summon sufficient enthusiasm to tidy it when a voice behind her suddenly said, ‘’Tis a perfect evenin’ out here.’
Spinning sharply around, she gasped.
‘Francis! I was just thinking about you!’
‘Were you, indeed? Well that’s nice to hear but do I feel brave enough, I wonder, to ask exactly what it was you were thinking about me?’ With his hands behind his back and his head angled to one side, he was grinning boyishly and she felt a blush escape from her chest and rush upwards over her throat until it set her cheeks aflame.
‘I was just thinking how much I’d give to see you again.’
‘An’ I see you’re all alone…’
‘Aye. George is down the farm again.’
‘Want to come out here with me, then?’
‘Give me a moment to take a quick look at Jacob and… you know…’ she said and disappeared up the ladder to the loft, returning quickly to take his outstretched hand and let him lead her out into the dusk.
‘How are you?’ he asked.
‘All right now,’ she answered and shook her head. What a coincidence it was that he should appear just as she was thinking about him. ‘I can’t believe it. You’re here. I wished for it and you’re here! I should have wished for it ages ago!’
Beside her, he stopped walking and turned to look at her.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again.’
What felt to be panic bubbled in her throat.
‘But why not?’
‘Well, you know, I sort of promised you just that one time…’
She shook her head.
‘I thought you were done with me. I thought that was all you wanted.’
‘I thought it was all you wanted!’
‘So you won’t stay away so long next time?’ Even as she asked, she knew her question sounded overly bold.
‘Well, that depends on what happens next,’ he said, and she found herself being pulled sharply towards him. ‘My, your heart’s racing away.’
‘’Tis what you do to me.’
‘Then goodness only knows what’ll happen if I do— this…’
His lips were warm and instantly familiar, and swiftly she kissed him back, feeling how her body began to unwind and how the frustration from the previous weeks was already starting to drain away.
‘Feel,’ she whispered, placing his hand on her chest.
‘Lord!’
‘Oh, don’t pretend surprise. It must happen to all of your women.’ But disregarding her insinuation, he pulled her down into the grass to kiss her repeatedly until she pulled away from him, breathless. Ignoring her attempts to say something, he kissed her again, but as she felt his hand slide underneath her blouse, she gasped and eased away from him. ‘How is it you know how to do this to me?’
‘I just do,’ he replied and pulling her blouse over her head, lowered his mouth to her breast.
Able to think only that she didn’t want him to stop, she found herself clutching at his head.
‘Francis,’ she murmured into his hair, ‘you make me feel like I might burst.’
‘And is that nice?’
‘Yes. No! Oh, I ain’t the least idea any more but ’tis almost unbearable.’
‘Then take off your skirt,’ he instructed, and as she was doing so, she saw him slide off his breeches. Then she felt his warm hands on her hips, and as he lifted her across his thighs, heard him saying softly, ‘I think you’ll like this.’
‘What?’
‘Lower yourself onto me,’ he urged. ‘It’ll feel like nothing you ever knew before, I promise you.’ Unable to meet his look, she pressed her eyes tightly shut against the stark feeling of exposure, and self-consciously did as he said, aware that they were groaning together. ‘You ain’t the least notion, have you Mary Strong?’
With his voice drawing her thoughts back, she opened her eyes to lean towards him and study his expression.
‘What?’
‘The spell you cast. The power you have.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. You. Especially there, like that.’
‘I don’t feel like none of them things. In truth I feel… naked.’
‘You look… well…’ he blew out a long stream of air, ‘I don’t rightly know that there’s a word for it, but feel how you rouse me.’ In response, she blushed hotly, her feelings of vulnerability rushing back. The idea of a woman having power had never occurred to her before; to her mind, the power in life rested with men, for them to wield or abuse as they saw fit, but now she looked back at him, mindful of his observation. ‘Perhaps ’tis a good job you don’t realise it, though,’ he was saying, laughing, ‘since I’d be in serious trouble if you ever learned how to use it proper.’
But she wondered right then whether she was in fact learning, because although she was certain he was teasing her, he was right; a woman could have power, did in fact possess it, but with it being so much more subtle than a man’s, and stemming as it did from her sexuality rather than from any form of physical strength, it wasn’t surprising that as far as she had seen, few women knew how to make use of it. For the first time, so many things were beginning to make sense and without any real thought, she started moving her hips, feeling instantly the effect it had on him. Yes, that was power. But, at the same time, he was reaching towards her, and at the instant of his touch, her eyes snapped shut and her breath caught in her chest, anticipation overwhelming her ability to think as the confident movement of his fingers shifted the balance of power back in his favour.
Wholly at his mercy now, she started to sense the edge of something high and precarious drawing near, his practised touch drawing her on until holding her breath, she was, for a split second, weightless, teetering hazardously and peering over. This was it; the unbearable pleasure so brief and intense that it escaped description, and if she could make time stand still forever, then it would be right now, right at this very moment. And then, inevitably, she started to fall, swooping rapidly, joyously, down over the precipice, shuddering, flying unfettered, her mind blank of all concerns and her body formless and free. And in that same moment, from somewhere close by, she heard how he groaned and then felt him convulse inside her.
*
‘I can’t believe I gave in to you,’ George hissed, as he held back a wand of hazel and she ducked past. ‘How ever did I think bringing a woman was a sensible idea?’
‘Well, you did and I’m here,’ Annie whispered fiercely, and stood back to allow him to go on ahead of her. ‘And anyway,’ she continued, her feet scrunching in the deep leaf-litter as she tried to keep pace, ‘surely there was a better way in than this.’
‘What, up the track and through the gate you mean? Like a Sunday visit?’
‘Oh, such wit. No, I just meant…’ She stopped talking and ducked to avoid a branch, the sharp crack of a brittle twig beneath her shoe bringing them both to a halt.
‘Shh! For heaven’s sake, Annie, we’re real close now. If the dogs hear us they’ll start up a terrible din, then we mightn’t be able to see it through. An’ I’ve waited weeks to be entrusted with this chance.’
‘You didn’t say nothin’ about no dogs,’ she replied as they sta
rted walking again, picking their way carefully between the hazel poles.
‘No— an’ with luck there won’t be any. But it would be a peculiar farm that didn’t have even a single dog in the yard.’
‘Well just don’t get too far ahead of me, then. I can scarce see my hand in front of my face.’ More cautiously now, she followed him onwards, bending this way and that to avoid the whippy hazel-branches that only appeared from the gloom when they were directly in front of their faces. ‘Why ain’t there never a moon when you want one?’ he heard her curse.
‘ʼTis better cover without,’ he whispered, and paused for her to catch up, offering his hand to guide her forward. ‘Look, we’re nigh on there now. I can see the edge of the copse and after that it’s just pasture.’ He kept hold of her hand, feeling the cold clamminess of her palm and the way that she gripped at his fingers whenever she was unsure of her footing. It had seemed a crazed idea to bring her even while she had been proposing it, but at the same time something about it had appealed to his pride, seeming like a rare chance for him to take responsibility for her and show her what he was made of; a demonstration of his intent. But now, here, in this ancient coppice, with his nostrils filled by the rich, damp smell of autumn and his whole body alert to the danger of being discovered, it felt little more than foolhardy, a plan worthy only of a young lad with a burning need to impress a village maid. ‘There; we’re here,’ he said, as they reached the ditch at the edge of the field and he helped her across.
‘So now what?’ she asked, standing close as he surveyed the dark and wide-open expanse ahead of them. ‘I can’t see a thing.’
‘No,’ he agreed, anxiety gripping at his insides, so that for a brief moment he wondered as to the wisdom of seeing it through. ‘But it’s over there,’ he said, gesturing ahead with his arm and then turning to look back at her, able to pick out only shadows of her features in the gloom. ‘But listen to me real good. Once we step out from these trees, we got to make it across to the other side without stopping, all right?’ She nodded, and sensing her uncertainty, he wished yet again that he hadn’t caved to her pleas to be allowed to come. ‘Look, why don’t you wait here for me?’ he said, voicing the suggestion that had been forming in his mind for a while now.
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