by Valerie Wood
‘God bless us, tha frighted ’life out of me!’ Mrs Scryven was the first to see him, and Maria turned, startled, at the exclamation.
They stared in astonishment at each other. Maria’s eyes opened wide at the sight of Will standing straight and upright in the doorway. Looking back at her, he was equally astounded as she stood with two babies, one in each arm.
Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at him and coursed steadily down her cheeks. He took four long steps towards her and gathered her up in his arms. ‘I didn’t mean to shock thee, Maria. It’s all right, it’s all right.’ He kissed her hair, her nose, her lips. ‘I just wanted to surprise thee.’
‘Tha did that, Will Foster,’ she said with a husky break in her voice. ‘What’s happened to thee? I thought I was dreaming.’
‘So did I, when I saw two babbies, but I see I’m not. What’s Ma Scryven been feeding thee on?’
She laughed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Don’t get alarmed, they’re not both ours.’ She sat down in the chair and rocked gently back and forth. ‘So which one will tha claim, Will? Which one is thine?’
He bent over to inspect the sleeping babies, so similar in size and form, one with fair translucent skin and light silky lashes edging her closed lids, the other with skin the colour of pale cream and a smile flickering on her lips. He smiled and gently stroked the soft golden down on her head. ‘This one’s mine,’ he said. ‘She’s going to be a redhead, just like her da!’
Lizzie put down her polishing cloth and wiped her hands. ‘I’ll take Miss Lucy upstairs, Maria, if tha’s finished feeding her. Perhaps ’mistress would like to have her by her for a while.’
‘Tha can ask, Lizzie,’ Maria answered sadly, ‘but I doubt it. Perhaps when Mrs Masterson is feeling better she might take to ’poor little babby.’
‘Poor!’ said Will in amazement. ‘Poor! How can she be? She’ll want for nowt. Unless she’s sick?’ He peered anxiously at the tiny face.
‘No, ’bairn isn’t sick, but mistress is, she doesn’t want to see her, let alone hold her.’
Will suddenly gasped. ‘Lizzie, before I forget – I’ve left a parcel on ’doorstep. Go and fetch it inside, wilt tha?’
Lizzie looked curiously at Will and he nodded. ‘Go on, look sharp.’
He grinned sheepishly at Maria. ‘I hope I’m not going to get into bother, but I’ve brought summat home.’
‘I think tha’s got some explaining to do,’ said Maria. ‘Them boots for one thing, and what’s inside them.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Where did tha get ’money from, Will?’
He put his finger to his lips as from outside they could hear shrieks from Lizzie, and Mrs Scryven made a dash to open the door. ‘I’ll tell thee all about it after, just trust me.’
Maria cried again as Lizzie and Jimmy fell into the room in their excitement and hugged and skipped and squeezed, and even Mrs Scryven wiped her eyes, although, as she said, she didn’t rightly know what was going on.
‘So, I couldn’t leave him there, not on his own, could I?’ asked Will later. ‘It was different when there were two of them. They would have been company for each other. But ’bairn, he looked that miserable; and then I thought what if it had been our Tom in ’same position?’
‘Don’t go on, Will. Of course tha did right. We’ll manage somehow. And I expect Annie will come back soon, especially when she hears about ’other poor little lad.’ Maria glanced at Lizzie as she sat quietly gazing into the fire with her arms around her sleepy young brother, who for once in his young life was quite happy to submit to her endearments.
13
Will reported to Isaac Masterson and gave him an account of his visit to the hospital and the fitting of his limb and boots.
‘It’s very good of thee, sir, to go to ’trouble and expense.’
Isaac brushed his thanks aside. ‘As long as you’re comfortable, Foster. That’s what matters.’
They had established a good working relationship. Both men were aware of their inexperience in country matters, yet with their practicality and good judgement, and under Dick Reedbarrow’s guidance, the farm had once more become established. More men were employed to prepare the land for spring sowing, and though there was no snow that settled, the wind blew cold and icy and the ground became rock hard. Cattle were bought at market, and sheep used to the rigours of the bleak landscape were bought from a local man, some for breeding and some for fattening.
‘I wouldn’t mind having a cow for missen, Dick,’ said Will one day, ‘and maybe a few hens. Maybe next year when I get my wages I’ll buy some eggs for hatching. Though I’d have to save for years before I could afford a beast.’
‘Oh, I’ll bring thee a hen and a few eggs for hatching,’ said Dick, ‘soon as it’s spring. And why dossn’t tha get a goat for milking? It would cost thee less than a coo.’
As the weather deteriorated, they moved into the shelter of the woods to work, clearing the dead timber and making space for more planting. They spent days sawing and chopping and carting wood to the store in the yard, to be used on the fires which now were lit in almost every room.
Another girl was brought in to help in the house. Mr Masterson had seen Maria one morning when he had risen very early to leave for town. She had been clearing ashes from the grate in his study and had risen to leave, having been told by Mrs Scryven that she must not on any account continue with her work in front of her employers. Mr Masterson had frowned and she thought that he was displeased with her and resolved to get up half an hour earlier in order to avoid him, but he had instructed her that she must not under any circumstances undertake hard, rough work whilst she was nursing the babies.
‘You must take care of yourself,’ he said, flustered and embarrassed. ‘I know my wife would tell you so if she were well enough to think about it.’
She smiled at him and thanked him for his kindness and saw to it that he had every comfort, that his tobacco and papers were always in the same place. That his brandy and glass were in easy reach of his chair, and when he was at home, baby Lucy was brought down each evening for him to look at before she was put down to sleep. He was very taken with his daughter and got into the habit of dropping into the nursery to gaze fondly at her, making kindly comparisons between the two babies and asking Lizzie’s opinion on their well being. Lizzie, who slept in the same room so that she could hear their every whimper, would swell with pride and become completely tongue-tied.
But sometimes, on the nights when Isaac was away from home, Maria would wrap up both the babies and take them home to Field House and spend the night quietly with Will, leaving Lizzie and Alice with Mrs Scryven. She loved these evenings when they could talk quietly together, and share the big bed only with the babies, for Will had made another bed for Tom and Jimmy in a corner by the fire, where they whispered and joked and finally fell asleep as the shadows of the firelight dwindled.
* * *
Maria and Mrs Scryven looked up out of the kitchen window one morning as they heard the rattle of a cart. They watched as a man and a young girl climbed out and he lifted down a wooden box and deposited it on the doorstep.
‘I’ve brought our Susan,’ he said. ‘’Mistress said as she was to start now.’
They looked at him doubtfully, then at one another.
‘She was taken on by Mrs Masterson herself,’ he said loftily in reply to Mrs Scryven’s questioning. ‘She’s going to be her own maid.’
‘Well, we know nowt about it,’ she grumbled, and muttered to Maria, ‘Now there’ll be trouble, mark my words. I know that lot. There’ll be trouble.’ She banged a pan on to the fire, spilling the water and making the hot embers spit and sizzle.
Maria ran up the stairs and knocked on Mrs Masterson’s door. She was still confined to her room and had not yet been down since Lucy was born.
‘’New girl has come, ma-am – Susan. She says you’ve taken her on as another maid.’
A frown creased Isobel’s col
ourless face and she gazed blankly at Maria from the depths of her bed. ‘I don’t remember. Did I?’ She gazed into space. ‘Perhaps I did. Yes, the innkeeper’s daughter. Such an obnoxious man, but she was very pretty and polite.’
She sighed and leaned back against the pillows. ‘I’ll see her later. I am too fatigued to bother just now. I’m too weak to make decisions about maids. Do with her whatever you think.’
‘If only tha – you would eat more, ma-am, you would feel much better.’ Mrs Scryven’s tempting trays of jellies and junkets, poached fish and coddled eggs had all been sent back barely touched.
Isobel nodded and looked at Maria through dull blue eyes. If only I looked and felt as well as she does, she thought. Though she was nursing two babies, Maria breathed vitality, her skin was smooth and clear and her black hair was thick and glossy.
‘Perhaps I will see the girl after all,’ she said with an effort. ‘She can brush my hair, Lizzie doesn’t really know how.’ Young Lizzie, so afraid of hurting, was too gentle to unravel the tangled knots. ‘And I will have some jelly, I think, and a little bread.’
Maria came downstairs smiling. ‘I think ’mistress is feeling a bit better. We’ll prepare a tray, Mrs Scryven, and Susan can take it up. Come over here, Susan, and watch what we do, then tha’ll know for next time.’
So saying Maria pleasantly and firmly asserted her authority so that Susan was in no doubt as to who was in charge of the household.
Isobel slowly started to improve; the effect of having a young and vital girl about her, one with golden curls and fair skin such as she had had, goaded her into life, and Susan, so charming and obliging, painstakingly cut and combed the matted locks, smoothed the aching brow, and with Mrs Scryven’s creams and lotions massaged her stiff and weary limbs which had taken no exercise since the birth of Lucy.
She was awakened one morning by the cry of a baby. She turned on her pillow to escape the sound. It persisted for perhaps five minutes without being hushed, which was unusual, for normally she wasn’t disturbed as Maria or Lizzie were quick to pacify and soothe. She rose from her bed, put on her robe, and went into the next room where the crying was coming from. It was a sharp, crisp morning and the sun streamed through the window throwing a beam of light on to the crib where the babies were laid, head to toe. One of the babies cried as the sunlight caught her eyes and she moved her head from side to side to escape the brightness. Isobel hesitated, then bent over the crib and her body blocked the sunlight. The child opened her eyes and hiccupped, giving a windy smile at Isobel.
Isobel smiled back and touched her cheek, and the baby chorded and squealed and kicked her feet, disturbing the other child who lay wrapped tightly beneath her blankets. Isobel moved the covers to one side, for she thought how restricted she was, and noticed the angry scar on her forehead. She frowned and bit her lip and turned back to the wide-awake baby who watched her with alert eyes, and impulsively bent to pick her up. She felt the softness of her skin against her cheek, and the fragrant smell of milk and something like roses, as she carried her across to the window, lifted her spirits, while a protective tenderness stole over her.
‘I’m sorry, ma-am, I didn’t mean you to be disturbed.’ Maria was apologetic as she hurried into the room. ‘I had to go to ’kitchen for some warm water.’ She was carrying a bowl of water with the same smell of roses.
‘It’s quite all right.’ Isobel smiled back at her. ‘It is about time I was introduced to my daughter. Mr Masterson is forever extolling her perfections.’
‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she?’ agreed Maria. ‘Shall I take Sarah now, ma’am, and perhaps when I’ve finished washing Miss Lucy, you would like me to bring her to your room?’
Isobel stared at Maria. ‘But, I thought—’ She looked at Sarah and handed her back quickly.
Maria made no reply but simply put Sarah back into the crib and picked up Lucy. ‘Here she is, ma-am, little beauty.’ Lucy puckered up her face and let out a disgruntled wail. She was hungry, wet and uncomfortable and she punched her small fists in the air as Maria undid her sheets.
‘Why is she fastened up like that?’ demanded Isobel. ‘the other child isn’t. I am quite sure she doesn’t like it.’
‘No, no more do I, ma-am. But ’doctor said I had to. It’s what’s done to babbys, ’cept I don’t agree with it for my own.’
‘Then I won’t have it either,’ Isobel snapped. ‘Take them off at once and tell the doctor that I said so.’
She turned to leave the room. ‘I won’t have Lucy with me just yet,’ she said. ‘I seem to have developed a headache. I shall go back to bed.’
* * *
Violent storms battered the east coast that first winter they were at Garston Hall. Tremendous seas, whipped up by north-easterly winds, ravaged the soft boulder clay, and deep cracks spread across the top of the cliffs as the base disintegrated. Before January was out six feet of land had crumbled and slithered down into the sea.
‘Dost tha fancy a jar of ale at ’Raven before going ’ome, Will? I’ve got a right thirst on me.’
Will and Dick Reedbarrow had finished their work for the day. They had spent most of it repairing the wall of a barn which had taken the brunt of the bad weather, but now it was almost dark and they were unable to see what they were doing.
‘Aye, I’ll have a quick one with thee, Dick, we can do no more here.’
He called to Tom to hurry with the clearing up. ‘Take ’lamp, Tom, and get off home, and straight to bed after supper.’
‘All right, Da,’ Tom nodded wearily. He needed no second bidding. He rose every morning at daybreak when his father called him, his eyes barely open as his feet touched the floor. He worked as hard as any man, fetching and carrying for Dick and his father. He never shirked or grumbled, for it was recognized that he was now old enough to contribute to the household funds. He fell asleep as soon as he climbed into bed, and Maria would gaze pensively at him as he lay there, his hands folded beneath his plump, winter-rosy cheeks, full of wonder at how quickly her young son was growing into manhood.
Will followed Dick into the oak-panelled room of the small smoky inn which was already full of men who were unable to work because of the weather, and as they opened the door the gusty wind whipped in behind them, causing the blazing fire in the grate to throw out clouds of smoke and soot into the room.
This was the first time that Will had come to the inn, and he nodded a greeting to some of the men. They nodded back and some held his gaze and said, ‘’ow do.’ They joined two other men sitting at a heavy, rough-hewn table, one, Ralph Graves, a man just out of his youth with dark, deepset eyes and a sullen mouth, and the other, Nathan Crabtree, who looked so old and decrepit that Will wondered how he had ever found the strength to get there.
They sat for some time without conversing, just drinking their ale and smoking their clay pipes, and Will was beginning to muse thoughtfully on the difference between the quiet atmosphere here and that of the taverns he used to frequent in Hull, where the noise, and the voice of the landlord shouting to be heard above the din, was evident from half a street away.
‘I hear as thou’s a whaling man.’ The old man took his pipe from his mouth and interrupted his meditation.
‘Aye, I was, until my accident.’
‘And now tha’s going to be a farmer?’ Crabtree bent and tore up a long strip of paper, and lighting it from the fire held it to his pipe and sucked loudly, the flame flickering perilously close to his shaggy eyebrows.
Will hesitated. ‘I reckon that would take more time than I’ve got,’ he answered, ‘I just want to earn a living. But maybe my lad will be, he’s young enough.’
The old man nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer, but the younger man interrupted abruptly. ‘There’s plenty of us round here who want to do that, so why didn’t ’maister at Garston take on one of us. We could do ’job as well as anybody – aye, and better.’
‘He’s tekken on local labour! Me for one,’ butted in t
he normally taciturn Dick Reedbarrow. ‘And ’ostler, and another gardener, and women for ’house.’
‘I reckon if he’d known about thee, I’d still be looking for a job,’ Will agreed placatingly, ‘so it’s my good fortune that he happened to know me. I’ve worked for him since I was just a lad and he’s always looked after his men.’
The old man started to chuckle. ‘I met a seaman when I was a lad, and he used to tell such tales as tha’d never believe. About ’Esquimaux, and unicorns and icebergs as big as an ’ouse.’
Will laughed. ‘I could tell thee stories to make tha beard curl, if tha has a mind to listen.’
‘About yakkeyahs?’ asked Ralph, curiously.
‘Aye, that’s what ’whaling men call ’Esquimaux, on account of all ’yakking they do; they’re grand folk for talking and most hospitable. Why, I remember once when we were frozen into ’ice and running short of food, they came with their sledges laden with caribou and duck. They brought their women with them, and though there was no impropriety, tha understands, we had a grand party, with singing and dancing and all.’
Other men had gathered round when they heard that tales were being told, and Will looked up nonplussed. He hadn’t expected an audience. ‘I tell thee what, I haven’t wet my babby’s head yet. It’s ’custom in ’town to do that, and maybe tha’d join me, and I’ll tell thee a tale or two before I go home for supper.’
‘Aye, we have ’same custom,’ said the old man. ‘’Cept tha should do it on ’day ’bairn is birthed. But we’ll not refuse to drink its ’ealth for all that. Hast tha been fortunate enough to have a lad?’
He commiserated when told that it was a girl. ‘I’ve had six lads and four lasses, and outlived ’em all. They’re all in ’churchyard waiting – missus an’ all – but I’m not ready yet.’ He chuckled wickedly and started to cough as tobacco fumes caught his throat. His eyes watered and tears ran down his furrowed cheeks and disappeared into his stained grey beard.