Daughter of the Dales

by Diane Allen

  ‘That’s different – you weren’t married. You can’t be blamed. Did Harriet ever suspect?’ James looked at Danny and saw the wistful look come over him of a man once in love.

  ‘I don’t think so. But occasionally she says that I should never have married her, that she doesn’t make me happy. She was worst just after after our two boys died, because she blamed herself – and the world – for the loss of them.’ Danny hesitated. ‘She’s come round a lot lately, and I think she will improve even more when she goes back to working with Isabelle. They can plan our downfall together, it will be like old times.’ Danny laughed.

  ‘Aye, she’s back with Isabelle next week, isn’t she? I heard Isabelle arranging a nanny for Georgina, I think. Will Harriet be alright with that?’ James leaned forward and looked hard at Danny.

  ‘She seems to be taking it in her stride. Isabelle sent details of some girls who had responded to her advert, and Harriet chose from them. As it is, there was a young woman from down in Austwick that she knew and trusted who had applied, so she was happy with her. We will have to see how she does next Tuesday, and how our Rosie copes with a few more tasks to do around the house. She’s got a long face on her at the moment and I don’t know why. Perhaps she’s not going to have the time she used to have to wander and be with me. And I think Ethan disappearing hasn’t helped.’

  ‘Ethan’s gone? Jethro hasn’t said anything.’ James leaned forward, trying to make his broken leg comfortable.

  ‘Aye, packed up and gone. God knows why. His father swears he knows nothing about it. At least we’d finished hay-time. I could have done with Ethan’s help for another month, just until I’d sorted out the lambs for sale. Rosie will have to help me with them next week. It’ll take her mind off housework, because my father’s not up to much these days, and my other farm man is beginning to show his age.’

  ‘Well, I’ve not seen hide nor hair of the lad around here, and Mazy hasn’t mentioned him. I’ll let you know if he shows up.’ James yawned.

  ‘I’d be grateful for that. Now, I’ll be away. And you behave yourself! Don’t get yourself any more fancy contraptions and even faster women. Look what they’ve done to you. I’d have thought our Isabelle was more than you could handle anyway, you silly fool.’ Danny looked at James, who was a broken man: responsible for the death of his lover and probably broken-hearted, if he did but tell the truth. Still, it could be worse, for they both could have died.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson and I won’t be able to forget it, not in this house. It’s good to see you. I’m thankful for your company, I’ve been feeling like a leper of late.’ James closed his eyes. He’d not been sleeping. Instead he’d been remembering the broken body of Madge, as the night and the darkness fell around him.

  ‘Take care; things will get better with time.’ Danny closed the door to the morning room and let himself out of Windfell. His thoughts returned to his fling with the lovely Amy. He couldn’t blame poor James, for sometimes the temptation was just too much. At least James wasn’t the father to a child he had never seen; a child Danny was sure would come back and haunt him eventually.

  16

  ‘Now, can you think of anything that I’ve not told you?’ Harriet looked at her new employee and at baby Georgina, who had taken instantly to her new carer.

  ‘No, Mrs Atkinson, I think you’ve covered everything. Besides, as you say, I’m sure Rosie will help me out if I can’t find anything.’ Mary Harrison smiled. She had been shown around Crummock and told the needs of the two youngest Atkinson children more times than she’d had hot dinners. But she understood their mother’s concerns and would have felt the same, if they were her own children.

  ‘The main thing is that Georgina does not get out of her routine, otherwise she becomes so bad-tempered that she doesn’t know what to do with herself. And don’t let Ben twist you around his little finger. His bedtime is seven, although I hope to be back by then. He’s usually home about four o’clock after school; he walks up home with the lad from Sowermire, so he only has the last half-mile to walk home on his own. If he’s any later than that you’d better go and look for him, as he’s known for dawdling.’ Harriet looked around her. She was looking forward to her new life starting in the morning, but at the same time she was dreading leaving her family behind. ‘Otherwise, I think you know where everything is. Rosie will see to the meals and cleaning. Not that she wants to, for she’s a love of the outside more than home-making, and she’s with her father now. She’d much rather be handling sheep than dusting and polishing.’ Harriet sighed.

  ‘I’ll help her, Mrs Atkinson, don’t worry. I can turn my hand to most things – us country lasses have to.’ Mary smiled; she was being generously paid by the well-to-do Fox family and knew when she was on to a good thing, despite the recent scandal and the awful death linked to James Fox. ‘And I’ll make sure Mr Atkinson senior is looked after, although he seems to be quite sprightly for his age.’

  ‘Mr Atkinson will look after himself. As long as he’s fed, he’ll potter around the house and farm. He’s learning to take it easy after all these years, giving my husband guidance on occasion. Although sometimes my husband does not appreciate his advice or help, as he is a bit set in his ways. He forgets that it is now 1913, and things have progressed from when he was a lad. Well, I think that is it. I look forward to seeing you in the morning. The breakfast table will be laid. You can eat with my family or on your own, whichever you prefer. Rosie knows what everyone has to eat, so don’t worry about that.’

  Harriet held her arms out for Georgina, who was playing with Mary’s pendant around her neck. Georgina complained about being removed from her new plaything as her mother prised her away.

  ‘You can play with it again tomorrow.’ Mary smiled at Georgina. ‘Now, you behave for your mother.’ She passed the crying Georgina to Harriet and then pacified her by reaching for a spoon from the table to play with. ‘You are easy to suit.’ She smiled as Georgina waved the spoon in the air and then grinned as Mary kissed her on the cheek to say farewell. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Atkinson. Georgina and Ben will be well looked after, and I’ll see that Rosie gets my support too.’ She picked up her gloves and put them on, before being shown the door.

  Harriet walked back into the kitchen and put Georgina down on the pegged rug. She watched as the baby pulled herself up to her full height and ventured on wobbly steps over to the doorway. ‘I only hope I’m doing the right thing,’ she whispered to herself. ‘I do love my children, but I need my own time, or is that terribly selfish of me? Besides, Isabelle needs me, especially after James and his public fling.’ Time would tell, no doubt, she thought as she set about her work.

  ‘Rosie, hold this gate open for me, to let this old ewe through. She can’t be sent to market, she won’t make the drive down the valley.’ Danny yelled at his daughter as he walked amongst his flock, sorting out which sheep he needed to sell before winter and which ones he wanted to keep.

  ‘That’s what you want to be selling.’ Archie lifted his stick and pointed at the old grey-faced ewe as she bleated her way out onto the open fellside.

  ‘She’s on her last legs, Father. It’s better that she dies where she knows, rather than being slaughtered at the knacker’s yard, because that’s all she’s worth.’ Danny pulled another of his flock to one side and felt how fit it was, as he replied to his father.

  ‘It would save you digging a hole for her in another week or two and you’d get a bit of something for her. Those down in t’mill towns of Lancashire don’t know she’s not fit to eat. Because that’s where she’d end up, on their dinner tables.’ Archie shook his head. His lad was too soft, he’d never make a millionaire.

  ‘Grandfather, I really do not like to eat lamb and mutton, as it is, without you reminding me where a lot of these are going. I’m helping to send them to their deaths.’ Rosie quickly shut the fell gate, letting another sheep get a reprieve from the butcher’s knife.

  ‘That’s
what farming’s about, lass. I don’t see you complaining on a Sunday lunchtime when you are tucking into your mother’s best roast beef. That’s just the same. We butchered that beef, and you saw that calf growing up, but you were still licking your lips after your meal.’ Archie grinned.

  ‘No, but it’s different with sheep. Some of these I’ve fed with a bottle of milk when they were first born. Like that big tup lamb over there, with the black-striped face and horns, just coming through. I couldn’t eat him,’ shouted Rosie to her grandfather over the bleating.

  ‘Well, I can tell you now, he’s one to go,’ Danny shouted. ‘He’s become a bloody nuisance; you’ve fed him so well he expects something from you every time you go near him. He’s getting to be dangerous now because he’s such a size. Plus, he nearly stabbed me the other day with them horns, tore a bit out of my trousers with his bullying tactics.’ Danny looked at his daughter. He hadn’t wanted to tell her, but there was no other way – the tup lamb was beginning to make a pest of himself and was one that had to go to market.

  ‘No, you can’t sell my Billy, I won’t let you.’ Rosie climbed the fence of the enclosure and made her way through the rest of the sheep to her favourite lamb of the last spring. ‘Look at him, Father, he’s such a grand, big ram. He’ll breed well next year, you’ve got to keep him.’ She folded her arms round the ram’s neck and hugged him, burying her face in his fleece, smelling the lanolin in his coat.

  ‘He’s a bloody nuisance; he’s off to market, so leave him be, and you mind what you are doing.’ Danny looked at Archie as he sorted another sheep from being sold, and his father opened the gate to give it its freedom.

  Rosie clung to the tup’s neck, but he wasn’t having any of it. If there were no tasty sheep nuts or a mouthful of hay, he didn’t want to know. He lifted his head in defiance of her grip. He was too strong for Rosie to control. Then he turned round and butted her in the stomach, before stamping his foot in defiance, as he looked at her with contempt.

  Rosie fell over amongst the sheep and her skirts became covered with sheep droppings. She was near to tears. Her ribs and stomach hurt as she swore at her favoured lamb.

  ‘I told you – he’s turned into a right bastard. Are you alright?’ Danny looked at his daughter as she sat up. ‘Another month and he’ll be even more of a nuisance. He’s come and butted me a time or two, it’s time he was off.’

  ‘Aye, let him go, lass, he’ll fetch a good price at market. As you say, he’s a good one for breeding from; he’ll not go for meat.’ Archie looked across at Danny and gave Rosie his hand as she climbed back over the fence to regain her place opening the gate. ‘Tha’s a bit fragrant. You’d better find time to fill the tin bath before supper, or your mother will have something to say.’

  Rosie looked down at her long dress. It was stained with sheep droppings and urine, from where she had fallen on the cobbles of the pen. ‘Bloody ungrateful thing. And he’s hurt my ribs.’

  ‘Now then, lass, no need to swear. Its nobbut a bit of muck, it’ll wash off. I think it’s your pride that’s been hurt, more than yourself. You looked to climb that fence alright.’ Archie grinned. ‘Go and get washed, I can manage the ones we have left.’

  ‘No, I’ll stay. This is my job and I’m not letting him get the better of me.’ Rosie leaned over the gate and looked at the wild-eyed tup lamb that had been so ungrateful for her affections. ‘I don’t care if he is butchered now, the stupid animal.’

  Rosie stepped into the warmth of the water in the tin bath, which she had filled from the nearby boiler. The waters were soothing. Her ribs and stomach ached with a dull, nagging pain where the tup had butted her, and she lay back in the quietness of the scullery. Her mother had scowled at her and told her to get changed and washed while she put Georgina to bed. Rosie washed herself with the flannel. She knew that the rest of the house was awaiting the stew that had been cooking in the oven next to the fire that afternoon, so she couldn’t be long. Mutton stew, it was all they ever seemed to eat, along with home cured bacon and rabbits that were caught on the land. But that was part of being self-sufficient and Rosie knew that, even though she had protested about the marketing of her favourite spring lamb.

  She leaned back in the bath and sighed. She felt tired and sickly of a morning. She rubbed her hands over her stomach and thought about the baby she was nearly certain she was carrying, and the fact that Ethan had deserted her in her hour of need. How could he? She was on her own and frightened, trying hard to block out any thoughts about having to tell both her parents the news that she thought she was with child by Ethan. A tear trickled down her cheek and she breathed in deeply, trying to control herself. She knew all too well that her mother could walk into the scullery at any moment and she would have to explain her misery. She quickly washed herself down with the carbolic soap and then pulled herself out of the bath, realizing just how hard she had fallen when the tup had butted her. She ached all over and winced as she dried herself, pulling on her garments, before emptying the water down the main drain of the scullery and hanging the tin bath back on the wall and then rejoining her family in the kitchen.

  ‘You smell a bit fresher, but you look a bit pale. Are you alright, lass?’ Her grandfather reached out for Rosie’s hand as she walked past him. ‘That tup didn’t half give you a belt. It’s best that he’s off – you’ve spoilt him too much.’

  ‘I’m fine, Grandfather. Just a bit bruised, but I feel better for a hot bath.’ Rosie looked at the half-laid table and decided to help her mother out by finishing the job and getting the bread from the pantry. She didn’t like the attention her grandfather was giving her, so she deliberately made herself busy.

  ‘You’ll have to get used to this, after this evening; it’ll be your job three nights a week. That’ll put an end to your trailing.’ Danny looked at his daughter, who had been quiet of late, and he suspected that she was sulking about her mother’s new role in life.

  ‘I’m looking forward to it. Mother has shown me all that I should be doing, and I know what food I’ve to make you all for the next few meals. It isn’t as if I’ve never turned my hand to being in the kitchen before. I just prefer to be outside.’ Rosie smiled at her father as she went to stir the stew. A pain in the bottom of her stomach made her stop for a minute, and she caught her breath in front of her grandfather. He looked concerned.

  ‘Are you alright, lass?’ Archie put his hand on her arm.

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s just my ribs, where Billy butted me. They are sore.’ Rosie was lying. She knew something was amiss, and it was not just the bruising from her tussle with the tup lamb. ‘Can you tell Mama that I’m going to take my supper up to bed with me – it’s been a long day and the fall has shaken me up slightly?’ Rosie ladled a portion of stew into a bowl and picked up a slice of bread and a spoon from the table.

  ‘Your mother would like you to stay with us tonight, for she’s feeling guilty about leaving us all, as it is.’ Danny looked up at his daughter, who was acting a little out of character.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ll see her in the morning before she goes, but now I’m going to have to go to my bed. My ribs hurt.’ Rosie quickly made for the bottom of the stairs, hoping that she did not meet her mother on the way down from putting Georgina to bed, as the pain in her stomach worsened.

  ‘She doesn’t look well, Danny.’ Archie looked across at his son, who was looking out of the window, watching Ben teasing the dog.

  ‘She’s alright. She never complained when she was helping us finish with the last of the sheep. She’s sulking, Father; she doesn’t want to take responsibility for the home. Don’t let her pull the wool over your eyes. Remember her play-acting when her and Ethan buggered off to Appleby Fair. Well, she’s doing it again.’ Danny sat back and breathed in deeply. ‘There’s nowt up with her, she’s just got to realize that she’s got to grow up – and grow up quickly.’

  ‘Well, I hope you are right, lad.’ Archie looked into the fire. It wasn’t his place to
say any more, but he was worried about Rosie.

  Rosie lay in her bed. She’d been feeling under the weather before the tup lamb had butted her, but now she was worse, much worse. She’d managed to eat her supper by sharing it with the farmhouse cat, and had put on a brave face when her mother had come to check on her, withholding just how ill she was, but now all she wanted to do was cry. The pain had been so intense and she could feel that the bedclothes beneath her were soiled with blood. If there had been a baby, there wasn’t now; it was dead, and her nightdress and bedding were stained with its remains.

  She hugged her pillow to her and didn’t dare look underneath the sheet at the extent of the blood she had lost, and whether there was anything that resembled a baby. She daren’t tell anyone, although she longed to confide in her mother. She wished her mother could be there to comfort her in her arms. Instead, in the morning before anyone else awoke, she’d put her sheets and nightclothes in the boiler to wash and would hope that nobody suspected her plight. At least then neither she nor Ethan would be chastised, and nobody would know any different or suspect that she had been with child. It was the best thing she could do, and perhaps her accident had been a blessing.

  She looked up at the ceiling and sobbed. She no longer had a baby to worry about, but there was still no sign of Ethan. He had shown his true colours and she was without anyone. How stupid she had been to fall in love with the stable boy, a gypsy. Her love for him must never be known by anyone and now, with the baby gone, it would be her secret.

  17

  ‘What are you doing?’ It was only just breaking light when Harriet opened the scullery door to find Rosie swilling her bed linen in the brown earthenware sink and stoking up the boiler.

  ‘Mother, I didn’t hear you!’ Rosie blushed and looked across at her mother; she’d hoped to get the sheets swilled and into the boiler to soak in the mixture of water and soda crystals before her mother had arisen. ‘I didn’t want Mary to see my accident. I wanted to wash my sheets before she arrived. I feel so ashamed that I have marked my sheets with my monthly.’ Rosie bowed her head and bit her lip. She could have cried quite openly as she looked at her mother.