The Girl from the Tanner's Yard

by Diane Allen

  She sat on a stool with the front door wide open to her in the sharp summer light, as she darned the numerous pairs of socks and stockings that her mother had passed her way. Every so often Lucy wiped a tear away from her cheek and sniffed, thinking that she would never be able to see Adam again.

  ‘Your face will stay like that, if the wind changes,’ her mother said as she watched Lucy trying to concentrate on the job in hand.

  ‘I don’t care. I won’t care what I look like, if you don’t let me see Adam again,’ Lucy wailed.

  ‘Oh, Lucy, hold your noise. It’s only for the best. We are thinking of you – we don’t want you to waste your life on somebody who’s no good for you. I can tell you are upset, but you shouldn’t let these fanciful notions get the better of you. He’ll not think anything of you, lass, he’ll just be stringing you along.’ Dorothy rubbed her hand along her daughter’s shoulders and felt her shaking, as she sobbed yet again. It wasn’t like Lucy to be so upset; she was a fighter and always stood her ground. ‘I’m only saying that you must finish working for him because I love you, and I don’t want to see you hurt.’ Dorothy sighed and looked towards Susie, who was playing with baby Bert with a pile of clothes pegs.

  ‘How can somebody who loves me hurt me so? You are only saying that to keep me at home, to do some work for you. No matter who I meet, they’ll never be right for you or my father,’ Lucy moaned and then sobbed again.

  ‘But Adam Brooksbank won’t love you – he’ll just be saying that. They’ll tell you anything, Lucy, to have their wicked way with you, these men.’ Dorothy wanted to hug Lucy and tell her how much she loved her, but knew that her hugs would not be appreciated by her heartbroken daughter.

  ‘You are wrong, Mother. Adam does love me and he needs me. You’ve got to let me go and see him in the morning, and then he can explain.’ Lucy sobbed and looked up at her mother.

  ‘You are not going. Your father’s gone to tell him that you’ll not be working for him any longer, and then he’s going for a gill at The Fleece. You can find work elsewhere. Your father will take you into Keighley on Tuesday. The sooner you get out of that man’s clutches, the better. He’s not worth owt, Lucy, and I expect he’s stringing you along. Now that’s the last I want to hear about it.’ Dorothy looked sternly at her daughter; the usual quiet Sunday was not to be ruined with her crying and carrying on, and Bill sinking his sorrows in The Fleece rather than face the world. How come it was always her that sorted the family problems, and was made out to be the bad one of the pair of them? Adam Brooksbank, in her eyes, was not a suitable match for her precious daughter, who needed to marry someone with money, and someone who would care for her.

  Lucy knew better than to say anything to her father when he returned from The Fleece the worse for drink. Usually he was a quiet soul, but after one too many his mood changed and he was best left alone. She watched through the kitchen window as he staggered into the flay-pit yard, mumbling and cursing at the state of things around him, before entering the house.

  ‘Get yourself up those stairs and make yourself scarce. Take Susie and the lads with you. It’s best they don’t see or hear their father in this state,’ Dorothy whispered to Lucy and the rest of her family, as Bill opened the kitchen door wide and swore loudly.

  ‘Well, I’m bloody well back to this stinking hole. Not that one of you will care.’ He slurred his words and staggered across the polished flagstone kitchen floor, then slumped down in his usual chair.

  ‘Hold your noise, Bill. You’ll frighten the children,’ Dorothy lectured, staring at the man who had walked out of her house early that morning looking quite respectable, and comparing him now with the dribbling, swearing wreck he had come back as.

  ‘Aye, we mustn’t upset the children – not the children. They are precious, unlike me,’ Bill growled.

  ‘Oh, hold your noise, and stop showing this self-pity. Did you see him – did you tell that Brooksbank our Lucy will not be working for him any more?’ Dorothy shook Bill by the shoulder as he sprawled in front of her, wanting to sleep now that he was home and in front of his own hearth.

  Lucy listened from the safety of the bend in the stairs, while the rest of her family stayed in their rooms. It was only once in a blue moon that their father was in this state, but they knew better than to get in his way. She held her breath as he mumbled and swore under his breath, not coherent enough for either her or her mother to hear.

  ‘Bill, tell me again! What did he say?’ Dorothy shook his shoulder.

  ‘Bloody well leave me be, woman,’ Bill growled. ‘I said: he said he loved Lucy, and the stupid bastard wants to marry her! Now bugger off, or get me to my bed.’ Bill dropped his head, splayed out his legs and closed his eyes; all he wanted was some peace. He’d tell his nagging wife the rest of the tale in the morning, when his head was clearer and the drink had stopped him feeling so sleepy.

  Dorothy stood back and looked at her sozzled husband. She was not going to get any more sense out of him tonight. She looked down at him and whispered to herself, ‘He wants to marry our Lucy’ and put her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Adam Brooksbank thought that much of her daughter that he wanted to marry her! Now what was she going to do? She hadn’t expected that; she thought it had just been a fascination on Lucy’s part. This so-called love affair was more serious than she had thought, and the man should have more sense than to lust after a young slip of a girl. There was one thing for sure: Lucy would not be working for him in the morning, not while she had a breath in her body.

  Lucy sat back on the stairs and gasped, as she tried to hold back tears of joy this time. She couldn’t believe that Adam had said that to her father. That he had declared his love for her, and had even said he had designs on marriage. She too knew that their love was true, but marriage! That was a huge show of Adam’s devotion to her and she hadn’t expected it so soon. Even though in her dreams she had whispered of being Mrs Adam Brooksbank, she had not thought it possible, for she was just his maid and, until the last day or two, they had not dared show their love for one another.

  She listened as her father snored in front of the fire and her mother sat in her rocking chair, the sound of the runners gently hitting the stone floor, as she no doubt pondered the news that Bill had brought home with him. In the morning Lucy would be told by her mother what her thoughts on the subject were, and that would determine whether she could go to Black Moss to work, and to face Adam. Until then she would go to her bed, warm and content in the knowledge that he did love her, and that his intentions were honourable. And if she was allowed to marry Adam, she would be the happiest woman in the world.

  25

  Bill had eventually got himself to bed in the early hours of the morning, lying down next to Dorothy, who was still awake and fretting.

  ‘Your feet are frozen and you smell like a brewery. I don’t know why you get into such a state,’ Dorothy lectured him as he climbed out of bed to relieve himself in the chamberpot.

  ‘You know why – it’s that bloody lass of ours. Not now, let me get some proper sleep. It’ll soon be light and I’ll have to see to the fellas out in the yard. My head hurts enough, without you yattering on about things now.’ Bill grunted and pulled the sheets and patchwork quilt up to his chin, as Dorothy paid no heed to his request.

  ‘So Adam Brooksbank said he loves Lucy and wants to marry her? That’s all very well, but he’s not the richest man in the valley. Our Lucy could do so much better; she could have any man she wanted, if she did but know it. I’m against it, Bill. She’ll not be going to work for him this morning. Both of them need to come to their senses.’

  Dorothy looked up at the crack that was lengthening on the bedroom ceiling and thought about her own lot in life. She had wanted so much more when younger, but then children had come along and, with them, a lack of money; life was hard, and that was not what she wanted for any of her children. She wanted more for her two girls – especially Lucy who, with her startling good looks, cau
ght many a wealthy man’s eye, and them a lot younger than Adam Brooksbank.

  ‘He might not be the youngest, but he’s got brass,’ Bill mumbled. ‘I always thought he dressed posh, but I never thought he had that much money. He’s thinking of trying to buy High Ground off the courts. She could do worse.’ He closed his eyes.

  ‘He’s got money! I had him down as simply inheriting his father’s farm and having nowt,’ Dorothy said, with her eyes still focused on the state of the ceiling. Of late, she’d noticed a few cracks beginning to show on the walls of their home, and it was causing her another worry.

  ‘Aye, now hold your noise and go to sleep. We’ll talk about it in the morning.’ Bill pulled on the bedcovers and turned his back on his wife. All he wanted was to sleep. He’d no concerns over Adam Brooksbank marrying his lass. In fact, from what he’d seen and from what the landlord in The Fleece had told him, Adam was a gentleman, and Lucy could do no better than to wed him.

  ‘I’ve told our Lucy that she’ll not be going to work at Black Moss this morning – or any morning, if I have my way. She’s gone back up to her bedroom and is balling her eyes out and calling me all the names under the sun.’ Dorothy thrust a cup of tea under Bill’s nose and glowered at him. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I’m still not happy with the state of affairs. And as for you, I’ve no sympathy for you; you shouldn’t have drunk so much. Look at the state of you.’ She shook her head at her dishevelled husband. ‘You’d better square yourself up, before you go and tell those men out there the business for the day.’

  ‘It’s not just me that needs to square up. You want to do the same yourself. I told you last night that Adam Brooksbank is a wealthy and good man. What I didn’t tell you was what Ernest Shepherd said about him.’ Bill took a long drink of his tea and looked at the annoyed face of his wife. ‘After Thomas Farrington’s untimely death, Adam Brooksbank gave the local peelers his account of how the death had been accidental, and Ernest Shepherd happened to comment that he’d been glad Adam had been there to give evidence, else it could have been a little awkward. Anyway, during the course of the conversation it turned out that the peelers all knew Adam, because he was once one of them, but, as you already know, left the force when his wife died tragically. But they were even more willing to accept his account of what happened because of his service in the Crimea. Adam Brooksbank was awarded the Victoria Cross, Dot – the highest medal anyone can receive! He saved a lot of his regiment at Sebastopol from certain death, and put his own life at risk, after holding back an attack on his company on his own. That’s how he’s got his limp. Now, if someone who holds the Victoria Cross and has money and his own land is not enough for you, I don’t know who is?’ Bill looked at the dismay on Dorothy’s face. ‘You should be proud that our lass has fallen for such a good man.’

  ‘Well, how was I supposed to know? Lucy’s never said anything, and he’s not made it known to us. The Victoria Cross – the Queen doesn’t give them away for nothing! He must have been brave. That still doesn’t make him any better, though.’ Dorothy looked at Bill. She didn’t want to admit that this time she was in the wrong.

  ‘Dorothy, he’s a decent man, and he doesn’t brag about what he’s done – and God knows, he should. You let our Lucy court him, and be right with them both.’ Bill looked sternly at his wife. ‘Give her a yell. Tell her to go and see to him, and give her your blessing. She’s got herself a good one.’ Bill got up from his chair and looked at his wife. ‘You can’t keep her at home forever. Let Lucy make her own way in life.’ He went over and kissed Dorothy on the cheek. ‘She’s got a good man, so be thankful for that.’

  ‘She’s still my baby. I just want the best for her.’ Dorothy hung her head.

  ‘Well, you’ll not go far wrong with Adam Brooksbank. Now shout her down here, and let her be away to him. I heard her sobbing this morning as I got up, and she’ll make herself ill if she carries on like that.’ Bill smiled at his wife. ‘She’ll be alright with him, so don’t you worry.’

  Dorothy went to the bottom of the stairs and yelled for Lucy to come down and join them. She listened as her daughter came out of her bedroom and, still sobbing, made her way down the stairs, to what she must have thought would be yet another lecture about herself and Adam. Her eyes were red and swollen as she stood demurely in front of her parents.

  ‘Your father says I’ve to let you be; that you must go and see to him and that I should hold my noise and give you both my blessing.’ Dorothy stood in front of Lucy. ‘He says that Adam Brooksbank’s an honourable man; in fact a hero, from what he’s heard. That might not make him the right fella for you, but your father says he’s to be made welcome into our family, so I’ll not stand in his way.’ Dorothy looked at her daughter, as the sobbing stopped and a broad smile came across her face.

  ‘Oh, Father, thank you. Adam does love me, and I love him. He doesn’t mean any harm to me. He’s kind and gentle, and shows only the greatest respect towards me.’ Lucy beamed. ‘What do you mean by a hero? What have you been told?’ She gathered her thoughts and looked at her father.

  ‘He holds the Victoria Cross, lass – he’s a brave man. The Queen will have given him that, and he’s highly thought of by everyone that knows him.’ Bill looked at the pride showing on Lucy’s face.

  ‘He’s never said anything to me; he’s not like that. He doesn’t talk much about fighting in the Crimea, but he does talk about his wife, who he lost tragically.’ Lucy spoke softly.

  ‘Perhaps he doesn’t like the memories of what happened out there. You often find that soldiers don’t talk about the wars they fought in: too many bad memories, the poor buggers. Now, get yourself gone to him. He’ll be wondering where you’ve got to, and will think we’ve stopped you from seeing him.’ Bill looked at the joy on his daughter’s face as Lucy glanced at herself in the mirror and then back at both her parents.

  ‘Go on – get yourself gone. I’ll be right with him. And, by the sounds of it, we’ve a wedding to be planning, although perhaps not just yet. Best if he takes his time courting you and makes it look more respectable.’ Dorothy smiled wanly at her daughter.

  ‘I love you, Mother, and you’ll not regret giving us your blessing.’ Lucy rushed forward and hugged her mother, then kissed her father on the cheek, before grabbing her bonnet from behind the kitchen door and flying out to go and tell Adam her news. She couldn’t wait to see him, and with every step on the path to Black Moss her heart grew lighter, knowing that she had the man of her dreams waiting at the other end of the path for her.

  ‘I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.’ Adam beamed as he watched Lucy enter the farmhouse. He met her with open arms and embraced her tightly, looking down into her eyes as he stepped back from kissing her.

  ‘You’ve my father to thank, as he made my mother see sense. That and the fact that he found out about your secret.’ Lucy smiled. She loved Adam for what he was, and the medal awarded to him did not mean much to her, other than that she was proud of him.

  ‘My secret?’ Adam looked puzzled.

  ‘Yes, Father found out last night that you had been awarded the Victoria Cross for bravery, and that finally swayed my mother’s views on you.’ Lucy buried her head in Adam’s shoulder and held him tightly.

  ‘Oh, so folk around here know. I was trying hard to forget, and every time I look at the blasted medal it reminds me of the lives that were lost, and the pain and misery my fellow colleagues went through. It’s still in its presentation box in the chest of drawers in my bedroom. I have no intention of ever wearing it, or celebrating the fact that I was awarded it. There were much braver people than me on the battleground. I was lucky and survived; or perhaps not so lucky, with the dreams and memories I find myself having sometimes.’ Adam stood back from Lucy. ‘It makes me no different from any other man, and your mother should realize that.’

  ‘I’m not bothered what medals you have, how much money you have – all the things I heard my mother and father discussi
ng as I lay on my bed, crying and thinking I might never be allowed to see you again. I love you for who you are, and I will always love you. I think I’ve known that from the first day we met,’ Lucy said with feeling.

  ‘Then we will be wed, because I feel the same way about you, and I have not felt this way about a woman for a long time. Just as long as you know that I’m not perfect; I have my flaws. I take laudanum for my pain, both physical and mental, and sometimes I cannot lift the mood that I find myself in. It’s a weakness I wish I didn’t have, but it helps me forget sometimes. But I will always love you and provide for you well – there is no doubting that.’ Adam looked down at Lucy and saw that she loved him, despite his addiction.

  ‘I don’t care that you take laudanum. And besides, with time, I might ease your memories and fears and you may not be so dependent on it. I love you, Adam Brooksbank – flaws and all – and I am only too happy to become your wife.’

  ‘Then I will go and speak to your mother and father, and we will both visit the parson at Haworth and arrange a date for our marriage, if you are in agreement for us to be married there. I have a great fondness for the parson, and he has always been there for me when I’ve needed him, and I’d like us to wed at Haworth.’

  ‘Yes, of course, that would be more than suitable.’ Lucy shook her head. ‘I just can’t believe this is happening to me. I’d kept my love to myself for so long.’

  ‘Well, it is, my love. Now today I have to go into Keighley to see if my bid for the Baxters’ farm has been accepted. I won’t be away long, and I hope to come back with the good news that my farm has doubled in size. I would rather have bought the land and house under better circumstances, but I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to clear my neighbouring land of the Baxters forever.’ Adam smiled and kissed Lucy on her brow.