Miss Martha Mary Crawford

by Catherine Cookson (Catherine Marchant)

  Apparently Roland hadn’t told his fiancée about his aunt, for now he had walked to the window, his hands joined behind his back, which again reminded Martha forcibly of her father when vastly displeased.

  Miss Harkness appeared slightly shaken. She looked towards Roland, then back to Martha, whom she had recognised immediately not only as an obstacle to her future, but as an enemy, one who was determined to frighten her away. Roland had given her the impression that he had three sisters who would fall upon her neck, especially the eldest one. He had spoken of the house and its situation as idyllic. Well, on first sight she had found it far from that. And the journey out here had been torturous. Nevertheless, she had told herself that beggars couldn’t be choosers, and having already suffered four rejections she was determined this was not going to be a fifth. All right, let this madam go; she would have been a thorn in her flesh anyway. But the sick aunt, that was something that would have to be dealt with; as also would one solitary maid. Yet give her time to get a ring on her finger and call herself mistress of this house, then they would see changes…And what about the bookshop? Was that a kind of myth too? Why had he not taken her there today? He had said they mustn’t linger because of the weather and the conditions of the roads. Had that been merely an excuse? Well, the house wasn’t a myth, although it was old and frightfully shabby both inside and out. But these were things that time and management, her management, could and would change.

  Seeing the best form of attack at the moment to be submission, she looked up at Martha and said softly, ‘You seem determined to frighten me, Miss Crawford.’

  ‘I’m merely placing the facts before you, which would not have been necessary if my brother had given you the true picture before you arrived.’

  ‘You can’t rule my life, Martha.’ Roland had swung round from the window.

  ‘I have no desire to rule your life, and never had, Roland.’

  ‘That’s not true, you’ve ruled this house and everybody in it since Mother died. You planned my career.’

  ‘Only because up till recently you wished it planned for you. And I may add, by going to the university you saw yourself as being freed from responsibility for some years ahead.’

  ‘I did nothing of the kind. Anyway, this house and the business is now my responsibility, and for the future I would have you remember that. Come Eva, I will show you to your room as no-one else seems to have the courtesy.’ With this he marched up to his fiancée, took her masterfully by the arm and led her out of the drawing room.

  Martha stood exactly where they had left her. She looked about her, bit on her lip, then lowered her head; she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The last scene had put her in mind of one of the only two plays she had seen in her life. It was in the chapel hall in Hexham. The hero had so overacted his part it had been embarrassing, and Roland acting the master of the house for the first time had been equally so.

  But strangely now, she felt a wave of pity for him filling her because he had become ensnared by that cunning little woman, and she was a woman fully grown and long past the period when the term young lady could be applied to her. Moreover, she had detected in her manner and voice the essence of a refined termagant, and there was one thing sure, should there…no, when was the word needed here, when the time came that Roland needed to look for solace elsewhere, as his father had done, he would not dare make such a move.

  He had treated her abominably, thinking only of himself, yet in this moment she could forgive him because of what lay ahead of him.

  Nine

  It had rained for forty-eight hours without ceasing, then early on the Thursday morning the leaden sky lifted and the sun came through.

  Harry, turning his head slowly towards the window, looked at the rays streaming into the room and thought, Thank God, then added, And may it last, because as soon as the roads were passable the sooner he’d get away from this house.

  He had never been out of the room, he had never left the couch in fact; yet the whole atmosphere of the place seemed to seep in through the very walls. How she had stood it all these years he didn’t know, yet the truth of it was she would have gone on standing it and been glad to do so if it hadn’t been for her dear brother and his burning love for that little vixen. If he had ever observed teeth and claws sheathed in a human being he had observed them in Miss Eva Harkness. And that young silly idiot was utterly bemused by her. God help him when he wakened up.

  He had met her last evening when the lord of the manor, which pose Roland was now adopting, had brought her in to show her off. After a prolonged gushing of greeting and sympathy she had become quiet, perhaps because he had stared, unblinking, at her while she talked, but it was in the look with which she returned his stare that he recognised she was wise to the fact that her charms were being wasted on him.

  He now pulled his pain-racked body further up on the couch, and as he lay breathing deeply his thoughts turned to the vile young devil and his friends who had done their work thoroughly, almost too thoroughly. What if Dan hadn’t found him when he did? Well, Dan had and he was here and alive, but he was as weak as a kitten and so damned sore. And his head was still muzzy. But he must shake this off and get on his feet and get home for once he was on his way she’d be on her way too. He’d see to it that she accompanied him, and the sooner the better, because underneath that practised calm of hers she was near breaking point. She was cooking for the damn lot of them; she was running up and downstairs to Aunt Sophie; she was attending him; and all the time she was carrying the feeling of rejection because that little upstart of a woman was in the house and already rearranging the whole set-up to her own liking.

  The whole situation must be galling in the extreme. He imagined what he himself would have felt had he been in a similar position. There was one thing he was sure of, he would never have been able to control himself as she was doing, and it was himself in this instance who was the cause of her having to endure it …

  He paused in his thinking, closed his eyes and a warmness crept over his body. He hadn’t thought about it that way before. Yes, he was the cause of her still being here. She was staying on only because he needed looking after. Well, well. His chin went to jerk upwards but was halted by the pain in his neck.

  What would old Pippin say when he told him what was in his mind? Get the shock of his life, he supposed, and he wouldn’t take to the idea of him leaving the house and setting up an establishment on his own, would he? Oh no, not if he knew the old boy…But wait, wait. He’d better not count his chickens before they were hatched. He’d have to make sure first that there was need to set up an establishment on his own …

  When should he ask her? Before they left the house? Yes, oh yes. Because that would determine where she was going to stay when they reached Hexham. If he was to have any say in her life he would see that she was housed in a comfortable hotel; and if he wasn’t…Well then …

  The door opened and she entered carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of soup on it and a plate of bread. As he watched her putting the tray on the side table near to him he thought, She’s too thin, skinny. I’ll have to alter that, first go off.

  ‘You shouldn’t be sitting right up like that.’

  ‘I am going to get up today, so it’s wise that I should sit up.’

  ‘You’re not. You mustn’t.’ She was bending over him. ‘Doctor Pippin said you must stay there until he sees you again.’

  ‘That could be a week.’

  ‘No matter. Now do please lie back a little and have this soup.’ As she went to put her hand on his shoulder he caught it, stared up at her for a moment, then said, ‘Will you marry me?’

  She started as if she were stung. She did not immediately withdraw her hand from his, but when she did she covered it with her other one and pressed them both against her waistline and her lips trembled as she replied, ‘I…I don’t know whether you meant that as joke, doctor, but …’

  ‘Don’t be silly. And I am in no condition
to argue with you; I want an answer, and before you leave this house and hit the world head on in your position as housekeeper.’

  Her chin rose slowly and she continued to stare down at him as she said quietly, ‘I thank you for your offer, doctor, but I don’t need pity; nor do I need to be rescued from becoming a housekeeper, because I’m sure I shall make a very competent one.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know you will; and I want a housekeeper. I…I…Aw, my God!’ He put his hand to his head and made no apology for the blasphemy; then leaning back, he closed his eyes and murmured slowly, ‘Martha Mary, as I said I’m in no condition to argue with you. I made that proposal in all sincerity, and don’t talk about pity, or compassion, or any other tommy rot because I’m not the kind of fellow to take up the stresses and strains of matrimony through any of those virtues. I’m selfish, domineering, and exacting. I think you already have some knowledge of the latter two characteristics…Now don’t say any more.’ He lifted his hand and flapped it weakly at her. ‘Just think on it, and ask yourself would it be harder to be my wife than say, be a housekeeper and bow the knee and “Yes, ma’m”, and “Yes, sir”, and perhaps’—he now opened his eyes wide at her—‘find yourself in a position of having to say, “No, sir”.’

  As he watched the flush come up over her face he closed his eyes again, turned his head to the side, and said, ‘I’m even too weak to control my tongue. Forget it. No’—he was staring at her once more—‘don’t forget it, I mean except the last bit, but think over the main issue. Please. Please, Martha Mary.’

  Her hands were pressing into her waist, her whole body was hot; if she could only have dropped down by the side of the couch and said, ‘Oh, Harry, Harry, thank you.’ But no, she could not on the present terms. ‘Will you marry me?’ he had said. He wanted a housekeeper, he had said; she’d find a situation with him in his home easier than being a paid servant in someone else’s, he had said; but he had not said, ‘I…I care for you, Martha Mary, I have a deep affection for you…I love you.’

  As if he had suddenly said what she longed to hear she again gave a start, but now for the same reason that she had woken in the middle of last night and the night before that when she had imagined she heard Nancy calling her name, for now she was hearing Nancy’s voice again calling, ‘Martha Mary! Martha Mary!…’ She must be dreaming, or had she suddenly become ill with the kind of illness that possessed Aunt Sophie?

  She swung round now as the door burst open and her hands flew to her face because there stood Nancy, a strange wild looking Nancy dishevelled from head to foot, all her clothing mud-bespattered, and her face as white as a piece of bleached linen.

  ‘Nancy!’

  They were approaching each other now; the next minute Nancy was in her arms and she was holding her tightly, and as she stroked her hair and tried to soothe her she looked back over her shoulder to where Harry was once more sitting upright on the couch.

  ‘Oh! Martha Mary, Martha Mary, what have I done?’

  ‘There, there, quiet now. Quiet. Come and sit down.’

  It was only as Nancy stumbled forward that she became aware of Harry, and she stopped and gaped at him, and Martha said, ‘It’s the doctor; he met with an accident two days ago. Come…come and sit down.’

  ‘No, no.’ She shook her head and turned round in a bewildered fashion; then grabbing at Martha’s arm, she gabbled, ‘I must talk to you, I must. I must explain. There are things…’

  ‘All right, all right, dear.’

  Before leading Nancy away, Martha glanced towards Harry, and he returned her bewildered look and shook his head slowly.

  Nancy was holding tightly on to her as they went up the passage towards the drawing room door, but before they reached it it opened and there, preceding Roland from the room, came Miss Eva Harkness, and she and Nancy stopped and stared at each other.

  Then Roland was by his fiancée’s side and he too was staring at his sister. No, glaring at her. ‘What is this?’ It was the master’s voice speaking as he looked her up and down.

  When Nancy made no reply he jerked his chin upwards and wagged his head as he said, ‘So you’ve come home, have you, found your mistake out? Well, we’ll have to see into it, won’t we? We must now consider if you are acceptable. This’—he now turned to his fiancée as he shot out his hand towards Nancy—‘this is my erring sister, and she’ll have to be dealt with.’

  ‘Get out of the way.’

  The thrust that Martha made at him with her forearm toppled him backwards against the door stanchion, and he took Miss Harkness with him.

  ‘How dare you! Now look here, Martha Mary, you have gone too far.’

  Martha had pushed Nancy into the drawing room and she now turned on her brother, hissing, ‘Gone too far, have I? Well, I’m going a bit further and tell you I’ve had enough of your high-handedness and your empty chit-chat over the last two days. I shall deal with Nancy if she has to be dealt with. And furthermore, if you want your guest’s remaining stay to be even partially comfortable, keep your tongue quiet, because I could now order a cab and take the doctor into Hexham, and, for your information’—she now poked her face towards him—‘Peg would go with us, and Dan too, and if this should happen it would give you the opportunity to initiate your fiancée into household chores, such as I’ve done for years. Start her on the cooking.’ She now turned her furious glance on the red-faced Miss Harkness. ‘Then show her how to lift the kettle off. That’s an art in itself. And as I told you she can have my knee pads for scrubbing the kitchen floor. In any case she’ll have to come to it sometime if she remains here. Now put that in your pipe and smoke it.’

  With this last shaft she went into the drawing room and banged the door on them but she did not immediately go towards Nancy, who was standing now wide-eyed looking at her, but she closed her eyes and told herself she shouldn’t have turned on him like that. And to end up with one of Dilly’s sayings too. That alone would stamp her as one of the peasantry in madam’s eyes. But what did she care about her? Still she shouldn’t have said all that to Roland. Her heart was beating as if it were going to burst out of her breast. With one of them and another she was near the end of her tether. He had said, ‘Will you marry me?’ Why hadn’t she accepted him on any conditions? No. No. Her mind was in a whirl. And now here was Nancy flying from her mistake, and if she knew anything the mistake would not be long in presenting himself at the door, and then there would be more scenes. She was tired of scenes…She was really tired of everything.

  ‘Martha Mary—’ it was Nancy who had her by the arm now—‘who is she?’

  Martha walked slowly down the drawing room, her hand clasped in Nancy’s as she said, ‘That, my dear, is your future sister-in-law.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Yes. Don’t look so surprised. I sent for Roland to try to stop you from doing what you were determined to do, and what you did do. When he arrived he was rather peeved at my hasty summons. The reason? Well, you’ve just met her, his future wife, Miss Eva Harkness.’

  ‘But he can’t, he was going to the university and…’

  ‘Why can’t he, dear?’ Martha looked straight into Nancy’s eyes. ‘You shouldn’t be so surprised, he’s just proposing to do what you did.’

  Now Nancy bowed her head deeply on her chest and she groaned, ‘Oh Martha Mary! Martha Mary!’

  The sound was so full of pain that Martha put her arms around Nancy’s shoulders and, pressing her tightly to her, asked, ‘Was it so terrible? Is the place awful?’

  Her face showed some surprise when Nancy moved her head against her, saying, ‘No, no; it…it wasn’t the place, in fact it’s very…very comfortable, much larger inside than it looks from out.’

  ‘What then? His people?’

  Again there was a slow shake of the head and her voice was a mutter now. ‘His…his father’s hardly spoken to me, but his mother is kind; she’s…she’s very like Dilly, and she, too, has a swollen leg.’ Nancy now lifted her head and looked deep into
Martha’s face, and it was with evident effort that she forced herself to say, ‘I…I really didn’t know about marriage, Martha Mary. I thought I did, but I didn’t. It’s awful.’ Now her head was turned to the side, her face twisted as she added the last word, ‘Nauseating.’

  It was some moments before Martha asked quietly, ‘Would you have found it so with William?’ and to her surprise Nancy’s answer was, ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Well then, if that is the case you would have been…nauseated as you say, by marriage with any man. Is he’—she did not say ‘cruel?’ but ‘very unkind?’

  ‘No. I…I suppose according to his lights he…he saw himself acting kindly, considerate.’

  ‘Then what is your complaint?’ Martha was holding Nancy by the shoulders now and Nancy, her head wagging, swallowed deeply, sniffed; then closing her eyes tightly, muttered, ‘It’s…Oh, you wouldn’t understand, Martha Mary, but it’s just…just marriage.’

  ‘I…I understand more than you think.’ Now there was a harshness in Martha’s voice. ‘You broke your neck to get married, you were terrified of not being married, you were terrified of ending up like Aunt Sophie; well now, let me tell you this. Since you have come back, should you be allowed to stay by either your husband or Roland, you are going to find yourself in the position of an unpaid servant. Under the new order you will be in constant attendance on Aunt Sophie for there will be no-one to share the load, and in time doubtless your fears will be realised and you will become like her, and you will have no-one to fall back upon but yourself, because I won’t be here…’

  ‘You…you won’t? Where?…what?’ Nancy’s mouth was agape.

  ‘I am leaving. I would have been gone two days ago, the very day you decided to get married, if the doctor hadn’t been attacked by Nick Bailey and two others and left for dead. And he would have died if Dan hadn’t come across him. So’—she nodded vigorously at Nancy now—‘the way I see it is, you have a choice, either you go back to your husband, or you remain here. But if I were in your place, and speaking from only a short acquaintance with our prospective sister-in-law, I know which road I would take, and quickly. And I may tell you this, Nancy. It is my opinion from what I’ve seen of Robbie Robson that if he had been born into an environment which provided him with some form of education he would certainly not have been a drover, he would have been a man you would have been proud to marry. But as things are he is what he is, and I told you from the first that you were making a mistake, but such is the position now that I will say to you, don’t make a bigger one and remain here…Anyway, I doubt, knowing your husband as I do, even slightly, but that he will be here before long, and if he doesn’t drag you out and over the hills I’ll be surprised…Where is he now?’