A Country Marriage (10 page)

‘See, there’s always been talk, especially among… certain folk… up at The Stag, about how landowners should pay better wages so folk can feed themselves proper but none of it meant much to me, other than maybe to see Pa’s side of it as a farmer and know the struggle it was for him to make ends meet. Well, I never thought to see it any other way. But what I
didn’t
understand until today, was how Summerleas ain’t the least like gentry’s farms; farms where the owners grow fat an’ rich off the backs of other men with no concern that their families are starving. I never seen first-hand the likes of the estate before, and now that I have, it grieves me greatly to think how I’ve been sheltered all these years by the comfort of not needing to bring home a wage. Blind to it, that’s what I was. And those brothers of mine still are; don’t know they’re born.’

‘No.’

‘Maybe the time’s coming to open their eyes, though.’

‘Yes.’

‘Still,’ he continued, spooning the dregs of his stew into his mouth, ‘it’d serve me to remember that a beggar who chooses is a beggar still. And that at least by the strength of my own body, earning some of the squire’s coin will pay the rent and put clothes on our backs. And then maybe, come Lady Day there might be summat better somewhere else.’

‘Aye.’ Although a lot of what he had just said did indeed seem like a shame, to her mind, the greatest shame of all was that someone with his farming skills should be reduced to common labouring. Nevertheless, there were only so many things she could fret about and the reality was that at the moment, she had enough mysteries and problems of her own to worry too much on
his
behalf. But since at that very moment he seemed both tired and preoccupied, it occurred to her that it might be just the moment to ask him something; something that as an idea had been gaining importance as the day had worn on. ‘George, do you think that on Sunday, we might go over an’ visit with my Ma?’

*

‘Mary! Mary! Ma, ’tis Mary and George!’ It was Mary’s little sister, Beth, shrieking and jumping about as she spotted them arriving outside their father’s workshop that Sunday afternoon, the clamour of her welcome bringing her mother to the doorway.

‘Mary, child! Oh, how fine to see you. And George too; you look well. Come in, come in,’ Thirza Springer urged, ushering them through her husband’s workshop to the room at the back.

‘Well, there’s a welcome sight and no mistake,’ Henry Springer agreed, struggling against seized limbs to get up from his chair and hug his daughter. ‘Say, was she always this pretty, Thirza?’

‘Bah!’

‘Yes,
truly
, I beg you, don’t embarrass me, Pa!’

By now, though, her father had turned his attention to George and was shaking his hand and slapping his back.

‘What say you we leave the women be, eh, son? Come through here a minute an’ you can fill me in on goings-on in the world of farming.’

With the men gone, her mother busied herself fetching cups.

‘I’ll pour us some tea, love. So, how are you then?’

‘I’m fine, Ma.’ Seeing her mother again was actually making her smile.

‘Good, good. Well, I must say you look well.’ Placing two cups in front of them, she sat down beside her.

‘Must be all the air.’

‘Honeymoon glow, more like.’

‘Ma!’

‘Well, make the most of it, maidy, since it’ll scarce see the month out. Not for nothing is it called honeymoon.’ Despite the fact that she was staring into her teacup, she could feel her mother’s eyes upon her. ‘Anyway, how’s the cottage?’

Thank goodness for the change of subject. After all, while there were certain,
personal
things that she wanted to ask, she had been intending to come around to them rather more gently. The problem, now, though, was one of loyalty. Just how much should she say about Keeper’s Cottage: that it was dark and damp, and courtesy of a chimney that fell short of the top of the bank, often filled with smoke as well?

‘Fine. Real fine.’

‘Aye? And how are you getting along with your in-laws?’

That question at least was less fraught.

‘I don’t see much of them in all truth. Ma Strong is nice. I don’t think she’d stand for much nonsense and ’tis very much her that rules over the house but she seems friendly. An’ George’s Pa is nice too, though he’s a bit fierce with the boys about the farm and I shouldn’t like to cross him.’

‘Well I don’t count you will. What about those two girls? Only, that dark one looked flighty to me.’

She drew a breath. Clearly it would be wrong of her to say too much about her husband’s family but on the other hand, this
was
her ma and if she couldn’t confide in
her
, then to whom
could
she confide?

‘I like Ellen. She’s nice.’ Seeing her mother nod, she added, ‘But I’m certain Annie don’t like me.’

‘The dark one.’

‘Aye. Although for sure I don’t know why.’

‘Well, I only seen her the once but if you ask me, she’s trouble; far too forward for a woman. A woman should know her place. That husband of hers should check her ways. Aye, ’tis him I blame.’

She watched mother give a small, satisfied nod as though in emphasis of her point, after which for a moment, they both fell silent. Drifting through from her father’s workshop came the voices of the two men talking, the sound of which gave her the sudden hope that it was something as straightforward as woodworking tools they were discussing rather than anything more contentious, especially given that in these last few days, George seemed to have developed a real bee in his bonnet.

‘And how are things here?’ She asked it conversationally, noticing for the first time several frizzy silver hairs at her mother’s temples.

‘Oh, much the same. You know how it is. Nothing changes.’

‘Good.’

‘So, how are you coping with
married
life
then? Everything all right there?’

She tensed. Here was the very subject she had wanted to discuss and yet now that she had the chance, she found that actually, she didn’t.

‘Fine.’ It was something about her mother’s tone; it had a sort of
I
told
you
so
superiority about it.

‘So you’ve settled then. An’ you’ve no
problems
.’ That her mother’s remark was more of a statement than a question felt deeply irritating.

‘I said it was fine,’ she answered shortly, ‘and so it is. Although you might have been a bit more helpful about what to expect.’ Now what had she done? That wasn’t at all what she had planned to say but now that she had, there could be no taking it back.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Indignation, yes, that’s it: act affronted, mother.

‘Well, what I would have liked, on my wedding night, is not to have been such a disappointment.’ Now she was making it worse. Oh why, oh why couldn’t she have just kept quiet? It had been all very well fancying this conversation in her head but quite another to actually hold it.

‘So how were you a disappointment then? You cook an’ clean as well as anyone your age an’ know your way around a vegetable garden just fine, so what could there possibly be to disappoint?’

She shook her head and stared down at the surface of the table; the scars from decades of family life beyond disguise even after liberal applications of beeswax and elbow grease spanning those same decades.

‘Please don’t deliberately misunderstand me, Ma,’ she said wearily, running her finger along a particularly deep groove. ‘You know what I mean; I had no idea what to expect that night an’
that
is what disappointed him.’ In for a penny…

‘Well of course you didn’t; you were as pure as pure could be. And I think you’ll find that where husbands are concerned,
that
is a state of affairs of far greater import than whatever it is you mean by
knowing
what
to
do
, young lady.’

She sighed. This really couldn’t have turned out much worse.

‘Well, Ma, as I have since realised, there’s a difference between being
pure
, as you put it and being ignorant. I was happy to be the first, not so much the second. That’s all I’m saying.’ Aware now of the tautness taking hold of her body, she forced herself to unclench her jaw.

‘And that’s
my
fault somehow?’

Not wanting to step beyond the point of no return, she took a breath and adopting what she hoped was a more placatory tone, said, ‘All I’m saying, Ma, is that it would have been nice to know what to
do
.’

‘
Do
?’ Regarding her mother closely now, she sensed genuine puzzlement. ‘What would you have had me say then, eh? There is nothin’ to
do
except
what
you’re told,
when
you’re told. That’s it. It’s a man’s thing and women just learn to put up with it. The best you can ever hope for is a considerate husband an’ think yourself fortunate.’ Feeling her mother’s fingers pressing into her wrist, she noticed how she had lowered her voice to whisper fiercely, ‘Was that what you wanted me to tell you? That when you stood in that church and promised before God and your family that you would love, cherish and obey your husband till death do you part, that you were giving up all rights over your own body; that from then on, the only thing that you’d still have control over was your mind and then only if you kept your thoughts to yourself? Is
that
what you wanted to hear on your wedding day?
Is
it
?’

She had never seen her mother look so – so what? Disappointed? Angry? Embittered? And did she truly believe all that she had just said? Was it what she actually thought? And of perhaps even greater concern, was it actually true? Was there nothing more to matrimonial relations than she had so far discovered? If it
was
true – and she still hoped desperately to somehow discover that it wasn’t – it would certainly explain why George never passed any comment about her part in any of it and why he always seemed to do the same thing to her in the same way. Although none of this shed the least light on what Ellen had said that day about tenderness and acts of love.

‘So…’

‘Look, love,’ her mother started to say more softly. ‘Some things in life ain’t fair and this is one of them; men take their pleasure, women bear the children an’ there’s no more to it than that. When it comes down to it, we’re none of us any different to animals and I don’t know how else to say it.’

No, it couldn’t possibly be true. She didn’t
want
it to be true. If all that fumbling and grunting was all there ever was…

‘But—’

‘There ain’t no buts, Mary, love. Men an’ women are made differently. All right, maybe, looking back, I could have said summat; could have told you that the best thing to do is to go along with what he wants. Strikes me that like dogs, men are creatures of habit and if their needs are met without a struggle then the quicker it’s over and done with for all concerned.’

‘So there ain’t no pleasure to be had for a woman, then?’ she finally decided to ask.

‘Not so far as I’ve worked out. And I know a good many women who’d say the same.’

‘But the men enjoy it?’

‘Well, I reckon there’s always one or two that wants summat more…’ she lowered her head, ‘…
unnatural
but most women I know, have worked out how to keep their husbands happy with only modest effort. An’ that’s why I say the best you can hope for is a considerate man who don’t make unreasonable demands or come at you drunk too often.’

‘Hm.’

‘And I’ll tell you now, there’s nothing but disappointment to be had from wishing it otherwise. Fancies and daydreams are fine for young girls, Mary, but now you’re a wife, you’d be well advised to knuckle down and get on with it. Life isn’t like one of those fairy tales, you know. It’s hard work.’

Well, she had to agree with her mother on that point.

‘For certain it’s beginning to feel that way.’

And, it was also beginning to feel as though her expectations of something more
had
been unrealistic; her only role apparently being simply to submit to her husband’s needs. At least he didn’t seem unduly demanding. But now there was yet another thing bothering her, too, and it was the notion that from here on, she would always be beholden to him and without question, do his bidding. Surely that made her little more than his servant, to be obeyed in all that he saw fit? In fairness, there was no evidence so far that George would be unjust or cruel but what if he was? What could be done? Suddenly, without the romantic notions of girlhood, marriage looked a lot more one-sided, not that there was any alternative; a girl had to marry. No, all she could do now was hope that the stranger – whose offer of marriage she had so lightly accepted – turned out to be a fortunate choice. As she sat there, though, a shadow seemed to creep over her and it felt like a very cold one, too.