A Country Marriage (23 page)

‘Good of you to help out, son,’ his father greeted him.

‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ George returned with an easy grin, ‘although it’s good of bailey to give me the time.’

In front of the dairy, Robert was readying the cart for market, and next to him Hannah was checking that all of their goods had been loaded.

‘You all right?’ she asked, her eyes settling on Annie leaning against the cart. ‘You look a bit green, my girl.’

‘I’m fine,’ Annie replied to her question. ‘Just feelin’ a bit rough; no more than that.’

‘Well, the last thing we need this weekend is some kind of sickness going round. Honestly, if it’s not one girl, it’s another,’ she muttered as she moved away to count the baskets in the back of the cart. ‘Now Ellen,’ she said briskly, ‘don’t forget them pickles in the pantry to go with the nammet or to send Lottie up the orchard for some apples.’ She lifted the flap of one of the baskets and looked inside before refastening it. ‘An’ don’t wait to be called; get down there early, all right?’ She shook her head. ‘Why on God’s earth Thomas has to start the harvest on market day, I’ll never know.’

‘Aye, Ma Strong,’ Ellen answered and with a despairing sigh, raised her eyebrows at Annie, as she watched Hannah climb up onto the cart.

Wasting no time, Robert flicked the reins and as the cartwheels crackled across the cobbles, the team of men carrying their freshly sharpened scythes clomped down the lane towards Bottom Field and peace once again descended over the yard.

Dawn that morning was a muted affair, with a thin veil of cloud across the sky to the east, but no one seemed to mind the cool start and once the first stand of wheat was cut, the men, working in pairs, swiftly fell into a steady rhythm opening out the field borders. With their first task quickly complete, they stood admiring their initial efforts and inhaling the air already thick with wheat doust. Feeling the specks settling uncomfortably in the back of his throat – but knowing that he had several days of such discomfort ahead of him and that his father would think it far too early to stop for a drink – George swallowed hard several times instead and didn’t even bother to suggest it. Then, forming a line to work up the field in a row, Thomas directed his sons back to work in the reaping of the field proper, with the two hired hands behind them wielding sickles to gather a sheaf, bind it and stack the stooks; proof that at last another year’s harvest was finally under way.

*

When the men trudged back from the field that first evening, dusk was already luring brimstones to the lanterns in the yard and few words were exchanged as, exhausted, they carried their scythes and strickles back to the barn.

‘Hey, you two, come an’ see this,’ Mary heard Annie’s voice calling back into the kitchen. Catching Ellen’s eye, she put down what she was doing and went to the doorway to follow Annie’s apparently transfixed gaze to the far corner of the yard.

‘
Who
on
earth
…?’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake; ’tis only young Francis Troke,’ Ellen announced, arriving behind her and giving the distinct impression that she was embarrassed by the sight of him.

In the fading half-light, she strained her eyes wider. Stripped to the waist, Francis Troke was dousing himself with water from the pump.

‘Don’t remember seein’ him around before,’ she replied, thinking it unlikely she would have forgotten such looks.

‘I heard Martha telling Ma Strong that he’s been working for a big house somewhere,’ Ellen remarked, ‘but that since they don’t want him right now, he’s come back home for a while.’

‘Well their loss is our gain,’ she heard Annie answering and when she shot a glance in her direction, it was to see that she was tilting her head in appreciative fashion.

‘But… what’s he doing?’ she asked, her question causing Annie to erupt into laughter.

It was Ellen, though, who answered.

‘Well I would have thought ʼtis obvious; he’s washing.’

‘Oh, I think he’s doing rather more than that, Ellen, least, for me he is!’ Annie was quick to respond.

‘Me too,’ she heard herself agreeing and then felt her cheeks colouring with the shame of it. While it might be true, it was hardly a thing to go admitting to.

‘Honestly! The two of you are disgraceful,’ Ellen was admonishing, ‘and I’m particular surprised at
you
, Mary,’ she added, before hastening back inside.

Her words though, barely pierced Mary’s captivation. She’d never given much thought to men’s bodies before – after all, she only knew George’s – and so she was astonished to find that the word that came to mind, was
beautiful
.

‘
That
is quite something.’ Beside her she could see Annie’s lips forming into an approving smile.

‘Aye,’ she found herself absently agreeing.

‘Course, really we ought look away.’

‘Aye, we should.’

It didn’t escape her notice, though, that neither of them moved.

‘Mind you, he knows exactly what he’s doing.’

‘Truthfully?’

‘Course he does,’ Annie said with a laugh, ‘but as far as I’m concerned, anyone with a body like that is welcome to show it about for my entertainment. I ain’t ever seen muscle in so many places!’

‘He’s certainly eye-catching,’ she agreed. ‘Not many men got such golden hair.’

‘And don’t he know it! Look at him; barely out of swaddling but all the maids in the village throwing themselves at his feet, our own Tabitha among them.’

‘Truly?’ So not only had she never noticed Martha’s son before but neither had she noticed Tabitha swooning over him. She shook her head.

‘You ain’t seen her mooning about the yard, then, acting like she been robbed of every grain of sense? And it ain’t like she started out with much!’

‘Goodness.’

‘’Tis a shame it’s growing dark so quick…’

‘Aye, although maybe it’s just as well, since surely it’s better our husbands don’t come out of the barn and catch us like this,’ she pointed out, aware that her pulse was racing far too fast for comfort and that her cheeks felt as though she’d been sitting too close to the fire. But even as she said it, she knew that she didn’t really
want
to look away and was pretty certain that she had never before experienced the disturbing effect he seemed to be having on her.

‘Aye, that mid be true enough,’ Annie seemed to agree, ushering her inside and closing the door behind them.

*

The following morning, well ahead of the others assembling for the start of another day of reaping, George went in through the kitchen door and, taking in the fact that Ellen was alone in the scullery, hovered awkwardly before eventually asking,

‘Did Ma bring back a
County
Chronicle
for Pa yesterday?’

‘She did, yes,’ Ellen replied without looking up from what she was doing. ‘An’ I read the news to him straight after supper, same as always.’

‘I didn’t stay for supper,’ he started to say, knowing that she was going to be less than amenable to the request he was about to make. ‘I went on home.’

‘I know.’

‘So, I was wondering whether you’d look to see if there was anything…’ he tried to adopt a contrite expression, imagining as he did so, though that he was failing by a good measure, ‘about anything.’

‘There’s always summat about summat; wouldn’t be much of a newspaper otherwise.’

‘Please, Ellen. I wouldn’t trouble you if it weren’t important,’ he reasoned and watched as she walked past him into the kitchen to fetch a tablecloth from the dresser.

‘Important to
you
, maybe but you know how I feel about all that… business.’

‘Aye an’ I’d read it for myself if I could but well, you got the better of me there; you had a pa who thought you should be able to read…’ he wheedled, his eyes following her hands as they spread the cloth across the table in readiness for the breakfast things.

‘He taught us to read because he believed in the value of us bein’ able to see the Lord’s words for ourselves, not so as to read the sort of things written of in the
Chronicle
.’

‘Aye but it ain’t like I’m askin’ you to
agree
with what you read to me,’ he countered and followed behind as she went back through to the scullery.

‘Oh, very well, then,’ he heard her agree with a resigned sigh. ‘Reach me down that dish from the top shelf to save me fetching a stool and I’ll go an’ pick it out of the fire basket.’

Moments later, sitting beside her at the table, he held himself stiffly against his impatience and watched as she brushed a layer of sawdust and bark from the paper and then smoothed her hand across the folds.

‘Was there much of note?’ he couldn’t resist asking.

‘Well that’s not what’s of interest to your pa, so I paid scant heed but I did notice this,’ she said, turning the paper over and running her finger down to a paragraph outlined by an imposing border.

‘An’ what is it?’ he asked, leaning across.

‘It says,
Whereas
in
the
small
hours
of
yesterday
the
premises
of
Mr
Foote
in
the
parish
of
Mershe
were
unlawfully
entered
by
a
Person
or
Persons
unknown
at
this
time
and
a
Thrashing
Machine
was
feloniously
broken
and
destroyed
;
this
is
to
serve
notice
that
a
reward
of
Ten
Pounds
is
hereby
offered
to
any
person
supplying
such
Particulars
as
will
lead
to
the
Conviction
of
the
Offender
or
Offenders
.’

‘Ten pounds will loosen a tongue and no mistake,’ George remarked, thinking it a low and cunning move to offer a reward.

‘Shouldn’t be need of a reward for an honest person to come forward and tell what they know.’

Not wanting to be responsible for starting one of Ellen’s zealous diversions, he made submissive noises.

‘No indeed. So what else is there then?’

‘Well, over here somewhere I do recall seeing a few lines, all pretty much in the same vein. Where are they, now?’ Bending her head low over the small and smudgy print, she ran her finger down the columns. ‘Fetch another candle over, would you? I can scarce see what I’m about, here.’ Bringing a second candle to place at her other side, George settled down again and waited. ‘Ah, here; this bit.’ She stabbed the paper with her forefinger.

‘What do it say?’ He could only coax her so much before she lost patience with him.

‘This one says,
Micklehampton
.
A
band
of
rioters
pulled
down
outbuildings
in
the
proximity
of
Micklehampton
Union
Workhouse
on
Thursday
last
and
a
troop
of
guards
was
sent
to
disperse
them
.’ When she turned to look at him, he was careful to make no comment. ‘Another says,
On
Monday
last
,
a
band
of
labourers
assembled
in
the
vicinity
of
Shepherd’s
Dene
Farm
but
dispersed
quietly
on
being
told
that
a
…’ as she faltered, George watched her frown and then admit, ‘not rightly certain of this next word;
de-tach-ment
, would it be?’

‘Aye, a detachment, that could be right,’ George agreed, his interest stirred.

‘…
a
detachment
of
the
17th
were
en
route
from
Winchester
to
maintain
the
peace
.’