A Maxwell Maligned (Laird of Lochandee) (9 page)

‘Well, I like children,’ Mrs Jenkins said slowly, ‘But I’m not as young as I used to be.’ She slumped dejectedly. ‘Children are a big responsibility. I wouldn’t have minded cooking for the wee mites. As for cleaning and washing, I’ve done that all my life. Enjoyed it, I did.’ She sighed. ‘I’d welcome that occupation two or three days each week, but I couldn’t look after three wee lassies every day. I’m sorry, Mr Sedgeman.’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to do everything, Mrs Jenkins,’ Peter assured her quickly. ‘It would be a relief to me to know the children were fed and clean, at least until I can find a better solution.’

‘Well I could certainly help a bit,’ Mrs Jenkins offered, casting a swift glance around the grubby room. ‘I could come tomorrow? See how we get on?’

‘Very well. We shall take each day as it comes.’

‘Aye, that’s what the minister keeps telling me. “Take one day at a time and the Lord will provide.” I’ve found his advice a bit hard to accept these past three weeks, I can tell you,’ she wagged her head grimly, ‘But maybe He has answered my prayers after all.’

Peter found it difficult to sleep that night. He had not known Polly was so frightened of Eliza MacDougall until today. He was convinced the bruises on her arms had not been caused by a fall. He resolved to keep the woman away from his family in future. But where was he to find someone reliable, and able to cope with three lively children? He could not neglect his customers entirely. They depended on him, and he needed them for his living. He could not afford to pay a full-time delivery man as well as paying Cyril.

His mind went round and round. He heard the grandfather clock strike midnight and hoped it would not disturb Rachel O’Brian. The poor child had been exhausted. Suddenly he sat bolt upright. That was it! The obvious solution! Rachel O’Brian had been wonderful with the children tonight. She seemed to know instinctively what they needed. She was kind and patient. She needed work. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? It was true she was very young, but surely his family would be safe and cared for with Mrs Jenkins and Rachel together?

At last he settled down to sleep. His mind was easier than he had believed possible a few hours earlier. He could not have guessed the further shocks awaiting him.

Chapter Nine

R
ACHEL WAKENED EARLY AS
was her habit. As soon as she moved and felt the pain, the events of the previous day came crowding back, filling her with apprehension. Why had Ross not come to look for her? Had he really gone away? She must find work, a place to stay, and money for food. Should she go back to her own village? Tears threatened when she remembered there would be no Granny Ferguson to offer comfort or advice.

She rose and washed in the cold water from the ewer she had carried to her chamber the previous night. The least she could do was go down and light the fire and prepare breakfast for Peter Sedgeman and his children before she set out. She knew he must rise early to load his van with groceries. Today he had to make up the deliveries he had missed because of her.

The fire was blazing merrily, the hearth swept and the kettle was beginning to sing on the hob, but Rachel could not find oatmeal for the porridge. Indeed there seemed to be little food in the larder at all. Disconsolately she wandered through to the scullery and from there into the wash-house. The tin washtub and the wicker basket were both piled high with dirty washing and there was a heap of soiled baby napkins on the flagged floor. She suspected some of them had been there for several days. The smell was overpowering.

She set about lighting the little fire under the brick-built boiler and filling it up with water. Some of the clothes would need more than a boiling and a good rubbing if they were ever to come clean. She bent to pick up the pile of nappies. She stood up sharply, holding her throat, trying to control her heaving stomach – but it was no use. She dashed outside, down the short path to the closet, unaware of the woman observing her from the scullery doorway.

Eliza MacDougall had arrived earlier than usual, intending to wheedle her way back into favour with Peter Sedgeman. She had had no doubts about her success. He needed her to look after his brats.

Eventually Rachel felt recovered enough to make her way back up the garden path but as soon as she entered the wash-house she heard angry voices in the scullery.

‘Now, I know why you came back early yesterday! You wanted to trap me!’ Several oaths followed. Rachel winced. She had heard men swear often enough at the smiddy, but even they had not used words such as this woman was using – and to her employer. She stood frozen to the spot, but the tirade which followed shocked her even more.

‘I will not be quiet! Every day you pretended to be working late, saying you had deliveries to make. Liar! Leaving me to look after your brats. Pretending you didna want a woman in your bed. A real Holy Willie you’ve turned out to be!’ Eliza gave a harsh laugh. ‘All the time you were taking your pleasure with a bit of a trollop. And she’s young enough to be your daughter by the looks of her!’

‘Be quiet I say!’ Peter Sedgeman commanded angrily. ‘The girl you saw has nothing to do with me, I tell you. She …’

‘No? Then what is she doing here? Why is she staying here? No wonder you didna let me into the house when I brought the milk! She slept here last night, didn’t she? She must have done. You wouldn’t let me sleep in the same house. Not fitting you said!’ She spat the words at him. ‘And there she is, spewing her heart out. I know morning sickness when I see it. If she’s not expecting your bairn, why bring her here? You are planning to keep her here, aren’t you? That’s why you want rid o’ me!’

‘You’ve got it all wrong …’

‘Liar! You’re a liar,
Mister
Sedgeman! And you supposed to be a pillar of the kirk,’ she jeered.

Rachel could not believe the words she was hearing. As their implication registered she gasped aloud. She would have fallen had she not grasped at the mangle. She leaned against it, striving to combat the waves of faintness. Both Eliza and Peter heard her, saw her cling to the heavy iron frame.

‘Are you all right, lassie?’ Peter Sedgeman moved to her side. Eliza watched, her lip curling. She was filled with a jealous rage.

‘Now tell me she’s not expecting a bairn! Why, she can barely stand without fainting. And it doesna look to me as though there’s much else wrong wi’ her …’

‘Take that money and get out!’

‘Why should I?’ Eliza stood, hands on hips, her eyes hard.

‘Take that packet and think yourself lucky you are getting a week’s wages after the way you have neglected my children.’ Peter’s voice was like ice.

‘You can’t get rid of me that easily!’

‘Get out of my house!’

‘You’ll pay for this! She’s little more than a bairn. You’ve used her. Your customers will soon take their trade to the new Co-op Store when they hear what you’ve been up to. As for the kirk, you’ll not dare to show your face at the door when the rest of your puritan Elders and
oh, so proper
wives hear what I have to say.’ She slammed the door so hard the whole house shook.

Peter’s face was white. He knew how easily gossip spread. It grew with the telling, especially in country districts. He knew the sort of malicious gossip Eliza MacDougall would spread. However untrue it was it would be bad for his business. Trade was already poor enough with so many out of work.

‘We both need a cup of tea,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll help you through to the kitchen.’ Rachel’s fingers were clasped so tightly around the frame of the mangle she seemed incapable of letting go.

Her mind was filled with nightmarish pictures. A young woman from her village – a pretty laughing woman. “Flaunts herself in front of the men”. “Harlot”. “Deserves all she gets.” The women had muttered darkly. Even Minnie, who was always fair, had considered her wicked. They had shunned her. The Elders of the kirk had condemned her. One evening just before dark Rachel had seen her, head bowed, huddled in her shawl, hurrying from the village. A few weeks later she had heard the horrified whispers. Someone had found her. She had hanged herself from a tree in a wood. Her shame and misery had been too much to bear, or so Mrs Chalmers had told Granny Ferguson.

‘She thinks I’m going to have a baby!’ Rachel stared at Peter. Her eyes were dark with horror. ‘That’s what she said. She meant me, didn’t she?’

‘Aye, I’m afraid she did.’

‘It’s not true!’ Rachel’s voice was rising as panic filled her whole being. ‘It can’t be true! It can’t! It can’t!’

‘Hush, lassie. Hush now. Calm yourself. Come through and have a cup of tea.’

Rachel allowed him to lead her into the kitchen like someone in a trance. All three children were sitting on the rug in front of the fire. Peter made tea and added a generous measure of sugar to Rachel’s. He could see she was in a state of shock. She was shivering and staring unblinkingly into space. After much prompting she drank the hot tea while Peter went into the shop for oatmeal.

‘Listen to me, lassie,’ he said urgently, taking her by the shoulders and staring intently into her face. ‘Was it reaction made you sick?’ Rachel stared at him dumbly.

‘Have you been sick other mornings?’

She nodded. ‘But I was better after. I did my work. I’m not ill. I’m not …’

‘No, I’m sure you’re not ill.’ Peter sighed heavily and rubbed his temple. What a mess. He came to a decision.

‘I have a lot of work to get through today, Rachel. I need your help. Do you understand? I have sent Eliza away. I need you to look after the children.’ He shook her arm. ‘Rachel? Will you do that for me? Will you look after my children today?’

‘Oh, yes please!’ Polly cried joyously, moving eagerly to Rachel’s knee and peering earnestly into her face. ‘You will look after us, won’t you? Please, please, oh please?’ She tugged at Rachel’s arm. Rachel looked at her in bewilderment for a moment. Then Peter’s voice, very quiet, very firm, penetrated her numbed brain.

‘Rachel, I need you to stay here today, to look after my children. I am depending on you. Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’ Rachel’s voice was no more than a whisper, but she nodded. ‘Yes, I will look after the children until you return.’ Her face crumpled. ‘What if she is right? Where shall I sleep? Where shall I go? What can I do?’ Peter thought she sounded like a frightened child. Indeed she was little more than that, in her ignorance of life. She must know where calves came from, but it had probably never occurred to her to question how they got there. Anger surged in him. Ross must be responsible for this. As for Mistress Maxwell …

‘You’ll stay here for now,’ he said briskly. ‘Mrs Jenkins is coming to help with the washing and cleaning. Now, lassie, will you make the porridge? I must load the van and get on my way.’ He knew the best thing for Rachel was to keep her busy. The children would certainly demand her attention for much of the day and Mrs Jenkins seemed a sensible woman. He pushed a harassed hand through his thinning hair. He could only hope and pray nothing else would go wrong.

Some of Peter’s deliveries were to isolated farms up in the hills and catching up on the previous day’s deliveries had delayed him. Just before midday he found himself less than a mile and a half away from Willie Maxwell’s cottage. A detour would delay him even more but he needed to find out whether Ross really had left Windlebrae.

Ruth was pegging out the baby’s nappies when she saw his cart. She went down the path to the little wicker gate.

‘Hello, Peter! This is a surprise. I suppose you must have heard the Windlebrae gossip?’ She was smiling merrily. Peter stared at her. Ruth was not the kind of woman who took pleasure in the misfortunes of others.

‘What gossip?’ he ventured warily.

‘About the elopement of course. Ross and Rachel. They have run away together.’ She gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Oh, to be young and so much in love. They have gone off on the train together. Isn’t it romantic?’

‘It might be, if it were true,’ Peter said. ‘In my experience it’s easier to believe the course of true love never runs smoothly.’

‘Oh, you old cynic!’ Ruth teased, opening the gate wide. ‘Are you coming in for a bowl of soup and a cup of tea? I’ll do my best to cheer you up.’ Her face sobered and her eyes were sympathetic. ‘Though I know there is only one person who could make you truly happy, Peter.’

‘I came to see if Ross really has gone away?’

‘Oh, it’s true all right. He took the milk to the train yesterday morning, set the pony on the road for home by herself, then away they went. My father is staying here again. He rode over to the station to make sure Ross had not had an accident and been thrown out of the trap on the way home. The station master said he had gone on the milk train to Kilmarnock.’ She frowned thoughtfully. ‘The funny thing is he never mentioned Rachel getting on the train with Ross. But Willie’s Ma is convinced they have eloped together.’

‘Did she say that?’ Peter asked sharply.

‘Why, yes … at least she must have done. Willie would never have thought of it himself.’

‘And what does Meg say?’

‘Poor Meg. She’s hurt because neither of them confided in her. She had grown very fond of Rachel. She thought they were good friends even though Rachel is so young.’

‘Where was she yesterday?’

‘Meg? She took a sitting of eggs to one of the neighbours in exchange for duck eggs. Rachel was in bed. She had been unwell. She had gone by the time Meg came back ...’ Ruth broke off at the blazing anger in Peter’s eyes. She had never seen him look so grim before.

‘Now I will give you my version,’ he muttered through clenched teeth, ‘The truth.’ He gave Ruth a brief account of finding Rachel. ‘I would never have believed Ross would shirk his responsibilities. If I could lay my hands on him right now I would flay the skin off him.’ Ruth stared at him aghast, her face pale.

‘Rachel had been whipped, you say?’ she asked in a hoarse whisper.

‘Yes. I have not seen the wounds, but I know a victim of whipping when I see one. I have no doubt she is telling the truth, poor lassie. It was in my mind to give her a home with us, helping to look after the children. I can’t do that now. Eliza MacDougall’s accusations will make her reputation worse. I darena’ think what she will have done to my trade already.’ He grimaced and proceeded to give Ruth an edited account of Eliza’s vile accusations. ‘The problem is, Rachel seems so innocent,’ he frowned. ‘The possibility that she might be expecting a child didn’t seem to have entered her mind until she heard Eliza.’

‘She has no mother, nor anyone else, who would warn her about such things.’ Ruth frowned. Meg might have warned her but in Ruth’s opinion her sister-in-law seemed almost as innocent and gullible as any sixteen-year-old herself, in spite of her age.

‘She really needs a woman to advise her,’ Peter frowned. ‘but she appears to be quite alone in the world. Do you really think Ross has no intention of coming back?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ruth shook her head. ‘I thought he was very fond of Rachel. I think we should tell Meg what has happened. She deserves to know the truth.’

Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Ruth’s father, dressed for riding. When he heard of the two outlying deliveries which Peter had still to make he offered to take them for him.

‘That would help me enormously.’ Peter accepted the offer gratefully.

‘You will have time for some soup now. Willie will be in for his soon.’

‘All right,’ Peter agreed. ‘but I must not delay too long. Rachel seemed so distraught.’

‘This is market day. Willie’s mother will be away. It would be a good chance to tell Meg about Rachel. I’ll go while you and Willie have some soup. He’ll keep an eye on the children until I come back.’

Meg was preparing the midday meal when Ruth reached the farmhouse. She smiled a welcome, then saw Ruth’s serious expression. ‘Are you alone? What’s wrong? The children …?’

‘They are with Willie. Peter Sedgeman is there too. He came to see if Ross had really gone away.’

‘Why? I mean why does he want to know?’

‘Did your mother actually say Ross and Rachel had eloped?’

‘Yes.’ Meg frowned. ‘Well, maybe she didn’t say so exactly. But that is what she seems to believe.’

‘There’s no easy way to tell you this, Meg.’ Ruth said quietly. ‘Rachel did not go with Ross on the train. Peter found her last night. She was miles from here. She must have taken the road leading to up to Ben Gowan at the crossroads. She wouldn’t know where any of the roads led come to think of it. She had been beaten and …’