A Mother's Sacrifice (32 page)

‘My dear Mrs Bilton, what an excellent notion! You know, I thought you were far too young to be the mistress of Bilton Farm, especially so now your dear mama has passed on. My sister has advised me otherwise, of course, and I see for myself how well you fare. Although, my dear, you look quite gaunt today but I understand it is your grief. I shall be pleased to let you have my news sheets when I am finished with them.’

Quinta thanked him graciously. The politics of farming did not interest her. But lists and movements of the King’s army did.

 

Winter in the King’s army for Patrick was different from any he had experienced before because of the unremitting heat. A wind from the sea provided occasional relief, but it might deceive him into shedding garments and exposing parts of his white skin to the scorching sun. No matter how stifling his uniform, he valued its protection, and, in spite of his discomfort and the unhappiness, in his heart he acknowledged a raw beauty in the island.

There were long days patrolling atop the high stone wall of the fort; time to survey the lushness of the territory and beyond that the unbelievable colours of the sea. In the burning heat the water glittered like the blue sapphires and green emeralds his father had shown him as a boy. From light to dark to light again it glistened and beckoned as did gems.Yet when it became grey and turbulent, whipped to a foam by high winds, he shuddered at its power. He remembered a sea storm on his journey here when he had feared for his life.

The storms were mightier than any he had known, blowing over ships and buildings alike.The rain fell in solid sheets, dropping from the heavens like a stone, a relentless soaking that turned the track into a muddy stream. Afterwards the air he breathed became steam and his light trousers and cotton shirts soon soaked in sweat. Yet no soldier was allowed outside the confines of the fort without a scarlet coat on his back and a high shako on his head. When not on guard duty or patrolling the island, the coolest place was underground in the cavernous brick cellars where the men slept, ate, drank and gambled.

For two days he had sensed an urgency among the officers and wondered what was happening. He was resting on his hard narrow bed when his sergeant marched over purposefully.‘Ross! Come with me. Hurry.’

Patrick moved quickly, struggling into his jacket and snatching up his cartridge belt and rifle. ‘What’s afoot, sir?’

‘The captain said there have been reports of unrest down by the harbour. We’re regrouping tomorrow. The rebels have got hold of guns and I want my wife and daughter out of there before nightfall.’

They set off down the track at double time

‘The slaves are angry. They are impatient to be free men and are fired up by Creoles in the harbour town. They will arm and march on the plantations and this fort. I want you to bring Constance and Faith here for safety.’

‘Me? Why? Where will you go?’

‘I’m joining the captain’s force to surround the rebels.’

‘Then you need me with you.’

‘You’re one of our best shots.The colonel wants you defending the fort in case they are attacked.You’ve time to get my women back there first.’

‘You sound worried. How many weapons have the rebels got?’

‘They have rifles and ammunition from a supply ship that foundered on the reef a few weeks ago. The word is that it was pirates or wreckers. It makes no difference - the rebels are not going to wait while the government drags its feet over emancipation. They want freedom for all slaves now.’

‘But Constance was once a slave herself. She is not their enemy.’

‘Her daughter is the child of an English soldier. She is seen as one of us.’

They found Faith alone in the tiny harbourside house. Her eyes were wide and frightened as the sergeant burst through the flimsy door and demanded, ‘Where is your mother?’

‘I don’t know. She told me to wait here for her.’

‘Why? What was she planning to do?’

‘I - I—’

‘Tell me, Faith!’

‘We were going to take a boat to one of the smaller islands until - until—’

The sergeant turned to Patrick. ‘I know where she has gone. You take Faith back to the fort now. I’ll go and find Constance and follow you.’

‘What about the captain’s force?’

‘Let me worry about that.’

‘We’ll wait for you on the hill track.’

‘No. I’ve been in one of these rebellions before. Passions run high and there are old scores to settle. Take Faith straight back to the barracks and stay there. The fort will not fall to the rebels.’

‘Very well.’ Patrick extended his hand to Faith.

Her father kissed her briefly and pushed her towards him. ‘Go now. Hurry.’

Patrick took Faith’s small hand in his and dragged her after him. ‘Can you run?’ he asked.

She nodded.

‘Let’s see how fast.’

They stopped for breath halfway up the track. Beyond the palm trees the sun glinted on the ocean and in the distance they heard the first shots fired. ‘Ready?’ Patrick asked. But he saw from her wide eyes and panting that she was too exhausted to carry on. He slung his rifle across his back, said, ‘This is the only way,’ and hoisted her over one shoulder. Her extra weight slowed him but he reached the fort without mishap. The distant firing had increased and the colonel was giving commands.

‘Ross, what the hell were you doing? Who is this woman?’

‘She’s Faith, my sergeant’s daughter, sir. Can she stay with your wife until her mother arrives?’

‘My good lady is marshalling all the women in the servants’ house. Show her where it is and then get to your post. I’m doubling the guard all round.’

‘Stay with the women,’ Patrick told Faith, and hurried towards his major for orders.

The firing continued through the night and the following day. Word came through that the rebels had been contained in the waterside settlement and the plantations were safe. But there had been shooting and casualties on both sides and it was not until two days later that the extent of this was discovered. The bodies of the sergeant and Constance were found floating in the harbour and taken back to the fort. They had been shot.

Patrick saw nothing of Faith during this time until he was called upon to attend the funeral and fire a salute. The sergeant and his wife were laid to rest together in the burial ground within the fort. Afterwards the colonel summoned him to his office. He was sitting at his desk with a collection of papers in front of him. His wife was there with Faith by her side.

‘Ross.’

‘Sir.’ Patrick stood smartly to attention.

‘You were a convict?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘The sergeant and his captain both give you good reports.’ Patrick looked straight ahead.

‘I have the sergeant’s will here. It appoints you as his daughter’s guardian.’

‘Guardian?’ Patrick didn’t remember agreeing to that.

‘Nothing else to say?’

‘I - I didn’t know, sir. I agreed to see her safely settled in England, that is all.’

‘He must have trusted you.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Well, like it or not, she’s your responsibility now. You don’t have a woman, do you?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Then she’ll stay with the women servants in their quarters and we’ll find her work.’

‘Thank you, sir. I have a question.’

‘What is it?’

‘How long will it be before I go back? I mean, before I can take her to England?’

‘You’re a soldier, Ross. You go where the King sends you, when he sends you.’ He waved his hand dismissively.

‘Sir.’ He marched out smartly.

Guardian? He never agreed to be her guardian! That bloody sergeant! Still, this was his life now and he was a good soldier, gaining admiration and respect from the officers. But his hopes of returning home and seeing Quinta again were receding ever further into the distance. He wondered if she had received his letter.

Chapter 21

Quinta was more than five months gone when Noah came back from High Peak. She was beginning to show and wore her mother’s gown with a little more room around the waist. It was a cold winter and so perfectly normal for her to be bound in a shawl all day. At night she wrapped herself in a thick calico nightgown and wondered how she was going to explain the existence of a child to him.

Noah returned to his farm with an increased certainty about his position in the Riding; in that respect the visit had been successful. But Quinta detected flashes of self-importance about him that worried her. On his first night home he asked her to sit with him by the fire after their tea.

‘Well now, Mrs Bilton, you are not as blooming as you were afore I left. But spring will soon be upon us. The sap is rising. We’ll have a babe by next Christmastide. Now that Mother has passed away, God rest her soul, and you’re getting the house to rights, you’ll be needing more help. I’ll see about a maid for you at the hiring fair on Lady Day.’

‘Thank you, Noah. I thought I had lost your favour for good.’

‘Aye well, I reckon Mother were the one to cast the spell. Now she’s gone, you’ll be back in my bedchamber where you belong.’ He stood up. ‘Let’s be going, then.’

She had unpacked his travelling bag and noticed a bottle of tincture with an apothecary’s label. She placed it by the bed with a glass of water. The chamber was cold as Noah had said not to light a fire but Quinta had warmed the bed with bedpans.

‘You have medicine to take, Noah. Are you ill?’

He placed a few drops in the water and drank it. ‘It cools the blood.’

‘In winter?’ Lord help her, she must remember not to argue with him!

Noah took off his jacket and waistcoat and unbuttoned the flap on his breeches. ‘We’ll see.Take off your gown and corsets.’

She did so and stood in the middle of the room in her loose chemise, drawers, stockings and boots.

He extended a forefinger and shook his hand up and down. ‘And those women’s things.’

She hesitated. Her nightgown was in the ottoman and she did not want him to see her naked. ‘You know what it does to you, Noah.’

‘Don’t you worry about me. I saw an apothecary at Crosswell and he told me to try his tincture.’ He took hold of himself and flopped out of his breeches. ‘See?’

Quinta stared. She had not looked at that part of him before and the sight of it made the bile rise in her throat. She didn’t want him anywhere near her or her growing child. She wanted to run out of here, into the cold night air, anywhere, as long as it was away from Noah Bilton and his thoughtless, ill-mannered ways. ‘I - I’ll just get my nightgown,’ she muttered.

‘Let me have a look at you, first. A gentleman has a right to his pleasure.’

This was a different message from the one about fornication and she wondered what he had been doing in the High Peak. ‘I’m cold, Noah. I don’t want to catch a chill.’

‘Go on, then.’ He agreed reluctantly and sat on the side of the bed with his legs splayed wide and his breeches flap down, exposing himself to her.

Hurriedly, she turned her back on him, lifted her chemise over her head and replaced it with a roomy calico nightgown.

‘My, Mrs Bilton, you’re a bit more rounded than before I went. What have you been eating?’

Breathless with anxiety, she almost swallowed her reply. ‘I - I didn’t eat as much meat when I was living at Top Field.’

She unlaced her boots, rolled off her stockings and stepped out of her drawers, making a fuss about folding them and laying them neatly on top of the ottoman. But eventually she had to face him and when she did she was shocked to see that he was handling himself inside his breeches, fondling and rubbing himself.

He looked up at her, frowning. ‘What’s to do here, eh? The apothecary said I might have to coax myself. Or ask you to do it for me.’

Quinta froze to the spot. Please no, she begged silently. I don’t want to touch any part of him. I hate him. She could not believe that just a few months ago she had offered herself to him as she had. But then she was desperate to deceive him for the sake of her child and would have done anything.

It was far too late for deception now. Her life was ruined whatever happened and the only thing that kept her going was that she would give birth to Patrick’s child in the spring. She wondered what else the apothecary had said to Noah and whether she could persuade him that, somehow, in his desperate hurried fumbling, he had got her with child before he went away.

‘I expect you’re tired from your journey, Noah,’ she suggested.

‘But I only had to look at you afore! Fetch the candle over so I can see you better.’

She carried the candle to the bedside table but before she could put it down he said sharply, ‘Give it here and take off your nightgown.’

‘But I’m cold, Noah!’ she protested, handing him the light.

‘I said, take it off!’

She struggled with the voluminous material over her head so that he would not see her swelling belly and held it bunched up in front of her. He snatched it away from her and threw it aside, holding the candle so close to her skin that she could feel the warmth from the flame. Then he moved the light to his open flap. ‘Come on, fella.’ He sounded puzzled. ‘I don’t understand this. You’ve got nowt on but nowt’s stirring.’

Quinta crossed her arms over her belly, relieved he was looking at himself and not her. ‘What have you taken, Noah?’ she asked.

‘A potion from the East, the apothecary said. It cost me plenty, anyway.’

Quinta remembered how he used to be and thought that, whatever he had bought, he must have taken too much. She felt a huge relief that she would not have to endure her duties in the marriage bed with him, at least for tonight. And she most certainly had no wish for him to stop taking his potion. ‘Perhaps you have to get used to it,’ she suggested. ‘You know, like laudanum. Knocks you out at first but you have to keep taking it for it to work.’