His Spoilt Lady (19 page)

Of course to
Linnett, used to the large stately houses of England, two extra
bedrooms did not merit any comment. John had come to an agreement
with Hans over payment for their room and board; however, in the
first instance, Hans had refused to discuss such a thing. But
Sarah’s quiet good sense had prevailed, and a sum was agreed upon
between them. John helped Hans with the farm and was learning a
great deal about the land from him.

John remained
extremely concerned about Linnett. At first, he had been nearly
demented with the possibility that he might lose her, but as time
went on and Linnett began to improve, he relaxed, happy to know his
beloved wife would live. However, it was now the end of August, and
soon it would be too late to travel across land to Boston. Winter
could be fierce, and with Linnett’s health so poor, they would be
foolish to risk trying to reach Boston before the spring. John had
tried to talk to her, but any discussion with him seemed to tire
her and she would tell him to leave, asking for Sarah to come to
her. The truth was that Linnett was afraid of the journey. She felt
safe in the pretty farm house, and Sarah reminded her a little of
her maid Lottie, not in looks but in temperament.

Linnett
assumed, quite wrongly, that John had sent word ahead to Boston,
and daily she expected to be told that a coach had arrived to
collect them. Linnett had no concept of how wild and rugged the
country was in the colonies, and her expectations were based on her
knowledge of life in England. When she was well enough to sit up
and think rationally, she found that she harboured a deep
resentment towards her husband, so much so, that when he entered
her room so full of vigour and vitality, she felt an overwhelming
rage towards him. She tried to stay away from him as much as she
could. Being young and confused, she had no idea why, after feeling
so much love for her husband when on board the ship, she should now
have developed such an intense dislike of him.

The family and
John were sat around the table, finishing super that night. Linnett
had taken her supper on a tray in her room. Hans was quietly
filling his pipe with tobacco while Sarah cleared the dishes from
the table. Peter was chatting excitedly once again about his
discovery of the small boat wrecked on the beach and of finding two
bodies, which had turned out to be John and Linnett. He was just
getting to his favourite part of the story, where he had run to
tell his father about his discovery, when the bell upstairs could
be heard tinkling yet again. Sarah sighed heavily, her feet in
pain, and since Linnett had recovered, she had been ringing that
bell all day. She set aside the plate she had begun washing and
started towards the stairway.

As she passed
her husband, he put out his arm and held her back; surprised, Sarah
glanced down at him. Hans shook his head. “Niet, leave it,” he
said. “The girl will come down here if what she wants is
urgent.”

Sarah looked
dubious and said, “But she has been very ill, Hans.”

Hans nodded,
saying, “She has indeed, but she is better now and only a sickness
of the soul remains; so leave her Sarah. Only she can heal the
rest.” He patted his wife’s bottom. “Coffee would be nice.”

Sarah flushed;
she wished her husband wouldn’t be so familiar with her in front of
their guest. She glanced at John and found him looking at her with
kind understanding in his eyes.

“Hans is quite
right, Sarah. You must not wait on Linnett anymore. You have been
wonderfully kind, and I do not doubt that she owes you her
life.”

John held up
his hand as Sarah denied this. “There is something else troubling
her,” John said. “I like the way Hans described it, as a sickness
of the soul. God knows she has seen some horrible things, enough to
turn a man’s stomach, let alone a young girl.” John fell silent,
frowning. Hans put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Peter, you go
now and fetch some water for your mother.” He nodded at his small
son, who was listening round-eyed to the adults’ conversation; he
wriggled crossly on his seat. “Not yet, in a minute, Pa,” he
whined.

Hans took his
pipe from his mouth and regarded his small son steadily. An awkward
silence fell, until Peter reluctantly got up to fetch the bucket
from his mother. She smiled at him fondly and ruffled his hair, but
Peter jerked away as if he had been scalded. “Mind your manners,
son.” Hans’s deep voice held a warning. Peter flushed and reached
up to peck his mother’s cheek with a brief kiss before grabbing the
bucket and running out of the house.

As soon as the
door had banged shut behind him the room filled with laughter.
“That boy!” said Sarah, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “He
is a lovely lad. You should be very proud,” John told her,
chuckling.

Hans looked
thoughtful and said, “He is becoming spoiled. He needs brothers and
sisters.”

An awkward hush
fell as Hans realised what he had said, but into the hush came a
frantic jangling of the bell upstairs.

John stood up;
it seemed an opportune moment to leave. “Excuse me, Hans and Sarah.
Thank you for a delicious dinner. I will see to my wife’s needs and
then retire. I bid you both goodnight!”

Hans slapped
Johns shoulder and said, “Good night my friend.”

As John
disappeared up the stairs Hans turned, took the dish cloth from
Sarah and scooped her onto his knee. Holding her face between his
large callused hands, he kissed her soft mouth. “Ach, you know I
didn’t mean that as it sounded. There was no criticism meant. I
love you and our son. Both of you are all I need.” Sarah nodded her
head “I know, I know.”

She laid her
head against his chest and they sat in companionable silence until
young Peter banged back indoors again, struggling with the heavy
pale of water.

John opened
Linnett’s bedroom door quietly and stepped into the room. Linnett
was standing by the window, gazing out at the moon. She turned,
expecting to see Sarah, and frowned when she realised it was
John.

“How are you
feeling?” John asked her gently.

“Perhaps a
little better,” Linnett replied, picking up her hair brush and
brushing her hair.

“We have to
talk, Linnett.”

“Yes about
what?” Linnett said, turning her back to again to continue her
brushing. John felt irritated and took a steadying breath, telling
himself that he must be patient; she had been so very ill.

John went over
and stood behind her. Firmly, he turned her around and sat her down
on the bed then he sat beside her. “You have been through a
terrible ordeal, and you have been very ill, but you are over both
now and we have to make our plans.”

John waited for
his wife to reply, but after an uncomfortable couple of minutes had
passed without her saying a word, he tried again. “Linnett, what is
wrong? You can tell me, I am your husband and I love you.”

Linnett made a
small sound like a snort. John frowned.” Do you doubt me?” he
asked. Linnett tossed her head back and her hair rippled silkily
down her back.

“Love?” Linnett
sneered. “Was it love that you sought to show me, then, with men
hanging from the ship’s mast kicking their legs, their poor tongues
sticking out like huge purple plums from their mouths?” Linnett’s
voice began to rise hysterically, “poor mangled bodies screaming in
agony. Luck bought us here! Not you! We should have died like
Captain Pettigrew and Duncan and all those poor brave men! You talk
of love?”

Linnett begun
to laugh horribly, hysterically, shaking her head from side to side
in a wild rocking motion. John sat frozen, shocked by her reaction,
but how could he deny her words when they held so much truth?
White-faced and guilt-ridden, he stood up and quietly left the
room. When he had gone, Linnett flung herself down onto the bed and
sobbed herself to sleep. At some point during the night, she woke
shivering with cold and crept miserably under the covers,
eventually falling into a restless doze.

In the cold
grey light of morning and for the first time since their arrival at
the homestead, Linnett arose at dawn and dressed, joining the
others for breakfast. She helped to lay the table and to clear it
but made no effort to help Sarah in any other way. Linnett spent
her time alone or with Peter, she was much taken with the boy,
delighted with his fresh clean youth and innocence, a balm to the
horrors that had stolen her own childish innocence forever.

He adored
Linnett with calf like devotion, which amused his father and
worried his mother. “I don’t like it, Hans,” Sarah said. “Peter has
chores to do, and Linnett distracts him.” Hans shook his large
shaggy blonde head and grinned at his anxious wife. “Woman, you
worry too much. Linnett has much healing to do inside, ja? The
boy’s youth is helping her I think.”

Sarah banged
the pastry she was rolling hard down on the table. “Don’t call me
woman! You know how I dislike it. I am worried though, Hans. I
mean, how long are they going to stay? They barely talk to each
other. Has John mentioned what he intends to do yet?”

Hans pulled out
a chair and sat down. Sarah was right; winter was on its way, and
now Linnett was up and about, the two of them should be making
their plans to leave. Hans got out his pipe and rummaged in his
pocket for his tobacco. “I think tonight that I will suggest they
winter up at the cabin. It will need some small repairs to the roof
and some supplies carrying up, but it will be cosy for them until
spring.”

Sarah nodded.
“Sometimes, Hans Lammers, you are so clever, I wonder why you are
not involved in politics. I had forgotten about our cabin! Whatever
is between them they will have resolved it by the spring. Yes, it
is a very good idea.”

Later that
evening, after they had all sat down and partaken of Sarah’s
delicious pie, Hans cleared his throat and spoke. “We are so glad
Sarah and I, that Peter found you both and that you are now well
again. I have given thought to your predicament.”

He paused and
started to get out his pipe, and John, thinking Hans had said all
he intended, said, “We are very grateful to you and Sarah for your
kindness and hospitality indeed for saving our lives.”

Linnett,
sitting across the table, looked at the Lammers in turn and
murmured, “Thank you both so much.”

She looked down
at her hands, which were trembling; Linnett was afraid they were
going to be asked to leave. All at once, she felt guilty for not
having helped Sarah with the chores or the cooking. Hans raised his
hand and shook his head smilingly. “Ach, I fear you have
misunderstood me. We do not need your thanks; we are friends now,
ja?”

John and
Linnett both nodded.

“We have a
cabin which was our home for a while before we built this house. It
is two miles away up high on the side of a hill in woodland. It is
very small but sturdy and snug through the winter months. We would
like to lend it to you until you can start your journey in the
spring” Hans sat back a satisfied grin on his open face.

They were all
surprised when Linnett spoke first. “That is so very kind of you,
Hans, but the coach will already have set off to collect us and
will be here very soon, I am sure”

There was an
awkward silence, and then John asked, “What coach is that, my
dear?”

Linnett stared
at John, feeling the beginnings of alarm. “Well, you would have
sent word to your people in Boston. You have, haven’t you? They
will already have set out to collect us.”

John looked at
her pityingly. “I am sorry, my dear, but I have not been able to
send word to Boston.” He looked at his wife and saw her face become
pinched and white so he hurried on, saying, “Linnett, there is no
post from here until spring. There are no roads to Boston, only a
rough trail best travelled on horseback. That is how we will have
to travel. It is much too late in the season to risk such a journey
now. The winters here are harsh, and that is why I think we should
gratefully accept Hans’s generous offer of overwintering in their
cabin.”

He turned and
put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave a squeeze of
gratitude. There was a sudden crash as Linnett leaped to her feet
and knocked over her chair.

“Well, I won’t
stay here!” she shrilled before she spun away from the table and
flew out of the door, which banged shut behind her.

Sarah stood up.
“I will go after her,” she said, but John put his hand on her arm.
“No thank you, Sarah. I should talk to her.”

Hans nodded in
agreement. “Ja, this is for John to solve. Sarah, now come sit with
your old husband and tell me how much you love him.” He patted his
knee invitingly. Sarah harrumphed but nevertheless went and sat on
his lap.

John found
Linnett sitting on a log beyond the barn, looking at the moon.

“Can I sit
down?” he asked, doing so before she could say no. Linnett
shrugged, turning her face away. John studied her profile for a
minute or two before saying, “America is still a young country.
There are so many hazards quite apart from the weather, which is so
much more extreme than the English climate. There are Indians,
native wild people, with sometimes savage behaviour. The animals
here are much fiercer than anything found in England. There are
bears and mountain lions, wolves and snakes. Linnett, this is not a
safe and ordered country such as you are used to; it is wild and as
yet untamed. I thought you understood that.”

Without turning
or looking at him, she said flatly, “You know, I believe at one
point I really did want to be a part of that wilderness, but after
what happened on the ship … I only want to be safe.”

John was filled
with pity. “Oh, my dearest girl, I am so sorry to have put you in
so much danger. It was not my intention, indeed. I would die rather
than expose you to danger, Linnett, which is why we would be
foolish to risk a long journey at the start of winter.”