Maggie's Child (6 page)

‘Keep the ruddy thing quiet, cannot you? My head is pounding. I work too hard, that is my trouble.’

Maggie bit back the retort that the brandy may have brought it about, but she said nothing.

‘Do not forget. You have to get to the Arlington’s today.’ He held up his hand. ‘I want no answers back. I am master in my own house. What I say here, you will obey.’

Again, Maggie said nothing. There was nothing to say.

‘Did you hear me woman? The Arlington house today. Remember?’

Maggie sighed and added a resigned tone to her voice. ‘If you insist, husband. If you think it is the right thing to do.’

‘Of course it is right. I am always right.’ Jacob puffed out his chest.

Pompous fool. If only you knew.
Maggie felt a flutter of nervous excitement and suppressed an urge to tell him the truth. To throw it in his face and rid him of his righteous attitude.

She prepared a large pan of creamy oats and a stack of sandwiches. While Jacob sat in silence eating his second breakfast of the day, she took the pan over to the farmhand cottage. Lizzie was already there. Her job was to clean and wash for the men. Lizzie kept their mealtime schedule.

‘Morning, Lizzie. Here, I prepared a batch of creamed oats for breakfast and a lunch pail; I thought it would save you a job. I could do with a hand with the milking today. Jacob has found me another job to do in the village, as if I do not have enough on my shoulders. Could you tell the boys to wait for me? I need a ride into the village.’

Lizzie smiled. It bore a touch of sympathy. ‘I hear he got you a wet nurse job at that woman Arlington’s home. It’ll be painful for you, though happen, it’ll help take ‘way your own heart wrench.’

Maggie nodded in response. She did not question how Lizzie had found out. She knew it would be the talk of the farm. No doubt, one of the men had been out with Jacob drinking. He had come home, so she knew he had not been in Lizzie’s bed. She went across the room and put the pan onto the fire hook.

‘It will be hard, and I am dumbfounded Jacob could do such a thing. I am sure aside from the money; he thought it would help me recover. It’s a boy. It would have been harder if it had been a little girl. After...’ Maggie pulled what she hoped was a sad face.

Lizzie just nodded in sympathy.

Maggie smiled back. She could not say Jacob had given her the most wonderful gift in the world. That her heart was singing with joy. Lizzie broke her train of thought.

‘If you make the oats and lunch every morning, I’ll a help you with whatever chores I can. Mind if Jacob sees he will not be too happy.’ Lizzie helped herself to a portion of breakfast and nodded her head to the ceiling. ‘Better get this down me. They’ll be a rattling about soon. Don’t you be a wurrygut about me helping you; most of my chores are done. The others can wait ‘til this evening. They are peat digging today so I will get a bit o’ rest. You do what you have to gal.’

On impulse, Maggie kissed her cheek. ‘You are good to me. Thank you, Lizzie. I will see you in the barn.’

Her mouth full, Lizzie nodded. Maggie left to collect the eggs, her steps much faster than the day before. If asked, Maggie would swear she was floating on air.

While she was collecting the eggs, she watched the hens clucking around the young chicks. She envied the simplicity of their lives. She wondered if they felt any sadness when young were removed from their breast. Never would she want anyone or animal feel the pain she had felt the previous day.

Maggie set aside a few good-sized eggs as a gift for the Arlington household. She wanted to give something, a gesture of thanks.

Her wardrobe was a simple one. Over the years, she had made a few dresses for everyday wear. They were not pretty but serviceable. Money skimmed from the egg sales helped buy cheap fabric. Today she wore the least worn one, and a clean apron. She brushed her hair back into a ponytail and tied her Sunday bonnet in place. It was plain black with a cream, laced edge with a full brim shading her face. Her shawl was warm and serviceable for the present climate. She rubbed her boots with a mix of beeswax and lanolin. They were scuffed but as clean as they would ever get. Maggie did not stop to look in the mirror. She knew there would be shabbily attired woman staring back at her. Not something she wanted to see at that moment.

Jacob called out to her.

‘Don’t dally around upstairs, you lazy upstart. We are down the river edge for reed and sedge cutting today. The small barn needs thatching. Some of us work for our daily bread.’

Maggie shook her head. The small barn would never be thatched. The reeds would rot beside it, Jacob used the work as an excuse to build muscle and drink away his thirst.

‘Don’t wear yourself, husband. I am leaving on the cart so there is plenty of time,’ she replied.

 A knock at the door indicated the arrival of her transport. A last glance around the room reassured her that her chores were in hand. The better part of her day was yet to come. When she stepped out into the yard, the sun, although not summer hot, shone around the hills. It brought beauty to a grey blot on the landscape.

Chapter 6

The dray was full of produce, clucking chickens, three workers, Maggie and a variety of vessels containing milk and cider. They filled every square inch until it nigh on overflowed. The others chattered amongst themselves, enabling Maggie to sit quietly and concentrate on her own thoughts.

What on earth has Jacob got me into?

Excitement, trepidation and the longing to see her son again made her feel queasy. She did not know if she would be able to hold him and not let her feelings show.

What will happen to me if they found out? Jacob would swing for me, that’s for sure.

So many questions tumbled around her mind. She tried to focus on the conversation the others were having, but it bored her.

She glanced around as a pheasant ran across their path. A grubby child in nothing but rags followed it. His hair was matted to his head and his eyes were wild looking, intent on catching his prize. The cart came to a standstill while they laughed at his antics. The fact that he would never catch it in a month of Sundays had not crossed his mind. He ran around and around the cart until his wind gave out and his scrawny legs could no longer keep up the pace.

Maggie realised they had reached the place she had given birth the day before. Fear built upon sadness, making a mountain of darkness in her mind. It blocked out the sunlight; the laughter they had just enjoyed. The child would be her son in the future if she gave the game away. She had to stay in control. He was better off with the Arlington family. Her own feelings must not mask what was important for Nathaniel.

‘Here, lad,’ she called out to the boy. ‘I think you have earned this for entertaining us this morning.’ She handed him a small cob loaf and a jar of jam.

With a mumbled thank you, he snatched at the gift and ran into the trees. Maggie smiled.

‘Come along, our fun is over. He will feast well.’

The entrance to the village was busy. Drovers had their flocks amble down the middle of the street. Cows mooed and chewed cud on the common ground watched over by young children. Their parents would be negotiating inside the inns and stay there the best part of the day. It was the children who did the work, get a soaking when it rained and miss out on their education for several days. For some, if a chill set in, they would miss far more. Again, Maggie was reminded that this was the life her son would endure.

She clambered down from the cart. Lizzie came to her, and this time she allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of a friend’s hug.

‘Good luck, gal. I hope you get on all right. Don’t you bother yourself about the cows tonight. I spoke with the others and they are going to help me after dark. Misery guts’ll never know. Only tonight though, can’t let you get away with relaxing every day.’ Lizzie gave a little laugh with her joke to lighten the moment.

‘Thank you, Lizzie. You are good to me bless you. Now boys, get along to Diss and make sure that lot get sold and keep the boss happy. Oh, look, here he is now. I thought he was gathering reeds today. He must have changed his mind and walked down with the old bull, how appropriate.’ The rest of the group laughed with her. They were her closest friends. All suffered the spiteful nature of her husband at one point in their lives.

‘He’ll be in fine fettle in the Key’s when he gathers his coins from the sale. The old bull ain’t worth but an ale or two. No thatching on the barn roof this winter then, eh gal?’

‘I think you are right there, Lizzie. Same old story.’ Maggie clambered down from the cart and bade them goodbye.

Her heart sank as she heard her husband yell to her from the end of the road. ‘Wife! I need a word,’ he called out, raising the stick he used to guide the bull through the street.

 Maggie could see him out of the corner of her eye but made no indication she had heard him. She did not want to meet up with Jacob. He was bound to say something to upset her and she needed to stay composed, to avoid confrontation. Pretending she had not heard him, she moved quickly along the main pathway, and entered a courtyard with narrow cobbled lanes branching from its four sides. A quick glance before she entered one on her left showed that Jacob had not followed and had continued with the bull. She heaved a sigh of relief and slowed her pace. When she reached the large house that belonged to Mr and Mrs Arlington, she stopped to compose herself. She had passed this way on many an occasion and had admired the property. Now she saw it in a different light. This was the home of her son.

A beautiful red-bricked building stood before her. It was set detached in its own grassy grounds. Green iron railings declared the property boundary and an ornate gate showed the entrance to a pretty floral garden. Even in the autumn, it shared its colours with those who took a moment to admire them. The path led to a cream panelled front door. Both side of the door were large bay windows, and a green iron bench sat under each one. The delicate features entranced Maggie. Pretty was the word she would use to describe it to Lizzie, later that day. Not handsome, just simply pretty. It was not as large and grand as the squire’s mansion, but far larger than the farmhouse. The building looked warm and inviting. Ornaments lined the ridge of the rooftops, and Maggie counted three double chimneys on each roof. Fancy cream woodwork trimmed the insides of each one. It reminded Maggie of lace - delicate and pretty. She walked past the front gate and continued around to the back of the property. She let herself in through a tall wooden gate. The yard was active with staff and they nodded to her in recognition. Many of them she had met over the years, some she had grown up with on her old farm.

She smiled back and carried on to the back door of the property. She came across two doors and hesitated. The larger of the two was partially open and going by the breakfast smells that wafted from it; Maggie instinctively knew it was the kitchen. The other was possibly the meat store.

She knocked against the hard wood of the door and stepped inside.

A plump woman strode towards her, and Maggie knew her as Jennie Bowter, the family cook. They had spoken often outside church, and Maggie always sent the first batch of cream for her. The squire’s cook was mealy mouthed, so she got second batch. Maggie had her ways and means of getting even.

 ‘Sorry for your loss, Maggie. Mrs Arlington told me about it, and to expect you this morning.’ She indicated a chair, and Maggie sat down. ‘I shan’t give you a hug, as I am sure it will bring on the tears. I know it did me, and Mr Bowter too come to that, when I lost my three. Your time will come lass, just be patient. You have a little gem of a baby to nurse today. A golden child, Mr Arlington called him. It was quite a moment when we were introduced. Nanny is made up. She was missing Master Leonard, sad loss for them all. Well listen to me gabble on. You stay there and I will draw a nice cup of tea a’fore you go upstairs. Nanny’s instructions. She said you’d be tired after your walk from the farm.’

‘Thank you, Jennie. I was fortunate to ride with the staff going to market. I am weary though. Jacob woke me to tell me the news of this baby and I was resting after the loss of my own.’ Maggie sighed and Jennie Bowter offered a sympathetic smile. Maggie felt dreadful telling lies to such a good woman, but she could not let her guard down.

While Maggie sipped her tea, two of the young scullery maids dropped in to say hello, and the butler/valet plus cook’s husband, patted her shoulder; his only greeting. While Mrs Bowter finished preparing her dish and threw around orders at her young staff, Maggie glanced around the kitchen. The scullery was off to the left, and the banging of pans as they were being washed, accompanied by a giggle or two, gave life to the room. It was a big kitchen with ivory tiled walls and red quarry tiled floors. Maggie sat at an enormous pine table, which had recently been scrubbed to a rich shade of honey. High backed, matching wooden chairs sat around it, and she counted twelve in total. Cook worked at the other end amongst a cloud of flour. Maggie guessed meals were a lively event in this part of the house and suppressed a twinge of envy. The black cooking range sat pride of place. When she spotted the icebox, she more than envied the cook. To have such a luxury item in her kitchen would be a dream. A dresser sat proudly with a variety of jugs and crockery, giving a vibrant colour backdrop against the pale walls. The high windows, designed to stop all distractions, glistened as the sun moved higher in the sky. She was content to sit and watch the staff go about their work. Her stomach butterflies returned when Mr Bowter spoke to her. For a moment, Maggie had forgotten why she was waiting.

‘Right then, young lady. Let us get you upstairs. There is squalling and screeching going on from behind one of the doors. I think the young man is not fond of cow’s milk. He has kept the noise up all night. Even the sugar rag Mrs Bowter sent up for him to suck has not kept the mite happy. Nanny is at the end of her tether. She’ll be a sight happy to see you.’

The two of them climbed the stairs that took them into the end of a large hallway. Maggie glanced along its length. Polished oak furniture, topped with lace doilies lined either side, and each one housed an ornament or a photograph. A long red and gold, narrow carpet lay on the floor, and family portraits decorated the ivory walls. Maggie had never seen such a luxurious entrance in a village house.