However, perhaps it was better to keep my views to myself as the newspapers that circulate are full of the glory of our other naval skirmishes. The men in power are convinced that the French are about to invade us and they are building a lot of strange tower-like places all along the coast for defence. Perhaps, if the Frenchies were on the immediate horizon, I would be as frightened and as ready to do anything to repel them as my neighbours are. But, for the moment, I was more concerned with the womenfolk who are left picking up the pieces, with husbands, brothers and sons gone, and so many unlikely to return. Where is the glory in that? The papers and periodicals are full of the exploits of a young man, a Corsican, who leads the French armies into great battles, which he always seems to win. His name is Napoleon Bonaparte and parents invoke his name to frighten their children to bed. ‘Go to sleep, or Boney will come and get you’ is a thing I have heard said recently.
***
Cecilia went into labour and I hoped that I could deliver the baby for her as she was insistent that she didn’t want Dr. Crabbe called. Once again Farmer Elwood was a bundle of nerves, but I asked him to have his horse ready, which would give him some purpose should I feel we needed help; I had sought another physician other than Dr. Crabbe if she should need one. There were two other men in the town that could be called upon even though Dr. Grieve had been disparaging of their skills. I knew that either would be pleased to attend on the Elwoods as a family of great patronage in the district but I hoped it would not be necessary.
The labour was longer than it had been with Freddie but there was no reason for alarm. The presentation seemed normal, the heartbeat strong and Cecilia was in good shape compared with many of the women I have helped. Every now and again the contractions slowed down and then presented again with renewed vigour. It was harder than I would have hoped, considering that this was Cecilia’s third birth, but every baby is different. I had to keep reminding myself of that fact when I felt anxious for this very precious woman and her baby. Cecilia was as important to me as a member of my own family, and I sought to help her endure as little pain as necessary.
It was a long night and Farmer Elwood was beside himself with fear as I tried to reassure him that this was still in the normal range of labour. Cecilia was weakening but remained resolute that she and I could do this between us. I did what I could to help her, but my ministrations were purely in the realm of comfort for there was nothing physical I could do, short of pulling the baby out; nor would I have trusted even a physician to interfere at this point, though I knew that some do with the help of some outlandish contraption. This baby was coming - slowly - but coming and we were just waiting. I wished so much that Dr. Grieve were still here and teaching me; my competence was not enough for my own peace of mind.
I went down to the kitchens where Mrs. Fisher was throwing dough violently on to her work table and praying that all would be over soon; the whole of the household was on tenterhooks. The children were kept up in the nursery where they couldn’t hear any noise and I flew up to see them for a few minutes whilst Cilla sat with Cecilia. I hadn’t been up there for very long when she came pounding up the stairs,
‘I think it’s happening, Essie, come quickly,’ she said.
And it was. Soon I saw the head, and then the shoulders, and Cecy was putting everything into getting this little mite out into the world. The baby was a girl, a beautiful, fragile, delicate little girl. Felicia; her name was to be Felicia.
Once I had cleaned both mother and baby and wrapped Cecilia in a beautiful shawl, sent by her mother for this very purpose, I invited Farmer Elwood in to meet his daughter. He was quite overcome and as he picked the baby up in his great big hands, I could see him trembling with emotion. I left the family together to enjoy their pride in Felicia, in the knowledge that all had been accomplished with no harm to either of them.
Much later, I found Farmer Elwood asleep at his desk. Billy-alone had been stood down from horse duty while Mrs. Fisher had retired to her room after sending up a light meal. Cecilia was asleep, and I sat beside her with Felicia in my arms. I couldn’t bear to put her down, she was so perfect: her tiny hands and feet, her beautifully shaped mouth, all were exquisite. Silently I prayed that one day I might experience such happiness myself, but there seemed little hope of that.
Chapter Nineteen
We hear from Horsham, that one day last week Robert Clarke, Executioner, there hanged himself with a Bridle in the hayloft belonging to the Anchor Inn at Horsham. The cause of his committing this rash action was his being entrusted with half a guinea to pay for a pig, which money he lost at All-fours instead of paying for the pig. The place is vacant and will be conferred on others that can make the best …….
Sussex Weekly Advertiser and Lewes Journal 1750/1806
I knew that Billy-alone had been trying to catch me for days, but I had been so busy that I hadn’t had time to seek him out. He spent most of his time on the farm with trips into Lewes to see Miss Wardle and the piggies. I knew he still lived in fear of the King’s naval men who looked for likely lads to fill the warships, so he was happier out of the town. Cilla, his betrothed, was a contented young lass who asked for nothing more than his company.
I met Billy in the stables and we walked out to the orchard where no-one could overhear us. As we walked in the September sunshine, I kicked some windfalls aside, anxious to hear what Billy had discovered.
‘I been up to Coad Farm three times,’ he said, ‘and I ain’t seen no woman thereabouts but there be a mean-looking man oft’ with Farmer Coad. Them boys is usually out in the fields, the two older ones together but the youngest seems always to be alone.’
‘Are you sure it is a man and not a woman dressed different?’ I asked. ‘I know she did dress mannish when we were at Southease and you saw her at our wedding.’
‘I weren’t able to get that close, but it looked like a fella to me, and I didn’t take a lot of notice of what she looked like at the church. I was too busy trying to get to you,’ he replied.
‘I didn’t know that, Billy. I was so shocked, I didn’t take in what everyone else was doing. I barely saw Wilf move to protect Beth.’ We were both silent for a few moments as we remembered that horrific day. Billy look pensive and I shuddered as the memories flooded back.
‘But back to Coad Farm; what was this man or woman doing?’ I went on, trying to shake off the disturbing images and thoughts.
‘Well, that were the strange thing he, or she, were doin’ the ordering of things.’
‘And the youngest boy?’
‘He were skulking about, but never where anyone else was,’ Billy replied. ‘And one time I did hear his old man yelling for him but he was hiding in the barn and didn’t come out until he was fetched, and then he got a beating. If that fella be your aunt, she got her feet well under the table and she is not likely to be recognised by anyone. What we gonna do, Esther?’
‘I don’t know Billy,’ I said. ‘It has been a while now since I heard she was there, but I am sure she will make a move on me soon. She is planning something, I know she is, I can sense it. She can’t get to Beth, she is too well protected, so it will be me!’
But I was wrong, dreadfully wrong. The Coads along with Aunt Tilly were to make their move only days after Billy and I had talked.
I had taken Beth and Freddie out to the stables to see the horses. We did this most fine days, but this day was special because there was a new foal in the yard. The children were excited and dancing around my skirt as we made our way towards the stables. A warm soft light brought out a peach tone in the mellow walls as we turned the corner of the house. We were all laughing merrily at the excitement of naming the foal and there had been lots of suggestions from everyone in the household. I was looking around and taking pleasure in the day - and the children - when I heard Cilla calling me just as we reached the stable doors. I turned around and retraced my steps to see what she wanted.
Everything seemed normal but someone must have been hiding amongst the stalls because one minute Beth was there, and the next, she wasn’t. By the time I heard one of the stable lads shouting, ‘Stop! Stop!’ it was too late. He’d seen a man grab and make off with her, then fly away on a big horse that was tethered out of sight behind the outer wall. I remember tearing through the gate to find Freddie screaming and the boy running after the kidnapper with a pitchfork.
Beth was gone, the place where she had been suddenly silent and empty of her laughter and chatter. I cursed myself for not varying the time of our activities outside; we always went to feed the ponies mid-morning after they had been mucked out. I shouted to a stable lad to saddle Flossy for me and flew indoors with Freddie under my arm, still screaming for all he was worth. I dropped him into Cilla’s arms and told her to find Billy, Farmer Elwood and any men who were around. I would be going upriver to Hamsey and she was to tell them that and to bring anyone else they could muster. I didn’t wait for anyone. It was hare-brained to rush off alone but I couldn’t see any alternative, I had to get after her. I was but fifteen minutes behind them, but I knew where she would be – at Coad Farm.
Chapter Twenty
(List of local smugglers):
Samuel Brown, of the Cliffe, near Lewes - the County of Sussex, Basket-Maker
Francis Bollard, otherwise Pollard, at or near Piddinghoe, in the said County, Labourer
John Ashcraft, of Bishop-Town in the said County, Labourer
Richard Bollard otherwise Pollard, at or near Tarring in the said County, Labourer
John Clare, of Rodmill in the said County, Labourer
John French, of Lewes, aforesaid, Labourer
William Strake, otherwise Strait, otherwise Stephens, of Rodmill, aforesaid, Labourer
Benjamin otherwise James Burt of Tarring, in the said County, Farmer
Sussex Weekly Advertiser and Lewes Journal 1750/1806
My heart was pounding, and I was sweating hard as I pulled Flossy up behind the farmhouse. I made some attempt at secrecy but could not disguise the noise of horse’s hooves; and though all was quiet I knew they would be waiting for me somewhere close-by though they might not have expected me to get there so quickly. Coad Farm was a rambling place with lots of outhouses and barns - if they were not in the house I might be able to sneak up on them and find a way of snatching Beth back. With luck, Billy and Farmer Elwood were not far behind and, by now, the neighbourhood would have been alerted. I dropped Flossy’s reigns and ran towards the kitchen. I tried hard not to breathe too loudly even though I knew I could be walking into a trap and, as I lifted the latch, I saw my friend Becca once again in my mind’s eye, as she had been when last I saw her alive, being pushed out of this very door by Mrs. Coad, who was screaming abuse, her face contorted with rage. I pictured the fear in Becca’s eyes, the whiteness of her skin as she fell on the cobblestones and crawled out of the rain-soaked yard towards the Church. As I remembered Becca’s plight at this same godforsaken place, I imagined that Beth was already dead, back here at Coad Farm. I tried to ignore the torment of my thoughts as I pushed the door open.
The room was cold, the fire unlit and there appeared to be no-one there but, suddenly, just as I sensed movement behind me, a foul-smelling sack was thrown over my head. I was thrown over someone’s shoulder and carried outside before being tossed onto a cart where sacks of rotting and putrid vegetables were dumped on top of me. I yelled at the top of my voice until I felt a sharp prick in my shoulder, almost certainly from a knife.
A gravelly voice said, ‘Shudup, bitch.’ The cart jolted into movement and I heard a horse whicker as we trundled out of the yard. I sobbed, quietly, not wanting to be stabbed. My mind was full of fear for Beth who, if she was still alive, must be terrified. I have no idea how long we trotted but when we did stop, I was dragged by my feet out of the cart and onto a grassy bank. Again, I was picked up bodily and carried into an indoor place. I could smell hay and horse shit but otherwise had no idea where we were, and worse still, neither would anyone else who might think to rescue me and Beth - if she was still alive - and here too.
I heard a sniffle, and in the distance, a young voice saying, ‘Shush… there, there, shush,’ and then another, saying, ‘Shut ‘er up.’ It was my aunt speaking.
The sack was dragged off me and I blinked in the gloom of a barn. It was nowhere I had ever been, but it was large, and I heard rather than saw lots of horses. I could see sunlight lancing through wooden slats, the air was dry with the stuffiness of old hay. Her voice came from behind me: ‘So, my dear niece, here we are together again. It’s been a while.’
I turned in the direction of her voice. ‘Where is she, what have you done with Beth?’ I croaked.
‘That milksop of a boy has her, outside, and unless you do as you are bid then I will personally drown her. Boy,’ she shouted, ‘bring her in so my niece can see she is really here.’
The youngest Coad stood silhouetted in a doorway. I blinked again, not quite sure whether the bundle he held was Beth, but then she wailed, and I knew it was her. I tugged at my captor’s arms trying desperately to get to her, but his grip tightened viciously as I called out to Beth, ‘I am here, lovey, no-one is going to hurt you.’ She cried even louder as she recognised my voice and perhaps saw me in the gloom.
‘Go on,’ my aunt said to the boy, ‘get the brat outside and keep her quiet.’
‘What are you going to do with us?’ I cried, but it didn’t sound like me as my voice cracked in desperation. I had to pull myself together and bargain for our - or Beth’s - life. It was no use me collapsing under the weight of terror, that wouldn’t get us out of Tilly’s clutches. At the very least I must play for time.
She smirked and took her cap off; her hair was cut such as a working man would wear. It was completely grey, and she didn’t look at all like a woman. It was difficult to believe that this mannish, ugly creature was my pretty mother’s sister.
‘You wouldn’t recognise me, would you, girl?’ She laughed, relishing her power over me.
‘Not to look at, no, but I know your voice and so will others,’ I shouted defiantly, hoping that the men Billy would bring might track us down soon. I had to spin things out; we weren’t dead yet, there was still hope of rescue.
It was as if she read my mind. ‘No-one is going to find you, girl, and young Beth – why, she will be brought up by her father now. Milksop will look to her and you will never see her again after tonight nor will your fancy friends,’ she gloated. ‘Blood is thicker than water, girl, in the eyes of the law.’
I shook uncontrollably, my teeth chattering but not with cold. ‘What happens tonight?’ I quavered, dreading the reply, knowing that it would be something malicious.
‘We are leaving the area, and you and I will be smuggled onto a transport ship. It’s all arranged, niece, and when we get out to sea, no-one will know, or care, who you are. You’ll join the hundreds of other old lags who all protest their innocence.’
Horrified, I cried: ‘You can’t do that, people will know. There’ll be lists and documents, descriptions…,’ I blustered, fearful that she could indeed do what she threatened.
‘I have a long arm, girl, and I am telling you I can do that. Everyone can be bribed - I got out of Newgate with a bribe - and two ladies of the night will oblige us by leaving the ship, with us put in their place.’
Terror at this monstrous plan all but robbed me of my wits but eventually I found a small voice. ‘But why you?’ I questioned, not understanding. ‘What would possess you, why do you want to go on a transport?’
‘Well, thanks to you, my girl, I have a price on my head, a big reward offered, and if I am taken it will be the gallows for me. Better a new life in another country where nobody knows me. But they will, once I’ve been there awhile; I will become someone who matters,’ she declared vehemently, her arms raised in th
reat.
‘But what about Beth? The boy can’t bring her up, she is too young. Send her back to the Elwoods, please, I beg you.’
‘Not a chance girl,’ Tilly mocked and leaned in towards me. ‘I want you to suffer thinking of her settled with the Coads. No-one can take her away - she is, after all, his daughter. With you gone and the Elwoods of no relation, why, she will fit nicely back into her papa’s farm.’
I retched - from the smell of the place, the heat stealing up my body like a rash and the thought of Beth in such a wicked household, growing up into drudgery, or worse. Tilly was laughing at my humiliation and enjoying every last moment of her long-planned revenge.
‘Please, I am begging you,’ I said, ‘do what you like with me but leave Beth with her grandad or anyone who knows how to care for a little one. She is still but a baby. You can’t leave her with that family. They killed her mother, or as good as.’
‘Aye, Farmer Coad ’as telled me all about pretty Becca. She were a comely lass, he said, and he was much taken with her. Perhaps he will be too with her daughter.’ She laughed as she flicked a look to someone behind me.
‘Strip her,’ she ordered a coarse-looking man who was clearly enjoying my discomfort. ‘Put ’er in them clothes and get those boots off ’er. They’re too fancy for a convict, she can go barefoot like the rest of ’em. She be nothing but a cripple without them boots,’ she added, spitefully.
Again, I lost my voice, choking, as my throat seemed to swell with the fear that was overwhelming me.
‘You gonna get a new outfit, niece, not quite as soft and ladylike as what you’ve got on but one that will mark you out as a proper convict on a transport ship.’
The indignity of her and others watching while I was stripped of my clothing and special boots then bundled forcibly into a coarse cloth petticoat and jacket was as nothing to when she took up some shears and hacked at my hair, cutting it all off and doing so with venom crafted onto her face.
Retribution Page 10
