Daughter of the River

by Daughter of the River (retail) (epub)

  ‘The lads of the village be going to have to watch out,’ chuckled Elsie. ‘They’m got some competition with the maids now.’

  ‘And a few husbands’ll have to look to their laurels as well, if I be any judge,’ agreed Annie. Though maybe we’m wrong. Maybe that young fellow’s eyes have already lit on the one he fancies.’

  ‘And who would that be?’ asked Maddy.

  ‘Why, you, you daft ha’p’orth! He were flirting with you enough, goodness knows!’

  ‘You’m the daft ha’p’orth,’ retorted Maddy good-humouredly. ‘He were just being polite. But I’ll give you he were something fancy in his manner. He’m made me all hot and bothered. I idn’t used to such things.’ And she put her hands to cheeks that were burning.

  ‘Be as hot and bothered as you please,’ grinned Annie. ‘That were flirting talk or I never heard none.’

  ‘Get off with you!’ Maddy pretended to threaten them with the copper-stick. ‘How’s a body supposed to get her work done with you lot jawing away?’

  Cheerfully the others returned to their own homes, excited by such an unusual morning.

  Maddy, too, was affected by the events of the day. Any interruption in her humdrum life was bound to be welcome, but the arrival of Patrick Howard… He was like no one she had ever met before, as far removed from the village lads as the stars in the sky. Could Annie have been right? Had he been flirting with her?

  Now don’t go getting mazed ideas like that, not at your time of life, she admonished. Why should the likes of he show any interest in you? No other man has these last eleven years. You idn’t naught special and you knows un. He’m just got a flowery way of being polite.

  But the idea, once planted in her brain, refused to be dislodged, and despite herself she began to look forward to her next trip into the village. Such a visit promised to be uncommonly interesting if Patrick Howard had found work and she met up with him again – if he remembered her.

  Chapter Two

  ‘What’s this us hears about you having a man in the place?’ demanded Bart. ‘Young Joey Crowther were full of you dancing and jigging and everything in an uproar.’

  ‘Then young Joey’s imagination be as big as his mouth. For goodness’ sake stop milling around and sit down! There be little enough room as it is without you great lumps filling up space.’ While she was talking, Maddy had been serving up platefuls of broth and dumplings from the black pot on the fire.

  ‘Us wants to know what’s been going on,’ retorted Bart, but he sat down just the same. ‘You’m telling us there wadn’t no man?’

  ‘I be telling you there wadn’t naught to make a fuss about.’

  ‘Then why’m you being so secret?’

  Maddy gave a sigh and put aside the ladle. ‘I idn’t being secret, I be tiying to set out the dinner. I gave a bowl of broth to a fellow as looked as though he needed it. Surely there idn’t no harm in that? He didn’t even come in the house. He sat on the wall to eat.’

  ‘That idn’t no reason for you to give food us’ve worked for to any vagabond as passes,’ insisted Bart.

  ‘Don’t worry, there be plenty left.’ Unbidden, Maddy replenished his empty dish. ‘And before you objects further and begrudges a few spoonfuls of broth, it were made with vegetables I grew, barley I gleaned from up Farmer Churchward’s, and stock bones I bought with my egg money. You’m getting your share, that’s all that concerns you.’

  ‘Where be he from, this fellow?’ asked Lew.

  ‘He didn’t say. From up-country somewhere, by his voice; and my, did he talk something grand.’ Maddy smiled at the memory. ‘Called pay “remuneration” and things like that.’

  ‘What be he doing yer, then?’

  ‘Looking for work, he said. I suggested he tried the Church House, in case they habn’t got a replacement for Alfred.’

  ‘Then there wadn’t no music or dancing?’ Davie sounded quite disappointed.

  ‘There wadn’t no dancing, that was for sure,’ laughed Maddy. ‘What breath have I left for cutting capers on a wash-day morning? There were music, though.’ She grew serious. ‘It were a pity you wadn’t here to hear it, the lot of you. It would’ve pleasured your ears like nothing you’ve heard in many a long day.’

  ‘A damned mountebank! I might’ve knowd it!’ said Bart with satisfaction. ‘Us bain’t having trash like that round yer, be us, Father?’

  ‘He don’t sound the sort as you should be taking up with, maid,’ said Jack.

  ‘You’m making a lot out of one bowl of broth,’ Maddy replied. ‘I don’t think you’m got aught to worry about. I idn’t likely to be taking up with anyone, mountebank or no, not now.’

  Maddy did not expect anyone to contradict her, which was just as well, because no one did.

  * * *

  The winter had been exceptionally mild and the clement weather had continued into spring, tempting Maddy to work in the garden. Her efforts kept the family in fresh vegetables throughout the year and she was always pleased when she could make an early start.

  ‘You’m going to be well ahead of yourself this year,’ remarked Annie, looking at the lines of sowings, neatly marked with twigs.

  ‘The ground’s been easy to work, that always helps.’ Maddy straightened up and leaned on her hoe.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’m had time to go up to your mother’s grave and set that to rights?’

  ‘Not yet. It be nagging at me, I don’t like to think of un all bare, especially at this time of year.’

  ‘That were a vexing thing to have happened. Folk shouldn’t have animals if they idn’t going to look after them proper.’

  ‘I doubt us’ll ever find out who it were,’ said Maddy. That horse’ll be back grazing in its field by now and no one the wiser.’

  ‘No doubt you’m right. When you do go up the churchyard, us’ve got some fine young pansies coming on nicely, that you’m welcome to. They’m in the border by the washhouse.’

  ‘That be real generous.’ Maddy beamed at her friend. ‘I’ve got alyssum and snapdragons. Along with your pansies they’ll make a brave show.’

  ‘You just help yourself to what you’m wanting.’ Annie’s eyes suddenly twinkled. ‘And while you’m in the village no doubt you can keep your eyes open for your sweetheart.’

  ‘And which sweetheart would that be?’ asked Maddy innocently. ‘Having that many, how’m I supposed to know which one you’m on about?’

  ‘The newest one, that’s who. The one who talks fancy and plays the fiddle.’

  ‘Oh, him. Yes, I remembers him, just about.’

  ‘Get along with you,’ chortled Annie. ‘It’d take a female with a very weak mind to forget that young man. If you wants to hang on to him you’d best get to the village sharpish. He’m causing quite a stir among the maidens, from what I hears. Tis a pity he can’t see you now, with your petticoats hitched up. You’m showing a very shapely bit of leg.’

  ‘Only to you,’ grinned Maddy. ‘My legs is well enough. They reaches the ground, which suits me fine. That young fellow did find work, then?’

  ‘Yes, didn’t you know? He’m potman at the Church House Inn. By all accounts Harry Ford wadn’t too pleased with him at first. Not being used to the trade he wadn’t swift enough serving nor clearing to suit Master Ford, but you know what he’m like. Anyway, during a quiet spell, your friend got out his fiddle and played a tune or two to himself. That did un! Him and his fiddle, they’m been drawing folk to the Church House like wasps to a honeypot ever since.’

  ‘I be glad he found somewhere,’ said Maddy. Then she looked at Annie curiously. ‘But how do you know these things when I don’t?’

  ‘My William told me. He went up the Church House for a drop of cider last evening and heard your Patrick a-fiddling. Very impressed he were.’

  Maddy’s father and brothers had been up to the Church House the previous night, too, but they had never said a word. And why should they? she asked herself. Yidn’t as though Patrick Howard be anything
to me.

  In the few days since the excitement of his unexpected arrival, her common sense had reasserted itself. Of course he had not been showing a special interest in her! It had been foolish of her even to imagine it.

  Go on like this and you’ll end up one of they old maids that imagines a man’s dying of love for them just because he’m said ‘Good day’, she thought wryly.

  Thankfully the good weather held, and next afternoon Maddy set off up the path, a basket of young plants on her arm. As she went, she planned how she was going to set them out on her mother’s grave to give the best effect. So great was her concentration that she passed the short cut to the churchyard and was at the corner by the Church House Inn before she realised her mistake. Not that it made much difference, it added only a few minutes to her journey.

  ‘Miss Maddy! Miss Maddy!’

  She was halfway along the cobbled path to the ancient lych gate when the sound of someone calling her name made her spin round. Hurrying after her was Patrick Howard.

  ‘I am glad I caught you!’ he exclaimed, slithering to a halt on the smooth cobbles. He was smiling. How could she have forgotten the power of that smile? It gave her a warm, glowing feeling inside.

  ‘Mr Howard,’ she said. ‘You’m managed to get work, then?’

  ‘Yes, thanks to you. When I caught sight of you going past I had to rush out to say how grateful I am to you. Without your help I would never have got this situation.’

  ‘I be glad you’m satisfied,’ she said.

  ‘Indeed I am. Not two minutes in the village and already I am head potman.’

  ‘I thought Harry Ford only had one potman?’

  ‘He has.’ Patrick Howard spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘But please don’t tell anyone else, it would lessen my prestige considerably. And you have to admit I have a most impressive livery.’ He indicated the voluminous apron that was tied about his waist. ‘Don’t you think the beer stains add a certain distinction?’

  Maddy was not certain about the meanings of some of his words, but she could appreciate his joking.

  ‘Very stylish,’ she agreed gravely. ‘Shouldn’t wonder if the fashion don’t catch on.’ Then she could not keep her face straight any longer. ‘I’m soon going to be as mazed as you at this rate,’ she chuckled.

  ‘Mazed?’ He looked puzzled.

  ‘Crazy. Silly. Daft,’ she supplied. ‘Habn’t you never heard the word before?’

  ‘No. I’m glad I’ve learned it now, though… Mazed.’ He savoured the word on his tongue. ‘It gives a picture of folk whirling about in complete confusion. I like it. From now on I shall use mazed whenever possible.’

  ‘Tis plain you idn’t from these parts,’ said Maddy, still smiling at his nonsense.

  ‘Ah now, Miss Maddy, there you are in error. I must inform you that I was bom here, in this very village.’

  ‘What, in Stoke Gabriel?’ She was astonished. ‘But I can’t recall seeing you before, nor hearing of no Howards round about neither.’

  ‘I doubt if you would.’ His smile widened, showing very white teeth. ‘My family’s stay was fleeting. As I understand it, I made my appearance in this world earlier than anticipated, which necessitated my family stopping off from their travels at Stoke Gabriel. I had been born and gone to pastures new doubtless before you had drawn your first breath. We Howards are a nomadic lot.’

  Maddy wondered if he meant they were gypsies, but then decided against such an idea. Not with those blue eyes and that light skin; although his hair was dark it was not the blue- black of a Romany.

  ‘What brought you back?’ she asked.

  ‘Curiosity. I’ve always wanted to know about my place of birth, and as I found myself wandering westward one day I decided to press on until I reached here. And very glad I am that I did.’

  ‘The place don’t disappoint you, then?’

  ‘No, certainly not – nor the people.’ The emphasis he put upon these last words brought a flush to her cheeks.

  ‘I hear you’m drawing in the crowds with your fiddle,’ she said, hastily covering her embarrassment.

  ‘I’m not sure that Stoke Gabriel can run to much in the way of crowds,’ he smiled. ‘However, we’re doing quite nicely. I only play for half an hour or so during the evening. Any longer and the novelty would soon wear off.’

  Maddy thought that the novelty of Patrick Howard would take quite a bit of wearing off, even without his music.

  From within the Church House someone was calling his name.

  ‘There,’ he said. ‘I’m in demand again.’

  ‘You’d best go, before that demand wears off too.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Miss Maddy, I’m indispensable. You know, I owe you an apology.’

  ‘You do? What for?’

  ‘For calling you Miss Maddy. It is most impolite and forward of me, but I have to confess that I can’t manage your surname.’

  ‘What, Shillabeer? Tis ordinary enough.’

  ‘Not to me. To me it’s something else completely new. Madeleine Shillabeer.’ He repeated the two words thoughtfully. ‘Such an individual name. How nice to be called something distinctive. Howards are ten a penny, but Shillabeers…’

  Maddy was surprised. Never in her life had anything about her been considered out of the ordinary. She had always thought Maddy Shillabeer to be a very common title, yet this extraordinary young man thought it was individual and distinctive.

  The voice from the inn was becoming louder and more insistent. ‘Perhaps I had better go and see what’s wanted,’ he said. ‘It must be farewell for now, I’m afraid. Not for long, though. I hope we meet again soon.’ He turned away with evident reluctance.

  Maddy was so shaken by his sincerity that she could only reply, ‘No doubt us will.’

  ‘Then au revoir, for the present.’ Seeing her puzzled expression he said, ‘That’s French for until we see each other again. Oh, and I was right about one thing, Miss Maddy Shillabeer, your eyes are aquamarine.’

  In a daze Maddy continued towards the churchyard, his departing footsteps ringing in her ears. How was it he had defined the word mazed? Whirling about in confusion? That was exactly how she felt: Patrick Howard had sought out her company, he had laughed and joked with her, paid her compliments, even spoken French to her. Not since the days of Rob Bradworthy had any man paid her such attention. And not just any man, but Patrick Howard, a fascinating being from beyond the tight confines of the village, someone quite outside her experience.

  Maddy’s feet led her automatically through the lych gate into the churchyard. Absorbed by her thoughts, she was standing beside her mother’s simple headstone almost before she knew it. Thankfully she sank down onto her knees.

  Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she closed her eyes, letting the peace and quiet of the churchyard wash over her. She had the place to herself and, as the tranquillity soaked into her, bit by bit something of her normal serenity was restored.

  Well, you’m certainly got yourself in a state over naught there, didn’t you? she told herself reprovingly. There idn’t no call for you having a fit of the vapours just because a decent- looking fellow has a bit of a jaw with you. Any fool can see Patrick Howard be the sort of man who can’t help flirting with a female, whatever her age. Tis his nature, that’s obvious. With all the trim maids about the place, he idn’t going to seek you out special, don’t be mazed enough to think he be.

  She felt much better after she had given herself the scolding. For a moment the regular tenor of her life had been shaken; she had allowed herself a brief glimpse of dreams that were an impossibility.

  She stayed on her knees, enjoying the warm sun. Then she noticed a weed had sprouted in the red earth. She removed it. Then she saw another and another and another. Before long she was weeding briskly, using the hand fork she had brought with her.

  The systematic work absorbed her; the pile of immature weeds by her side grew. Soon she had the earth neat and smooth, and was laying out the young
seedlings on the soil when a soft whinnying disturbed her. Surprised, she looked about her. Then she heard the jingle of harness and the thud of hooves. From behind her, from the direction of the short cut she had meant to take, came a young woman on horseback. She was riding at increasing speed. There was no mistaking who she was. The green velvet riding habit made recognition immediate. She was one of the new tenants of the White House, Miss Fitzherbert. Not that Maddy cared who she was, it was what she was about to do that brought a gasp of horrified disbelief to her lips.

  With deliberation Miss Fitzherbert gathered her mount and directed it towards the first grave. Effortlessly horse and rider cleared the headstone, then the next, then the next. The elegant Miss Fitzherbert was making a steeplechase of the churchyard. Nearing the hedge, the young woman turned her mount, then once more urged it forward ready to jump again. She was heading directly for Lizzie Shillabeer’s grave.

  Until that moment Maddy had been frozen into immobility. Now she was galvanised into movement.

  ‘No!’ she screamed, leaping to her feet and flinging her arms wide to fend off the oncoming pair. ‘Don’t you dare!’

  Her sudden appearance, as much as her shrill cry, startled both horse and rider. She had been half hidden by the headstone and neither of them had been aware of her presence. Her abrupt emergence proved too much for the horse. It reared on its hind legs, deposited its rider on the ground, and ran off.

  Maddy strode over to the young woman. She did not ask if she was injured. She did not care.

  Miss Fitzherbert proved she was unhurt by sitting up and exclaiming angrily, ‘You fool! I could have been killed. What on earth were you about, leaping out of nowhere like that?’

  ‘I were stopping you leaping over my mother’s grave, that’s what I were doing. Don’t you know where you be? Can’t you see this be a churchyard?’

  ‘Yes, I know where I be,’ Miss Fitzherbert mimicked her Devon accent. ‘And of course I can see this is a churchyard. Where else would there be so many graves and headstones?’