Daughter of the River

by Daughter of the River (retail) (epub)

  ‘Cal’s coming this evening to ask his permission. You will be on our side, won’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know as I’ll be on anyone’s side; but I can see this be a good match and I’ll make no bones about saying so.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Maddy was relieved. Somehow she had felt her stepmother would ultimately approve, but she had required far less persuasion than Maddy had anticipated.

  ‘Right then,’ said Joan, returning to more mundane matters. ‘You look out the best tablecloth while I’ll see if us’ve got summat decent to drink. If not, one of us’ll have to run up to the Church House.’

  Jack had plans of going up to the Church House on his own account.

  ‘You’m going to have to bide home tonight,’ his wife informed him. ‘Us be expecting a visitor. Farmer Whitcomb be coming.’

  ‘Cal Whitcomb? Coming yer?’ Jack’s face suffused with sudden annoyance. ‘What the devil do he want?’

  ‘I thought you agreed he’m a decent enough fellow,’ said Joan.

  ‘Not when he comes bothering folk of an evening.’

  At her father’s words, Maddy relaxed. His irritation was bom more from missing his pint of cider than from animosity towards Cal. Her relief was short-lived.

  ‘And as for Farmer Whitcomb being a decent enough fellow,’ went on Jack, ‘I daresay he be, but that don’t mean I wants his boots resting on my hearth. Maddy works for un, that be plenty of dealings with the Whitcombs.’ Then his face cleared. ‘What be he’m coming about, maid? Did you have a word with un about guarding your good name?’

  ‘I did, Father.’

  ‘Then no doubt he’m coming to discuss un, man to man. That idn’t so bad. I habn’t no objections to talking to the fellow if ’tis for our Maddy’s benefit.’ As he leaned over to unlace his boots, Joan and Maddy exchanged anxious glances over his bent head. Poor Jack was in for a shock, and there was no knowing how he would react.

  From the moment he arrived, Cal seemed to dominate the room. It was more than his size, impressive though that was, it was his demeanour. He was a picture of self-assurance from the crown of his well-brushed hair to his highly polished boots. Although he did not betray any hint of nervousness, Maddy was beginning to learn how tightly he kept his inner emotions hidden.

  ‘Mr Shillabeer,’ he said, after having accepted a glass of elderflower wine. ‘I won’t beat about the bush. I have come to ask you if you will kindly grant me Maddy’s hand in marriage.’ Jack’s jaw dropped.

  ‘Jack, boy, Farmer Whitcomb be wanting to wed our Maddy,’ Joan prompted eventually. ‘Say summat, for pity’s sake.’

  ‘No!’ declared Jack, finding his tongue with a vengeance. ‘No! That’s what I do say. My Maddy marry a Whitcomb? I won’t hear of un.’

  ‘Father, please don’t be too hasty,’ begged Maddy. ‘Give the matter some thought.’

  ‘I don’t need to think. My answer be no.’ Jack’s mouth had set in a grimly determined line. ’Sides, I thought you was betrothed to some wench up to Totnes.’

  ‘Idle gossip,’ said Cal. ‘It’s Maddy I want to wed.’

  ‘Well, the answer be no. And I idn’t going to change my mind.’

  ‘I’m sorry you think that way, Mr Shillabeer,’ said Cal. ‘I had thought our two families had drawn closer together.’

  ‘Maybe they have, but I don’t intend having them that close.’

  ‘I assure you I can offer Maddy a future of comfort and security,’ Cal persisted. ‘I will happily give you details of my financial standing, though I expect you are familiar with the value of my two farms.’

  ‘Be you suggesting I’ve been poking my nose into your affairs?’ demanded Jack. ‘I wouldn’t stoop so low, not even though Oakwood near enough came to us.’

  ‘Oh Father!’ protested Maddy again, ‘For pity’s sake don’t go raking over those old coals!’

  ‘I expressed myself badly,’ said Cal. ‘I was not implying any inquisitiveness on your part. Far from it. I merely meant that my assets, in the shape of land, outbuildings and stock, are clear for everyone to see. Then there is the cider business, with its press and poundhouse and the equipment and other buildings. As for the shop, Maddy will tell you that it is flourishing.’

  ‘I don’t care how flourishing it be, you idn’t marrying my girl, and that be final.’

  ‘No it isn’t,’ declared Maddy. ‘Aren’t I allowed to have my say? Don’t my wishes count for anything?’

  ‘Speak away, maid. You won’t change nothing,’ said Jack.

  ‘I want to marry Cal. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? What objections have you got other than prejudice? None! It’s not as though he has a reputation as a drunkard or a lecher or anything of the sort. And he is sufficiently prosperous to give me a comfortable life until the end of my days.’

  ‘You’m comfortable yer!’

  ‘For how long? Yes, things are easy enough now because of the money Cal pays me for running his shop, but what happens when that stops? For make no mistake, if you refuse to give your consent, I could not continue to work for him. I’d be far too embarrassed and ashamed.’

  Maddy looked across at her stepmother, willing her to offer some support, but Joan avoided her gaze.

  ‘You’d soon find summat,’ said Jack with unshakable obstinacy. ‘You’m a willing maid.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a willing maid, I want to be a married woman!’

  ‘Then find someone else to wed!’ roared Jack. ‘For I tells you straight, you’m idn’t marrying no Whitcomb, I don’t care if he’m rich enough to pay the national debt and have a character whiter than the angels. I hopes that be clear,’ he said, addressing Cal.

  ‘Perfectly clear, I thank you.’ Cal had risen to his feet, his face grim. ‘I had better take my leave. Obviously my presence here is an embarrassment.’

  ‘It idn’t that, boy, ’tis simply a waste of time,’ said Jack. ‘There idn’t no way a daughter of mine be going to wed a Whitcomb. Not now, not never.’

  ‘Spoken like a true Shillabeer,’ commented Joan, joining in the conversation for the first time. ‘Any match between one of us and a Whitcomb be out of the question. Twould be going against years of family feeling. All the same, ’tis a pity in some ways. It might have been nice to have had one of our lot living up Oakwood again after so many years. Tis where the Shillabeers first come from when all be said and done. Their ancestral home, I suppose you might say. But if ’tis not to be…’ She heaved a regretful sigh. ‘You had a hat, I think, Mr Whitcomb?’

  ‘Yes, it’s on the chair. Thank you, Mrs Shillabeer.’ Cal, white-lipped, accepted his hat and prepared to leave. ‘Maddy, we have much to talk over, but under the circumstances I think it’s best left until tomorrow, don’t you?’

  Maddy nodded, conscious of a deep sense of disappointment. She had expected her father to express some disapproval but she had not been prepared for such stubborn intransigence.

  ‘Hold your horses!’ Jack’s voice, suddenly less belligerent, made them turn. ‘Just ’cos I idn’t keen on you wedding my daughter idn’t no reason for you to go rushing off. Never let it be said as Jack Shillabeer sent a man away when there was some drink left in the bottle.’

  Maddy and Cal looked at one another in surprise, neither of them certain how to react to this change in Jack’s tone. They looked towards Joan for guidance and, almost imperceptibly, she nodded her head, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. Obediently they returned to the hearthside where Jack poured out fresh measures of elderberry wine.

  ‘You told your mother?’ he asked, quite convivially.

  ‘I have,’ said Cal.

  Jack gave a chuckle. ‘I bet her wadn’t much pleased! A Shillabeer living up Oakwood! That wouldn’t suit Mary Whitcomb no how! Yer, Joan girl, idn’t us got naught to eat to offer Mr Whitcomb? What about that cheese us had earlier – it were rare tasty – with a bit of new bread to help un along? And while you’m about un, fetch another bottle of this elderberry. Unless there be aught els
e you’m preferring, Mr Whitcomb?’

  ‘No, thank you. The elderberry is excellent,’ replied Cal, sounding rather stunned.

  Maddy was not surprised at his reaction, she had seldom seen such a complete about face as her father was exhibiting. As she got up to help Joan by setting out the bread and cheese, she gave her stepmother a grateful wink. She had to hand it to her, Joan had known exactly what to say to change Jack’s mind.

  Joan’s cunning and Maddy’s optimism were both justified. Before the evening was over – and by the time the second bottle of elderberry wine had been emptied – Jack was calling Cal by his Christian name. And by the time Maddy went to bed that night, she knew that she was destined to be Mrs Calland Whitcomb – with her father’s full consent.

  Chapter Eighteen

  To call the betrothal of Maddy and Cal a nine-day wonder was an understatement. Everyone in the village was full of it and never seemed to tire of discussing the extraordinary prospect of a Whitcomb from Oakwood proposing marriage to a Shillabeer from Duncannon. Even Lew and Charlie got over their initial surprise to offer their genuine congratulations. In one quarter, however, there was a deep and ominous silence on the subject.

  ‘Her’m closed her mouth tight as a cat’s bum when her were told, and her habn’t uttered a word since,’ Ellen informed anyone who would listen.

  Conditions at home were clearly taking their toll on Cal. He was beginning to look white and drawn, and Maddy felt guilty at being the cause. She slipped off the pretty gold and diamond ring which adorned the third finger of her left hand.

  ‘Here,’ she said, dropping it into his palm. ‘It would be easier if we forgot the whole idea of getting wed. It’s not fair you should have to put up with so much. Let’s end the engagement and have done.’

  ‘Is that what you really want? Are you using my mother as an excuse? I wouldn’t blame you if you were.’

  Strangely enough, when she was facing him, any doubts she had about the marriage disappeared. ‘Of course I’m not,’ she said. ‘If I were having second thoughts I’d say so openly and not make your mother the scapegoat.’

  ‘Then let’s put this back where it belongs.’ He slipped the ring onto her finger, but did not release her hand. ‘I confess I am finding her a bit difficult at the moment. I thought our engagement would bring about one of her interminable tirades, I’m well used to those. This perpetual silence has caught me unawares. But never fear, I intend that you and your family shall be invited to Oakwood soon. It should have happened long since, and I am ashamed at the delay. But the invitation will come, never doubt it.’

  He was as good as his word, and a neatly penned note inviting Mr and Mrs John Shillabeer and Miss Shillabeer to tea at Oakwood Farm the following Sunday was duly delivered.

  ‘How did you manage it?’ asked Maddy.

  Cal’s grin was wide. ‘I merely announced that I was inviting you, with or without her co-operation. Then I told Ellen to get down the Worcester tea service and make sure it was washed in time for Sunday. That did it. The idea of the service being used at all was bad enough, but the thought of Ellen being let loose on it, that was too much. My mother is now speaking to the world again, though not to me if she can help it. And I regret to say that on Sunday you and your parents will have to make do with Crown Derby, the Worcester service is staying on display.’

  It would be true to say that no one was looking forward to Sunday afternoon, with the possible exception of Ellen, who was hoping for some lively exchanges. However, even her face dropped when she opened the door to them. ‘Habn’t you brought the babe?’ she said. ‘I were looking forward to having the little one yer.’

  ‘My brother and his wife and baby aren’t coming,’ Maddy informed her.

  ‘I suppose they wadn’t invited.’ Ellen gave a sniff. ‘Three Shillabeers at a time be enough as far as her be concerned. Still, if you and Mr Cal gets to un fast enough us’ll soon have childer of our own.’

  ‘First things first, Ellen,’ rebuked Cal, appearing in the flagged hall, as immaculate as ever in brown broadcloth and snowy linen. ‘There is the small matter of the wedding to see to before such things. Please come in, Mr and Mrs Shillabeer, and you too, Maddy.’

  Stiff and uncomfortable, they followed him into the best parlour, Jack running his finger round his highly starched collar, while Joan hissed in Maddy’s ear, ‘I wish I habn’t laced my stays so tight, they’m killing me.’

  The welcome they received from Mrs Whitcomb fairly crackled with frost. She was sitting bolt upright on a high-backed armchair, her small plump feet resting on a footstool. ‘For all the world like the Queen herself,’ Jack said later. As if to continue the regal illusion, she extended a hand to her unwelcome guests. Maddy recognised it as a deliberate attempt to intimidate her family, and she exchanged a sympathetic glance with Cal, fearing an afternoon of discomfort. Her stepmother was already obviously nervous and overawed, but she had not anticipated her father’s reaction.

  ‘Afternoon, Mary,’ he said, grasping the outstretched hand and pumping it vigorously. ‘I hopes you’m feeling vitty.’

  The room temperature dropped by several degrees.

  ‘I don’t recall giving you permission to use my Christian name,’ said Cal’s mother haughtily.

  ‘Don’t be daft, woman, we’m cousins. I idn’t going to call you Mrs Whitcomb.’ He settled himself in the chair indicated by Cal. ‘Now then, Cousin Mary, what do you think about these two getting wed? I reckon ’tis a grand thing.’

  ‘I dare say you do,’ was the sour reply. ‘You Shillabeers have got into Oakwood at last, which is what you’ve always wanted.’

  ‘I must admit that such a thought did pass through my mind, but the more I dwelt on un the more glad I were that our Maddy have found herself a good steady man as’ll treat her well. And I expect you’m equally glad your son’ve found a decent hard-working maid as’ll stand by him through thick and thin.’

  ‘No, I’m not!’ was the unequivocal reply. ‘He could have done a lot better for himself; but then it’s the sort of thing he would do.’ Mary Whitcomb’s gaze rested on Maddy’s hand. ‘That ring’s familiar. Where did you get it?’

  ‘From Cal,’ replied Maddy, stung by the accusation in her tone.

  ‘It was mine to give,’ said Cal. ‘Grandmother Whitcomb left it to me in her will.’

  ‘No doubt she did.’ The provocative note of doubt was unmistakable. ‘I’m merely surprised you’ve still got it, and not mislaid it as you did your father’s gold watch.’ Mrs Whitcomb turned to Maddy. ‘Don’t think you’re going to have an easy life married to him. He’s got no thoughts in his head save making money. A workhorse, that’s what he wants you for.’

  ‘Our Maddy won’t mind that,’ put in Jack before his daughter could reply. ‘Her frets if her’m idle. And as for Cal thinking of naught but business, you’m done well enough out of it, I see.’ He was looking at the display cabinets as he spoke, and immediately it was evident that the old lady was tom between indignation at his comment and pride in her treasures. As always the longing to show off her possessions won.

  Rising from her chair, she said disparagingly, ‘He didn’t buy me these, they were gifts from my other son, my dear Christopher…’ She gave them the full grand tour; not a teacup, not a silver spoon was left out, complete with its accompanying history. And at every opportunity, she sang the praises of her dead son, wherever possible to the detriment of Cal. Maddy found herself growing more and more angry at this attitude, but she held her tongue. Any outbursts of hers would only make things more difficult for Cal and almost certainly cause problems for the future. The most she could do was to slip her hand into Cal’s. She meant it as a fleeting gesture of sympathy, but Cal’s fingers curled about hers and held them firm.

  ‘The tea service decorated with the hand-painted birds is Worcester,’ said Mrs Whitcomb, pausing in front of the final cabinet. That’s pure gold inside, you know. A birthday present from my Christopher. He would have b
ought me the dinner service to match if he had lived. Ordered, it was, but that one cancelled it.’ The look she gave Cal was toll of animosity.

  ‘A good thing he did, from what I’ve heard,’ said Jack.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Mrs Whitcomb stiffened.

  ‘Well, it wasn’t no coincidence that when Cal, yer, took over the farm, the men started getting paid regular. With yon Christopher in charge it weren’t nothing to hear your workers grumbling ’cos they wadn’t getting no money. They all said he were a nice fellow, mind, but getting wages out of him, that were another matter. And no wonder if he were buying you gew-gaws like this.’

  Mrs Whitcomb fairly spluttered with indignation. ‘How dare you say such things!’ she cried.

  ‘Now what’ve I done?’ demanded Jack, as Joan muttered at him to keep quiet. ‘I habn’t said one word as idn’t the truth. Everyone knows as Christopher Whitcomb were a terrible payer, and that after he died it was his brother as paid the wages right back. How d’you do un, boy?’ he asked. ‘That were where your pa’s watch went, I’ll be bound.’

  ‘Father!’ protested Maddy, in an agony of embarrassment as Cal looked uncomfortable. She was horrified that Jack could be so tactless. Then she noticed the expression in his eyes. It was far too innocent to be true. He was stirring things up deliberately.

  It was fortunate that at that moment Ellen came in with the tea tray. Her face was crumpled in a wide, toothless grin, for she had heard every word.

  Tea was not a comfortable meal. Maddy was in agonies, fearing what her father might say next, but to her relief he seemed to have decided to behave himself. Cal was the perfect host, attentive to his guests. He appeared to ignore his mother’s barbed looks and words, though occasionally his gaze strayed out through the window, as if he were eager to escape to where the late afternoon sun shone on a garden rich with the colours of autumn.

  His mother noticed his restlessness. ‘Oh, go out, if that’s what you want,’ she snapped. ‘Can’t sit still for a minute, he can’t.’