His Spoilt Lady

by Vanessa Brooks

  They had by now been staying with the family Lammers at their farmstead near Ogunquit, which Hans told them meant ‘Beautiful place by the sea’- named by the Abenaki, a local native Indian tribe for about a month. By this time, John was more than seriously concerned about Linnett. After their ordeal, John had spent a couple of days in bed suffering from mild chills and exhaustion, but with Sarah Lammers’ excellent cooking and care, he was up and around in no time. Linnett, however, was suffering from fevers and chills and had been extremely ill indeed. Even now, she protested that she was too weak to leave her bed. Sarah Lammers, a shrewd woman, suspected Linnett was stronger than she let on, but after what that lass had been through she wasn’t about to comment, so she kept the knowledge to herself.

  The Lammers were a kindly, down-to-earth farming people, who had settled on their land ten years ago, only months after Hans had married Sarah. Hans Lammers was Dutch; he was brought to America by his father after his mother had died in childbirth in their native Netherlands. This was to be a new start for the family, and although it had been a hard struggle, the tough, honest man had made a good life for himself and his small son. He ran a supply store in Boston and that was where Hans had grown into a fine, strong young man.

  Sarah had caught his eye when she had visited the store with her mother, the local school teacher. Both her mother and her father were teachers and ran the local school in a kindly but firm manner. Sarah’s quiet character, her brown eyes and prettiness attracted the big man, and he had courted her with gentle determination, his polite, calm manner finding approval in the eyes of Sarah’s parents. They were wed, and with the monies given them by both families for their wedding present, they had bought a plot of 180 acres of fertile land and woodland situated near the coast, almost a hundred miles north from family and Boston.

  At first, Sarah’s parents were appalled. They had envisaged a life with Sarah and Hans running and perhaps extending the Lammers’ store, their grandchildren visiting daily and the family all safely nearby. Peter Lammers was startled but then pleased by his son’s decision to move on and to farm. He did his best to smooth his wife’s ruffled feathers. In fact, it was only after the birth of Hans’ and Sarah’s son Peter that they both had finally reconciled themselves to their daughter’s move.

  Hans and Sarah had travelled down with a wagon train of people wishing to build a new life and community near the land Hans had bought, and now a small township was settled some five miles away from the farm’s boundary. The farm was hard work, but both Hans and Sarah loved it. The house was made from the trees cut from their own land and was a spacious, if not large, comfortable log house.

  Downstairs was simply one large open room, with the cooking and eating area to the back of the house. A large black cooking range stood against one wall, and a big, well-scrubbed pine table stood in front of that with six beautifully carved chairs around it, Hans had made them the first winter they had moved into the house. He loved to carve, something his grandfather had taught him as a small boy in the Netherlands. Hans had made the farm house unusual and beautiful with his carvings. All the shutters at the windows were carved with leaves and flower designs. The stairway that ran up the left-hand side of the large downstairs room displayed carved animals from the local area, including squirrels, deer, racoons and even snakes, from one end to the other.

  There was a large stone fireplace on the right hand wall and, on the floor in front of it, a bright circular wool rug, which Sarah had lovingly made. Four carved rocking chairs were placed around the rug, enticing a person to sit and enjoy the roaring log fire that the Lammers generally kept ablaze in all but the hottest of summers. Upstairs were four rooms; Hans had planned for a large family, and neither he nor Sarah ever mentioned the fact that, so far, only Peter had come along. Sarah used the spare rooms for when their respective parents came to visit.

  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 har
rumphed 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.”

  John slipped his arm around her shoulder and tried to draw her to him, but Linnett drew herself away and said coldly, “I do agree that for a woman to try and ride all that way at this time of year would be foolish. However, a man alone could get to Boston before winter sets in, surely? You could have gone already and been back with help before any snow fell.”

  John sighed and said, “I suppose I could have risked the ride, but I too was unwell for a while, and I was afraid to leave you, you were so ill, Linnett. I will ask Hans tomorrow if it would be possible to leave soon and borrow a horse and supplies. You do understand though, Linnett, that if I cannot get back, you would be stuck here until the spring anyway.” Or forever, he thought grimly, if I don’t make it.