by Anna Jacobs
‘No!’ He sounded angry. ‘And I don’t like to hear you talk so ill of yourself!’ He searched desperately for words, for he had never been one to whom glib phrases came easily. ‘It’s not that I’m worried about - but well, you’ve had a knock on the head and two glasses of brandy, so you aren't thinking straight. You’ll be embarrassed about this tomorrow and regret what you’ve said.’
‘I shan’t be embarrassed, and I’ll only be regretful if you reject my offer.’
Her tone was quiet and firm, and she was starting to sound more like herself again. He frowned at her. Did she truly mean this, then? Dare he - he drew in a breath - think of accepting?
‘I’ve been trying to work out what to do for days, ever since Hannah told me I needed a husband. I do. I need one quite desperately, Will.’
‘I’m no gentleman!’ he said, desperate that she should realise the implications of what she was asking. ‘I don’t even talk right!’
‘I’m twenty-eight years old, I’m plain and I’m lame.’
‘Stop saying that, Sarah! I’ve told you - it doesn’t matter to me that you're lame! I had a lame cow once that produced the best cream of any. And you’re not plain.’ His voice softened involuntarily. ‘Not at all plain in my eyes.’
She blinked at this simile, then decided that comparing her to the cow was another of his lop-sided compliments and smiled at him. ‘So?’
‘You do mean it, don’t you?’ His voice was barely more than a whisper. He turned abruptly and walked over to the window, needing to be out of sight of her wide grey eyes to think clearly.
The vision of himself as master of all swam temptingly before him. No one - absolutely no one - could then take his land away from him then! And the vision of himself married to her followed it almost immediately - he and Sarah sharing their lives, chatting quietly together in the evenings, lying cosily together in the huge bed behind him. He didn’t know which vision appealed to him more. Only - how could a man like him marry the Old Squire's granddaughter?
He turned to look at her and she smiled hesitantly, as if in encouragement. He tried to think his way through this carefully. She would be bound to despise him and his rough ways - but then he remembered how, lady or no lady, he’d found her scrubbing floors or washing windows, humming happily to herself, her hands red and rough.
And he’d enjoyed the way she nestled trustingly against him just now.
She closed her eyes again and lay back on the pillows with a sigh. He had seen her look exhausted sometimes and try to favour her bad side, or rub her hip furtively when she thought no one was looking. It must ache, but she never complained and she tried not to let it hinder her. If only he could believe that she meant this offer, that he would not be doing her an injustice in accepting it he might . . . Aye, accepting it! He was sorely tempted. He would ask nothing better of life than to be the master of his own acres - and to marry a woman like her!
From the bed Sarah stole another glance sideways. Oh, please! she prayed, more fervently than she had ever prayed for anything in her whole life before, please let him accept!
He walked slowly across to sit beside the bed, taking her hand again. ‘Are you quite sure you mean it, Sarah?’
‘Absolutely certain.’
Still he hesitated. ‘I have to confess that I’m very tempted to accept. It would be a - a fine bargain indeed for me. And I would be happy to have you as my wife. I - respect you greatly - what you are doing here - everything.’ He waved one hand to encompass the room, the house, as well as her, but couldn’t find any other words to express his feelings for her. ‘But have you thought this through? As your husband, I would own everything. Are you not afraid of that?’
‘No, I’m not afraid,’ she said softly. ‘You would love the Manor as I do and serve it far better than ever I could.’
He closed his eyes, then opened them again as the solution came to him. ‘I’ll go and ask Mr Rogers about this and if he sees no objections and - and you are still of the same mind tomorrow, then,’ he took a deep breath, ‘I’ll do it gladly.’
Sarah swallowed convulsively. How could she bear to wait until the next day for his answer? But then, instinctively, she knew she must wait, must give him all the time he needed. He was being very generous in giving her this chance to reconsider and in consulting the parson. She must be equally generous with him. ‘Yes, that would be best,’ she agreed. ‘It'll give you time to think about it, too.’
‘Nay, I need no time,’ he said harshly, staring at her with a fierce expression on his face. ‘For me it would be more than I’ve ever dared dream of. To be master of my own land! What more could a man ask?’
‘Or woman. That's why I won’t sell Broadlands, why I must do my best for it.’
‘If we marry, I won’t force my attentions on you,’ he offered.
She flushed. ‘But I want children. It’s one of my main reasons for marrying. So if the idea of - of sharing a bed with me does not displease you, that should be part of the bargain. Else what will become of everything when we die?’
‘You - would not mind that?’
‘No.’ Her voice grew as fierce as his. ‘I want children! I’ve always wanted children. I just thought I would never have the opportunity, that no one would ever - ’ She let the words trail away.
He took her hand gently, raising it to his lips. ‘I think you should rest now,’ he said quietly, ‘And I must go and puzzle it all out, think what’s right - for both of us.’ He saw disappointment in her eyes. ‘I’m not a man to rush into things, Sarah, especially something as important as this.’
‘I hope you won’t change your mind, Will,’ she whispered.
‘I hope you won’t, either.’
Those words comforted her greatly after he had gone, but she slept very little that night. Her head ached and her thoughts went round and round in the same circles. She couldn’t see any reason for Mr Rogers to raise objections to their marrying. He knew Will's worth as well as anyone and seemed fond of him, too. But until she heard for certain that the Parson had given his approval, she wouldn’t be able to rest easily.
And for a woman who was contemplating a marriage of convenience, a mere bargain between two people, her heart beat very fast at the thought of becoming Will Pursley’s wife.
* * * *
The following morning, as soon as he had seen the cows milked and turned out to graze, Will washed and changed into his Sunday clothes.
‘Is something wrong, son?’ his mother asked anxiously.
‘No.’
‘But why are you wearing your good Sunday clothes on a Friday?’
‘I have to go and see Parson.’
‘But . . '
‘Mother, I can’t stop now. I’ll tell you why afterwards.’ He didn’t give her any more chance to question him, but strode out of the house and got the cart out.
If Mr Rogers was surprised to receive a visit from his protégé so early in the morning on a weekday, he didn’t show it, but made Will welcome in his usual kindly way. ‘What can I do for you, my dear boy? I hope nothing's wrong? Your new beasts haven’t taken the sickness, have they?’
‘No. No, nothing's wrong exactly, but I - I need your advice.’ He explained what had happened.
Parson stared at him. ‘Bless me! This is a surprise!’
‘Aye. She surprised me too.’
‘But you like the idea?’
‘I should have my own land.’ Will explained simply. ‘And - I like Sarah. We deal comfortably with one another.’ He smiled reluctantly and added, ‘When we’re not quarrelling over her trying to do too much, that is. It’s just -will you just speak to her first? Make sure that she really means it? I shouldn’t like her to regret it afterwards.’
‘What does your mother think of the idea?’
‘I haven’t told her. Time enough for that when things are settled. She wouldn’t know what to say about it, anyway.’
‘You don’t think you should ask her advice as well, though?�
�� pursued the parson, feeling the responsibility sit a little heavily upon his frail shoulders.
‘No. My mother's not a thinking woman. She’s the best dairywoman I’ve ever seen, but I wouldn’t ask her advice about this. So if you're agreeable, I’ll drive you over to the Manor now and you can talk to Sarah.’
He wasn’t aware that he kept calling her by her first name, and smiling as he said it, but Parson noticed and drew his own conclusions. ‘Very well.’
The short journey passed in near silence. Will's face was now wearing its dark, brooding expression and the parson was holding an internal dialogue with himself, which occasionally caused him to mutter something under his breath.
* * * *
Sarah refused to stay in bed that morning and hobbled downstairs with Hannah's help. She promised to spend the day sewing quietly in her little parlour, for there was an abundance of things to be mended and she had also promised to alter some more old clothes to fit Mary, so that they could persuade the old woman into more regular washing of her person.
Though Sarah didn’t admit this to herself, from the parlour windows one had a good view of the driveway, so if she sat there, visitors wouldn’t be able to take her by surprise.
She watched, heart in mouth, as Will drove up to the house, helped the parson down and then went back to loosen the horse's reins, so that it could crop the grass at the edge of the drive. She could tell nothing from his expression. What had he and Parson decided? She watched as Mr Rogers came towards the house and Will started to pace up and down near the trap.
Hannah showed Mr Rogers in and Sarah drew a deep breath as she faced him.
‘My dear Sarah, Will told me about your accident. How are you feeling today? No, don’t get up! Should you be downstairs so soon after your fall? You look rather pale.’
Mr Rogers clasped her hand in his and stood looking down at her searchingly. These two young people were both dear to him, almost like the children he had never had, and he must ensure they were making a wise decision.
She couldn’t bear to waste time on trivialities. ‘Has Will spoken to you about my proposal?’ Her cheeks were flaming as she said that word.
‘Yes. He wants me to talk to you - to discuss the question of marriage.’
‘He will agree, though?’
‘Yes. If you are still of the same mind, my dear. He doesn’t want you to regret this later.’ He took the seat she indicated.
She couldn’t hold back a long, shuddering sigh of relief. She’d been terrified Will would change his mind.
Mr Rogers steepled his hands and stared at her over them. ‘I can’t conceal from you that the news came as a great surprise to me. Are you – um, quite sure it’s the right thing to do?’
‘One can never be completely sure of anything, can one, my dear sir? But I’m very sure that I need a husband - and that I’d like it to be Will.’
‘And why him? Should you not rather look for a man of your own station in life?’
‘A gentleman, you mean?’ She shrugged. ‘A gentleman would expect the estate to support him - at least, the only sort of gentleman who would consent to take a woman like me to wife! And it can’t. There is less than a hundred pounds a year coming in now and the whole place is so run down . . . No!’ Her tone carried conviction. ‘A gentleman would be of no use whatsoever to me. And a man who owned his own land already would care more about that than mine. But Will Pursley is heartsick for a place of his own and would, I think, give his whole life to restoring my estate. He is - not uneducated - thanks to you, my dear sir, and,’ she lowered her eyes, blushing hotly now, ‘I think he is - a fine-looking man, whose company I enjoy.’
He was convinced more by her blush and the way her voice softened as she said Will’s name than by any of her careful reasoning. Coming across the room, he took hold of both her hands and smiled down at her, then bent and kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll go and call him in, then, and you shall both have my blessing.’
He found Will raking the slimy mess of plants from the pond, working with furious concentration, heedless of his good clothes. When he heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel, he made no move towards the parson, just stood there, rake in hand. ‘Well?’
‘She hasn’t changed her mind and I shall be happy to call the banns for you as soon as you like, my son.’
Will's face lit up in a way that gladdened the heart of the kindly old man. He hadn’t seen his young friend look so happy since before his father’s death.
‘Well - aren't you going to go to her?’ he prompted. ‘She’s waiting.’
Will threw away the rake and ran across to the house, entering the door with a sense of ownership that made him feel like weeping, strong man though he was. He barely checked his step, but strode into the little parlour and went to take her hand in a fierce grip. ‘I’m glad,’ he said simply. ‘When shall we be wed, then, Sarah?’
Her face was radiant. ‘As soon as you like.’ But she had to add, ‘Will - you're quite sure about this?’
‘Aye, I’m sure. Very sure. And you?’
‘Oh, yes!’
A voice spoke behind them. ‘Then let me give you my blessing, dear children, and I’ll call the banns on Sunday for the first time.’
But Mr Rogers had to take out his handkerchief and blew his nose very loudly to hide his emotion before he could begin speaking, for their joy seemed to light up the whole room.
Chapter 10
The village church seemed more crowded than usual to Sarah that Sunday. Heads turned as she entered and stayed turned when they saw her on Will Pursley’s arm. Voices buzzed like a swarm of bees as he escorted her and his mother to the Bedham pew and then sat down with them there, arms folded, staring straight ahead.
Mr Sewell’s voice floated across the aisle, asking what ‘that fellow’ was doing at the front among his betters. Sarah was afraid Will would become angry, but he didn’t seem even to hear the comment. She realised then that he was nervous, as nervous as she was, so she reached out to clasp his hand. He turned his head and as their eyes met, she smiled and after a searching glance, his eyes softened into an answering smile.
Then his mother shifted uneasily in her seat and whispered, ‘Will, are you sure we should be here?’
His eyes held Sarah’s for a few seconds longer, then he turned to reassure his mother. ‘Of course we should. Mistress Bedham has invited us to share her pew.’
Jessie Pursley tried to smile at him and nod, for she was very proud of her tall, handsome son, but she couldn’t help glancing round and wincing as she saw Mr Sewell glaring at her. And she still hadn’t grown used to the idea of her Will marrying a Bedham.
She turned round to look back at a friend, who was staring at her open-mouthed. She wished she was still sitting in her usual place. All her life the front pews had belonged to the gentry and she had sat part-way towards the back. She had still not taken it in that she was to go and live with them at the Manor after his marriage, and was to be in charge of the dairy there, with Mary to help her.
Perhaps she was dreaming all this? She hoped not. Her Will looked so happy - and Mistress Bedham did, too. Only she was supposed to call her ‘Sarah’ now. Surely this couldn’t be wrong?
It was a relief to all three of them when Mr Rogers entered the church and people turned to pay attention to him. The service began and was quite short, because he was still not well enough to hold a longer one. After one hymn, he opened the Bible and said quietly to the congregation, ‘Today I will read to you from the Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 29, Verses 5 and 6:
Build ye houses, and dwell in them; and plant gardens, and eat the fruit of them; take ye wives, and beget sons and daughters; and take wives for your sons, and give your daughters to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters; that ye may be increased there and not diminished.
‘And we should do likewise, my dear friends,’ he finished, in his beautiful, deep voice. ‘We should marry and beget children and plant gardens for ourselves, for th
ere is no finer way of thanking the Lord for his gift of life, than to pass on that gift to our children and our children’s children.’
Everyone stared at him, slightly puzzled, except for Sarah, who had her head lowered and Will, who was glancing sideways at her.
When it was seen that Mr Rogers had finished his short sermon, everyone started rustling their things together in anticipation of being dismissed.
But no! Parson held up his hand for their attention and when he had it, shocked everyone into immobility by reading out the banns for Sarah Elizabeth Anne Bedham and William James Pursley. He had to pause after he had said that, for the whole congregation gasped aloud and there was a loud buzz of comment and speculation that brought a scowl to Will’s face and made Sarah blush as scarlet as a poppy in a hayfield.
Mr Rogers waited serenely for the noise to subside and then continued with the banns as if it were nothing out of the ordinary for a farmer to become betrothed to the lady of the manor.
Sarah had expected an outburst from Mr Sewell, but it did not eventuate. After the first shock, he sat looking across at her through narrowed eyes, and he silenced his son with a sharp word and a threatening gesture when that young man started to make loud, unflattering comments on the disparity of the match.
This time, the Sewells were allowed to lead the way out of the church with no let or hindrance, for Thad deemed it best to be rid of ‘they troublemakers’ as quickly as possible. The rest of the congregation was happy to wait their turn, for they were more interested in staring at Will and Sarah than in getting out of the church.
It was agony for Sarah to limp along the aisle on Will’s arm past rows of staring people, especially as her ankle was still sore and made her gait even more clumsy than usual.
Outside in the churchyard he paused and said, ‘We have to face them sometime, Sarah. Let it be now.’ So the three of them remained near the door and people paused beside them to offer congratulations and stare at Sarah as if she had two heads and belonged in a raree show.
