A Mother's Sacrifice

by Catherine King

  ‘I am looking for more than a servant.’

  Quinta stopped eating her dinner, a forkful of fowl halfway to her mouth. What more did he want? Surely - surely he could not mean a - a wife? This was not what Mother had expected at all and her normally serene features had frozen into a surprised query. ‘Please speak plainly, sir.’

  ‘Come now, Mrs Haig.You womenfolk know of these things before we menfolk have even thought of them. I am looking for a wife, madam. A wife.’

  ‘And you have come to me?’

  ‘I have.’

  Quinta watched the look of disbelief on her mother’s face, closely followed by a nervous smile. Neither she nor her mother had expected this and wariness came into her mother’s eyes, but she remained calm. ‘You honour and flatter me, sir. But I had not thought of you in such terms. If you will allow me time to consider—’

  ‘Time? Forgive me, madam. That is something I have little of. I have learned that ladies do not discuss their ages. But I must. You are, I fear, older in years than I?’

  Her mother’s face stilled. ‘I have a grown daughter, sir, a gift from God, born in my later years.’

  ‘But can you bear more children?’

  Quinta was astounded by his forwardness and watched an angry flush creep up her mother’s neck, around her chin and over her face, making it blotchy and unattractive.

  ‘Please do not speak so when my daughter is present,’ Laura said tightly. She looked away and then down at her hands. Finally, she returned her attention to him as he calmly soaked up the last of his gravy with an oat biscuit and said quietly, ‘You are disrespectful, sir. Quinta, would you fetch me some water from the barrel?’

  Quinta rose to her feet.

  ‘Sit down, Miss Quinta. This concerns you as well as your mother.’

  Laura Haig turned her serious face towards their visitor. ‘I do not deny my age. I am sure I would suit you well as a housekeeper. But that is all.’

  ‘You mistake my meaning, madam. Yes, I shall take you as my housekeeper and be pleased to do so. But my greater need is for a wife.

  Quinta noticed that her mother seemed to relax at this remark. She did too. He must be thinking of marrying into gentry and his lady wife would expect a woman to run the household for her.They had both misunderstood his needs and mother rallied in her response. ‘I shall of course be happy to housekeep for whomsoever you choose for your wife, sir.’

  Quinta watched him nod his head slowly. ‘Do you think I have the makings of a good husband, Mrs Haig?’

  ‘I do not know, sir,’ her mother replied shortly.

  ‘I am accumulating wealth and I have no kin to benefit from my fortune. Toiling in my fields has given me little time for courting and my years seem to advance more quickly nowadays.’

  ‘Please do not prolong this interview, sir. Either you wish me to work for you or you do not. If you have finished your dinner, I believe our business is at an end.’

  He ignored her plea, apparently intent on finishing his speech. ‘I need more than a wife. I must have offspring, madam. Fruit of my own loins.’

  ‘Sir!’ Laura Haig was affronted by this airing of his thoughts. ‘Do not continue this conversation when my child is present.’

  ‘Child? She is no child. She is rising sixteen, is she not?’

  ‘You will be kind enough to guard your tongue. She is a maid, sir.’ Quinta recognised a firmness in her mother’s tone that told her she was angry.

  ‘Quite so.Your daughter will suit me as a wife down to the ground.’ He turned to Quinta and raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you say, Miss Quinta?’

  Chapter 2

  He expected Quinta to respond. But how? She glanced across at her mother for help and caught the look of sheer horror spread across her features. ‘I - I - Mother?’ What should she say? What could she say? The silent rage that lingered in her mother’s eyes alarmed her even further. Her breathing was laboured and she began to cough.

  Quinta answered hastily, ‘I do not understand what you want of me, sir.’ She rose to fetch her mother’s cough mixture from the dresser, spooning it directly into her mouth. Her wheezing subsided and an awkward silence settled around the table.

  Farmer Bilton turned his conversation towards Quinta and explained as though he needed her to be clear: ‘Your mother can’t give me children, lass. You can.’

  Embarrassed, Quinta looked down at her plate and the silence stretched between the three of them.When she raised her eyes, she was shocked by her mother’s expression of revulsion.

  ‘Mother?’

  But Laura Haig was frozen to her chair with distaste etched into her normally serene face. Her voice came out hoarse and barely audible. ‘You wish for my Quinta to be your wife.’

  ‘Aye. That’s about the size of it. But I’ll not leave you here on your own, Mrs Haig. I’ll take you on as housekeeper as you wish. With this cottage empty, I can have the masons in by Midsummer and a new tenant before Michaelmas. It is an arrangement that suits us all, is it not?’

  Quinta could hardly believe her ears. He wanted them both to leave the only home she had ever known, and - she swallowed - for her to marry him. He had just told them he was thirty years her senior. He was an old man! Surely her mother was a much better choice as a wife for him?

  ‘You are too hasty, sir,’ Laura whispered.

  ‘I have no more years to waste if I am to have children before my half-century. I must have a bride soon, so you will give me your answer within the week.’

  ‘I can give you my answer now, sir.’

  ‘And your face tells me what that will be. Do not say no to me, madam.You will not be able to pay your rent at Midsummer. You’ll be homeless. I can keep the pair of you out of the workhouse, so think on my offer carefully.’ He stood up to leave. ‘I’ll send Seth to collect your donkey for the dogs as I promised. While you make up your mind, you can have all the skim to make cheese that your lass can carry.’

  ‘My mind is already set, sir. Quinta will not marry you.’

  ‘Of course she will! The old Squire said as much when the tenancy was drawn up. He said she would do for me when she was grown.’

  ‘What!’ Quinta had never seen her mother so angry. ‘He had no right!’

  ‘He was your late husband’s patron, was he not?’

  ‘My Joseph did not agree to that, I am sure.’

  ‘He signed for the tenancy and that was good enough for me. I had done the old Squire a service by leasing Top Field as he asked, and he owed me.’

  ‘You got your rent money in advance, didn’t you?’

  Quinta knew very little about the old Squire’s patronage that had set her father up as a small farmer. It had all happened years ago. She listened intently.

  ‘She was just a babe in arms at the time,’ Laura added.

  ‘Aye. That’s why what he said then never crossed my mind again until just lately. She’s a fine-looking lass, though. She’ll do for me, all right.’

  ‘She will not!’

  His face darkened at her mother’s firm rejection of his offer and he clambered to his feet. ‘She will, madam, and I shall have my property by Midsummer. Or all my rent, of course,’ he added cruelly. ‘It’s for you to choose.’

  ‘You know that is not a choice, sir,’ her mother said quietly.

  ‘I should talk it over with your daughter first. She seems a sensible lass to me. Knows which side her bread’s buttered.Who will sympathise with you when you are homeless if they know I offered marriage?’

  Laura stared at him stonily and Quinta returned her eyes to her plate. She could not get used to the idea that this red-faced old man really wanted her to wed him. She had seen older gentlemen celebrate marriage in the village church, but they generally married widows, perhaps not as old as they were but certainly not as young as she. She looked up as Farmer Bilton spoke again.

  ‘Thank you kindly for my dinner, Mrs Haig. When you have calmed yourself you will see the sense of my offer and I should wel
come you in my house. Good day to you both.’ He drained his mug of ale and stood up to leave, casting a large shadow over their table.

  Her mother did not move. She seemed unable to stir from her chair. Quinta jumped to her feet to hold open the door for him. He was a thick-set burly man and he stood too close to her, towering over her on their threshold. ‘Fine-looking lass,’ he murmured half to himself with a twisted expression on his face. Then he bent down and spoke quietly by her ear. ‘You’d like to wear a pretty bonnet for church, wouldn’t you? And go to town to shop in the market instead of to sell?’

  His nearness made her nervous and she nodded wordlessly. It seemed best to agree with him as he was their landlord. She curtseyed falteringly. He gave her a sort of smile, like the one the vicar used after her father’s burial in the churchyard, and walked out to mount his fine horse. He may not be proper gentry, she thought, but he was a well-off farmer now, with increasing influence in the Riding. He could make life very difficult for her and her mother.

  ‘Did Father really promise me to Farmer Bilton?’ Quinta asked as soon as he had left.

  ‘He did not promise you to anyone,’ her mother protested angrily. ‘It was the old Squire’s suggestion and he could be a meddling old tyrant when it suited him. He thought he could rule the whole valley as his father had done before him. But things were different after the war with France. Just because he made his son wed the girl he’d picked for him—’

  ‘He chose a wife for his son?’

  ‘Of course he did. Would such a handsome fellow as Sir William have married her otherwise? She’s not at all pretty and a very thin little thing.’

  ‘Well, I expect there were other things about her that he liked.’

  ‘Yes, my dear. There was a large dowry from her father’s glassworks. The Hall and estate needed her father’s money to keep it going.’

  ‘Wasn’t the old Squire very rich then?’

  ‘Oh yes. But in the days after the old Regent, all the gentry wanted to live as the Royals did, with their gluttony and - and, well, with their wicked ways.’

  Quinta’s eyes widened. ‘What wicked ways?’

  ‘Never you mind.’ Laura looked pensive. ‘There was a time when we all thought his son would turn out the same. He was a wild one in his youth, too wild, and - and, well, his father sent him away to the University. He calmed down after that, thank God.’

  ‘Well, Sir William is very handsome. I remember the celebrations in the village when he wed. The ladies in their pretty gowns and bonnets, flowers in the church and decorating the horse and carriage that took them away afterwards. And there was a barn dance for the villagers, just like the harvest supper.’ Quinta would like such a wedding for herself but knew it was unlikely and sighed, ‘What do I have as a dowry?’ She didn’t really expect an answer.

  ‘You have a beautiful countenance, my love, and that is your good fortune. And you are as pure as the day you were born. You will have a sweetheart who will fall so helplessly in love with you that he will not seek for any other dowry to become your husband.’

  Quinta wondered where she would find this sweetheart.‘Like Farmer Bilton?’ she responded tartly.

  ‘He does not love you. He wants a skivvy; that is all.’

  No, he wants children, Quinta thought, and that seemed a reasonable wish to her, but not to her mother, so she said, ‘And more rent for Top Field.’

  ‘When he inherited Bilton Farm he wasn’t accepted by the gentry at first and he was too anxious to please his betters. He was hard-working, though. He laboured all hours to get that farm to rights and we all wondered if he would choose a local girl for his wife.’ Laura took a sip of ale. ‘But he was too mean-spirited to court a woman and who would want a miser for a husband?’

  ‘Is he that bad? He has offered to help us.’

  ‘He wants to help himself. It suits him to have us out of here.’

  ‘But we would have a proper home at Bilton Farm,’ Quinta argued.

  ‘He does not have to wed you to give us that. It would be perfectly respectable for the two of us to live there as his servants. He asks too much.’

  ‘But we don’t want to end up in the workhouse!’ She thought for a moment. ‘We could ask for parish relief to pay our rent.’

  ‘Dear heaven, no! Think of the shame of it.’ Her mother gazed out of the window and muttered, ‘Something will turn up.’

  Quinta thought that they had been waiting two years for ‘something to turn up’ and it never did. When Father had been alive they had relied on him. He had been strong and resourceful and always got them through, whether it was bad harvests, illness or sick cows. He had known what to do.

  ‘What will turn up, Mother?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Neither did Quinta. But she had to do something. Mother might want her to have a sweetheart, just as she had had when she was young, but where would she find one in the workhouse? Someone had to be sensible about Farmer Bilton’s offer. Quinta did not want to wed him any more than her mother wished it. But neither did she want to be destitute.

  She said, ‘You must accept Farmer Bilton’s offer for me, Mother. You do not have to be anxious on my account for I should not mind becoming his wife.’

  Laura stared at her. ‘My darling child, you do not know what it means to be a wife. I shall not let you do it!’

  ‘Why not? He is not young and handsome but he has wealth enough for both of us.’

  Her mother stretched out a hand. ‘Come and sit by me and I shall tell you why not.’When she was settled, Laura continued: ‘He is not as old as I am, my dear, but it is not about his age, for if you truly loved him his years would make no difference. Tell me, before he called today, did you think of him at all?’

  ‘Sometimes. He is our landlord.’

  ‘When you did think of him did your heart beat faster in your breast?’

  Quinta let out a small guffaw. ‘No.’

  ‘Did you yearn for him to take you in his arms and kiss you?’

  Quinta grimaced. ‘Never.’

  ‘That is because you do not love him as you should love a husband. You cannot marry him.’

  ‘But why do I have to love him, Mother, if he gives us a home?’

  Quinta saw a spark of irritation in her mother’s eyes and realised she had annoyed her.

  ‘There are things in marriage that need love,’ she answered shortly.

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Married things. If you do not love him, how are you to share his bed? How are you to lie with him and have his children? You do not want to be doing married things with a man you do not love.’

  ‘But we would be living in his farmhouse instead of the workhouse!’ Quinta persisted.

  ‘Did you hear what I said?’ Laura’s cough erupted noisily but she struggled on. ‘Marriage is for ever and I shall not let you tie yourself to him for the rest of your life.’ She breathed in hoarsely. ‘I have said no. Now that is enough!’

  Quinta knew when Mother was angry and that was now. She didn’t like them to quarrel because it made her mother’s chestiness worse. ‘I’m sorry, Mother,’ she said. ‘I’ll mix some honey and warm water for you.’ When she brought the drink she added, ‘If he had offered marriage to you instead of me, would you have wanted that?’

  ‘No! But if he had asked me I would have wed him instead of you. I would have put up with him.’

  Quinta frowned. ‘Would it be so awful?’

  ‘Yes, it would, more especially for you because, to you, he is an old man. You - you are a lovely girl and you will grow into a beautiful woman and have a handsome young gentleman to court and wed you.’

  Quinta wasn’t so sure. Where would she find a ‘handsome young gentleman’? There were two ladies in the village whose sweethearts had taken the King’s shilling and not come back, and those ladies were still spinsters. Their lads had been killed in Spain or on the battlefield at Waterloo, or taken their bounty and a dark-ha
ired maiden to settle in foreign parts. Most of the men who stayed behind had gone down to the navigation in the valley to mine coal or make iron or glass. There were plenty of young girls in the town for them to wed.

  The only handsome gentleman she knew was Sir William, and he was no longer young. His father had lost two boys before him to the war and would not let his third son fight, insisting he managed the estate and made a good match. And he did.With his wife’s dowry he built furnaces for iron-smelting, using coal he found beneath his feet. She had seen him in church sitting beside his pallid wife dressed in her silken gowns and bows, and had wondered what it felt like to wear such finery. Sir William’s older sister had worn French bonnets, before she had married her Scottish laird and left the village.

  ‘But Farmer Bilton will look after us and buy me a new bonnet.’

  ‘And you will have to share his bed to pay for it!’ Laura snapped.

  ‘Well, how else are we to pay for our keep?’ she answered petulantly.

  It was then that her mother struck her. With the flat of her hand across her face. Sharply, and it stung. Her mother had never hit her before in her life. Not ever. Quinta was so surprised she stood there, speechless, rubbing her hand on her reddening cheek.

  ‘Do you know what that will make you? You must never think like that again. Never! Do you hear me?’

  Bewildered, Quinta simply nodded. But she didn’t understand. She went to church and read the Bible. She knew right from wrong and it’s not as though she wouldn’t be married to Farmer Bilton. Annoyed, she asked, ‘Then why would it be right for you to marry him?’

  ‘Because it would! Because I am older and I have had a husband before.You - you are young and pretty and untouched and he’s not having you. He’s not! Tell me, would you have ever looked on him as a husband if he had not suggested it?’

  Quinta had to admit to herself that she would not. When the hunt came through Five-acre Wood she thought that some of the Squire’s friends were dashing and handsome as they chased the hounds and she had had a fancy that, one day, she might be a lady to one of them. But a fancy was all it was. Or ever could be. She shook her head.