She was roused by the sound of a lively conversation.
‘They use them in Scotland.’ It was the sergeant’s voice.
‘We are not in Scotland, Father.’
‘I witnessed them with soldiers in Spain and France.’
‘But they were meant for harvest-time,’ Laura protested, ‘for men and women who did not know each other well.’
Quinta stood up quickly and returned to the shade of the tree. ‘What were?’
Patrick answered: ‘Lammas Day arrangements.’
‘What are they?’ she asked.
He stood up and drew out a chair for her. ‘Come and sit down, Quinta. Our parents talk about us more than we know.’
Her mother explained: ‘They are binding agreements taken during the early part of the harvest between men and women of marriageable age. A couple made a promise to each other that if they were suited after living together as man and wife during the harvest, they would marry. If the match was not an agreeable one, they parted without ill feeling towards each other.’
‘Well, I’ve never heard of them,’ Quinta stated. She knew what might happen if a woman lived as wife to a man. ‘What if there’s a child?’
‘Quinta! Do not be so outspoken.’
‘Marriage follows, of course,’ Patrick answered quickly.
‘Even if they are not suited?’ Quinta retaliated. ‘It doesn’t sound a very satisfactory arrangement to me.’
The sergeant intervened firmly: ‘If they are not suited, they will not love each other and so there will be no possibility of a child.’ He was looking at his son.
Quinta saw that her mother was embarrassed by the conversation, so she was surprised when Laura said to her, ‘They were considered to be very sensible arrangements, my dear.’
‘You’re not thinking of one for me?’ she asked incredulously. Suddenly the whole day fell into place. The sergeant providing meat for their table, Mr Ross - Patrick - taking her to church and now her mother’s discomfort with her opinions. ‘You are,’ she stated flatly.
‘Wait,’ the Sergeant said.‘Before we discuss this matter further, there is something I wish to know and you will be kind enough to answer me honestly, Mrs Haig. This is no time to spare my feelings, or those of my son.’ He emphasised the gravity of his question by rising awkwardly at the table. ‘My son never knew me until he was a grown boy because my sweetheart’s father disapproved of me. I will not have history repeat itself. Mrs Haig, do you approve of my son as a fitting suitor for your daughter?’
Quinta knew the answer was no.
‘I do.’
Wide-eyed, Quinta stared at her. ‘You do?’ She and Patrick spoke together.
‘You would have me wed to a travelling man?’ Quinta added.
‘I should have you wed to a farmer, and a first-rate one at that, capable of taking on this tenancy and of prospering. I should have that for you, my love.’
‘And you said I should never give myself to any man for gain,’ she breathed angrily.
‘Nor shall you!’ Laura retaliated. ‘That is why I agree with the sergeant on this matter!’
This made Quinta’s fury worse. ‘You agree that we should live as husband and wife outside of wedlock? Really, Mother! Have you gone quite mad?’
‘No,’ the sergeant responded quickly. ‘Of course not; Patrick will continue to live in the cowshed and work on the farm as he does now.’
‘And you will look after the garden, and tend to household matters as befits a farmer’s wife,’ Laura added hastily.
‘Then how is it different from the way we live now?’ Quinta asked irritably. No one answered at first until she prompted, ‘Mother?’
‘I - I shall accompany the sergeant to town and - and seek treatment for my cough.’
Quinta was overjoyed to hear this, and said, ‘Then, of course, I shall come with you.’
‘No, dear. You must look after the summer crops and the hens. I shall stay in town until the sergeant is well enough to return.’
‘You will leave us here alone?’ Patrick asked, staring at her.
Quinta felt as though she had been cornered and turned on him sharply. ‘Are you a party in this conspiracy as well? Is that why you took me to church; to prepare me for this - this charade? She was satisfied that he looked taken aback by her accusation. How could he have behaved so kindly towards her after church whilst he schemed against her like this?
Laura looked hurt. ‘Please do not be so angry, dear. I was opposed to the notion at first, but I am thinking of your future; of safeguarding the farm for you. I am not well.You are young and - and you need protection.’
‘But I can look after myself and you as well, Mother! Why do I need protection?’
‘Your landlord,’ Patrick said quietly.
Quinta was silenced. The threat of Farmer Bilton’s actions continued to hover over Top Field.
Laura stretched out her hand towards her daughter. ‘The sergeant has assured me that Patrick will take great care of you.’
Quinta clasped it gratefully. ‘But why do we have to have this - this arrangement?’
‘Think of it as a kind of betrothal, dear, that you may withdraw from without consequence.’
‘I cannot believe you agree to this. You will not be here to be my chaperone.’
‘That is true.’ Her mother frowned at the sergeant. ‘I am indeed concerned for my daughter’s virtue, sir.’
The sergeant answered swiftly. ‘They will not lie together, Mrs Haig.’
‘Lie together?’ Patrick looked angrily at his father.‘Dear God, Father, you make too many presumptions.’
‘Do I?’ The sergeant raised his eyebrows and Patrick fell silent.
‘So nothing is lost if we find we are not suited!’ Quinta observed, and then demanded, ‘What will happen then?’
Eventually Patrick replied, ‘Your mother will return here to you and I shall join my father in town.Your life will continue as if we had not been here.’
‘Impossible!’ she responded scornfully.
Whatever this Lammas Day arrangement brought, Quinta knew she would never be quite the same as before Patrick came into her life. She realised that she had felt more fondly towards him after their visit to church. But she did not love him and was not clear how she would know if she did.
She made another attempt to protest. ‘Patrick, surely you wish to be with your father when he visits the surgeon?’
The look of pain that crossed his brow gave Quinta her answer. He no more wanted this arrangement than she did. It was their parents’ doing and, much as she loved her mother and wished to obey her, there were occasions when she did not care to. This was one of them.
She wondered whether Patrick felt the same towards his father.You could not tell with him.The flashes of emotion that he showed were quickly quashed. But she noticed them. And it was because of that that he intrigued her so. She wanted to get to know him better. She laughed silently to herself. That was what Lammas Day arrangements were about.
When he did not reply, she realised that she was outnumbered in this argument and pursed her lips defiantly. ‘Shall I fetch more ale?’ she suggested crossly, lifting the empty jug.
Patrick stood up. ‘Father and I have things to discuss.’
‘And I must prepare for my journey,’ Laura added. ‘Quinta, will you come inside and help me?’
When they had left the table, the sergeant said,‘Well, her mother has given you her blessing.You have to win her yourself now. If she falls in love with you, would you marry her?’
‘Yes,’ Patrick answered. He was a little surprised that he admitted it so readily. But, since he had considered Quinta in that light, his acknowledged lust for her had deepened into a stronger desire, one that only marriage could satisfy. He coveted her. He wanted to own her, all of her, to the exclusion of all others. Was this what love was?
‘You will ask her to wed you before you bed her, son.’
‘But you just made a promise
on my behalf that I would not lie with her!’
‘And I know it is one you will not keep if she falls in love with you. So, you will ask her to be your wife and you will wait for her answer.’
‘And if she says no?’
‘She won’t.’
‘You sound very sure of that.’
‘You cannot mean this, Mother. I want to be with you,’ Quinta insisted.
‘I have to think about what will happen to you when I am gone,’ Laura answered seriously.
‘So you have agreed to this only to secure my future.’
‘I could have secured your future as a wife to Farmer Bilton. Of course I have concerns about leaving you! I am your mother. You must tell me now if you are not willing to do this.’
‘Well, he is handsome and strong. He has wisdom and manners.’
‘Do you trust him?’
Quinta thought about this and was sure of her answer. ‘Yes. He is a man of principle.’
‘Then my mind is easier. If he is half the man his father is I shall be very happy for you. This way, you will know for sure whether you can love each other.’
‘How shall I know that I love him, Mother?’ she asked.
‘You will want him, my love, you will want him to hold you and kiss you and possess you in a way that no other can. You will know. God willing, when the sergeant and I return, we shall announce the banns and have the ceremony before Michaelmas. There will be much to celebrate.’
Quinta knew better than to argue further and asked, ‘How long will you be away?’
‘No more than a fortnight.’
‘Where will you stay in town, Mother?’
‘We shall lodge at an inn near to the Dispensary.’
‘You will need your best gown, then.’
‘Yes. Fetch my box from the store room. Patrick will carry it to the village and we shall take the carrier into town.’
‘I shall miss you.’
‘And I you, my love.We have been happy here, but we cannot work this farm alone. If you can make a match with Patrick I shall no longer fret about your future.’
Quinta placed the travelling box on the bedchamber floorboards and laid out her mother’s clothes on the bed.
That night, she lay awake feeling an uneasy excitement about her future. She no longer feared Patrick Ross. But could she love him? And surely he would have to love her, too? She doubted that he would. Farmer Bilton had not loved her, only desired the use of her body, so why should Patrick Ross be any different?
Chapter 12
Her mother hugged her tightly. ‘My little girl, you are so grown up now.’
Quinta smiled falteringly. She thought she had grown up years ago, but she knew her mother meant more than running the farm. ‘Two weeks only, Mother. Not a day longer.’
‘Patrick will look after you, dear.’ She turned to him. ‘Your father has promised me that I can trust you with her. Do not let me down.’
‘You can be sure of that, ma’am.’
Quinta glanced at him quickly. His face was serious and so dark that she would have thought him quite menacing if he were still a stranger to her. But she had revised her opinion of him and wondered if, perhaps, he had doubts about this agreement.
Patrick loaded the box on to the early-morning carrier and paid the carter as Mrs Haig squeezed her daughter’s hands and said goodbye.Then he took his father’s pack and crutch and helped him climb awkwardly into his seat.
‘Remember what I told you, son,’ Sergeant Ross whispered in his ear. ‘If you do bed her—’
‘I shall not.’
‘Listen to me! I am your father and I have more knowledge of these affairs - and of you, Patrick. She has her mother’s approval. If she takes a mind to tempt you—’
‘Were I so lucky . . .’ he retaliated swiftly.
‘If you bed her you must wed her,’ his father insisted softly.
Patrick blinked. ‘You really believe I shall?’
‘I do. So promise me that if you do you will make her your wife. Promise me.’
‘I promise.’ His father relaxed and nodded to him with satisfaction in his eyes.
Patrick added ruefully, ‘But I should be better going with you to the surgeon.’
‘Your future is here with Miss Quinta. Begin it now.’
Patrick handed him his crutch. ‘I’ve put more sheep’s wool in the padding.’ He adjusted the strapping on his father’s hunting bag slung across his chest. ‘Send word if you need me.’
The sergeant smiled wryly but did not answer as he watched his son assist Mrs Haig into the cart and settle her beside him before jumping nimbly over the side. They jolted against each other as the horses began to move. He did not look back. He dared not. Mrs Haig was sure to return to her daughter within the fortnight. But his absence was likely to be prolonged. The laudanum helped with his pain, but he feared the worst for his leg. He hoped he would not be limping with a peg leg when he did come back to Top Field.
He hoped, also, that the young folk would make a go of it. It was a sensible arrangement for both of them. They needed each other in equal measures, and his instinct told him they were right for each other. Mrs Haig, too, had accepted the good sense of it. But she was a woman of romantic inclination and wanted a love match for her daughter, and Miss Quinta, God bless her innocence, didn’t really know what she wanted except to please her mother.
His son had voiced reservations. But Sergeant Ross had none. He knew he was right. He had seen many a young soldier in his life follow their lusts only to find their hearts ensnared. He knew his son’s heart better than the lad did himself.
Patrick watched the carrier cart with his father’s retreating figure for a long time.
‘This is a difficult time for your father,’ Quinta said quietly. ‘I am sure you would prefer to be with him.’ He didn’t reply, but Quinta thought she was right. She added,‘Mother will send for you if - if he asks her. She will look out for him.’
‘As I shall look out for you in return,’ he replied briefly.
‘I shall not be a burden to you, I assure you.’
He didn’t respond and this irritated her. He did not deny it. Did his silence mean that he did not agree with her? He laboured hard but he said little, and how were you to know a person if he did not converse? At that moment, she felt lonely and trapped in this arrangement. Without her mother she had no one to turn to for counsel or assistance, not even a friendly neighbour.
Quinta waited until the slow-moving carrier had disappeared and then went on briskly, ‘Well, I have much work to do in the house and garden.’
Patrick inhaled deeply. ‘You go on ahead. I’ll call at the farrier. You have a plough in your cowshed. If I can hire a beast, I’ll turn the pasture ready to sow grain next spring.’
She climbed the hill alone, absorbing his words. Next spring? Had he already decided to stay? Had they all decided he would stay? She pondered this thought as she chased a rabbit out of her rows of peas and set to work in her garden.
She did not hear his approach and he must have stood watching her for several minutes before she straightened, stretched and saw him. ‘Did you get a beast?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘None to be had. They are all taken by the harvest.’ He was carrying a parcel wrapped in sacking and he held it high. ‘Venison. There are too many young deer this season and they’re eating crops so the Hall is culling them. The farrier’s wife had set up a butcher’s slab outside her home.’
‘Venison? Oh, show me.’ She hurried towards him.
It was part of the foreleg, fresh killed for the blood had soaked into its wrapping. ‘This will feed us for days,’ she marvelled. ‘I’ll take it indoors now.’ He handed it over. ‘Thank you. What will you do if you cannot plough?’
‘I’ll start clearing the sluices and drain that swampy patch.’
‘The pond?’ Quinta had forgotten about it. It was on the edge of their land, downhill from the cottage. Father had dug it out and d
iverted the stream to keep fish but it was full of reeds now and the surrounding ground was boggy so she never ventured near it.
‘Yes. Before that, though, I’ll show you how to lay rabbit snares to keep them off your greens.’
‘Oh, there’s no need.’
‘But there is,’ he argued. ‘You will increase your yields. Look, I know you don’t want this arrangement and you agreed only to please your mother, but we’re stuck with each other for nigh on two weeks and we have to make the best of it.’
So that is what he thought! ‘I - I - Yes, of course.’ She retreated to the cottage with the venison.
He waited patiently with the snares for her return. He showed her where to place them in a brisk, matter-of-fact manner. When he had finished she said, ‘Thank you. I’ll check and reset them when they need it.Will you eat your dinner in the kitchen with me?’
‘If you wish.’
‘The hare that your father shot on the moor will be ready by noon.’
It felt awkward at first, having a hulking great man sitting at the dinner table instead of her mother. His hair was wet and slicked down where he had washed before coming indoors. He had kicked the caking mud from his boots and used the boot-scraper, too. He was hungry and her bread disappeared twice as fast as usual. She was aware that he watched her for much of the time, but, reassuringly, he smiled more.
Without the frown that frequently furrowed his brow, he was remarkably handsome. She realised how different it was to be living with a man in such proximity. Her mother knew that, of course, but she had to learn it. Quinta thought that even though she didn’t approve of this arrangement she was finding it an intriguing experience.
As soon as he’d finished he stood up and thanked her. She had made oat biscuits with dripping and he pocketed some to take with him to the pond.
A Mother's Sacrifice Page 13
