***
Mr Peart tapped the table with a spoon, stood up and waited for the noise to die down before he said, ‘Congratulations to my beautiful daughter, Connie, and my new son-in-law, Joe, on their wedding day. I hope they’ll have a long and happy life together, and give us lots of grandchildren.’ He smiled at his wife, then shouted, ‘To Joe and Connie!’ He raised his glass and everyone in the room followed his lead, ‘To Joe and Connie!’
Isaac waited until the cheers had subsided and normal conversations had resumed before he approached Mr Peart and whispered, ‘There’s two gentlemen at the door. They’re askin’ if Mr Forster is here — Mr Henry Forster.’ Mr Peart glanced across at Sir Thomas and Lady Margaret who were offering their congratulations to the newly married couple. Phyllis was with them, but where was Henry? Mr Peart hadn’t noticed Henry’s absence but, as Henry had been a former suitor of Connie’s, perhaps it wasn’t surprising that he would prefer not to attend her wedding to another man. Feeling annoyed at the interruption, he said, ‘Alright, I’ll come and see what they want.’
The men were standing outside the back door. One was tall and the other average height, but both were well-built, rather like wrestlers he thought. They looked like gentlemen — their clothes were well cut — but there was something about them, something that Mr Peart couldn’t quite put his finger on, that made him uncomfortable. In a no-nonsense voice, he said, ‘Gentlemen, I’m Mr Peart. This is my house and it’s my daughter’s wedding day. Who are you and what’s your business here?’
The tall man replied, ‘I’m sorry to interrupt the nuptials. I’m William Price and this is my associate, James Benton. We’re friends of Henry Forster and we believe he is here. We would like to see him on urgent business.’
‘The guests at my daughter’s wedding are none of your concern.’
‘Guests?’ the taller of the two said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Isn’t Henry the groom?’
Mr Peart’s patience was wearing thin. ‘No, he is not.’
‘But your daughter, she is Constance Peart, isn’t she?’
‘Well, she was until this morning. Now she’s Mrs Joseph Milburn."
‘Oh, I see. So, she didn’t marry Henry, then?’
‘No, she didn’t. Henry is not here, so I’ll ask you to leave.’ He closed the door and sighed. It had been months since Connie declined Henry’s proposal. If they were Henry’s friends, as they claimed to be, they would have known that. As Mr Peart rejoined the party, he decided not to tell Sir Thomas and Lady Margaret about the visitors; he didn’t want to worry them.
‘Mary, would you help Connie change out of her dress? They’ll be leaving for High House soon.’
‘But…’
‘Never mind the guests, I’ll see everyone has full glasses,’ said Mrs Peart, as she picked up a sherry bottle from the table.
‘Yes, Mrs Peart.’
Connie waited at the bottom of the stairs and led the way to her room. When they were alone, she said, ‘Well Mary, I’m Mrs Joseph Milburn now. What have you got to say about that?’
‘Congratulations.’ Mary’s voice faltered.
‘You don’t sound too sure,’ Connie smirked as she removed her necklace. ‘Are you jealous?’
Mary was seething inside. The whole day had been like a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake up. By rights, Joe should have been hers. She should have been Mrs Joseph Milburn. The last thing she needed was Connie rubbing salt into the wound. Trying her hardest to stay calm, she said, ‘Why would I be jealous?’
‘I know you liked him,’ Connie gloated. ‘You used to meet him by the river. I saw you together, kissing and cuddling, all lovey-dovey.’
‘So what! He was a single man and I was a single woman. It didn’t mean anything to either of us.’ That was at least half true, Mary thought, trying very hard not to show that she was upset.
‘I don’t believe you, you little liar. You wanted him and now you can’t have him. He’s mine. He’s my husband, to have and to hold, to love and to…’
‘But it’s me that’s having his baby!’ shouted Mary in retaliation. She stepped back and covered her mouth with her hands as she realised what she had said.
Connie’s face changed from pink to white to red.
Glaring at Mary, Connie yelled, ‘How dare you stand here, in my bedroom, and tell me that you’re having my husband’s baby. I knew you had your eye on him, but it never crossed my mind that you were lovers! Meeting him in secret like that. I should have guessed that you’d bedded him, that you were his whore. How disgusting! I would never have married him if I’d known he’d been with you.’
Connie lowered her voice and hissed, ‘From the day you came here, I hated you. Everyone else loved you. I heard them, ‘Mary can do this’, ‘Mary can do that’ and ‘Why can’t you be more like Mary?’ They liked you more than me, their own daughter!’ Connie sniggered, ‘But who’ll have the last laugh now? I will! Because Miss Goody-Two-Shoes has disgraced herself good and proper! You’re nothing but a whore, with a bastard in your belly. It’ll never have a father because Joe … is … mine!’
Connie sat back on her bed and laughed hysterically. She was still in her wedding dress.
Mary had to get away. She left Connie and ran to her room where she paced up and down. The taunts had been too much for her to take after watching her lover get married to Connie that morning. That had been one of the hardest things Mary had ever done, but she should have kept her mouth shut and she was cursing herself for saying what she had. Just another hour and Connie would have left and it would all have been over.
But now that Connie knew she was pregnant, it wouldn’t be long before her secret became the dale’s latest gossip and everyone would know. She had to go. She had to get away from Springbank Farm, and from Connie and Joe. She picked up the few things in her room that belonged to her and bundled them together. Quietly, without being seen, she left by the back door.
Chapter 13
High House Farm, Westgate
February 1873
After carrying Connie over the threshold at High House Farm, Joe led her into the parlour, where he poured two glasses of sherry. He handed one to his new bride. She took it eagerly and drank it straight down. He would rather have had another whisky, but he downed the sherry. He noticed that she was fidgeting with her bracelet and was unusually quiet for Connie. Thinking that she was nervous about what was about to happen, he decided not to delay any longer. He took her hand and led her upstairs to their bedroom.
He undressed her slowly and, because she seemed anxious, he spent a long time stroking and kissing her before touching her intimately. She showed little reaction to his advances. She didn’t return his kisses or touch him. She just lay there silently. He was so taken aback by her behaviour that he didn’t know what to do. But he needed to consummate the marriage; that’s all that stood between him and Springbank Farm.
‘What’s wrong, Connie?’ he asked.
‘I’m your wife and I’ll do my duty. Please just get on with it.’
Joe wasn’t proud of himself for taking her under those circumstances, but she didn’t offer any resistance. He wasn’t inexperienced when it came to women, but he had never known anyone act like that before. He found it hard to believe that his worst sexual experience ever was with his bride on his wedding day.
As this was going through his mind, he pictured a scantily clad Mary on a large bed and he couldn’t help thinking about how much fun it would have been to spend the night with her.
Joe was up early the next morning. He sat at the kitchen table to eat the breakfast his mother had made for him. He looked tired. His mother left the kitchen with a smile on her face. He knew that she was thinking his new bride had kept him up half the night, but that wasn’t the reason he hadn’t slept. He had lain awake wondering what was wrong with Connie.
He mulled over the events of the previous day, trying to work out why she had behaved the way she had. The wedding had gone well. When
they had said their vows to each other, Connie looked sincere and smiled at him — and there had been promise in that kiss. He had been looking forward to getting her into bed.
At the reception, Connie had taken his hand as they stood together to welcome the guests. She looked happy and talked to everyone who was there. The atmosphere had been jovial — as a wedding should be. It was when she came downstairs to leave for High House that she had become distant. Didn’t she want to leave home? Or leave her family? Was she having second thoughts about marrying him?
Connie had been fine until she went to change out of her wedding dress. She had been upstairs ages. Then he remembered that Mary had gone to help her. Surely Mary wouldn’t have said anything about them or the baby. If she had, wouldn’t Connie have told him? But it might explain her behaviour the previous night. He had to sort this out now. Connie would be his wife for a very long time and they hadn’t got off to a good start. He had to try and make it work.
He went back to the bedroom. Connie woke as he opened the door. She looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings and it took a moment before she remembered where she was. She saw Joe standing in the doorway; her large blue eyes watched him as he approached the bed.
‘Good morning, Mrs Milburn,’ he said as he sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her on the lips. She was an attractive woman and, despite the disappointment of the previous night, he wanted her.
‘About last night, it shouldn’t be like that. I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You should enjoy it just as much as me.’
She looked away, ‘I know you enjoy it, Joe. I found that out yesterday, and you’re not too fussy who you enjoy it with.’
He had guessed right. Mary had said something. Feigning ignorance, he asked, ‘What do you mean?’
‘Mary told me, on my wedding day, that you fathered the bastard she’s carrying.’
Taking her hands and looking her in the eye, he said, ‘I’m so sorry, Connie. I should have been the one to tell you. What I did was wrong, I know that and I’m sorry. What happened between Mary and me is over now. I chose you. I married you. We’re man and wife and that’s…’
‘I’m well aware of all that. For better or worse, et cetera, et cetera.’
‘I know you’re upset Connie, and you have every right to be. But it’s you I want to be with. It’s you I want.’
‘I knew you and Mary were meeting by the river. I saw you. I didn’t think you were lovers though. I don’t know why the thought had never crossed my mind. I didn’t want her to have you.’
‘Don’t say that Connie, you’re upset. I understand that. But we’re man and wife now and nothing else matters; nothing that happened before matters anymore.’
Her face softened a little at his words.
He added, ‘And about last night, it will get better. I promise.’ He winked at her before he left the room.
Chapter 14
Upper Weardale
March 1873
Without being seen, Mary ran across several fields to escape from Springbank Farm. The afternoon sky was dark and snowflakes began to fall softly to the ground. Mary came to a halt. Should she take the road, go across the fields, or go up onto the fell? All of the routes would take her to Fell Top, but she decided she was less likely to be seen if she went the fell way. She climbed up the hill and through the gate. There were many tracks on the fell: miners’ tracks from home to work, carriers’ tracks from mines to ports and sheep tracks from grazing to shelter. The snow was coming down heavier on the hills and blanketed the ground. She stayed close to the fell wall so she wouldn’t lose her way.
After walking for over an hour, the snow was getting deeper underfoot. Mary was cold and tired and she looked around for somewhere to rest for a while. There was a natural hollow in the hillside which had less snow than the hills around it, but it would offer little shelter. Up ahead was a mine entrance leading into the hillside, the opening black against the snow-covered grass. Her father used to say that it was warmer inside mines than outside in winter, so she went to the opening and looked in. It was small but, if she stooped, she could just about walk in it. She didn’t have a candle, so she felt her way carefully using her hands and her feet to guide her, one foot at a time. When she could no longer feel the draught from outside, she sat down on the stone floor. Her father had been right — it was warmer than outside. Her cloak was wet, so she took it off. Apart from the hem of her dress, the rest of her clothes were dry.
Mary sat in complete darkness and her other senses sharpened. She had expected it to be silent underground, but she heard water dripping and some strange noises that she couldn’t identify. There was a bad smell. Her father had talked about ‘bad air’ in the mines, where a candle wouldn’t burn and men couldn’t breathe. She listened to her own steady breathing and knew the air must be good. Perhaps it was damp or mould, she thought. In this alien environment her body was resting but her mind remained alert. After a while she grew used to her surroundings and relaxed, and eventually slipped into sleep.
She woke with a start. She was covered in sweat. Her troubled dreams had been of Connie and Joe, and of Springbank Farm and the workhouse, and of running for ever and ever with no end to her journey. How could she bear the shame of having a bastard child? Or of being jilted by its father? How could she have been so wrong about Joe? Connie’s words had cut her deeply and they were etched into her mind. Perhaps she should just curl up and die here. It would be easier than carrying on.
But she had to carry on, for her baby.
***
Mrs Peart was up early the next morning and was surprised to find that Mary hadn’t returned. She hadn’t seen her since the wedding reception. Last night, Mrs Peart had cleared up after the guests by herself and she had been very cross with Mary for leaving her with so much work to do, but she hadn’t been worried about her. She thought that Mary must have gone out walking with a lad. Girls got fanciful notions in their heads sometimes and a wedding could bring that sort of thing on.
But Mary hadn’t come back and her bed hadn’t been slept in. She would have to tell Mr Peart. He would know what to do.
She found her husband at the kitchen table waiting for his breakfast. ‘Where’s Mary? It’s not her day off again, is it?’ he asked.
‘No. Now don’t get alarmed. I haven’t seen Mary since yesterday afternoon. I thought she’d gone off with a lad, but she’s been out all night and she’s not back yet.’
‘You mean to say that Mary’s missing?’
‘Yes, since yesterday.’
‘Good God, woman! She’s our responsibility while she’s living under our roof. We’ll have to find her. Did you see her with a lad at the wedding?’
‘No.’
‘Any idea where she might have gone?’
‘Her home at Killhope is the only place she’s mentioned going to in all the time she’s been here.’
‘I can’t imagine why a sensible lass like Mary would leave without telling us, especially in such bad weather. Something must be wrong.’
Mr Peart looked out of the window and across the fields. It had snowed heavily overnight and it had been very cold.
‘Jacob will have to see to the stock on his own today. I’ll ask Isaac and Joe to go and look for her,’ he said.
‘You can’t ask Joe. Not on the day after his wedding,’ replied Mrs Peart.
‘Alright, we’ll ask Tom then.’
Mr Peart sent Isaac to High House Farm to ask Tom for his help. Tom was happy to oblige and returned to Springbank Farm with Isaac. Mr Peart invited them into the kitchen, and said soberly, ‘Mary hasn’t been seen since yesterday afternoon. She has never spent a night away from the farm since she’s been here. We have no idea where she is and obviously we’re concerned for her safety.’
Nobody said it, but they all knew that if Mary had been out overnight in the snow that there was little chance of finding her alive.
‘We’ll do our best to find her,’ said Tom. ‘It’s probably worth
trying Fell Top first. She might have gone home.’
‘Good idea,’ replied Mr Peart.
Isaac and Tom wrapped themselves up well and set off on horseback for Killhope. They decided that would be the best place to start their search and they could ask anyone they met on the way if they had seen Mary.
***
It took a few moments for Mary to realise where she was. She had opened her eyes, but it was still dark. She stretched; she was stiff with lying on cold rocks all night. Her stomach rumbled; she had left in such a hurry that she hadn’t taken any food with her. She made her way to the mine opening. More snow had fallen overnight, and it sparkled on the ground. She looked down the valley of Weardale and wondered at its beauty as she set off for home.
Mary trudged up the steep bank to Fell Top, the home she had left almost a year ago. The winding path was hidden but Mary knew the way between the tufts of reeds sticking out through the covering of snow. She paused for breath and, as she looked across the barren landscape, she saw the familiar scattered houses nestled into the hillsides. She had forgotten how few houses there were up here. Her eyes were drawn to the valley bottom. There were no boys on the washing floor at Killhope mine today. The water must be frozen, she thought, as she turned to continue her climb. Mary wished her mother would be there to greet her when she got home.
The Lead Miner's Daughter Page 9
