‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought when you’d come looking for her that…’
Tom interrupted her, ‘I suppose that’s a natural assumption. So, you don’t know who the father is then?’
‘No, she hasn’t said anything, apart from that she met him when she was working at Westgate and that he’s married.’
‘Can we see her? Just to make sure she’s alright,’ asked Tom.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s asleep and she needs the rest. It’s lucky she made it here at all after being out all night. Her clothes were drenched, and she was frozen. You can tell Mr and Mrs Peart that she’ll be alright though. She can stay with us for as long as she likes.’
Looking at Tom, Lizzie said, ‘I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? I can’t remember where.’
‘I worked with Ben at Greensike mine for a while.’
‘You used to work with my Ben? Why didn’t you say so? Come on in and get warmed up for a bit. You must be frozen out there today.’
Once again, the Pearts went out to the yard when they saw the men ride up the track. ‘Well?’ Mrs Peart asked.
‘Better news than yesterday, I think,’ said Isaac.
‘You’d better come in and tell us.’
Mr Peart stood by the stove and Mrs Peart by the window. The men sat at the table where Mrs Peart had laid out some sandwiches for them. Isaac said, ‘The lass is safe. She’s saying at her aunt’s place, near Lanehead.’
‘That’s good! When is she coming back?’ asked Mrs Peart.
‘She won’t be coming back. We’ve been told she’s going to have a baby,’ said Tom. He watched their reactions.
Mr Peart was pulling at his shirt collar and Mrs Peart was stood with her mouth open. She sat down and slumped in the chair, the colour draining from her face. She looked at her husband and said, ‘Mr Peart?’
‘What?’ When he saw her accusatory stare directed at him, he said firmly, ‘This has nothing to do with me. I’ve never touched the girl.’
‘Who then? You’re the only man in the house.’
Mr Peart bent over his wife and looked into her eyes. ‘I may be the only man in the house, but I’m not the only man around here. This is not my doing. How dare you accuse me? And in front of guests!’ He marched to the door and slammed it behind him.
Tom wondered whether Mr Peart could be the father. As well as being under the same roof, he was married. If he had suggested anything to Mary, would she have dared to refuse him and risk losing her job? He knew Mary’s family depended on her wages. But Mr Peart’s denial had seemed genuine.
Isaac and Jacob Rowell were both married men and they worked at the farm. They had regular contact with Mary. After spending the best part of two days with Isaac, he was sure it wasn’t him, but could his twin brother be the father?
Mary took eggs down to the shop in Westgate nearly every day and she must have met quite a few men from the village. The father could be any one of them — and that is if she had been willing. God forbid, if she had been taken against her will, the father could be absolutely anybody. If someone had hurt Mary, Tom swore that he would kill them himself.
‘We’d better be getting on, Mrs Peart,’ said Isaac. They left her staring out of the window.
Chapter 17
Westgate Village
April 1873
Mr Peart and Joe climbed the steps and went into ‘The Half Moon’. The smell of stale beer and tobacco hit them as they entered the bar. The members of the ‘Weardale Association for the Prosecution of Felons and other Offenders’ gathered at one end of the room to discuss the spate of sheep rustling that threatened their livelihoods.
The meeting had been called by Ned Routledge because he had lost a substantial part of his small flock. Five of his twenty sheep had been taken and this put his business at serious risk of failure. All the farmers could sympathise, even those with large concerns, because they had all been young once and they could remember how tough it was when they first started out.
When everyone had arrived, they sat around a table and, as chairman, Mr Peart addressed group, ‘You all know why we’re here tonight. A few weeks ago, Ned lost five ewes that were in lamb. That’s a huge loss for him. And we’re all here because we’ve lost sheep this past year as well. This stealing has been going on for far too long. We can’t let it continue. Robert Emerson, the constable, knows all about it, yet he’s never seen anyone about, nor caught anyone for it. It’s time we did something about it — ourselves.’
The men were nodding and saying aye, so he continued, ‘As you know, the Felons was founded well before there was a police constable here. Weardale men have always protected their own. I propose that we should go out at night and wait for the thieves. One night we’ll get lucky and catch them. We’ll make sure they go before the magistrates for this. Justice will be done.’
‘Right, so when do we start?’ asked Ned.
‘After talking to you all, it seems that most of the sheep went missing during the week, so why don’t we start next Wednesday?’
‘It’ll be dark by half eight, but they’ll not be out that early. Should we meet in the village at about ten o’clock?’ suggested Joe.
‘We’ll be here,’ said Isaac for himself and his brother.
‘I’ll be here an’ all,’ said Ned. ‘I’d like to get me hands on them buggers.’
Mr Peart said, ‘Good, good. I’ll tell Sir Thomas about the plan. He likes a bit of hunting, so I’m sure he’ll join us.’
‘What about Robert?’ asked Jacob.
‘Aye, we should probably tell him as well. He’s propping up the bar over there. I’ll go and have a word,’ said Mr Peart, as he got up from his chair.
Now that there was a plan in place, the men relaxed and continued drinking well into the night.
Wednesday evening was clear and dry. The men met outside ‘The Half Moon’ as planned and spoke in hushed voices as they discussed where they would go that night. The farms that had been robbed covered both sides of the valley and stretched for several miles in both directions from Westgate. They decided to go over the ford, up the southern hillside and onto the fell. From there they could watch Ned’s farm and a couple of his neighbours’ farms as well. As they set off, Robert came down the steps from the pub to join them, taking their number up to seven.
The men spent a long night up on their watch but saw nothing and heard nothing out of the ordinary. There were no thieves out that night. They arranged to meet again the following Tuesday and agreed to make this a regular event until the thieves were caught.
Chapter 18
The Moss, Lanehead
April 1873
Mary liked staying at The Moss with her aunt and her cousin. It was quiet and peaceful, and she didn’t have to hide anything from them. Even though she helped with the house and the garden, she had plenty of time to think and reflect on everything that had happened at Springbank Farm. She had come to realise how stupid she had been.
When she and Joe had been walking back from the dance that night, she had heard what she had wanted to hear and not what Joe had said. If she had listened, she would have known that she wasn’t part of his plan. He made it clear that it was Springbank Farm he wanted and there was only one way he could get that. Why had she not worked that out at the time? She knew the answer to that — it was because she had been taken in by his looks and flattered that he had wanted to spend time with her.
But he had been wrong to lead her on and ask her to meet him when he had no intention of courting her. She had liked him from the day she had first met him on her way to Springbank Farm and she thought he had been interested in her too. Well, he had been, but not in the way that she wanted.
When the weather was too bad for them to meet in the woods, she had wondered why he hadn’t wanted to meet her in the farm buildings where it was dry. He’d said it was because they were more likely to be found together and at the time she couldn’t see why that mattered. Now she realised it
was because he didn’t want anyone to find out that they were seeing each other.
Mary was sorry that she had fled from Westgate without saying anything; Mr and Mrs Peart must have been so worried about her. But as much as she missed them, she couldn’t have stayed there much longer anyway. While she was working there, she’d been frightened that somebody would notice the changes to her body, but luckily her thick winter skirt and pinny had hidden her condition well. Her pregnancy was quite obvious now; her tummy was growing, and she could feel the baby moving inside her.
Even though Mary disliked Connie, she wished that she could take back what she had said to her that day. Connie was mean and spiteful, and she shouldn’t have been taunting her about her marriage to Joe, but even Connie didn’t deserve to find out about her husband fathering a child in that way on her special day. That was the trouble with words, thought Mary, once they were out there was no way to take them back.
In the month that Mary had been at The Moss, Lizzie hadn’t mentioned the baby, or asked about the father, and Mary was grateful for that. She felt as though her aunt deserved an explanation and, now that she herself had come to terms with what had happened, she was ready to talk about it. She waited until they were alone one evening, sitting by the fire after dinner. Ben was out hunting with Fly.
‘Is now a good time to talk?’ asked Mary.
‘As good as any, and better than most,’ replied her aunt with a smile.
‘I just wanted to tell you what happened when I was staying at Westgate.’ She waited for her aunt’s approval and when Lizzie nodded kindly, Mary continued, ‘I fell for the lad from the next farm. Joe Milburn. I don’t know if you know him?’
‘No, I don’t. Is he any relation to Tom Milburn?’
‘They’re brothers.’
‘Hmm. Tom came here looking for you the day after you got here. He had one of the Rowell twins with him. I think the Pearts had sent them to search for you. He told me he didn’t know who the father was.’
‘You told them I was having a baby?’ Mary raised her eyebrows.
‘Yes. They wanted to take you back to the farm and obviously you couldn’t go. I thought, with them being the ones out looking for you, that one of them might be the man who was responsible, but I could tell from their faces that they had no idea what I was talking about.’
Mary realised that everyone at Springbank Farm and High House Farm and quite a few people in Westgate would know by now about her being with child. She and her unborn baby would be the subject of gossip.
Mary continued telling her story and, by the time she had finished, she felt much better for having shared it. She had been concerned that Aunt Lizzie might hear rumours and she wanted her aunt to know the truth about the baby’s father and why he had abandoned them.
Chapter 19
Newcastle-upon-Tyne
April 1873
Tom, Joe and Ned set off with Joe’s horse and cart and enough bait and ale to last them for several days. They were heading to Newcastle to take part in the annual Easter Wrestling competition.
‘You stand a good chance this year, Ned,’ said Joe. ‘If you hadn’t been drawn against George Steadman in the third round, you could’ve made it to the final.’ He added with a laugh, ‘But even the fourth round wasn’t bad — twenty shillings just for messing around!’
‘You wouldn’t call it messing around if you’d been up against him. He’s strong, and cunning. It’s like he can read your mind. It’s no wonder he wins so many matches — he’s a legend.’
‘You did much better than Tom and me. I was out in the first round and Tom in the second. I wonder who we’ll be up against this year?’.
‘Well, I hope I’m up against you Joe — because then I’m sure to get through!’ said Tom in jest.
‘Are you entering any of the other events?’ asked Ned.
‘No, not me,’ replied Tom.
‘Dunno, I might have a go at the sack race. It can’t be that hard — and you get a pound for winning!’ said Joe. ‘I don’t mind making a fool of myself if there’s a chance of winning some cash.’
‘Remember the first time the three of us went to the Easter Wresting?’ asked Tom.
‘You mean when we were young and daft,’ laughed Ned.
‘Aye, we were that. We had so much ale that none of us could remember how we got home. Good job that horse knew where he was going, ‘cos we were all passed out in the cart!’ said Tom.
They all laughed.
It was dark by the time the men reached Forth Banks at Newcastle. A sizable crowd had gathered already. Joe unharnessed the horse and tethered it next to his cart, then went to fill a bucket with water. When he returned, they had some of the food and ale that they had brought with them and settled down for the night in the back of the cart.
The next day dawned fine and clear. Tiered seating was in place for the spectators and multicoloured banners had been raised around the field. Excitement was in the air. The first competition was for men weighing less than eleven stones and there were sixty-four entries when Tom and Joe went to put their names down. It was the largest class and it was expected to last most of the day.
Tom and Joe both won their first rounds with ease. While they waited for the second-round names to be drawn, they saw Henry Forster walking towards them, ‘Nicely done, gentlemen. I had money on both of you to win. Good luck in the next round!’
‘Thank you, Mr Forster,’ said Tom.
The second-round names were announced soon after; Tom and Joe were drawn against each other. They had practised together many times and were closely matched in both weight and skill.
‘Well, you’ve got what you wanted, Tom,’ said Ned. ‘Let’s see if you can beat your brother — or if you’re all talk.’
‘I’ll beat him,’ replied Tom.
The two brothers got into position and took hold of each other. On the command, they started to wrestle. They tried various moves but neither of them released their grip or fell. Both were determined to win. In the first hold, it looked like Joe was going to tip Tom over, but Tom pulled him round and they landed on the ground, shoulder to shoulder. The referee shouted, ‘Dog fall.’ He leaned towards the brothers, ‘That one isn’t counted, so we’ll start again — best of three. Alright?’ Tom and Joe nodded and heard him say, ‘En guarde — Wrestle!’ The crowd cheered as the brothers started to kick and shove and twist, without letting go of the other, each trying to land the other onto the grass. This time Joe tripped and fell backwards, and Tom landed heavily on top of him. That was one to Tom.
They got up and took hold again. They grappled for some time before Joe lifted Tom off his feet, swung him round to the side and dropped him to the ground. That was one to each of them.
The tiered seats were full of spectators and there was a huge crowd around the wrestlers when they got into position for the final time. Brother versus brother. They heard a shout, ‘May the best man win!’ This hold lasted longer than the previous ones and the men battled on without losing their grip, trying to trip and trick each other into falling. The crowd were shouting their support and cheering wildly. Tom felt Joe’s grip loosen and immediately took advantage by tripping him so that he lost his balance. Joe tried to reach out and grab Tom to pull him down as he fell, but he missed and landed on the ground alone. The crowd roared. Tom had won.
Ned ran over to them. He shook Tom’s hand and helped Joe up from the grass. ‘That was an epic bout, lads. Listen to the crowd!’ Tom took his brother’s hand and raised their arms up into the air and the crowd cheered even louder.
‘I could do with a drink,’ said Joe, and the three friends walked off in search of a bar. It would be a while before Tom’s next tournament, so they had plenty of time. The field was crowded, and people slapped them on their backs in congratulations as they passed.
They found a small public house on the edge of the wrestling ground and went inside. The room was dark and the ceilings low. Tobacco smoke filled the air and masked o
ther fouler smells. Tom bought a round of drinks and they found a corner in which to sit and sup their ale. The discussion was dominated by wrestling — the matches that had taken place and those that were yet to come.
The conversation was interrupted by a commotion beside the bar. Two broad men had their backs to them and, from the raised voices, they appeared to be threatening a man who was hidden from their sight. One of them punched the man and he groaned. As he bent double and held his stomach, Tom caught a glimpse of his face.
‘That’s Henry Forster!’ he said, standing up and moving towards the bar. The others followed.
‘Get off him, he’s with us.’ Tom said to the thugs.
They turned and looked at Tom, sized him up and smiled, but then they noticed Joe and Ned standing behind him and turned back to Henry. One of them said, ‘We’ll be seeing you again, you can bet on that!’ Then they hurriedly left the pub.
‘Are you alright, Mr Forster?’ asked Tom.
‘I...I’m fine now, thanks to you. They tried to rob me. Can you believe that? In broad daylight! Thank God you were here.’
‘Just as long as you’re alright.’
Henry was visibly shaking, but he said, ‘I’m fine, really. I’ll be off now. Thank you for coming to my rescue.’
The men returned to their drinks.
‘He was lying about them being thieves, wasn’t he?’ asked Joe.
The Lead Miner's Daughter Page 11
