White Water

by Pamela Oldfield

  ‘They are beautiful,’ said Maria. ‘You must be very proud.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘I wish it had — been otherwise.’

  Felicity did not answer but fetched ale for herself and Maria. They sat beside the hearth and talked about the future and Maria confided her plans. She spoke as calmly as she could but beneath the flat, unemotional voice, Felicity sensed the older woman’s despair. Maria told her that she had no wish to continue at Heron without Hugo. She wanted, more than anything else, to return to the nunnery where she had spent some years before marrying Hugo. It was not possible to do that while Lorna and Piers still had need of her, but in a very few years she would leave them. She was quite adamant. Allan would marry again as soon as a suitable match could be arranged and Piers and Lorna would be put in their care. Heron was their home still and would be until they married and settled elsewhere.

  ‘But they’ll miss you!’ cried Felicity. ‘They need a mother.’

  ‘They need a father, too, but he has been taken from them. The world is not an easy place and they must learn to stand on their own feet. How would they manage if I were to die? Allan would assume responsibility.’

  ‘But — will you not marry again? In time, mayhap?’ Felicity was distressed for her.

  ‘Never. That is my real tragedy, you see. Hugo was the only one for me. I always knew it. No, there will never be anyone else in my life and now I crave the peace and security of that little convent. You have never known such tranquillity so you will not understand. You must believe me — ‘tis the only way now that I can end my days. I have written to them explaining the situation and will visit them as soon as I’m able. Part of the proceeds of Romney House will go there to await me. Another part of the money will go to set up a trust for Martin’s sons so that they shall never lack. He would have wished it. But the money will be for them alone and not for any children you and Lucas may have. I’m certain you will see the fairness of what I say. The sum will not be large enough — ’

  ‘I understand.’

  The third part of the money was to refinance the Heron mine in an effort to get it back into production. Without the mine Heron would fail.

  ‘The money will not be enough,’ said Maria, ‘but ’tis the best I can do. Allan must marry money to raise the rest and try again to raise a loan in London. It may not be possible. The last loan came to nought for without Bucher ’tis no longer such an attractive proposition. We shall see. Allan deserves another chance. He has had a lot to bear these last few years and it has not all been self-inflicted. My heart aches for him. He is a haunted man. Those damned Gillises will be his undoing if he cannot rise above his fears. If only Harriet had lived. Poor little girl … ’ She sighed. ‘But regrets get us nowhere. We must look forward as hopefully as we can. I’m glad you are happily settled and now that the twins are provided for — ’

  ‘And if I should not wed Lucas?’

  ‘Not wed him? But why not?’

  ‘If, for any reason, I do not wed him, the money is still theirs?’

  ‘Of course, but — Felicity, what do you mean? I thought — ’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Lucas loves you. I’m certain of it. He spoke with me before I arrived. Oh, he will ask for your hand.’

  ‘I know he will. But I may not give it.’

  ‘Felicity!’

  The girl lowered her eyes.

  ‘The boys are Kendals,’ she whispered.

  ‘They are Carrs,’ said Maria, her tone gentle. ‘You and Martin were never husband and wife, Felicity. You cannot pretend otherwise. Lucas is a good man. You are most fortunate that he wishes to wed you.’

  ‘I know. I do not say I will not accept only that I have not made up my mind.’

  ‘Then I urge you to do so without too much delay,’ said Maria and there, for the time being, the matter rested.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Lorna sat at the kitchen table with four-year-old Della on the seat beside her. Nearly ten years old now, Lorna had grown taller and her features were those of her mother. She had Maria’s slim neck and the same firm tread, but she had so far shown none of Maria’s passion. Now that Piers was away at school, she spent as much time as possible at Ladyford, where she had taken it upon herself to teach the little girl to talk. She had rashly promised Oliver that by the time he came home again his daughter would know ‘a hundred words, no less’ and she worked diligently with that aim in mind. They sat close together, heads bent, and a selection of small articles was arranged in front of Lorna. A crab-apple and a thimble stood in front of Della. Maggie, busy at the fire, watched them surreptitiously, and smiled to herself.

  ‘Now then,’ said Lorna picking up a walnut. ‘Nut. Say it, Della. Say “nut”.’

  The little girl looked at it solemnly and said: ‘Apple.’

  Lorna shook her head patiently. ‘No, no. You’ve had the apple. See, this is the apple.’ She showed Lorna the apple which stood in front of her. ‘You’ve got the apple and the thimble. Now this is a nut. Say “nut” and you shall have that, too.’

  Della regarded it with an inscrutable expression but said nothing.

  ‘Nut,’ Lorna repeated. ‘N-u-t. Say it, Della. You can if you’ve a mind. Say “nut”. Say it for me, there’s a poppet.’

  Della took a deep breath and said ‘nu … ’

  ‘Well done! You nearly have it,’ cried Lorna.

  ‘Nu-t,’ repeated Della.

  Lorna clapped her hands and Della did the same.

  ‘You’ve done it. So you have the nut.’ Lorna put the walnut with the apple and thimble. ‘Apple, thimble, nut,’ she said, naming them. ‘Now this one is a spoon. Spoon — spoon. Say it, Della. Say “spoon”.’

  Della shook her head. She picked up the walnut and banged it on the table, trying to crack it.

  ‘She wants to eat it, the little pet!’ cried Maggie but Lorna looked at her sternly.

  ‘She can eat it when the lesson is done,’ she said. ‘Now say “spoon”, Della. Be a clever girl and say “spoon”.’

  Della threw the walnut across the table and it rolled on to the floor. The dog ran over to it but Maggie retrieved it just in time and put it back on the table. She marvelled at Lorna’s patience.

  ‘Spoon, Della,’ the girl insisted. Finally Della repeated it to Lorna’s satisfaction and the spoon joined her other successes.

  ‘She’s doing very well,’ said Maggie. ‘You’re a good teacher, Lorna. How many words does she know now?’

  ‘Eleven,’ said Lorna.

  ‘Eleven? Is that all? And how many more still to go to reach a hundred?’

  ‘A great many,’ said Lorna, ‘but there is plenty of time. Oliver won’t be home for ages and ages if he is gone away to foreign lands. I may even teach her a little rhyme. What are you making, Maggie? It doesn’t smell very good.’

  Maggie laughed. ‘’Tis not your dinner, but the chickens’ food. If your lesson is over in time you can feed the chickens for me — if you tidied your bed.’

  ‘I did.’

  Lorna had stayed overnight. Since the deaths of her brother and father she found Heron a ‘drodsome place’, as she called it, and stayed there only on the days that her tutor attended, which were Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Most of the rest of the time she spent at Ladyford, where Maggie and Melissa’s cheerful chatter helped her momentarily to forget the recent tragedies and teaching Della to talk gave her an interest and kept her too busy to brood.

  ‘Now, Della, what is this?’ She held up a tortoiseshell comb.

  ‘Comb,’ said Della promptly.

  ‘Well done! That is enough. You shall come with me to feed the chickens.’ Lorna glanced up as Nina came into the kitchen with Jason in her arms. He was a little over a year old and a lusty child. Now he was fed and clean and he held out his arms to Maggie, who kissed him loudly.

  ‘The girls are going to feed the chickens for me,’ she told Nina who nodded and smiled. ‘Melissa is weaving today and has gone over to Heron to u
se the big loom.’

  Nina sat the boy in a tub lined with a sheepskin and gave him a wooden rattle to play with. Then she pointed first to herself and then to the back door and made two quick downward movements with the fingers of her right hand.

  Maggie nodded. The gesture meant that she was going to milk the goats. They had all grown very adept at ‘conversing’ with Oliver’s wife and a mutual sign language had evolved quite naturally.

  ‘I’ll keep an eye on His Majesty,’ she told Nina and watched her drop a light kiss on each of the two girls before she went outside.

  Maggie thought how changed she was from the bedraggled creature who had turned up on their doorstep nearly two years ago. Nina had blossomed into an attractive woman, her body rounded out into soft curves, her olive skin gleaming and a bright flashing smile that radiated her joy in living. Oliver would see a change in his bride, she thought, and uttered a quick prayer for his safety. They all shared the unspoken fear that they would never see him again, although all their talk was directed towards the magic moment when he would come back to Ladyford for good. Privately, Maggie disapproved of his ‘gallivanting over the oceans’, believing such a life suitable only for single men. Her view was that a married man with a family should stay home and care for them. But she did not voice her opinion to anyone else. In his absence, it was a happy enough household and she was grateful for her place in it. They teased Thomas unmercifully about his harem of three women but he declared himself a most fortunate gentleman!

  She gave the pail of food to Lorna and watched the two girls go out, hand in hand, to feed the chickens. Jason dropped his rattle over the side of the tub and Maggie knelt to pick it up for him. As she did so, there was a piercing scream from the direction of the hen coop.

  ‘Now what in God’s name?’

  She hurried towards the door, darted back to snatch Jason up, and went out into the yard. Nina was just ahead of her, heading in the same direction.

  ‘Maggie! Maggie! Come quick! Oh, the poor hens. The poor, sad hens!’

  A terrible sight met their eyes as they rounded the corner. Dead and dying chickens lay everywhere. There were headless bodies and separate heads and there were birds still alive but with no feet. A few that had survived pecked distractedly among the less fortunate, their heads nodding nervously. The ground was littered with feathers and one hen had been mangled out of all recognition. Della surveyed the carnage curiously but Lorna, her face white with shock, sobbed.

  ‘Sweet Jesus!’ whispered Maggie. ‘We’ve had a fox, that’s what we’ve had.’ Nina turned away from the horrid scene, a hand to her stomach, the contents of which heaved uncomfortably at the gory mess. ‘A damned fox!’ cried Maggie. ‘Senseless, murdering beast! Jacob! Where are you? Come here, lad. I’ve a job for you. Jacob!’

  He came out from the orchard at a run, spurred by the urgency in Maggie’s voice. He, too, drew up short at the grisly sight that met his eyes and his face wrinkled in disgust.

  ‘Wring a few necks, Jacob,’ said Maggie, ‘and put them out of their misery. There, there, my lamb, don’t take on so. ’Twas a cruel wicked thing to do, but the fox is an animal as knows no better. Dearie me, there’ll be no eggs today! Whatever will Melissa say when she comes home! What a sorry mess.’

  ‘What’ll you do with the dead ones?’ Jacob asked. He picked up one of the footless hens and twisted its neck and snapped it with a neat jerk.

  ‘Eat them, I suppose. What else can we do — Oh, you needn’t eat it, Lorna, if you’ve no mind to. Don’t start to wail again. But we cannot waste so many fowls. ’Twill be chicken casserole, chicken broth, chicken pie ’til we look like chickens! Oh dear! I do hate foxes. They’ve become a sight too bold round here. Hush now, Lorna!’ She switched Jason to her other hip and patted Lorna’s head to comfort her. Nina ran forward to take a severed head from Della, who held it out to show her mother what she had found. Lorna screamed at the sight of it and Maggie turned.

  ‘We’d best take them away,’ she told Nina. ‘Jacob can do whatever needs to be done out here.’ To Jacob she said in a low voice, ‘Leave them on the kitchen table and we’ll pluck them later. Doubtless Melissa will send a few to Heron for we cannot eat so many. Eh dear, what a dreary business. That fox had a high old time!’

  ‘Aye — and at our expense! Still, no use to cry over spilt milk. ’Tis a mercy we all enjoy a roast fowl and a bit of broth. We’ll maybe stuff a bolster with the feathers. Poor dumb creatures. What a way to die and frightened the others half to death, no doubt. Foxes! Tut! ’Tis a wonder the dogs didn’t bark. They usually scent them.’

  ‘They did bark,’ said Jacob, ‘but I put my head out and saw nothing amiss. Around midnight ’twas. Went back to earth most likely and slunk back later. They’re that cunning.’

  ‘I’ve another word for ’em but I’ll not scorch your ears with it!’ said Maggie. ‘Now, Lorna pet, do give over weeping. You’ll wash your eyes out of your head and you won’t look bonny then. Come on away and I’ll find you a handful of currants if you stop grieving.’

  ‘And some for Della?’ said Lorna. ‘She’s grieving, too.’

  ‘Some for Della, then, if you say so. And mayhap a few for me! I’m all at sixes and sevens.’

  ‘And poor Jacob?’

  ‘Lordy, at this rate there won’t be a currant left in the house! But you can give Jacob a few if you’ve a mind. Now, come away from the horrid sight. All these feathers! Whatever Melissa will say, I cannot imagine, but there we are. A fox is a fox and grumbling won’t make him mend his ways. More’s the pity, for he’s a handsome creature — but don’t tell the chickens I said so!’

  Over at Heron Maria went into the Hall where Melissa still sat at the loom.

  ‘Click, clack, click!’ she teased. ‘’Tis all I’ve heard all day! You’ll wear out your fingers, Melissa! Are you nearly done?’

  ‘Nearly. Another few inches will do it.’ She rested the shuttle and rubbed a hand over her eyes. ‘I was hoping to finish it but my eyes ache. What time is it?’

  ‘Nearly supper time. Will you stay and eat with us? We’ve a nice mutton stew and plenty of it and apple dumplings. Your favourites!’

  Melissa laughed. ‘You’re tempting me, Maria, but I’d best go back to Ladyford in case they wait supper for me. But thank you for the invitation.’ She leaned forward and smoothed the blanket approvingly. ‘It’s made up very smooth. Nina’s a fair hand at spinning, I must grant her that. Better than me, bless the girl. Yes, it’s made up very well. I’ve promised her I’ll teach her to weave when young Jason is older and the two of us can spend some time on it. She learns fast and she’s nimble with her fingers. Another few inches and ’twill tuck in well. ’Tis for Della’s new bed. That child grows so fast! She has outgrown her Sunday best and Nina is making a new one out of my old green brocade.’ She stood up and straightened her back with a slight gasp of discomfort. ‘Oh dear, I am getting old, Maria. I can’t pretend any longer.’

  Maria said, ‘We all are.’

  Melissa put a hand on her arm affectionately. ‘You look tired, Maria. Are you sleeping? Maggie makes a fine draught — ’

  ‘Thank you but no. Minnie prides herself on hers and I wouldn’t care to offend her. I doubt I would sleep with any draught. The bed is so large and empty. I wake up in the early hours, cold and lonely. ’Twill always be so and I am resigned to it.’

  ‘Oh Maria, I wish I could comfort you but what good are words? They don’t fill the void. I know how you suffer. I long for news of Oliver and yet dread the messenger in case he is lost at sea. It haunts me daily. But you still have Allan. You must take comfort in him. He needs your love.’

  ‘He has never lacked it. But try as I will, I can’t get close to him. He believes I blame him for Martin’s death and in a way I do. Oh, I know ’twas an accident. I don’t doubt it for a moment but that temper of his!’

  ‘But Martin goaded him — ’

  ‘I know. I believe it happened exactly as Allan told it.
But my heart says if Martin still lived Hugo would also. Oh Melissa, I know I am wrong to think thus and I pray morning and night for God to soften my heart and make me see it more clearly. I do Allan a grave injustice but he has robbed me of Martin who was like a son to me and my husband — ’

  Her voice broke and Melissa took her in her arms, murmuring soothingly.

  ‘I must go,’ Maria whispered. ‘I must go back to Arnsville or I believe I will go out of my mind. I am like a puppet going through the motions of life. I am lost without Hugo. Utterly and irrevocably lost. I must go back to Arnsville because there I may find peace. I pray when the time comes no one will try to prevent me. Say you at least will understand, Melissa. Let me go, I beg you.’

  ‘I will, Maria. I will. Don’t fret so. We will understand if ’tis better for you.’

  ‘When the children are older — or when Allan is wed. Oh Melissa, how will it all come right? I cannot see a way. I am in such despair — ’ She broke off and straightened up as she heard Minnie’s footsteps. ‘She comes in search of me. ’Tis supper time. You will not change your mind and eat supper with us?’

  She was wiping her eyes and composing her features in an effort to hide her distress. Melissa had a glimpse of the terrible strain she was under and made her farewells with a heavy heart.

  Over the mutton that evening Allan told Maria that he meant to bring Martin’s twin boys up at Heron.

  ‘As Kendals,’ he told her. ‘I shall give them my name. They will be my sons. No, let me finish, Maria. I have thought it all out most carefully since Martin — ’ he sighed. ‘I cannot let my brother’s sons be brought up by a blacksmith, even if he should be the best blacksmith in England and a kindly man. They belong here, with the family. I shall see lawyers and take advice on the subject of inheritance — though there is precious little to inherit, but that’s of no consequence. If I ever marry, my own first son must inherit Heron but Martin’s boys shall be like brothers and treated exactly as the others. I have thought of nothing else, Maria, since the accident. I don’t know if you will approve or if Hugo would have given his blessing, but I am certain my own father would applaud my decision. He, too, was illegitimate and was reinstated. Otherwise I would not be master of Heron. Oh, I know that Heron has less to offer now and may fail entirely, but if the twins are Kendals they must take the rough with the smooth and share the Heron fortunes, good or bad. Now, I am asking for your blessing on the plan but — Maria, I shall do as I see fit, with or without your approval.’