by Val Wood
‘I think, Mama, that it was not the draper’s fault.’ Joseph had attempted to explain. ‘The rain was torrential and I dropped my satchel into a pool of water. I rather fear that the leather became wet and soaked the silks. I need to return to Patrington to speak to the wheelwright. I’ll take them back myself.’
His father had grumbled when he said that he was going into Patrington again and told him to ask one of the men to go for him. ‘I shall be quicker on Ebony,’ Joseph had insisted. ‘I shan’t linger or be tempted to call at one of the inns on the way back.’ He didn’t want the draper to tell his mother’s maid that the silks were stained with blood, for she would most certainly know that that was what it was, unlike his mother who hadn’t guessed. His aim had been to find an opportunity to call on Mary-Ellen, and the shawl had been the perfect excuse.
Fat lot of good it did me, he thought now. I’ve wasted a whole morning on a damned fool’s errand. I must have been mad to even think of giving her a present. How crass. How unthinking. She has probably never had anything new in her life, let alone a gift.
He couldn’t get her out of his mind. All the rest of the day he thought of her as he went about his normal tasks. He rode across to where the men were repairing the flood bank, for the battle to keep out the river was constant. There were nine or ten farmers in the Skeffling district and all regularly maintained their drains and ditches in the low-lying land.
How can I get to see her without its appearing obvious, he thought, as he stood with his hands in his pockets watching the men. She’ll be suspicious now, and of course she would be. Why do I want to see her? What possible motive can I have? There can be no future with her. I can’t be seen with her, and yet I want to – to – what? To hold her. He gazed unseeing out at the river. To run my hands through her thick black hair. To dress her in fine clothes, but first to remove the ones that she is wearing, those thin shabby garments which do not hide her beauty, but only reinforce it. He began to sweat at the thought of her being in his arms, of the touch of her skin beneath his fingers, of her rounded body beneath his.
‘Sir!’ The voice was urgent; a shout. ‘Tha fayther’s just riding up.’
Joseph had climbed up onto the river bank, yet had no recollection of having done so. He turned and looked down at the man who had called him. ‘He’s shouting at thee to come, sir!’ The worker’s face was expressionless, yet he must have thought him an idiot.
Joseph jumped down from the bank and unhitched Ebony from where he had tied him to a stubby hawthorn bush, then mounted and rode towards his father.
‘Where the devil have you been? I’ve been all over looking for you.’ His father was red-faced with irritation. ‘I wanted to ride over to Welwick Thorpe, but it’s too late now. It’ll be dark in half an hour. We’ll have to go in the morning.’
He glared at Joseph, who looked blankly back at him. ‘I’ve signed the papers,’ his father said testily. ‘We’ve acquired the title deeds. We need to tell the allotment holders and cottagers.’
Joseph continued to stare at his father. So he would be able to go legitimately down the track to the cottage where Mary-Ellen lived and which now belonged to them. ‘It’s a quagmire,’ he heard himself say. ‘It needs further drainage.’
‘I know that!’ his father snapped. ‘But we shall benefit in the long run, even if it takes twenty years. The accretions on Sunk Island continue, and when the North Channel is warped, as it no doubt will be, we shall gain extra land. Or you will,’ he added. ‘It’s your future I’m thinking of.’
‘The saltmarsh will be Crown land,’ Joseph said vacantly. ‘It won’t be ours.’
‘As good as,’ his father declared. ‘Mark my words.’
The fire had gone out overnight. Mary-Ellen and her father had woken to a cold room and therefore a cold breakfast of bread and cheese. Try as she might, Mary-Ellen couldn’t get the fire to light and Isaac had been in a bad temper at having to go out without a hot drink. After her father had left for work, she cleaned out the dead ash, laid dry moss and kindling in the hearth and went outside to collect more wood from the rear of the cow shelter. She was coming back with her arms laden with logs when she saw two riders coming up the track towards the house.
She peered curiously. Were they coming here or going on to the river bank? There had been some activity there recently; part of the bank had crumbled away and a gang of Irish labourers had come to rebuild it. But they had walked up the track carrying their picks and spades; they hadn’t ridden on horseback as these two men were doing. One of the men was wearing a top hat; the other – and she suddenly held her breath – the other wore a floppy one which partly obscured his face.
It’s him! She felt her pulses race. What do they want? Who’s the other man – the agent perhaps? Have they bought the title deeds as Jack Terrison said?
‘Good morning, miss.’ The older man swung down from his horse. ‘Is Mr Page at home?’
She looked straight at him. ‘Who wants to know?’
Joseph hid a grin. Was she afraid of no-one?
The man took off his top hat. ‘I beg your pardon. My name is Ellis. I live at Skeffling. I’ve recently acquired the title deeds of Welwick Thorpe. I wished to make Mr Page’s acquaintance and to inform him of the change of ownership.’
‘He’s gone to work,’ Mary-Ellen said calmly. ‘You’d have to be here early to catch him.’
Ellis gave a grunt. He thought it was early. ‘What time do you expect his return?’
‘When ’fishing’s finished. He’s working with ’Parrotts over at Haven just now.’ She gave a slight shrug. ‘There’s no knowing what time he’ll be back.’
‘What about Sunday?’ Joseph said, looking down at her. He had stayed astride his mount. ‘Would Mr Page be about on Sunday?’ He knew his father wouldn’t want to come on Sunday; he liked a nap in the afternoon. But he could come. The thought of coming here alone and seeing her brought a flush to his face.
‘He might be,’ Mary-Ellen conceded and thought that if he was, it would be the first time in weeks. Her father liked to go to the hostelry in Welwick on a Sunday and usually stayed all day. ‘I’ll tell him, if you like, that you’ll be coming.’
‘Thank you.’ Joseph’s father put on his hat again. ‘I’m much obliged to you. Miss Page, is it?’ At her assent, he said, ‘I trust all is well here? You have no major problems?’
She shook her head. ‘None that we could trouble you with, Mr Ellis.’ Then she added. ‘You’ll know that ’land up to ’estuary floods? You’d be as well to put in sluices. It’s of no use for livestock.’
‘I realize that,’ he said, putting his foot into the stirrup. ‘We’ve taken that into account.’
‘Will ’rent stay ’same?’ she asked boldly. ‘Or will it go up?’
Ellis permitted himself a smile at her candour. ‘For the time being it will stay the same. We have no plans to increase it.’
‘Good.’ Mary-Ellen nodded. ‘See you on Sunday then.’ But though she looked at his father, Joseph knew, with a quickening breath, that she spoke to him.
‘Why does he want to see me?’ Isaac said to Mary-Ellen when she told him of the Ellises’ intended visit. ‘Hasn’t he got an agent to attend to such matters?’
‘I expect so,’ she replied. ‘But it’s common courtesy – isn’t that what you said?’
Her father humphed. ‘Well, if ’rent’s staying ’same, then I don’t see why I should stop in just to see him. It’s ’onny day I get off and I’ve got other plans.’
A shiver ran down Mary-Ellen’s spine. She felt light-headed and had hardly slept properly since Joseph Ellis and his father had visited. She had tossed on her bed and hadn’t known that she had groaned until her father had shouted at her from his bed to be quiet. ‘What’s up wi’ you, girl? Got a belly ache?’
She had, but not the sort that he meant. Her body had ached and throbbed in a manner which she hadn’t experienced before. She had to cross and clench the tops of her thighs to
obtain relief and her breasts felt tender. She had put her face into the palliasse and this was when the groan had escaped. Her father, who was usually asleep before her, had heard her.
She had rolled out of her bed. ‘I must have eaten summat that disagreed with me,’ she’d muttered, going across to the uncurtained window and looking out. There was a flurry of snow blowing across the yard and she thought that if the weather was bad perhaps they might not come, or maybe her father wouldn’t go on his jaunt to the hostelry.
She slept no better the following night and woke bleary-eyed on Sunday morning to see a thin covering of snow but bright sunshine; and it seemed as if her father might change his mind and stay at home after all. ‘I wouldn’t want ’em to think we’d no manners,’ he said, and she didn’t know whether to be pleased or sorry.
I’ll keep out of the way, she decided. They won’t want to talk to me. Mr Ellis will want to speak to my father about the land, and maybe Da will ask him if he will fix the cow shelter where the tiles have fallen off.
They hadn’t come by midday, and Isaac, who had been clearing and digging in the garden all morning, swilled his face and hands under the pump and came into the house when she called that their dinner was ready. She had made a rabbit pie, and when they had eaten he reached for his coat and hat and said, ‘Well, I’ll wait no longer. Give ’em my apologies and tell ’em I’ve had to go out.’
He glared at Mary-Ellen as if it was her fault he had been delayed. ‘They must realize I’m not a man of leisure. That my time’s precious.’
She made no answer. Perhaps they might not come, or perhaps Mr Ellis senior would come by himself. She only knew she felt sick and jittery at the thought of Joseph Ellis coming alone, and that in her unease she would be offhand and probably rude to him as she had been when he’d brought the shawl. But what did he expect? she thought irritably. How could I have accepted it? Much as I might have wanted to. But what did he expect in return? He wasn’t giving it for nothing, and that’s a fact. The more she thought about it, the more indignant she became.
‘Will you be in for supper?’ she shouted after her father as he crossed the yard, taking her frustration out on him. ‘Or shall I feed it to ’pig?’
‘I’ll give you ’back of my hand if you don’t mind yourself!’ He shook his fist at her. ‘I might be back and I might not.’
She knew he would be back sometime, even if it was the middle of the night. He never forgot, no matter how much ale he had drunk, that he still had to get up for work on a Monday morning.
Mary-Ellen cleared away the remains of the pie. Putting a tin plate over it, she went outside and placed it in the metal meat safe that hung high up on the side wall of the house, away from rats and mice. She looked round the room as she came back in. Her father’s bed was tidied and her own rolled up and put away in the corner. The dinner plates she put into a bucket of cold water to wash later. She could have done them now, but she suddenly felt dispirited and didn’t have the inclination.
Why do I keep thinking of him? she wondered. He’s nothing to me and he probably won’t come, and if he does, then so what? He’s gentry, and I’m nothing. He’s very fair, she reflected, her thoughts jumping about. I’ve never seen anyone quite as fair as him. Most folks round here are brown-haired, mousy or dark. Not blond like him. And besides, he probably thinks I’m just easy game. He probably thinks he can throw me a copper or two and I’ll do what he wants. Well I won’t!
She threw a log onto the fire. It was still green and it spat and crackled, and then cast out a spume of dense smoke. Unexpectedly she wanted to cry. ‘Nowt ever goes right,’ she muttered. ‘’Fire won’t burn; and he needn’t think he can buy me wi’ summat I’d never wear.’
She pressed her hand to her face to hold back the tears, and then turned to open the door to dispel the smoke. She gave a sudden start when she saw Joseph Ellis’s broad frame filling the doorway.
He took off his hat. ‘I … was about to knock – I’m sorry if I startled you.’
She gazed up at him and a tear trickled slowly down her cheek. Her mouth trembled and for a second she was unable to speak, as for once she couldn’t think what to say.
‘Miss Page? Mary-Ellen?’ he said softly. ‘Is something amiss? Can I help?’
She swallowed. ‘No,’ she whispered, and stepped back inside the room.
‘Is Mr Page at home?’ he asked. ‘I’m afraid my father was unable to come.’
Mary-Ellen shook her head. ‘He had to go out. He sent his apologies.’ She stared up at him and wondered at his expression. She licked her lips, which had suddenly gone dry. ‘Would you like to come in?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Joseph bent his head to come through the low doorway and Mary-Ellen noted that he was a lot taller than her father, who didn’t have to duck his head as he came in. He was broad-shouldered, too, and the small room seemed crowded with his presence.
‘I beg your pardon if the time isn’t convenient,’ he murmured. ‘But I’m sure our fathers will meet at some future time.’
She shrugged. ‘I never once saw ’other landlord,’ she said. ‘He allus sent his agent to collect ’rent.’
‘We will do the same,’ he said, his eyes resting on her. ‘But we wanted to meet our new tenants, both here and in Welwick. I’ve been to see the Smiths, the Browns and the Marstons.’
‘My aunt and uncle,’ she told him. ‘Mrs Marston was my mother’s sister. Didn’t you meet my father on ’track coming up? He’s onny just gone.’
‘I came along the river bank after I’d been to the Marstons’.’
‘Do you like ’river?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I like its different moods. It’s wild sometimes and unpredictable.’ He kept his eyes on her, drawn to her in some irresistible way. ‘Other times it’s calm and gentle.’
‘But it’s tricky. You can’t allus trust it.’
‘I’ve lived here all my life,’ he told her. ‘I know it well enough.’
‘You can never know it completely,’ she declared, tossing her head. ‘You might think that you do, but it can catch you out.’
‘Why have I not seen you before, Mary-Ellen?’ he asked softly. ‘Where have you been that our paths haven’t crossed?’
She gave a derisory grimace. ‘I reckon we don’t keep ’same company, Mr Ellis! But I’ve allus been here, except when I was a young bairn and lived with Aunt Lol after my ma died. But I knew about you,’ she said, ‘even though I’d never seen you.’ Her mouth turned up irreverently. ‘I knew of ’Ellis family who lived at Burstall House; of course I did! You were away at school for a bit, and you have a sister,’ she added. ‘I know that as well.’
Of course she would know of them, he considered. She and those like her would know all the landowners round about. But there was no reason why he should have heard of her family; not unless they were troublemakers and involved in petty crimes. Then they would have been known.
‘And now we meet at last,’ he murmured.
Why did I ask him in? she thought. There was no need. The agent used to come in sometimes to warm himself and look round. She suddenly felt touchy, peeved. Why should he want to see what we’ve got? We pay the rent and that should be enough.
‘Do you have all you need here?’ he was asking.
‘Well, as you can see.’ She swept her hands in an extravagant motion round the room: at the smoky fire, the low-beamed ceiling, the earth floor and the bucket of dirty crockery which she now wished she had washed. ‘We live in ’land of plenty.’
She saw his eyes pause at her father’s bed and took in a breath. ‘It’d be nice to have another room with a bed, so I didn’t have to sleep on ’floor,’ she said hastily. ‘But then, it’s warm by ’fire, so that’s a luxury; and besides, we couldn’t afford ’extra rent we’d doubtless have to pay for such comfort!’
She didn’t know why she was being so antagonistic towards him; perhaps it was to show that she didn’t care about him or anybody. But she knew th
at she was trembling inside; that the emotion she had felt earlier was close to the surface, ready to pour forth and drown her in its forceful power.
‘Not necessarily,’ he said.
She gazed at him with her lips parted. ‘What?’ she whispered.
‘The rent wouldn’t necessarily go up.’ His eyes flickered over her. ‘I’ll speak to my father about it. I noticed that there were some pantiles missing from the roof. I’ll see that it’s fixed.’
Mary-Ellen nodded. ‘Thank you. Will that be all?’ She bit on her bottom lip. ‘I don’t want to detain you.’
‘What about the fire?’ he asked.
She looked at the hearth where the green log was smouldering. ‘What about it?’
‘Will it burn? Shall I bring you some wood inside?’
She gave a sudden laugh. ‘No. I’ll ask ’maid to do it!’ She gazed scathingly at him and then showed him her hands. ‘Look at these, Mr Ellis—’
‘Joseph,’ he said quietly.
She ignored him. ‘Who do you think brings ’wood in when my da isn’t here? I’ve been lighting fires since I was six. Chopping wood since I was eight. I’m as strong as any man—’
‘And yet still womanly,’ he said in an undertone.
She caught his words, which were not quite soft enough. She put her hands on her hips, without realizing that the gesture emphasized even more the curve of her hips, the smallness of her waist. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, Mr Ellis.’ She was abrupt and couldn’t contain her tenseness. ‘If there’s nowt else, I think you’d better go.’
He looked sorrowfully at her and turned to leave. ‘Please give your father my regards. I’ll try to catch him at some other time. I – I trust I’ve said nothing to offend you? That wasn’t my intention.’
There was a pleading in his eyes and in his manner, but she swung back her head and faced him eye to eye. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Mr Ellis.’ Her face was defiant, as was her stance. ‘Good day to you.’
