A Sense of Duty

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Worthy spoke first. ‘Owen says you thought I were dead.’ At her lip-trembling nod, he turned his head to reveal his disfigurement. ‘Just took the top of my ear off, and a bit of scalp. Deafened me, an’ all.’

  Kit broke her silence. ‘I saw all the blood …’ She pressed a hand over her mouth, her eyes filling with tears.

  He stopped all the pretence then, strode forward and held her, telling her how much she had hurt him, crushing her so tightly she could hardly breathe. Yet there was a gruffness, a reservation in his attitude, as if he were unsure whether to make the ultimate step to forgiveness.

  ‘I tried a hundred times to tell you!’ she wept. ‘But how could I when you thought you were married to the perfect woman?’

  Hugging her to him, Worthy admitted that his ideals had been far too high. He would not expect such perfection in the future – all he would demand of her was the truth.

  She lifted her wet face from his shoulder and sniffed. ‘You mean, you’ll take me back?’

  ‘You’re my wife, Katherine. Nothing can change that.’

  They stood embracing for long emotional moments. Then Kit heaved a sigh, wiped her eyes and said he must come and meet his son.

  The big man looked uncomfortable. ‘I’ll pay more heed to him later – when there’s no other folk about. Come, I’ll take you home.’

  She hesitated. ‘Do your mother and father know you’re here?’

  His eyes would not look at her – an indication that he was fully aware his parents would not be pleased. ‘No. While they were in chapel I went to Nurse Fenton’s. She told me where you were.’

  Kit projected disbelief. ‘I truly thought you were dead. Oh, Worthy, I can’t tell you how glad I am, how sorry, how miserable I was, how—’ She broke off, not knowing what else to say.

  ‘I was bad for the best part of a week. Not just with the wound, but from influenza. That was what saved me in a way. When Abel and me were fighting over the gun I felt so dizzy I collapsed, pressing the trigger as I fell, but it didn’t do as much harm as it might.’

  ‘Enough.’ With rueful expression and tender fingers, she examined the damage that the stray pellets had done to his ear. There was only a raggy little piece of it left – the side of his head a mass of scabs and dried blood. ‘Your mother isn’t going to thank you for taking me back.’

  ‘It’s my choice, not hers.’ Unsmiling, he guided her to the door.

  First thanking Owen and his wife for their kindness, and refusing the offer to stay for dinner, Kit told Mr Popplewell that she was sorry their meeting had been brief, but she was now going home.

  Outside the row of miners’ cottages a patient old mare waited in the spring sunshine. Worthy helped his wife and child aboard the cart, then drove them home.

  * * *

  During the journey, Kit took the opportunity to be totally honest with her husband. He would not like what he heard, she told Worthy, and if he found it unbearable then she would ask only that he help her remove all her belongings from the farm and take them elsewhere, and she would disappear for ever. ‘But first,’ she added, her voice heavy with emotion, ‘I want you to know that you are the only man I have every truly loved – more than my own life. Indeed, that life will be worthless if you abandon me.’

  ‘Tell me now,’ he said in a manner that urged her to get it over with. ‘I won’t abandon you.’

  Kit bit her lip. ‘You may despise me.’

  There was hesitation. Worthy looked at the sleeping baby in his wife’s arms. ‘Are you trying to say he isn’t mine?’

  Tears of horror sprang to her eyes. ‘Of course he’s yours! How could you think it?’

  Worthy became stalwart. ‘Then nothing you say can hurt me.’

  Abruptly he pulled on the reins and stopped the cart in the middle of a quiet lane, turning to her, but concentrating on the child, his eyes running over every inch of it. ‘He’s a big lad. Have you named him yet?’ Before the birth they had debated many options.

  Kit shook her head, smiling through her tears at the slumbering infant. ‘I didn’t have the heart. Let his father name him.’

  Worthy pulled the shawl gently from the baby’s face and gazed upon him. ‘Tobias Treasure.’

  And that was that. With a flick of the reins the cart was once more in motion.

  Worthy encouraged his wife to proceed with her confession. Nothing she could tell him would be a revelation. During his recuperation, his mother had gone over to Ralph Royd and made enquiries of the local gossips. The resulting information had appalled his entire family. However, he did not tell her this. It must come from Katherine’s lips.

  ‘I don’t like to think of it, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that a woman conceives without the help of a man. Was he the one who jilted you?’

  With no lessening of tension, Kit took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘More than one.’ She rushed to explain, ‘I wasn’t one of those women – you know, one of those. It was just that I tended to get myself entangled without proper thought. I believed I was going to be married but the other parties had a different idea. How could I have ever imagined they’d really be interested in me – a servant? They were from good backgrounds.’ She shook her head at her own gullibility. ‘Then, I must confess I went rather astray, fooled myself into thinking that the only happiness I would achieve was from dancing and parties and other gay pursuits. So I allowed myself to act as consort to rich men.’ She stopped in time to prevent it sounding as if there had been an army of them. ‘I didn’t set out to be an embarrassment to my family – all I ever wanted was a family of my own and a husband such as you. But people didn’t seem to want me as a wife.’ She shrugged sadly, her plump shoulder occasionally colliding with his from the motion of the cart. ‘So I just let life roll along, doing as I pleased, until I had Beata.’ Worthy affected a frown, though he already knew there had been more than one birth out of wedlock.

  ‘She was the first of my babies,’ explained Kit. ‘When she died I was so crazed with grief I fell into the first pair of comforting arms that came along – but they weren’t really comforting, they were using me as all the rest. My family was furious – quite rightly. That’s when I realized I had to stop thinking only of myself, to put my child first. Serena’s much better off with Amelia, I’m sure.’ The pained expression on her face denied this. ‘She was desperate for babies – loved Serena to bits.’ So caught up had she become that she didn’t realize how tightly she was squeezing her son, who now let forth a wail. Issuing apology, Kit pressed her lips to the soft cheek and shushed the infant, rocking him back to sleep.

  ‘You must have given birth to her just before you met me.’ Her husband’s voice brought forth more explanation.

  Kit nodded. ‘When, at first, you and I couldn’t have babies of our own I thought it was God’s punishment. I wanted to tell you, I truly did, but couldn’t bear the thought that I might lose you – you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Worthy.’

  ‘Compared with those men of high standing?’ He looked straight ahead between the horse’s ears. ‘I hardly think—’

  ‘High standing? They might have thought so but none of them could hold a candle to you, none of them treated me as you do.’

  Worthy looked rueful. ‘You mean they didn’t try to kill you.’ How could he make such a jest when his heart weighed so heavily?

  She objected. ‘You didn’t try to kill me!’

  ‘Oh, but I did!’ His face contorted at the memory.

  Kit returned to her subdued mood. ‘Well, any man would have done the same – and you didn’t succeed. You blew more holes in yourself than in me.’

  Worthy fought with himself, his face a picture of incomprehension. ‘I’m still angry with you, Katherine, for not telling me any of this before.’ ‘You have a right to be. I should have told you.’ Her arms occupied with her son, she pressed herself against Worthy in an attitude of contrition.

  ‘I’m sure I don’t deserve your forgiveness.’
When he didn’t answer she felt a pang of fear that their marriage might never be mended.

  But then he looked her in the face and said, ‘What’s done is done. I can’t say I like the thought of – Well, I’ve said enough on that score. We’ll not speak of it again.’

  * * *

  Phoebe could not believe her eyes upon seeing the cart pull up in the yard, bearing not only her elder son but his estranged wife. Dropping the rolling pin in her hands, she rushed out, hands covered in flour and pastry and shouted above the lowing of the beasts and the clucking of hens. ‘I hope you’ve only brought her to collect her rubbish!’

  ‘No, Mother, I’ve brought my wife and child home.’ Worthy helped Kit down from the cart. A row of inquisitive bovine faces watched from behind a stone wall, jaws chewing in unison.

  There was disbelief. ‘After all I told you? You don’t even know that bairn is yours!’

  ‘I do,’ came his dignified reply. He began to escort Kit towards the farmhouse.

  Phoebe stood in his way. ‘I won’t have her here!’

  ‘Might I remind you this is my home,’ said Worthy. ‘Mine and Katherine’s and Toby’s.’

  ‘Your father worked all his life for this farm! He won’t let it go to a slut.’

  ‘I’ll thank you to take that back, Mother!’

  ‘I won’t! That’s what she is and don’t you try to deny it, for there’s a whole village of witnesses at Ralph Royd to prove what a fool you’re making of yourself.’

  George and Abel Treasure had heard the noise and came to lend Phoebe their backing. ‘That woman’s brought shame on all of us! You heard what she’s like yet you brought her back here to drag us down further.’ When his elder son took a step forward George blocked his path.

  Worthy fixed his father and brother with determined eyes. ‘I intend to go into that house and let no man here stop me.’

  ‘See! She’s got father against son, brother against brother,’ cried Phoebe to her daughter who had also appeared on the scene. Then she turned back to Worthy. ‘That house was given to you by your father and me.’

  ‘I’ve worked as hard as anyone here to earn it,’ insisted Worthy. ‘And I won’t be denied entry. Now, I don’t want to fight with any of thee, but I’m going in and so is Katherine.’

  George Treasure gritted his teeth and stood aside. ‘Very well! Take it. I might be no longer strong enough to throw you out – but, by God, let me tell you this: that square of land beneath those walls is the only bit of this farm you’ll occupy. I don’t intend to see all I’ve worked for going to a child who could be anybody’s. If that woman goes through that door it’s Abel who’ll inherit the lot.’

  Worthy stood there glaring at his father. Kit watched the indecision play upon her husband’s face. This farm was his life. How could she, who had committed so great a trespass on his goodness, expect him to choose it over her?

  Dull of eye, she simply gathered her baby’s shawl more tightly around his little body and began to walk away, unable to endure any more.

  Worthy turned a bad-tempered face and called after her, ‘Katherine! Stand your ground.’

  Kit turned only briefly. ‘I’d be obliged if you’d send all my belongings to Owen’s. Excuse me, I must go!’

  ‘Let her go, son!’ warned George. There was a pause while no one moved. Then – ‘I’m warning thee! You’ll get nowt!’

  For one wonderful moment, upon hearing those words, Kit pictured Worthy running after her, telling her not to leave. But as she reached the track that led to the road, she found herself alone. And no one followed.

  The baby was amazingly heavy. Kit’s arms ached from supporting him – though this was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

  She had travelled almost a mile before she heard the cart behind her, but did not look round, just moved on to the verge for it to pass.

  Worthy was angry. ‘Don’t you think my wife and bairn’s worth more to me than any bit o’ dirt?’

  Kit was astonished to see her belongings hastily piled on the cart behind him, Beata’s portrait atop everything. ‘Worthy, you can’t sacrifice your farm for me. You love this place!’

  Worthy had jumped down. ‘It’s no sacrifice – now get up there!’ He made an impatient gesture and shoved her bottom from behind.

  The baby in one arm, she struggled into the seat and watched him stride round the horse who shied at his bad humour. ‘But you’ve worked for this all your life.’

  ‘I’ve waited for you all my life, and compared to how I feel about you and our little lad the farm’s nowt. Nowt!’ He sat down angrily beside her and lashed the reins. The horse stepped out along the lane. ‘How dare they bloody tell me who I can love?’

  Kit seemed to have done nothing but cry lately. Upon hearing this statement of affection she burst into fresh tears – for never once had he told her he loved her. Still, she argued through a quagmire of salty mucus. ‘But—’

  ‘But nowt!’ Worthy glared at her, swaying along with the cart. ‘You’ll stay as my wife and be damned to them!’ Yet after a moment, he calmed down and made hasty addendum. ‘If you don’t mind being a labourer’s wife with naught to your name, that is.’

  And as the horse clip-clopped onwards, Kit smiled back over their child’s head and gave her fond reply. ‘Dearest, all I ever wanted is right here on this cart.’

  First published in the United Kingdom in 1999 by HarperCollins

  This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2017 by

  Canelo Digital Publishing Limited

  57 Shepherds Lane

  Beaconsfield, Bucks HP9 2DU

  United Kingdom

  Copyright © Sheelagh Kelly, 1999

  The moral right of Sheelagh Kelly to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781911591955

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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