Excitement was rising among the working people as the competition got under way. Some races for boys came first and Mr Penny Brookes was at the starting point with flag ready as the signal to the competitors. The flag descended with a flourish and the race began. The Bredwardines were pleased to see their friends’ son, nimble Tim Marston, winning the honours after a hard pressed run, to his parents’ great pride. The first race for the men was set at one circuit around the track. There were a goodly number of competitors, young men who according to their lights were either limbering up, or still quaffing ale, being encouraged by their cronies and supporters. Daniel Morgan was one of the serious ones, stretching his limbs and running on the spot to warm his muscles. The local sporting hero, Frank Marsh, was one of the quaffers, and was in high spirits. He grabbed the waist of his sweetheart Kitty and planted a smacking kiss full on her lips before his assembled boon companions, who greeted this with ribaldry. Kitty however felt humiliated being treated so in front of what felt like all the town’s gaze and she flounced off to ironic cheers from the men.
Mr Penny Brookes again gave the signal and the race was on, to roars of approval from those who had imbibed well and polite applause from the rest. Frank’s power told and he outstripped the field easily, with Daniel coming in second and Jack Lloyd third. Frank was chaired away by his friends while Daniel’s family crowded around him to congratulate him. Jem and Dilly were on the fringes of the group and added their praises, but Dilly could not help casting some admiring glances at Frank too. Jem frowned. The day to which he had so looked forward was not proving the success he had hoped. He and Dilly were both bashful and tongue-tied and had so little to say to one another after their first greeting that they were both uncomfortable, trailing about the fair invisibly linked together by politeness but each in an agony of shyness. Dilly’s open but ill-judged admiration of the winner was almost the last straw for Jem, who was easily riled to anger. He scowled at Frank, who caught the very differing looks of both boy and girl. He winked at Dilly and incensed Jem still further but Deborah, who had happened to notice the interaction and wanted them to enjoy the day, now intervened to draw the attention of the young couple back to themselves by steering them towards the refreshment tent, like a mother hen. She chatted hard to them both in the hope that Jem might get over his jealousy, but he grew only more morose and what little Dilly had to say was addressed mainly to Deborah and Peggy.
Later that afternoon, Daniel secured a triumph in the men’s race that took four circuits of the course and so required more stamina than sprinting strength. His family were overjoyed and gathered around him once more. Jem took advantage of the fuss to ask Dilly to go for a walk with him again and she reluctantly agreed.
Unfortunately for Jem, they had found no more to say to one another than before, when they came across Frank sitting outside the beer tent, surrounded by admirers to whom he was boasting of his triumphs. Dilly could not hide her admiration for Frank, for she was too naïve and guileless, even if she had cared enough for Jem to try. She had decided early on that Jem was not the gallant she had thought him on their first encounter in the churchyard, and now she had come to resent his behaviour, which restricted her freedom to see what she willed, without any access of enjoyment in his company alone to compensate for this. Jem had treated her to a sullen and dogged display of jealousy over her pleasure in seeing the athletic Frank run, but he had not staked a large enough claim upon her heart yet to justify such control of her behaviour and she left him behind to press eagerly among the folks surging around Frank to add her mite of worship. Frank’s sweetheart Kitty was nowhere to be seen. She had disappeared into the beer tent, where she was now nursing her grievance in the bosom of her closest female friend and they were growing sentimental together over the faults of their menfolk. Frank saw Dilly in the crush of his admirers and his face brightened instantly. He elbowed aside some of his cronies to reach for her hand.
“’Ere she is, the pretty. I saw you afore. Come and give us a kiss, sweetheart.”
Dilly was thrilled but hung back from shyness and Frank started to coax her. Jem reared up and caught her arm. “Come away. You canna show yourself up with ‘im.” Dilly flushed with mortification, and bit her lip, but at a signal from Frank, his cronies grappled Jem and threw him upon the grass. He charged up at once and tried to wrestle the nearest man, but the lout casually floored him again. “Oh don’t, stop it,” Dilly cried but it was to Jem she spoke, as if to say he had shamed her enough. The men jeered as he struggled to rise and tears of humiliation pricked under Jem’s eyelids but the fight went out of him as he saw Frank sweep Dilly along with him with his arm around her shoulders, soothing her perplexed anxiety about Jem’s hurts.
Dilly could not believe that the great man was being so attentive to one as insignificant as she. She was in a daze when he took her into the beer tent. At his approach arm in arm with the pretty maiden, his sweetheart, now the worse for drink, screeched and ran towards him, her nails ready to rake his face at the sight of him with another girl, but, just like Jem, she was surrounded by Frank’s hangers-on and removed from the tent, albeit with less roughness. Her friend hurried after her and beseeched her to come away home before worse befell her. After some abuse addressed to Frank, Kitty submitted to her friend’s imploring and they were quickly lost to sight. Frank grinned hugely at this satisfactory outcome, for in truth, he had lately begun to tire of what he thought of as Kitty’s moods, and turned back to the simple little girl at his side. “Come on, little ‘un, let’s have summat to eat and drink, eh?” He winked at his cronies and motioned them away with a jerk of his head and they, leering and nudging each other, gave their leader the privacy he sought.
Softly now, he persuaded Dilly to a bench and ordered wine for her and more beer for himself.
“No, thank you, sir, I an’t never ‘ad any wine. Could I ‘ave some lemonade?”
“Aah, you can, after you’ve tried a bit of this fust.” He held the glass to her lips and held her timid eyes with his bold ones. Fearing to seem impolite, she sipped at the liquid. It did not seem very palatable, but now he allowed her to drink some lemonade.
“That’s my little wench. Sip by sip about, see? That way, you’ll like it better. That’s right, ‘ave some more.” Dilly’s experience was too small to recognise the possessive look of desire that sprang into his eyes; she saw only a man of power whose body she admired bend his gaze on her, her, Dilly, a small part of her mind cried in triumph, gazing at her with apparent solicitude and tenderness; she was as helpless as a young rabbit held in the hypnotic gaze of the approaching serpent.
“Come now, that’s good, innit?” Frank asked her. She felt flushed and careless and happy. She smiled widely at him, inhibitions falling away like shed garments. “Do you fancy going to a dance?” Dilly’s eyes widened. Could her cup overflow any further? A dance, with the hero of the races? She nodded eagerly and his smile deepened in what a more perceptive observer would have described as a self-satisfied, even cruel, curve, like bold Reynardine’s. He took her arm and led her away, flattering her softly as they walked, to an inn of poor reputation in the town, where a dance was in progress. She drew back at first when she saw the rough company, the slatternly women who eyed her up and down with scorn and the hard featured men who nudged each other at their entry, but Frank’s strong arm drew about her and she was buoyed up again as he threw them both bodily into the reel and led her giddily about, until her head began to spin and her eyes closed to suppress the dizziness and rising nausea so that she was no longer sure if she was on her own feet but felt as if she had been picked up and carried away. She abandoned herself to the feeling and trusted to her companion to look after her.
* * *
At home in Sheinton Street, the Bredwardine family party were at tea. Grace was the centre of everyone’s attention and she was enjoying herself immensely but her father was proud to see that she behaved very prettily, charming all the ladies. She was taken off at one
point to see the kitten by Miss Morrall and Dr Peplow seized the opportunity to apologise to Harriet for the separation that had taken him from her side that afternoon. “I was very disappointed that our talk was curtailed so soon today,” he began, as Harriet smiled upon him and poured him a fresh cup of tea. “I was hoping….” He was interrupted by a hammering on the door, and all the family looked up in alarm. Soon Deborah appeared in the drawing room: “Beg pardon, sir, ma’am, but there is an urgent message for Dr Peplow.” Hastening out he found Fred, the pot boy from the Jermingham Arms in Shifnal, who had been hired by the anxious husband of Mrs Sherwood, whose baby, not due for three weeks, was now imperiously on its way and neither parent could contemplate any other medical attendant than Dr Peplow, even though it was so far to send for him. The hired carriage stood ready to convey him back as soon as ever the horses had been watered. He returned to his hosts in some consternation and explained the situation. “I must make haste. I am so sorry to take Grace away so abruptly.” He bowed to Mrs Bredwardine and looked at Harriet. She, deeply concerned for him, begged him to leave the child with them for the night “if it would help and she would care to stay? Or perhaps we could convey her to Mrs Mason’s, if she would rather be with her family?” He looked at her with deep gratitude but shook his head. “No, Miss Bredwardine, it is exceedingly kind of you, but I could not spare the time to collect her tomorrow, my round is too full. I had better take her back in the carriage now and my housekeeper Mrs Green will put her to bed. I will let my horse run behind. He is full of oats after a day in the livery stables.” He took her hand and pressed it. “Once again circumstance has caused us to part too soon, alas,” he said softly to her and then addressed the company at large. “I must bid you all adieu; I have been able to spend far too little time with you today. I trust to remedy that soon.” There was a bustle of departure as Grace, inured as a doctor’s daughter to the demands of others on her father’s time, ran for her things, and Edmund and his mother assured their guests of their welcome on a future occasion and then he was gone. Harriet permitted herself a moment’s indulgence of regret that Mrs Sherwood’s baby was so importunate but she treasured within her heart his ardent look and the touch of his hand as he went away.
* * *
Later that evening, Dilly awoke in darkness, to horror. The giddy excitement of the dance had evaporated long since, leaving a sediment of sickness in her mouth. The dream she had had of a great beast which had leapt at her and was now mauling at her bosom turned into a dark reality. The clumsy pawing ceased, to be replaced by an equally unwelcome rasping at her lips by a beery mouth surrounded by stubble, which grazed her skin. She pulled her head away in disgust and groaned as she felt a belt buckle pressed unpleasantly into her exposed thigh. Dazedly she tried to clear her spinning head when pain suddenly exploded in her lower body, pain which brought her to her senses and made her beat at the head and chest of the man on top of her in utter panic.
“Get off me, stop it, stop it!” she cried. The man grunted, and shifted position so as to pinion her arms with his own, using the athletic strength she had so admired against her. He held her thus until he had achieved his pleasure and withdrew, leaving her bloodied and whimpering. She crept from the bed as soon as he released her, scrabbling her skirts back down. The man opened bleary eyes and saw the fright on her pale face in the gloom. “What’s the matter? Come back to bed.”
“No! You’ve ‘urt me. I didn’t want this. I just wanted a bit of a kiss and cuddle.” She started to sob.
“Oh, come on love. It’s cos it’s your first time. Come back. It wunna be so bad next time, eh? I’m sorry if I was a bit rough. Come on,” the man coaxed, but she was still in shock. She thought of Jem’s first respectful presentation of flowers and sobbed afresh. Frank reared himself up and lunged to grab her arm, but she avoided him and ran out of the room.
“Silly little tart,” he thought, but not without some compassion. However he was too intoxicated to pursue her and abandoned himself to a drunken slumber. She slipped away downstairs and through the inn, past some of Frank’s drinking cronies who leered at her and made suggestive remarks which frightened her and she ran for home as fast as she could.
Chapter 7
Some seven weeks later, Dilly was sitting by the fire in Annie and Jessie’s room since her own attic bedroom lacked any means of heating, engaged in letting out the waist of a skirt grown unconscionably tight while Jessie toasted crumpets, begged from the cook, when their fellow maid Annie came bustling in and urgently started to rummage through that part of the chest of drawers allotted to her. She rooted about in every corner before leaning back with an exasperated sigh. “Oh, blooming ‘eck. I don’t believe it.”
“What’s the matter, Nan?” Dilly asked.
“I canna find any towels and me monthlies ‘ave just come on. They’re never regular and always take me by surprise. I dunna know where I put the last lot I washed, and I’ve ‘ ad no time to stitch any more. Have either of you got some spare, girls?”
“Sorry, Nan, I need mine right now,” said Jessie.
“Aah, I’ve got a load,” Dilly exclaimed, getting up to go to her room in the garret. “Come with me, Nan, and I’ll get you some.” The girls walked down the corridor together towards the attic stairs.
“Thanks, Dill, you’re a good girl.” Annie’s relief was palpable. “Are you sure you can spare ‘em?”
“Oh, aah, I’ve not needed any for a while now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve not bled for ooh, about two months, it must be.”
“Oh my God, you silly wench, what ‘ave you bin doing?” Annie stopped in shock on the threshold of Dilly’s room and spun her round by her arm. Dilly’s eyes widened in surprise at her friend’s abrupt action.
“Have you bin canoodling with that great lunk Frank Marsh again? I told you after the fair he was only likely to ruin you. I ‘ope you ‘anna let him, you know…” Annie tailed off as she recalled that Dilly had been sick quite often in the mornings lately.
Dilly flushed and bit her lip. She bowed her head before the older girl’s searching gaze. Frank Marsh and she had indeed been canoodling and more since the fair. Whether the impulse to enjoy more of Dilly’s sweet charms whenever Kitty was shrewish was uppermost in Frank’s mind, or whether it smote his conscience or even just his manly pride that she had hated the outcome of their first encounter, even he could not rightly say, but he had appeared at the back of the Woods’ house two evenings after the fair with some dahlias and Michaelmas daisies stolen from Mrs Bytheway’s garden en route and had waylaid Dilly on her way out to make her weekly visit to her mother. Wheedling and playing the penitent, with many a soft kiss he had overcome Dilly’s weak scruples, appealing to her vanity again, and got her to agree to another meeting. At that rendezvous he had stayed sober and taken care to exercise restraint, concentrating for once on her pleasure rather than just his own. Since then he had only to whistle softly at the back gate of the Woods’ house at night and Dilly would slip away with him to Farmer Edwards’s barn, where they would enjoy sexual congress in the hayloft, warmed by the heat rising from the beasts below. Dilly had no inkling that Frank was still seeing Kitty too, since Kitty worked as a dairy maid at a farm some three or so miles from the town near Homer, not far from his own workplace, and their paths seldom crossed. She had kept the affair a secret, just as Frank had urged her, because she was allowed no serious admirers by her stern employer. She was proud of being chosen by Frank, the athletic hero, but her heart was not engaged with him as she thought it would be. She enjoyed the caresses in the hayloft and had gained some expertise in pleasing but she had not been taught the likely consequences of her actions because her mother had never raised the topic with her, other than to admonish her to be good, which to Dilly meant going to church and saying her prayers, and these were things she did regularly.
“Why, Annie, what’s the matter?” she asked quaveringly, fearing some evil.
&nb
sp; “Well, have you been with him in the night? The truth, now,” said Annie sternly but not unkindly.
“Aah, a few times.”
“And did you,” Annie gulped, “did you lie together, did you come really close together like the animals do in breeding time? You know, before the lambs and calves arrive?” Annie was wincing as she picked her way through the quaking bog of delicacy which had suddenly opened before her.
“Aah, we did.” Dilly was troubled now by Annie’s expression. “You ‘unna tell Mrs Wood, will you, Nan? Please?”
“It wunna be a question of me telling her, you little simpleton. Your belly will tell her.”
Dilly rubbed her stomach defensively. “What do you mean?”
“Why, you are likely to be ‘aving a babby, you soft wench.” Dilly was astonished to see Annie start to cry. She herself felt calm, albeit slightly light-headed at the news.
“A babby? Is that why I’m getting fat?” She thought of the skirt she had been altering.
“Yes, and why you’ve ‘ad such a queasy stomach in the mornings.” Annie wanted to shake the silly goose but restrained herself , although she could not keep the sharpness out of her voice. “Now what are you going to do? Is Frank the only one you’ve been going with?”
“Aah.” Dilly had not the sensibility to be offended by the implication that she might be too free with her favours.
“What about Jem Roberts? He was sweet on you. You’ve not been soft with him too, ‘ave you?”
“No. I told you, Jem and I had a row at the fair and I ‘anna spoken to him since.” Dilly winced inwardly at the memory of the several times she had seen Jem about town and at church. He had cast such fierce looks in her direction that they made her flinch, but she told herself defensively each time that he had deserved to be hurt, the way he had carried on.
“So it’s Frank Marsh then. Will he marry you, do you think?”
Bitter Herbs Page 5
