The Miner's Wife

by Diane Allen

  ‘We are going to see the minister tomorrow. But can I still stay here? I’ve nowhere else to go until I’m married,’ Meg whispered.

  ‘Aye, you’ll be alright here, lass. Who knows, your father might turn up for you yet, but I doubt it. Once he’s set his head, that’s it with him. I suppose he’ll be cursing me fit to burn, and that will be the end of my butter delivery and whatever else your parents brought.’ Harry sighed.

  ‘Jack can supply you with butter. He’s got the best milk-cow in Swaledale, and eggs, if you ask him. After all, we will need the money,’ Meg said as she thought about how much she was going to miss seeing her mum.

  ‘You can tell him he can supply me as soon as he can. Is he living up at the farm now?’ Harry enquired.

  ‘No, he goes back and forth, because his mother won’t move, but he’s talking about moving into The Rash next week, as they’ve fallen out over me,’ Meg said.

  ‘Tha’s causing some bother, lass. Let’s hope she doesn’t go with him to his farm. Her face is fit to curdle any milk, and then where would we both be?’ Harry grinned at Meg. ‘Anyway, you don’t want your mother-in-law living with you – it’d never work. Too many cooks, and all that.’

  The minister looked at the young couple sitting in front of him. ‘When are your sort ever going to remember that the horse comes before the cart, not vice versa? I’m getting a bit tired of quick weddings, and miners coming and telling me their woes. At least this child might have been conceived out of wedlock, but it is going to be born within it, and with God’s blessing.’ He looked over the top of his glasses as he filled out the form asking for permission from the Dean for the young couple to wed. ‘Your age, madam?’

  Meg looked at Jack before replying. ‘I’m twenty today, sir.’ She glanced at the dainty silver bracelet that Jack had given her and smiled. With everything else, she had forgotten her birthday and had woken up to find a necklace from Harry, and then Jack had surprised her with his gift.

  ‘Oh, underage as well – and no parents’ permission, I suppose. I’ll have to put “of full age” and hope that no one questions it. You young women should learn not to lead young men on, as they can’t control their manly urges, while you women can,’ the minister lectured Meg, making her blush as he continued filling out the form.

  ‘Can we set a date, sir?’ Jack asked and smiled at Meg.

  ‘Erm . . . should we say Saturday the first of December at two p.m. Granted, of course, that you get permission.’ The minister looked up and saw both of them smile at one another.

  ‘Perfect – we wanted to be married before Christmas.’ Jack grinned.

  ‘You’ll not be smiling when you are struggling to fill that baby’s mouth and snow is on the land. I do wish you miners were more responsible. But then again, the farmers are just as bad. It’s a good job the teachings of John Wesley are still guiding people in this dale, else it would be lost to hellfire and brimstone,’ the minister said sharply. ‘Now, good day. I’ll let you know when I receive permission. You are both of this parish at present, so I can foresee no problems. However, perhaps a little more attendance at chapel would not go amiss in the meantime.’ The minister dismissed the couple and watched as they left the recently built chapel. He shook his head and sighed as they kissed, before closing the chapel door behind them. ‘Fools never learn,’ he muttered as he saw to securing the licence.

  November came to the dale with storms aplenty. The rain pelted down on the small village of Gunnerside and the becks and gullies overflowed, as the grey clouds hid the fell tops, making villagers stay in their homes and keep the fires lit.

  Jack had moved away from his mother’s and had started to realize what a hard life farming was. There was no money coming in, and his savings were going down rapidly. The only money he was making was by selling his few pounds of butter each week and, up to a few days ago, the eggs that the hens had been laying, but now even they had seemed to go on strike in protest at the inclement weather. He’d have liked to buy some sheep for the top pastures, but with making the house ready for Meg to move into and turning it into a fit home for a baby, those ideas had been put on hold. He realized now that they were going to struggle in winter, and so with a heavy heart he made his way back up through Gunnerside to the lead-mines and secured himself three days at the smelting works.

  ‘You’ve not lasted long on your fancy farm then, lad?’ his former boss said as Jack went about the job that he had vowed he would never return to. The heat and dust from the melting ore hit his lungs, and he felt the first sense of despair since his proposal to Meg.

  ‘I’ll not be working here, come the spring. I just need some work over the winter months.’ Jack swore at the ferocity of the heat as he poured the molten ore out into ingots.

  ‘Nay, now you are getting wed, you’ll need every penny you can make – and more besides. You’ve hanged yourself good and proper.’ His boss grinned, knowing that Jack would always be working there and that his grand plan of being self-sufficient on such a small acreage would never work.

  ‘Don’t matter. At least I’ll have a home to go to on a night, and a wife to keep me warm.’ Jack ignored his boss, who had always been single and always would be, because he never bothered with women.

  ‘Aye, and probably in a few months a baby bawling. You are welcome to it, my lad, it’s not for me.’

  Jack stood up and looked around him. He could put up with this as long as Meg was by his side. Every time he saw her she looked bonnier, and they were both counting the days till their wedding day, now that they had been granted permission. His boss could say what he wanted. He was a happy man, and would be even happier, come the first of December.

  ‘Now, don’t you look lovely? Just look at her, Harry, isn’t she beautiful? It’s amazing how that old dress of mine has made such a pretty wedding dress. It’s a good job you are even slimmer than me, so we had plenty of material to play with.’ Lizzie stood back and admired her handiwork.

  Meg stood before Harry and Lizzie and glanced at herself in the mirror, which had been brought down from Harry’s bedroom.

  ‘Pretty in pink. We couldn’t really have you marrying in white, and that is a most delicate shade of pink – indeed, you can hardly tell it is pink.’ Lizzie and Meg admired the dress, and the long sleeves and neckline that Lizzie had patiently sewn lace on, to pretty it up a little.

  ‘You can’t see my condition, can you?’ Meg breathed in and ran her hand over her stomach, conscious of the baby growing inside her.

  ‘No, you are still as flat as a pancake. Besides, your bouquet will go there. I’m glad I rescued some chrysanthemums out of the garden; they would have been battered to death with all this rain.’ Lizzie placed a small headband covered with fake roses around Meg’s head and stood back. ‘There now, pretty as any lass I’ve ever seen. That young Jack has done well for himself.’

  Meg smiled at her reflection. ‘Thank you, Lizzie and Harry, you have been wonderful. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. I really don’t. I just wish my mother and father had kept in touch. I miss them so much, and I would have loved them to be with me on my wedding day.’ She sniffed and held back the tears that she knew were bubbling under the surface, as she looked at herself in the wedding dress that had been made with love.

  ‘Aye, well, your father always was a stubborn old bugger. He was the same with your aunty – and look what happened there. You’d have thought he’d have learned his lesson by now. Your mother won’t dare come without him, else her life wouldn’t be worth living. I bet she’s had it rough since you left.’ Harry looked at Lizzie and then at Meg. ‘If I could get them to your wedding, I would. Tom always wanted a son. Well, now he’s as good as got one, and one who wants to farm if he has the chance. The awkward old bugger never looks to the future. He’ll be cursing me up hill and down dale, and even more so when he learns that I’m to remarry this coming spring.’

  ‘They might come, you never know. What’s more important is th
at the weather improves for a week on Saturday – we can’t have rain.’ Lizzie went and tapped the barometer that hung next to the door. ‘Hmm . . . Looks like there’s a change on the way; perhaps the sun will shine.’

  ‘I hope so. I know the chapel’s only a short walking distance, but I’d look like a drenched rat if I went out in this, by the time I got to it.’ Meg looked out into the dark grey skies; in fact, everything around her was grey and miserable, apart from the rose pink of her dress, which Lizzie insisted on calling a ‘delicate shade of pink’. But nothing mattered. She’d make the best of her wedding day, come hell or high water, because it offered security for her and her baby, and a decent man on her arm, and that’s all that mattered, in her eyes.

  ‘What are you doing, Harry?’ Lizzie looked at Harry while he sat writing in the dim light of the oil lamp. ‘It’s nearly midnight. Are you not coming to bed?’

  ‘I’m reminding that pig-headed fella over in Appersett about all the times he’s got things wrong. And I’ve also reminded him that his wedding was a bit hurried, if I remember rightly; and that he married below his station, as Agnes was only a scullery maid. The self-righteous hypocrite! He’d be nowt if it hadn’t been for his father and grandfather working their fingers to the bone. He’s been privileged from the day he was born, and now he’s going to spoil his lass’s special day. The day she needs her mother and father, not an old fella who isn’t even related walking her down the aisle. I’ll send it with the post lad first thing. Happen Tom will see sense and at least let Agnes come to the wedding.’ Harry sat back and looked at Lizzie. ‘I know Mary would have understood both my needs and Meg’s. I just wish Tom realized how lonely he will be without his only daughter in his life, when she and her new family could make it so full for him. And I’ve told him to help them out with some money. The tight old bugger can’t take it with him – there’s no pockets in a shroud.’

  ‘Well, you’ll be lucky if he ever talks to you again,’ Lizzie exclaimed.

  ‘It’s what he needs, a good squaring up. And I’m the man to do it,’ Harry growled.

  ‘The sun’s shining. There’s one or two clouds in the sky, which look as if they could threaten snow, but at least it’s not raining.’ Lizzie opened the back room’s shutters and turned round to look at Meg, who had just come down the stairs. Her long, dark hair was still wrapped in the rags that Lizzie had insisted she curl it with, to form ringlets for her special day. ‘Your wedding day is here, Meg. Another few hours and you will be Mrs Alderson, and you will have your own home and your whole future in front of you.’ Lizzie giggled.

  ‘Is Uncle Harry opening the shop today? He’ll not want to lose trade; after all, it’s a Saturday and we are always busy. I can work behind the counter until twelve.’ Meg yawned and looked across at Lizzie, who seemed to have abandoned her lodging house for the comfort and company that the shop offered.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing! We have your hair to see to, and this morning you need to relax and look forward to your wedding. Harry is opening the shop until dinner time, and then he says he’s going to the King’s Head for a gill of Dutch courage before he walks you down the aisle. I think his nerves have got the better of him. He regards you as the daughter he never had.’ Lizzie smiled and made Meg sit down next to the fire, which was still banked up, with embers glowing from the previous evening.

  ‘He’s not the only one. I feel sick this morning, and my stomach is churning.’ Meg watched as Lizzie put a pan of milk on the fireside to make porridge. ‘I don’t want anything to eat.’ She nearly gagged at the smell of the warming milk.

  ‘That’s only to be expected, as the baby is making you feel like that, along with nerves. A slice of buttered bread will do you no harm, though. You’ve got to eat something.’ Lizzie looked with concern at Meg.

  ‘I don’t want anything. I just wish I weren’t having this baby and that I’d not been so foolish. Everybody is being so kind, and I don’t deserve any of it. In another few years Jack will regret the day he married me, especially when he’s struggling to make a living and sees a child that isn’t his getting under his feet and demanding to be fed.’ Meg hid her head in her hands and cried. She’d not slept all night, thinking of all the things that could go wrong, and they were swamping her with fear.

  ‘Now, young lady, pull yourself together. You hold your head up high, and you marry the lad who worships the ground you walk upon. He’ll love that baby as if it was his own, don’t you worry. And aye, you might never be millionaires, but there’s a lot that are in the same boat in this dale and they make do. Now, breakfast, and then we’ll look at your hair. Harry’s already in the shop. He’s seen the baker and he’ll be wanting something to eat himself, so stop all this self-pity; it will not get you anywhere.’ Lizzie folded her arms and tried to look fiercely at Meg, but she couldn’t. She knew that what Meg had said was probably going to be true, if she and Jack didn’t have any support from Meg’s family.

  ‘Now, look at you! How can Jack not help but love you? Those ringlets are perfect and the flowers are just the right colour. By, you are a bonny bride.’ Lizzie stood back from her handiwork, then looked at Meg and sighed.

  ‘A bonny bride with only three guests at her wedding,’ Meg said and felt tears welling up in her eyes. ‘I thought perhaps my mother and father would appear. They must have heard that it’s my wedding day, as gossip travels like wildfire around here.’

  ‘Now forget them. Today you are marrying Jack – that is, if Harry gets his arse out of the King’s Head. He said he’d be back by half-past one.’ Lizzie looked at the mantel clock and shook her head. ‘I bet Jack is already waiting at the chapel for you. Do you think his mother will have made her way there, or is she another who’s more stupid than I think?’ She stopped spouting as Harry, a little worse for drink, opened the back door and grinned at them both.

  ‘I’ve nobbut had a couple, before you both start. Just to celebrate the happy couple.’ Harry went over and kissed Meg on the cheek. ‘Tha’s a bonny lass. If I were forty years younger, that Jack would not stand a chance,’ he slurred as he linked arms with Meg. ‘Should we?’ he said, pointing to the open doorway. ‘I’ve seen Jack and his mother go into the chapel, so he’s not done a runner.’

  Lizzie looked as black as thunder at Harry, then kicked him on the shin in a bid to shut him up, as he walked unsteadily down the road to the chapel. Villagers looked on from outside their houses, wanting to see the young lass from the shop who was to wed one of the Alderson lads. They wished her well as she walked over the bridge and down the road, a biting northern wind making Meg shiver in her thin wedding dress.

  Harry and Meg stood for a second before entering the chapel, both gathering their nerves as they walked down the aisle, with no music playing and no guests except Jack’s mother, sitting alone in the pew next to her son. Lizzie quickly rushed to a pew in front of them. This was not the wedding Meg had dreamed of as a young girl; there were no frills and no flowers, but worst of all, there was no sign of her parents. She felt sick inside, and if she could have run, she would have done. But she owed more loyalty than that to Jack, who turned and smiled at her as the minister urged her to come forward.

  Jack rose from his pew as Meg, escorted by Harry, walked to his side. ‘Are you alright? You look beautiful,’ he whispered and smiled at her, silenced only as the minister started the wedding proceedings.

  He was stopped in his tracks as the chapel door clattered and was pushed open by two guests.

  Jack, his mother, Lizzie, Meg and Harry turned to see who the late arrivals were.

  Meg gasped and nearly cried, as her father and mother walked down the aisle and took a seat. The look on her father’s face was not one of pleasure, but her mum smiled as she sat down. Please don’t let them say that I cannot marry, Meg prayed, as the minister asked the small congregation if there was any just impediment preventing the marriage from taking place. But no objections were to be heard, and the service continued.

&
nbsp; Meg heard herself making her vows as if in a dream, and smiled as Jack placed the wedding ring on her finger. She was married and there was nothing anybody – especially her father – could do about it now. She kissed Jack and whispered ‘Thank you’ as he held her tight. And then she turned to look at her parents, noticing her mother in tears, as she took Jack’s hand to leave the chapel.

  ‘We nearly didn’t make it, as the road was icy and our way was slow.’ Agnes looked at her daughter and smiled, before hugging her as they stood outside the chapel. ‘You look wonderful, and Jack looks so handsome.’

  Meg kissed her mum and felt her heart swell as she held her hand and smiled.

  ‘Aye, Jack’s a grand lad. You should be glad he’s joined your family,’ Harry butted in.

  ‘You can hold your noise. Writing bloody letters to me to make me feel guilty. What with you telling me what you thought of me, and Agnes here telling me there was a baby on the way, I haven’t slept for bloody nights. Anyway, I’m here to make it right. Here, this will help. I can’t see my lass struggling and her baby going hungry, so I’ve done this for you.’ Tom pulled a folded parchment out of his breast pocket, passing it to Jack. ‘The Rash is your farm – you own it now; you are not renting. I came to an arrangement with Dick Turner, the owner. It’s in your name, because from what Harry told me, we owe you. And there’s twenty sheep and another milking cow in our home field, waiting to be driven over. That should get you going.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say, sir. Both of us can’t thank you enough.’ Jack reached for Meg’s hand and smiled at her as she wiped away the tears.

  ‘Thank you, Father. We didn’t expect anything, but I’m so glad you are here.’ Meg put her arms around her father’s neck and kissed him.

  ‘Aye, well, you can thank this old rogue here. Is this your fancy piece, then? I’ve known for a while that you’ve not exactly been behaving yourself.’ Tom turned and looked at Lizzie, who thankfully had not heard herself being called a ‘fancy piece’ as she talked to Jack’s mother.