‘I can’t say.’
‘You can’t say? Of course you can say. Just tell me what’s wrong. I mean, are you ill?’
‘Not ill…’
For Lottie to behave so oddly struck her as peculiar; as though something must be truly amiss. But if she wasn’t ill, then perhaps…
‘Lottie, last night, did someone give you cider?’
‘No…’
‘Mead then?’
‘No.’
She lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. This really was the last thing she needed.
‘Look, how about I move this blanket away from your face so you can tell me what’s the matter, then?’ Receiving no response either way, she folded back the cover, shocked by the blotchiness of Lottie’s face. ‘Hey, you been crying?’ Oh, why had she sounded so impatient just now? Clearly, something was properly wrong. ‘Look, why don’t you try an’ tell me what the matter is, then? Or… or maybe you’d rather I fetched Ma Strong?’
‘No! Not Mistress Strong, please, no!’
‘Well, all right then but if you don’t want to talk to her, then you’re going to have to find a way to tell me what’s wrong because if you don’t, I can’t help you. You do see that, don’t you?’
‘Please d-don’t be cross with me, Mary. I want to tell you but I can’t… or I’ll be sent home.’
‘Oh come, now, don’t be daft; why on earth would you be sent home? Who said so?’
‘He did. He said if I tell anyone, he’ll make good and sure I’m sent home.’
‘You’re not making any sense, love. Who did?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘Oh, Lottie, this is getting us nowhere, truly.’
‘I’m sorry, Mary but I just can’t.’
With a shake of her head, she cast her eyes about the room. And then it occurred to her. He. Lottie had said ‘he’. A man. And he wanted Lottie to keep quiet about something. Flashing through her mind was the face of Francis Troke. Oh, good Lord: what if, when she had spurned him, he had gone and…
‘Lottie, this man – the one who told you not to say anything – did he do something to you?’
‘He…’
‘What, Lottie? Tell me, what did he do?’
‘He… he… oh, must I say? He said not to. He said no one would believe me.’
Feeling how her throat had tightened, she tried to swallow. No, while she didn’t know Francis Troke from Adam, something about him told her that this wasn’t his doing.
‘Lottie, did he…’ but how ever was she going to put this to such a young girl, ‘did he harm you?’ Fixing her eyes on Lottie’s face, she held her breath. But there it was: the tiniest nod. ‘At the harvest home?’
A slight shake this time, she was sure of it.
‘After.’
‘He came in here, then?’ Another nod. ‘Oh, Lottie,’ she managed to say, grabbing for a handful of blanket as she felt herself reel backwards. ‘Who? Who was it?’
‘No… he said if people find out, I’ll be sent home and I don’t want that. ’Specially not now.’
Breathe, she reminded herself; breathe.
‘It’s all right, Lottie. No one’s going to make you go home. But I got to ask you, love, are you hurt?’
For a moment, she thought that Lottie wasn’t going to answer, but then with the slightest nod of her head, she said, ‘Awful bad.’
‘Right, well, then…’ Why was it suddenly so clammy when only moments ago it had felt so cold? And why couldn’t she think what to do next? Think, for heaven’s sake! Who should she tell? Ma Strong? No, she probably wasn’t up yet. Ellen? Yes, tell Ellen and then she could tell Ma Strong. Yes. That would be better. ‘You bide there then, lovey and I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
Rising from the side of the bed, she walked slowly across to the door and closed it gently behind her, but once outside, she ran full pelt across the yard and burst into the kitchen.
‘Mary…?’
‘Ellen, it’s Lottie. She’s been… well, she’s… someone’s attacked her.’ Reaching a hand to the mantel for support, she watched Ellen grab for a cloth and, drying her hands, come towards her.
‘Attacked her?’
She nodded.
‘Aye.’
‘When?’
‘Somewhen after the harvest home finished,’ she answered, groping about for a chair upon which to collapse as a wave of dizziness seemed to buckle her knees. ‘But she won’t say much nor will she tell me who it was.’
‘Is she hurt, do you know? Does she need Martha?’
For a moment, she stayed where she was with her head resting on the table.
‘Yes, yes. Send for Martha.’
‘Stay there, then and I’ll go and see if Ma Strong’s about yet. But Mary, when you say attacked, do you mean that she was raped?’
Although she raised her head from the table, she couldn’t bring herself to meet Ellen’s eyes.
‘I think so, yes.’
‘Oh good Lord, no; the poor child. Wait there. Wait there.’
Left on her own, she sat with her head in her hands, listening to the sound of Ellen’s feet slapping along the flagstones in the hallway and then thudding up the staircase. Several paces along the landing the noise of her progress came to a halt and although she could hear anxious tones, she couldn’t hear what was being said. Then, with the click of a door closing, she heard Ellen scamper back down the stairs and without slowing her pace, run straight through the kitchen and out towards the barn, recognising in the stillness that followed, the slow and heavy tread of Hannah coming along the hallway towards her.
‘Where is she?’
She looked up. Her mother-in-law’s expression looked anything but sympathetic.
‘Across the way still.’
‘Right, then. Best get over there and see what all this is about.’
She closed her eyes. Just about the last thing Lottie needed was Ma Strong in grouchy mood; the poor girl seemed reluctant enough to talk as it was.
‘Maybe I should come with you,’ she offered and got up to accompany her mother-in-law across the yard. But when they arrived in Lottie’s room, Hannah’s manner couldn’t have become more different or more at odds with her exhausted appearance.
‘Lottie, love, ’tis me, Hannah, Mistress Strong,’ she heard her say and watched as, with some difficulty, she bent level with Lottie’s face. ‘I’m real sorry to hear about what happened, lovey, truly I am. So I’ve sent someone up for Martha. You remember Martha, don’t you?’ In response to Hannah’s question, she saw Lottie nod. ‘That’s right. Well, any moment now she’ll be here to take care of you. So while we wait for her, why don’t you tell me who did this to you, lovey?’
‘I can’t.’
‘No, well, all right; no matter. More important is to get you seen to. Tell you what, Mary, light that candle there, would you? Let’s see what we’re about.’
‘He told her not to say anything or she’d be sent home,’ she thought to explain as she set the flame to the wick, thinking then that the wan light was doing little to brighten the gloom.
‘Be sent home? What an odd thing for someone to say to her.’
Seeing her mother-in-law’s expression, she shrugged.
‘That’s what I thought.’ One thing was obvious, though: whoever had done this had tried to ensure that they wouldn’t be found out.
‘I shan’t send you home, my lover,’ Hannah was offering. ‘You’ve no need to werret on that score. No, you’re my little treasure, you are.’
‘Sorry, Mistress Strong, to cause such a fret.’
‘Now, just you listen to me, Lottie, you’ve nothin’ to be sorry for, nothin’ at all. This weren’t of your making.’
From beyond the dismal room Mary heard the sound of voices, and as she reached to open the door, was relieved to see Will and Martha coming across the yard towards them. She also noticed the anxious glance Will shot his mother and how, in response, she nodded him away.
‘Now then young Lottie,’ Martha was saying, setting down her bag, ‘this only needs you an’ me, so how about we send these two back over the house?’
It would be all right now that Martha was here, she thought to herself, immediately feeling warmer for the notion.
‘Aye, come on back with me then, Mary,’ she heard Hannah saying from the doorway, ‘and when you’re done here, Martha, get her brought over the house. It’ll be a good deal warmer there and one of us can keep an eye on her, too.’
Heartened by the purposeful way in which Martha was readying her things, Mary turned to follow her mother-in-law back to the kitchen, but as they went through the door it was to the sight of Ellen leaping to her feet.
‘Well?’
‘Nothing more to tell you yet,’ she heard her mother-in-law answer before she sank onto the nearest chair.
Glancing about the room, she saw George by the fireplace and went to stand next to him.
‘Ellen says Lottie won’t say who it was,’ he said as she approached.
‘No, she seems too terrified to say anything, poor soul.’
‘But you think she knows who it was, though?’
She shrugged her shoulders.
‘Hard to say for certain but I’m minded she does, yes.’
‘Well, that by itself narrows it down since she only knows a few folk hereabouts. Scarcely even a dozen, I’d say.’
‘Somehow that makes it worse,’ she said to him, giving voice to the thought only now occurring to her, ‘since that means it’s someone we all know; someone we know quite well, too.’
‘Maybe,’ she heard Will responding and looked across at him. ‘Or maybe it’s just someone she got talking to at the randy.’
She let out a long sigh. The prospect of someone they knew harming Lottie was beginning to make her feel even angrier; it having something to do with trust or at least, what ought to have been trust.
‘What I can’t understand, is how anyone could do such a thing. I mean, to Lottie of all people?’
‘It’s beyond believing, that’s what it is,’ she heard Ellen agreeing, and looked up to see her twisting a drying cloth between her hands. ‘Especially with her being no more than a girl.’
‘Did anyone notice when she left?’ George apparently thought to ask. ‘Or see her talking to anyone late-on? Or even see anyone watching her?’
‘Only Robert.’ But even as she said it, she wished he hadn’t even sprung to mind.
‘No, no, not Robert,’ her husband was quick to reply. ‘No, he may be soft on her but that’s a mile from harming her. And anyway, when I spoke to him, he couldn’t even get up the courage to ask her to dance, so I don’t—’
‘Look, you can all stop suggesting it was someone from this family, right here and now.’ At Hannah’s interjection, she noticed how everyone seemed to shift uneasily. Why, though? Why, given what went on here sometimes, shouldn’t they all look to themselves? ‘But when we find out who did it,’ Hannah was continuing, ‘then you boys can fetch him down here to answer for it.’ The narrowness of her eyes and the set of her mouth seemed to match the stiffness of her tone, but before the ramifications of her remark could sink in, the back door clicked open and Martha stood looking about the room.
‘One of you lads come an’ carry her in for me?’
Closest to the door, Will got up, returning moments later with Lottie wrapped in a blanket, nothing but her mane of flaxen hair visible where it hung down over his arm.
‘Careful,’ Martha urged as he negotiated the bedroom doorway.
‘How badly is she hurt?’ Ellen wanted to know as she watched her husband laying Lottie on the bed. But Martha was motioning them out into the hall.
‘Come away a minute, all of you.’
‘So?’ Hannah asked, pulling the door shut behind her. ‘What happened to her, then?’
‘Well, truth of the matter is that the poor girl ain’t much idea what went on. But happen that’s no bad thing. See, for certain he tried to force himself on her, although given her obvious virtue, not in the way you might think.’ From where she was leaning against the wall for support, Mary frowned and noticing the other two women doing likewise, hoped that Martha was going to elaborate. ‘See, the usual thing with such a young girl is that some fellow can’t resist the urge to despoil her but this… beast, well, he went for her at the back.’ Suddenly understanding what Martha was describing, Mary gave a little gasp. ‘That said, seems he was also quick to give up, since she’s a good deal less harmed than some I’ve seen.’
‘Maybe he thought about what he was doing and couldn’t go through with it.’
While she could understand Ellen wanting to draw such a conclusion – after all, it did make the whole thing seem slightly less brutal – for her part, she thought it unlikely, especially given that her attacker was sufficiently moved to follow her back to her room in the first place.
‘Maybe summat frightened him off,’ she suggested instead.
‘Could be either or both,’ Martha seemed to agree, ‘but to my mind, given the night in question, it’s more than likely he didn’t bargain on the effects of the ale. I’ve seen many a woman spared misfortune on account of a man’s fondness for overdoing it.’
‘So you think she was fortunate, then?’
‘Fortunate?’ How could her mother-in-law possibly think the poor girl fortunate?
‘All right, maybe that’s the wrong way of putting it but you know what I mean; spared the full horror,’ Hannah tried to explain.
‘Well, she’s got some fair old bruising, which leads me to thinking he made a determined effort, but in truth, aye, seems to me that on this occasion, she escaped lightly. Although perhaps I ought say how just because she ain’t hurt as bad as she might be, you can still be certain she’ll be nervy for a long time to come.’
‘But she still didn’t say who it was?’ Ellen was asking.
Waiting to see how Martha replied, she shook her head. Clearly, whoever it was had known how to frighten her.
‘All she would tell me was that she was woken by someone pulling her blanket from her and that before she knew what was happening, he’d turned her onto her stomach and pushed up her nightgown. Then it seems he pressed her face into the pillow, most likely so she couldn’t scream out.’
‘Oh, he needs to be caught, this one does,’ Hannah was remarking and nodding her head for emphasis. ‘He’s got it coming to him good an’ proper, this one has. I mean, what sort of… animal does that? Aye, we’ll see he pays for what he’s done.’
‘But how will we ever find him if she won’t say who it was?’ Ellen wanted to know.
‘I’m not rightly sure she even knows. It was dark. He turned her face down. And even if she had got a look at him, chances are she wouldn’t have known him anyway.’
Listening to Martha talking, she bit her lip. Earlier, she had been under the impression that Lottie did know who he was but perhaps, thinking about it now, when she had used the word ‘he’, it wasn’t, after all, because she had known him but simply because it was a man. In a way, she hoped for it to be true because it felt less awful than having to suspect someone close to them.
‘Well, while it might be a blessing for her that she doesn’t know him, Ellen’s got a point: it ain’t going to help us find him,’ she became aware of Hannah remarking.
‘All I can say,’ Martha continued, ‘is that you can be sure it ain’t some young lad you’re looking for. No, the urges a young lad gets are quickly and simply enough satisfied. No, the one that did this was after summat altogether more ugly by way of his pleasure.’
‘She must have been terrified,’ she remarked quietly, almost to herself. ‘And then to have to stop there all night, alone, too frightened to… oh, it makes me shiver just to think on it.’
‘What I fear most now is him getting away with it.’
‘You needn’t werret over that, Ellen. Once we persuade her to talk to one of us, for certain the poor mite will remember summat
and then when she does, we’ll send the boys after him.’
‘Aye, but while that may indeed prove to be true, Hannah, love, you forget she’s been awake all night,’ Martha pointed out. ‘So for now at least, we need to let her rest. Then, maybe after some sleep, who knows, perhaps she’ll feel more like talking about it.’
‘Course,’ Hannah was nodding. ‘Course. That’s what we’ll let her do, then. Now, Ellen, why don’t you go an’ make us all some tea? I for one could sorely use some. And if any of you want summat stronger in yours, you’ll hear no objection from me.’
*
A while later, from where she was sitting with the other women at the kitchen table, Mary looked up to see George and Will coming in from the yard.
‘Barn’s all done,’ she heard George tell his mother as he moved to warm himself in front of the fire.
‘And Richard Bundy just came down,’ Will added, following his brother across the room.
She tried to picture whether Richard Bundy was someone she knew; whether he was young or old; whether he… and then she stopped herself. Was that how it was going to be from now on: judging every man in the village against the likelihood of him being Lottie’s attacker?
‘What did he want?’ she became aware of Hannah asking, her mother-in-law’s interest striking her as minimal.
‘Well, he said he came by to see if we wanted help clearing up the barn.’
Or had he come down to see whether Lottie had said anything yet to place him under suspicion? No, no, no: stop thinking such thoughts, she chided herself.
‘Good of him, I suppose.’
‘Aye, although I think his real purpose was to be first to tell how Hooper’s ricks were fired last night.’
She blinked rapidly, noticing how Will now had his mother’s full attention.
‘Hooper’s? But that’s not a half-mile beyond the Marcombe turn.’
‘Aye. I’m surprised none of us seen the flames. Must have gone up like tinder.’
‘But as I pointed out,’ George was saying, making her turn in his direction and notice how he was picking at a lump of candle grease congealed on the mantel, ‘we’d have been in the barn.’
‘He said they can’t have been more than a week in the stack.’
A Country Marriage Page 23
