In the astonished silence, Mary’s ears thumped with the pounding of her blood and she grasped for the edge of the table, aware now that, as if by way of torture, all of the family members most affected by this news – Annie, Will and Ellen – were seated facing her. In recognition of this, she snapped her eyes shut, but it was too late and the three faces, wiped of their usual animation, had already become branded into her memory. Anxious to be rid, she turned towards the bright square of light at the window, its four tiny panes craning open into the yard. Snatches of ordinariness floated into the silence; sparrows cheeping insistently and soft breezes swishing the oak. More distantly, fitful lowing drifted up from the meadow but here, inside the farmhouse that she would now one day occupy as mistress, the solitary sound – the soporific ticking of the longcase clock in the hall – served only to intensify the agony. Still trembling, she forced herself to look quickly around the table, her eyes falling on Ellen, distractedly biting at her bottom lip, her eyes pressed shut but her tears nevertheless coursing down her cheeks, while alongside her, disbelief seemed to have drained Will’s face of all colour. People talked about the deathly pallor of shock, but, until this precise moment, she had never seen what they meant. Unsettled by the notion that she was, in part at least, complicit in Will’s distress, she directed her attention instead towards Annie, but in contrast to the obvious shock of the other two, her face was surprisingly blank.
‘I fancy you might need to explain why, Thomas,’ she heard Hannah taking it upon herself to say.
‘Well, presumably, Robert, you ain’t got a problem with it?’ his father asked.
Robert shrugged his shoulders.
‘It makes no difference to me,’ he said flatly. ‘I weren’t ever going to inherit it.’
‘True,’ Thomas agreed. ‘And you, Annie, I fancy it ain’t your main concern, either.’
She too shrugged her shoulders.
‘I suppose not,’ she replied neutrally. ‘Although I did always imagine that one day it might pass to James.’
‘Aye. An’ I know it’ll come as little comfort to you but I thought long and hard on that very point afore reaching my decision.’ For a moment, as he paused and looked towards Will, Mary thought she could see genuine regret in his expression. ‘Will, son,’ he began, his tone already weighed by apology. ‘It grieves me greatly to watch as you and Ellen have such misfortune with the babies, but ’tis so vital for Summerleas to remain in the family that in truth I have no choice. I’m sorry, truly. I mean, in a way, ’tis the same for your ma, though it pains me to say it.’ In their surprise, everyone seemed to turn to look at Hannah. ‘When summat happens to me, your ma might want to get herself wed again. And if she did and the farm was in her ownership, then it would become the property of her husband, passing out of this family for all time, and that’s a risk I just can’t allow. And likewise, I can’t burden her by leaving her the farm and then stating that she mustn’t wed.’ He paused and looked at their faces. ‘So George is the safest pair of hands. And he has a son.’
In the silence that followed his last remark, Annie got up from her chair, and without saying anything, walked from the room. Moving to go after her, Ellen also stood up but Hannah motioned her to remain.
‘No, leave her be, love. ’Tis particular upsetting for her since she was in line for it all.’
‘But what about me?’ Ellen asked, her fists clenched in front of her and her knuckles straining white through her pale skin. ‘Don’t you see? Annie may well have expected to be mistress of Summerleas one day, and I’m sure she wishes fervently it was still the case, but at least she has children. What about my dreams? And Will’s?’
‘Ellen,’ Will began to say, clearly uncomfortable at his wife’s outburst.
‘No, Will, I won’t be silenced on this,’ she said firmly and turned back towards her in-laws. ‘Don’t you think it’s bad enough for me to be barren and empty and childless, having to watch as Mary and Annie bring sons into this family, while inside I ache for such a chance? So can you even imagine for one moment, how it feels for Will an’ me to now be passed over on account of my failure, when already I grieve every day for the babies I’ve lost?’
Mary looked into her lap. Her first instinct was an urge to comfort Ellen but how would it look? After all, she had just gained so much, and all of it entirely at Ellen’s expense. And she and George didn’t know the heartbreak of being childless, either. She bit her tongue hard and tried to hold back tears, feeling, as Ellen obviously did, that the whole business was unfair twice over.
Slamming her fists onto the table, Ellen’s crying turned to anguished howling and Mary noticed Hannah nod at Will, who scraped back his chair to help his wife up and lead her away.
‘Well, it was never going to be easy,’ Hannah remarked to her husband, as she watched them go, and then, levering herself up, walked across to the window. Leaning over the sink, she tapped on the glass and beckoned to Lottie. ‘And I do feel for her, poor maid, especially seeing how it’s her problem that’s deprived Will of what he might rightly have expected. But, well, at least now I suppose it’s all out in the open.’
‘Aye and I’m not chancing the farm, either,’ Thomas said with a sigh, watching absently as Lottie now set about clearing the remains of the meal.
Dabbing at her eyes and noticing that beside her George seemed oddly fidgety, Mary looked up to see him watching his father stepping out into the yard.
‘Well, maybe I’d best go and see if Annie’s all right,’ he mumbled.
‘Annie?’ she asked, looking back at him in surprise.
‘Aye. She seemed upset—’
‘You think Annie’s upset?’ she remarked, the unwitting sharpness of her tone betraying her utter disbelief as she watched him set off along the hallway in search of his sister-in-law.
*
Just as George was expecting, he found Annie in the parlour, sitting on the window seat staring out across the garden, and as he pushed the door closed behind him, she looked up, although the flat expression on her face didn’t change.
‘How long have you known?’ she asked, as he sat at the other end of the seat, wishing now that he had rehearsed this conversation beforehand.
‘Pa came up last night. It was summat of a shock, I can tell you.’
‘Hmm.’
Despite being quick to detect the distrust in her tone, he knew that showing even the smallest hint of exasperation would only rile her further.
‘Truthfully, Annie. I had no idea.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Be reasonable,’ he implored her. ‘How could I have known what Pa was up to? And anyway, you must have known that Summerleas wouldn’t pass straight to James.’
‘George, don’t be foolish. Of course I knew that but the only good thing about being wed to Tom was that, one day, all of this would’ve been mine.’ He watched as she waved her hand vaguely about. ‘I can’t claim it made it all worthwhile but at least it offered some comfort. Then, when he died, I thought, well, at least Will and Ellen won’t throw me out. So surely even you can imagine how it feels to find that not only did I lose Summerleas but that, as it turns out, I lost it to your wife.’ As he watched her spit the last word, he bristled. ‘Now, I’ll be faced with living here – if I’m lucky – alongside your adoring little Mary and all of her offspring. And do you have any idea how that makes me feel, when I have your sons too and by any normal reckoning it’s me you should be wed to?’
‘I’m not fond of you when you’re bitter,’ he said firmly. Her response, though, was to glower at him. ‘I didn’t marry Mary until you were long since married to my brother. You can’t hold me to ransom for wanting to get on with my life. You got on with yours.’ With that remark, he saw her shoulders sag and hoped it was a sign of a softening of her attitude.
‘I know,’ she said, exhaling heavily. ‘Forgive me. I’m sorry, truly I am. It’s just that it’s hard enough seeing you with her all the time, but then to have that thrown at me
without the least warning.’
‘Look, believe me when I say that if I’d known earlier, I would have told you,’ he said, wondering whether in fact that would have been true, since he realised now that she would have reacted badly whenever she had found out.
‘I know. And I don’t want to fall out with you.’ With what sounded to him like a resigned sigh, she lowered her voice, ‘I love you so much, George, and our boys, too. And at least I know that if the farm is yours, I won’t ever be homeless and you’ll see that our sons learn to farm and have work, too.’ At that moment, something seemed to fall across him and it felt like a dark shadow. ‘And anyway, who knows how things will work out in the future, eh? Maybe you and me will end up together here yet…’
Prickling at her remark and determining to ignore it, he stood up.
‘Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re being reasonable,’ he told her quietly, thinking that in truth she was being anything but. ‘And I urge you now, just think long and hard afore you go creating any difficulties between me and Mary, because if she has any suspicions, any at all, then it’ll just make it harder for me to come down here to see you, you understand that, don’t you?’
‘Oh don’t go gettin’ all werrety. You overlook that I know well enough what’s what in that regard.’
‘Well, good, then,’ he said decisively and without further comment, left the room and went rather stiffly back to the kitchen.
‘Can we go home, now?’ Mary greeted him.
Fighting back the irritation left from his previous conversation, he confined himself to a single word.
‘Aye.’ A further falling out was the last thing he needed.
‘Is she all right?’
‘Annie?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right enough in the circumstances.’ Well, he consoled his conscience; it wasn’t a lie.
‘I mean, I can understand her being a bit… put out but she can hardly blame you, can she?’ he heard his wife persisting as she grabbed for Jacob’s blanket. Stepping outside, he purposely quickened his pace, only to hear her skipping alongside him to keep up. ‘George?’
‘Mary, can we leave it be, please? This has already caused enough upset—’
‘Upset?’ Will’s raised voice stopped them dead; his sudden appearance ahead of them suggesting that he had been lying in wait.
In that brief instant, he saw in his brother’s face a frightening likeness to Tom in one of his uglier moods.
‘Will, I’m sorry about how this has happened, truly I am. I knew nothing of it.’
‘Oh, save your breath, George. Your apology means nothing.’
‘No? Why not? I offer it sincerely,’ he replied, and watched his brother take a few heavy paces towards the gate and then turn back to face them, his finger raised in accusation.
‘Oh, you know well enough why. I hold my peace about your involvement in all this protest business, knowing full well how Pa wouldn’t approve and then I find out that all this time, you’ve been stealing about behind my back, wheedling your way into his will!’
‘What? I’ve done no such thing and if you stopped to think for a moment, you’d see as much.’ Inside, he felt hollow, sick even, and realised despondently that his joy from yesterday evening had been entirely spoiled by the wider implications of his newly found good fortune. He had expected Annie to be difficult, and even that Will would be disappointed – but he hadn’t been expecting such anger; that wasn’t how Will was.
‘Treachery; that’s what it is. An’ from my own brother, too. ’Tis deviousness more befitting Tom. I might have expected such behaviour from him but from you, George, well, it’s beyond the pale. Not only that, but with all your dabbling in this… this unrest… I’m not even sure you’re the safe pair of hands Pa thinks you are.’
With that, George glimpsed fear flicker across Mary’s face and watched as she turned to towards the gate. He didn’t think Will would tell their father about his involvement with the Radicals but then he hadn’t been expecting such anger, either. Perhaps the prudent thing, he decided, was to appear apologetic and humble; Will might respect that.
‘Look, Will. I know how shocked you must be because I know how shocked I was when Pa came and told me what he’d done.’
‘Hmph.’
‘Ask him if you don’t believe me. I couldn’t find a single word for the measure of my surprise.’
‘But no doubt you found the words to thank him easily enough.’
‘Barely. But that’s not the point. The point is that I didn’t court him. I never gave his will a thought. He did what he did with no prompting on my part. You know what sort of man he is. From whom do you think Tom got his stubbornness? Or any of us, come to that?’ but even as the words left his lips, he cursed the foolhardiness of his comment.
‘Don’t you dare compare me to Tom.’
‘Sorry. Forgive me. But look, Will, I tell you truthfully, when Pa told me what he’d done, my first question was about you. I swear it on Jacob’s life.’ At his oath, he saw his brother wince. ‘And he gave me the same speech he just gave us in the kitchen about there needing to be a… succession, or whatever it is.’
‘But there still could be,’ Will replied, his normal, quiet tone returning, although now, to George’s relief, it also resonated with defeat. ‘Just because I don’t have a son yet, doesn’t mean I won’t have, one day. And even if that isn’t God’s will for us, I could still pass the farm to James. I mean, it’s like Annie said, by rights it should all be going to him anyway.’
‘Aye, maybe,’ George replied, deeply aware of the need not to be drawn on that point.
‘Well I want you to know that this doesn’t rest easy with me. If you say you knew nothing beforehand and did nothing to bring it about, then I withdraw what I said earlier. Forgive me. But it still don’t change how I feel.’
‘No, I realise that,’ George conceded. ‘An’ I reckon I’d feel the same.’
‘Then just be grateful you don’t,’ Will said and then turning towards the back door, added, ‘and now, if you don’t mind, I’ll bid you good day and go an’ see if I can do anything to console my wife.’
*
‘Well, that was unpleasant, wasn’t it?’ George became aware of Mary commenting when they were back at home.
‘Aye. And I feel foolish for being caught out. I should have known it would cause ructions.’
‘Why should you? It wasn’t your doing.’
‘Maybe not but I suppose all I can do now is lay low and wait for it to blow over.’
‘Might be best,’ she agreed, stirring the porridge as it sputtered over the fire, ‘but have you thought any more about what it means for us, though?’
He stroked his chin and reflected for a moment before answering.
‘Well, I fancy Pa’s in no rush to hand over charge.’
‘No.’
‘And the farm ain’t short of labour for the moment, so it seems they don’t need me.’
‘Well, I think that’s a good thing.’
‘You do?’ His surprise stemmed from the way he had always assumed she would prefer to live in the farmhouse, a possibility he had been dreading her suggesting.
‘I prefer it here. It may not be perfect but at least we’re not tangled up in it all.’
‘No, we’re not,’ he agreed, taken aback by her perceptiveness but, courtesy of his conscience, wary too.
‘I mean, I know you have to go down there a lot and you must be real tired after a long day’s work but now at least there’s sort of a purpose to it; a sort of reward at the end.’
‘Aye,’ he said, risking a sidelong glance at her face but finding it apparently serene. Surely it wasn’t possible that she suspected something? Surely, it was beyond even his guilty imagination to conclude that she could have found out about Annie or her boys. ‘You’re right,’ he said, realising that perhaps just lately his behaviour must have been suspicious. He would have to try harder to hide his irritation with her, sin
ce surely that alone was sufficient to generate doubt. Yes, he would try to be nicer to her; after all, if he was going to be gone for the evening, he could at least be civil about it. And if she thought that he would be coming back late and worn out, then she might already be asleep when he returned, relieving him of something else that was causing him a good deal of guilt and discomfort just lately, too.
Chapter 18
Like a Moth to a Flame
‘Fancy a walk?’
‘Hello George,’ Annie replied.
When he’d come upon her, standing in the dairy washing muslins the following evening, she’d had a faraway look on her face but it was impossible to miss the fact that the moment she saw him, it had formed into a warm smile. While she hung up the muslins and then dried her hands, he waited and when she was done, he followed her through the milking parlour where, in practised fashion, they slipped unseen out of the back and down through Top Pasture where she linked her arm through his as they strolled casually down the field.
A Country Marriage Page 36
