A Just and Upright Man (The James Blakiston Series)

by Lynch, R J

  Half an hour passed before the door opened again, slowly and almost noiselessly. Tom went on looking into the fire, aware that the intruder had stopped on the threshold and was staring silently at him. After a few moments, he said quietly, ‘You cannot leave him in the hen house. The poor fellow will stink.’

  ‘I can’t put him in with the pigs,’ said Lizzie. ‘They might eat him.’

  Tom smiled. ‘You must bring him in here.’

  ‘You won’t give him away?’

  Tom turned to look at her. ‘Lizzie. You are my wife. Soon you will be the mother of my child.’

  The grey eyes looked into his in that intent way she had. She nodded without expression, then turned and left the kitchen. When she returned a few minutes later, she had with her a young man whose filthy dishevelment, even in the subdued light cast by the fire, could not disguise a blacksmith’s strength, nor the disconcerting grey eyes he shared with his sister. He reached out his hand.

  Tom shook it. ‘Joseph Greener, I am pleased to see you again,’ he said. ‘Though I could wish you stank less of chickens.’

  The door by the stairs opened and Florrie entered. She held out a hand towards Joe. ‘Get those clothes off and let me wash them.’

  ‘Let’s get bills printed,’ said Joe, ‘and call a public meeting.’

  ‘You can’t go around like that,’ said Florrie. As Joe began to unfasten his waistcoat, she broke through the fire’s crust with the poker and stirred it into flame. Then she heaped on chunks of coal and filled a large tub with water into which she scooped the soap she made from lye and wood ash.

  Joe had paused while untying his breeches. ‘Is there to be no privacy?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ said Florrie. ‘I bathed you as a child. And Lizzie is a married woman.’

  The fire’s flickering light and the knowledge that they were participating in a felony gave the room and its inhabitants a strange air of unreality. When Joe was naked he stared at the others, defying them to speak. Tom took up the challenge. ‘An ugly cut,’ he said. ‘How did you come by it?’

  Joe ran his fingers along the livid scar that ran for four inches across the side of his stomach. ‘This is how I became a wanted man,’ he said.

  Tom held his gaze, silently demanding to be told more.

  ‘I was out with Billy Bell. We met with John Gregg and his cronies. Gregg had been warned to stay away from Winlaton if he wanted to live. Words passed between him and Billy. I stepped between them as Billy was lunging and took the blow myself. A glancing hit, or I would not be here now. Gregg’s companions seized Billy while Gregg took up a rock and dashed out his brains. It is Billy’s murder I stand accused of.’

  Lizzie, who had heard Joe’s story before, said nothing. Florrie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘This John Gregg. I have heard of him?’

  ‘He is an informer,’ said Joe. ‘He gave up Billy’s brother for poaching. The man’s family was starving. He took two partridges, for which he was transported to the American colonies for seven years. There are others. Gregg is paid by Sir Edward Blackett’s agent. A pittance. The price of a drink. For that he gives people up to the law. If he knows nothing, he invents.’

  ‘You have no witnesses to speak for you?’

  ‘There were none there but Gregg and his marras. If they take me I shall be hanged or transported. But they will not take me.’

  Florrie had his shirt and breeches in the tub of boiling water. She handed him one of the rough linen sheets they used as towels. ‘Go out to the pump,’ she said. ‘Get yourself clean.’

  Throughout Joe’s story, Tom had been conscious of Lizzie’s eyes upon him. ‘Do you believe him?’ she asked when Joe had gone into the yard.

  ‘He has certainly been stabbed by someone.’

  ‘But do you believe him?’

  ‘Lizzie. What does it matter whether I believe him? What matters is, will I help him? And the answer to that is, yes. I will.’

  ‘I thank you for that. I should still like you to believe him.’

  Tom smiled. ‘You are impossible, Lizzie. I believe him. There. Are you satisfied?’

  Lizzie turned to her step-mother. ‘Those are clean now. Let me see to drying them, while you heat fresh water and wash the waistcoat.’

  As Lizzie knelt to hold the newly clean garments before the now roaring fire, she spoke with studied casualness. ‘What will you do to help him?’

  ‘He must get away,’ said Tom. ‘Has he money for that?’

  ‘Not enough to take ship for Virginia.’

  Florrie gasped. ‘Virginia! Why would he go to Virginia?’

  ‘What is there for him here? A wanted man, with a Blackett informer ready to commit perjury against him?’

  ‘But…we would never see him again.’

  ‘No. We would never see him again. And perhaps that is better than watching him swing from a gibbet outside Durham Gaol.’

  ‘How much does he need?’ asked Tom. As he spoke, the door opened and Joe came in, wrapped in the rough linen and shivering.

  ‘I can get a ship for nothing, Tom Laws. But then I should be indentured and have to work for my keep alone till the fare is paid. Five years or more. For six pound I can buy a passage and land in America what I have never been here. A free man.’

  All three stared intently at Tom. He nodded. ‘You shall have it.’

  ‘Thank you, Tom Laws. I will save my earnings in America and send it back to you.’

  The next few days were a nightmare for Tom. Kate was trusted not to speak of what she had been told to keep secret, but Ned and ten year old Miles were a different matter. Afraid that the two would give their brother away without meaning to, Tom insisted that Joe leave the attic only when the two were out of the house or asleep.

  This arrangement came to a sudden end that Sunday when Tom made his visit to Blakiston, taking Ned along to give Joe the chance of a break from captivity. Miles came home in tears and burst in before Florrie and Lizzie could get Joe upstairs.

  When Tom and Ned returned for dinner at two, Joe was at the table with Miles beside him. Ned, delighted to see his older brother, raced to embrace him. Tom stopped in the doorway. ‘What’s this?’

  The explanation did little to placate him. ‘Does Miles understand no one must know his brother is with us?’

  ‘I do, our Tom,’ said Miles.

  ‘Not just for now,’ Tom went on. ‘When Joe is far across the seas, we will still be here. We are aiding a felon and the penalties are harsh. Your sisters are probably safe from Lord Ravenshead’s anger. You and me and Ned are not. Do you understand that?’

  Miles, subdued, nodded.

  ‘And you, Ned. Can you keep silent?’

  ‘You know I can. Have I spoken of the enclosure bill to the men?’

  At the word “enclosure”, Miles’s eyes filled with tears. Tom looked towards Florrie in silent interrogation.

  ‘They will know soon enough,’ said Lizzie. ‘If they don’t already. Miles went gathering in Stokes’s Wood today.’

  ‘He has no need to do that,’ said Tom. ‘We do not want for fuel.’

  ‘He likes to do it. It is where his friends are. The boy is young enough in all conscience. Would you have him digging ditches with you and Ned?’

  ‘I would have him in school,’ said Tom.

  ‘School! Hah! You think the Misses Carrick would welcome him to mix with their young ladies and gentlemen?’

  ‘I know they would not. I have asked.’

  Lizzie paused, her searching eyes on Tom. ‘You would have paid for him to better himself?’

  ‘Of course I would.’

  ‘I did not know that. Thank you. It was a kind thought. In any case, he can go no longer to Stokes’s Wood. The others drove him off this morning
.’

  ‘But why? The wood is common land.’

  ‘For how long?’

  Tom sat down heavily. ‘So word is out?’

  ‘How much of ordinary people’s land do they intend to steal?’

  ‘They have the law on their side.’

  ‘How much?’

  Tom sighed. ‘Stokes’s Wood you know about. Also the waste at Addison and all the common lands along the Tyne and the Derwent that are not in the Bowes estate or owned by Lord Bute.’

  ‘And we may be sure they will be doing the same,’ said Lizzie.

  ‘Winlaton village is to be spared.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Joe. ‘They won’t take on Crowley’s Crew till everyone else is cowed. But Ryton itself?’

  ‘Will be left with its green. And that only as far as the houses along the edge. This farm will extend to Maggie Furlough’s garden.’

  ‘My brother feeds his cow on that land,’ said Florrie. ‘So did our father, and his before him.’

  ‘He can do so no longer,’ said Tom.

  ‘Will he be paid for the loss?’

  ‘Ditching and hedging will begin as soon as the Bill is passed. There will be work for many. After that he must shift as he can.’

  ‘He will starve. And your cows will grow fat where his cannot.’

  Tom hung his head. ‘I am sorry.’

  Lizzie placed a hand on his arm. ‘They are not Tom’s cows,’ she said. ‘They are our cows.’

  No-one spoke. Lizzie stared at her hand and where it lay. Then she stood and swept out of the farmhouse. Florrie turned to the pot simmering on the fire.

  ‘There‘s boiled beef for dinner,’ she said. ‘And carrots and potatoes and cabbage.’

  If anyone wondered what the dispossessed poor would be eating, the thought went unvoiced.

  Chapter 27

  When Lizzie came back, the others had moved on to bread and cheese. She took a bowl and helped herself to food. The expression on her face silenced anyone who might have spoken.

  After dinner, Tom told Ned to harness the cart to the horse and the two set off—for where, Tom did not say. Joe took a slice of bread and dipped it into the juice the beef and vegetables had been cooked in. ‘You have a good husband,’ he said.

  ‘I know it.’

  ‘I think you do not love him as he loves you.’

  To Florrie, watching the two unflinching pairs of grey eyes engaging with each other was unnerving. What strength of will these Greeners had! And what stubbornness! Then Lizzie smiled at her brother and the charged moment was gone.

  ‘Tom does not love me,’ she said. ‘He is a good man and he treats me well but he does not love me. He loves his farm. I am…we are the price he pays to have it.’

  Joe wiped the gravy from his chin. ‘Of course,’ he said.

  ‘You do not believe me?’

  ‘My dear sister, if that man does not love you then I do not know what a man in love looks like when he gazes on the object of his adoration.’

  ‘Then you do not know it. My dear brother.’

  He smiled, but said no more. When dinner was over and the pots cleaned, Florrie lined up Miles, Kate and Lizzie for the walk to church. Joe stepped out of the house, crossed the yard and sat on the grass behind the barn to get the warmth of the May sunshine. He could not be seen from here by anyone passing on the road or looking out from the village, while the clucking of the hens would warn him if anyone approached through the farmyard. ‘I was glad when I came that you had no dogs,’ he had said earlier to Tom. ‘But I was surprised. Does not a farmer need a dog?’

  ‘He does,’ had been Tom’s response. ‘But his lordship and the Bishop employ gamekeepers who permit none but those belonging to the castle and the cathedral.’

  ‘What could they do?’

  ‘They would trap it and kill it. As they trapped and killed Dick Jackson’s and Jeffrey Drabble’s.’

  ‘The game laws permit that?’

  Tom had smiled. ‘What innocents you must be in Winlaton. Who would prosecute his lordship’s gamekeeper? And who convict?’

  It was late when the cart rolled back up the hill to the farm, and Tom sent Ned straight into the house to eat and prepare for bed while he saw to the horse himself. When he came in, worry was etched into his face. Florrie placed a bowl of tea before him, and Lizzie hurried to bring him bread and cheese. ‘There’s cold beef?’ she said. Tom nodded and two slices were added to his plate, along with some leftover cabbage. The others watched him in the flickering light from the candles and the dull glow of the fire.

  ‘You have been far?’ asked Joe.

  ‘I did not wish to be heard asking about passage to America anywhere I would be known. In any case, you can hardly leave from the Tyne or the Wear. They will be looking for you.’

  Joe smiled. ‘You have not been to Bristol or London or you would have been gone a week at least.’

  ‘You are right. I have not. Where I have been you will know in good time. And now I should like to enjoy my meal.’

  The plate of beef and cabbage reminded him of the dinner Hetty had given him as he waited for Mister Blakiston that fateful day when he had been a day labourer with no thought of ever having a farm of his own. He shook his head. There was nothing to be gained by thinking of what might have been different. He and Lizzie had made a bargain and he would honour his side of it.

  Later, as he returned in the comforting dark from the outhouse to prepare for bed, Lizzie waited for him in the small kitchen garden where neat rows of cabbages stood already two inches tall. ‘I asked Ned who you had met. He did not know.’

  ‘You woke him? When he must be up early to go to the fields with me?’

  ‘Joe is my brother. I need to know what is to happen.’

  ‘I think it better that no-one knows save me.’

  ‘I cannot accept that.’

  ‘You must.’

  ‘I will not.’

  Tom smiled. ‘Lizzie. If I will not tell you, I will not tell you.’

  The grey eyes bored into him. As so often recently, he felt that woozy, melting feeling. The desire to make her a gift was irresistible. He sighed. ‘You must tell no-one of this.’

  She waited.

  ‘I needed someone I could trust. I have sent my cousin to Carlisle to see what can be done.’

  ‘Which cousin?’

  ‘I do not think…’

  ‘Which cousin?’

  ‘Jemmy Rayne. From Haltwhistle. His mother was my mother’s younger sister.’

  ‘He will find out about ships leaving from there?’

  ‘Not from Carlisle. From Bristol. We cannot send Joe from here. They will be on guard.’

  ‘You see? It was easy, once you knew I must be told. When will your cousin return?’

  ‘By Friday. We must keep Joe hid till then, at least.’

  ‘And Miles must be got ready.’

  ‘Miles?’

  ‘There is nothing for him here but poverty. Ned can work with you on the farm, but Miles will be a labourer. And in a time when there are no common lands, nowhere to graze a cow or gather wood or trap rabbits that are not owned by another. You know a labouring man cannot live on his wages. Many will starve. I do not want my brother to be among them. Miles wishes to go. Joe is willing to take him. His mother is agreed.’

  ‘And to pay his fare? Is his mother agreed to that, too?’

  Lizzie stared at him without speaking.

  ‘You ask a great deal, Lizzie. And you give little in return.’

  Her hand played with the neck cloth where it hung knotted around her neck. He could scarcely see her in the encompassing dark, but he felt her disappointment.

  ‘So, Tom Laws. I knew this day wou
ld come. Do you wish to trade? Am I to come to you when you know I would not, to save Miles’s life?’

  He pulled her towards the window, from which fell the thin and fluttering light of a candle. Their eyes locked. The desire to close the bargain, to say, yes, give yourself to me, play the wife’s part and I will buy the boy’s ticket, was almost too strong to resist. Almost. It was Tom who looked away first.

  ‘I will pay his fare.’

  ‘And in return?’

  ‘Nothing. I will not take what you would not give.’

  In the silence that followed Tom could hear the beating of his own heart. Lizzie stood very close to him.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘When you came home, you looked worried. Why was that?’

  ‘From Haltwhistle to Carlisle is near fifty mile. And fifty back. Once into the hills the road is wild. There are brigands. Highwaymen. I have asked my cousin to risk his life for a man of whom he knows nothing. Aye, and paid him.’

  ‘It was good of you, Tom. Not many men would treat me as you do. If I could repay you, I would.’

  Tom made no reply. After some moments of silence, Lizzie said, ‘I did not ask you to fall in love with us, Tom Laws. That was not part of our bargain. You were foolish to do it.’

  ‘I have said nothing of loving you.’

  ‘No. That is true. You have said nothing. I’m going to bed. Good night.’

  Chapter 28

  Blakiston had told Claverley that he would be visiting Nicholas Cooper in Wall, but before that there was still the question of Martin Wale’s landlord in Winlaton. It was four days before he found time to go there, and when he reached William Hetherington’s mill he was told that Wale was not at home. Blakiston had hoped for this, had indeed timed his visit for when he understood that the curate would be taking the Eucharist to the sick, and accepted the miller’s invitation to step in and take a pot of ale.