by Lynch, R J
‘Do you mean to charge me with rape, sir? Only, you know, she did not and her father did not. I believe you would distress them. They did not want people to know.’
‘What I should like to do, Cooper, is to horsewhip you. What I should like to do is to drag you before that unfortunate girl and have her decide what punishment you should receive. Believe me when I say that, however terrible her choice, I should carry it out to the letter.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘In fact, what happens will depend on you.’
‘How so, sir?’
‘I wish to talk to your brother, Samuel. If he has not called on me within three days, I shall be back here to take you in charge. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I hope you do. Now tell me, what sum of money did your father wring from the Blenkinsopps in return for giving them back their daughter?’
‘Why, none, sir.’
‘None? Do you take me for a complete fool?’
‘It is true, sir. Blenkinsopp may have been but a shopkeeper, but he had money and money makes powerful friends. He went away and when he came back it was with six stout fellows armed with cudgels. They beat my father without mercy until he told them where I had taken the maid. He was never right again after that beating. It almost killed him.’
‘They caught you?’
‘I escaped by the skin of my teeth, sir. I heard them coming across the field while I was enjoying the girl a second time. Fanny was naked and so was I. I leapt into the cart with my breeks in my hand and drove the horse through the mob, scattering them. My father left Staithes after that, and I did not dare return there. I have never done so.’
‘You shall do exactly that, if I have not seen Samuel in three days, and we will let the justice of the cudgel take its course.’
Cooper licked dry lips. ‘Yes, sir. Sir, no-one in Staithes—no friend of the Blenkinsopps—knows where I am. It would go ill with me if they ever found out.’
‘Then see to it that Samuel makes an appearance.’
Blakiston mounted his horse and rode out of the yard. As he left, he turned back to look at the two men he had left behind him. William Oliver was gazing at Nicholas Cooper with what appeared very much like admiration. Blakiston experienced a moment of complete revulsion.
Disgust continued to fuel him as he rode homewards. Just before crossing the river, he turned his horse onto the Newcastle Road at Hexham and found the smithy. The blacksmith’s name was James Meader and he and his apprentice smirked as they listened to what the overseer had to say about the death of Reuben Cooper and Nicholas Cooper’s whereabouts on that day. Of the violation of poor Fanny Blenkinsopp, he said nothing.
‘And you questioned Nicholas Cooper about his father’s death in the presence of Will Oliver?’ asked Meader when Blakiston had finished.
‘Why does that amuse you?’
‘It is not me who will be amused, Master. Old Will himself, that will be who you have diverted. The story will be all over the parish by tomorrow night, and a fresh pint of ale with each telling.’
‘Aye,’ said the young apprentice. ‘And doubt not it will grow along the way.’
‘That is certain,’ said Meader. ‘By Wednesday you will have accused poor Nicholas Cooper of high treason and dragged him off in chains.’
“You do not know what you do to me”, Cooper had said, and Blakiston began to comprehend his fear. He found himself unmoved. ‘Be that as it may,’ he said, ‘can you corroborate their story?’
‘This was the second of February, you say? And today is the First of June. Aye, can I,’ said Meader. ‘To a point.’
‘And that point is...?’
‘I can tell you where Cooper was. He came here to the smithy about one o’ the clock. He told me Will Oliver was at the inn. A tale I had no difficulty in believing, but do not ask me to...what was that word? Corr...’
‘Corroborate,’ said the apprentice.
‘Don’t get above yourself, lad. Ay, that. I’m sure Oliver was at the inn, for he is rarely anywhere else, but I cannot corr...’
‘I understand,’ said Blakiston. ‘Go on, please.’
‘Cooper brought with him a chaff cutter Oliver wanted me to mend, but it was way past mending. As I doubt not he knew.’
‘I made him a new one,’ the apprentice put in.
‘Aye, Tommy here made him a new one. Made a good job of it, too.’
‘He is a good apprentice?’
‘I am a good teacher.’ The smith ruffled his apprentice’s hair. ‘Nay, man, divven’t sulk. Aye, Mister Blakiston, he’s a good lad.’
‘But still an apprentice. It would take him longer than you to finish the job.’
‘It took me all afternoon,’ said the apprentice.
‘Which was fast going,’ said Meader. ‘For anyone.’
‘And Nicholas Cooper was here the whole time?’
‘Aye, was he. And I shall tell you how I can be certain. Will Oliver will have been so drunk that Cooper could have placed him in the cart, driven to Ryton, killed every man in the place, burnt down the entire village and affronted all of Ryton womanhood with that famous pole of his and Oliver would have known nothing. But Oliver could not pay for the making of a new chaff cutter...’
‘...or did not wish to pay,’ said the apprentice.
‘...at any rate would not pay...’
‘...he never will pay unless forced...’
‘...and so Cooper worked here for me in the forge to pay the debt.’
‘A farm labourer? What use was he to a blacksmith?’
‘In fact, Nicholas Cooper is a blacksmith. He served his time in his home town, which I believe was Whitby...’
‘Staithes,’ corrected Blakiston.
‘Do you say so? I was never that far from home. At any rate, Cooper is a blacksmith, and a good one. And, to speak truth, it was Cooper who made the chaff cutter and Tommy here who helped him. And learned from him.’
‘Thank you,’ said Blakiston. ‘But tell me. What does a farmer want with a chaff cutter in February?’
‘He does not,’ said Meader. ‘But Oliver likes a drink, and he likes to be away from his wife. He got hours of both things he wanted. And when he does need a new chaff cutter, he has one. For which he has paid nothing.’
Blakiston was about to take his leave. Then he turned back. ‘And Cooper’s “famous pole”’?
Meader laughed. ‘Oliver will have told you that he keeps Cooper on in his crippled state because his wife took pity on the man after his accident?’
Blakiston nodded.
‘It is not charity that keeps Cooper on that farm, Mister Blakiston. When Oliver lies abed in his drunken condition, unable to satisfy his wife’s needs, unaware that she even has needs, Nicholas Cooper is there doing his job for him. The Olivers have five children and the last three are Cooper to the life. You have only to look at them.’
‘The ox rolled on Nicholas Cooper and ruined his leg,’ said the apprentice. ‘There are those who say that the ox acted out of envy. For Nicholas Cooper was hung better than the brute animal himself.’
‘Aye,’ said Meader. ‘You have not yet asked why a blacksmith who has served his time would be satisfied to work on a farm, though I am sure the question is in your mind. The answer is simple. A smithy is a place for men. As you see. On a farm there is the farmer’s wife, and the farmer’s maidservants, and other people’s kitchen maids come to buy eggs and milk. Women, Mister Blakiston.’
‘And girls,’ said the apprentice.
‘Women and girls,’ said the blacksmith. He smacked the boy lightly across the back of the head. ‘And I’ll thank you not to gape like a March hare when you mention girls. I promised your mother when she handed you into my care as I would look
to your Christian decency. There’ll be no girls for you, young rascal. Not till you’ve served your time.’
‘Women and girls,’ said Blakiston. ‘Nicholas Cooper is drawn to women and girls?’
‘Nicholas Cooper would ravish anything in petticoats.’
Blakiston stood close to the smith. ‘His sister? Would Cooper ravish his sister?’
Meader picked up a pair of tongs. He signalled to his apprentice to use the bellows to bring the fire back to its height. Blakiston noticed for the first time how hot it was in this building, for all the plentiful draughts blowing in from open door and windows. ‘Anything in petticoats,’ Meader repeated. ‘And now, Mister Blakiston, if you will excuse us, we have work we must get done today. People hereabouts depend on us.’
When he left the smithy, Blakiston decided to stop in at the Fox Inn. Mention of the little hamlet of Wall a few miles to the north brought ribald laughter and a torrent of stories that, though doing little to forward his investigation, nevertheless tickled his interest in human foibles and led to him buying several rounds of ale for the assembled drinkers.
‘Well, James,’ said Claverley, ‘you have done well, be the stories you have been told true or false. But one thing puzzles me.’
‘And that is?’
‘If Reuben Cooper had no money from the Blenkinsopps, how did he live?’
‘I do not follow you.’
‘Cooper never worked, that I know of. Nor did he throw himself upon the parish, for he was certificated here and if he had become a charge, Staithes would have been called upon to take him back. A man must eat. If Cooper did not receive payment from Blenkinsopp, how did he buy bread? You see, we are faced still with the question: was there money in that cottage, or was there not? And, if there was, from whence did it come? And who has it now?’
Chapter 31
First thing next morning, a messenger told Blakiston that Lord Ravenshead wished to see him. Immediately after breakfast, Blakiston rode to the Castle. The news his Lordship had to impart was welcome; there would be no enclosure in Ryton, at least for the time being.
‘And it was Sir Edward Blackett who withdrew the Bill?’ said Blakiston. ‘Now that is a wonder.’
‘Perhaps not. Tories and Whigs have been sparring like bare-fisted prize-fighting pugilists. If Sir Edward could not get his Bill on the terms he wanted, it would make sense to withdraw to fight again later.’
‘Your Lordship, I wonder if we could not take advantage of this to serve our ends twice over?’
‘In what way?’
‘We need to make Chopwell Garth a larger farm, for we are to take cattle there from South Pontop and we must have space to run them. The enclosure would have given us that, and the three renting small holders between there and the Green would in all likelihood have lost everything. But now we can move those three from where they are, give them land down towards Burnhope and Tanfield where at present no-one is farming, and grant a form of title that means it cannot be taken from them without recompense in any future enclosure.’
‘Blakiston, that is a capital plan. Do it.’
Jemmy Rayne walked up the hill to the farm. Ignoring Lizzie’s demands for news, he disappeared into the fields. Lizzie was almost sobbing with frustration when Tom came in for supper that night.
‘You must go to Winlaton again tomorrow,’ he said to Miles. ‘Before you go, your mother and sister will gather what clothes you have, and say goodbye to you.’
They all stared at him, waiting.
‘A friend of Jemmy has sold some sheep to the Navy. For a pound he’ll take Miles and Joe as drovers. No-one will bother them, for everyone knows shepherds have no money and the penalties for stealing the Navy’s sheep don’t bear thinking about.’
‘You mean you hope no-one will bother them,’ said Lizzie.
‘What do you want, man? A safe conduct? It’s the best chance we have. They’ll need to dress the part. They’ll stay with the sheep as far as Brampton. From there to Carlisle is no distance. A boat will take them to Bristol. They must be there by two weeks from today. They’ll be delivered to an inn on Broad Quay from where they’ll sail for the Americas. It’s an American ship, so the moment they’re clear of English waters they’ll be safe.’
‘An American ship,’ Florrie said. ‘Do the colonists have their own ships?’
‘There’s an Assize in Bristol. This boat takes those who have chosen transportation instead of the gibbet. They have room for two paying passengers to Virginia.’
‘Is there no British ship?’ asked Lizzie. ‘These are my brothers.’
Tom picked up the half loaf that sat before him and hurled it across the kitchen where it bounced off the wall and into the fire. There was stunned silence. No-one here had ever seen Tom lose his temper before.
‘I know they are your brothers,’ he said in a low voice full of anger. ‘I paid ten shilling to Jemmy to make his errand for me. I shall pay twice that to his brother to get them to Brampton. The cost of a boat to Bristol. Six pound for Joe’s passage, and four more for Miles, who I did not expect to send. I shall have to find ten pound more for Joe, or he’ll land in the New World with no means to support himself. Do you think I would do all that if they were not your brothers?’
Lizzie held his gaze, the merest flicker betraying her fear of what she had stirred up. ‘You had money to marry me, did you not?’
‘Aye. And I have sold rabbits to a butcher in Winlaton, which I am not allowed to do and for which I could find myself on the same boat as Miles and Joe. Do you think I would have done that if they were not your brothers? I have sold two oaks from Chopwell Wood, which are mine to sell but which should be ours to live on next year. I have enough put by for the rent and nothing over. We had better pray for a good harvest this year. Do you think I would give that money to Joe if he was not your brother?’
For the first time since he had known her, Lizzie looked away before he did. ‘I am sorry I questioned you.’
‘You should be. I have never doubted that your brothers are far more important to you than your husband…’
‘…that’s not fair…’
‘…but take care you do not push me too far.’
A tear had appeared in the corner of Lizzie’s eye. ‘I did not want to be anyone’s wife!’ She turned to run out of the room.
‘Woman!’
Lizzie stopped and turned. The smell of burning bread filled the room.
Tom’s voice returned to a conversational tone. ‘I have not yet finished eating. I’ll thank you to fetch a loaf of bread from the pantry.’
Breakfast the following morning was a strained affair conducted in silence. Fed early while Tom and Ned were at their work, Miles was gone to Winlaton when the pair of them returned for their bread and cheese. Tom scarcely glanced at Lizzie, and the looks she gave him were fleeting and surreptitious.
As soon as he had finished eating, Tom reached for his boots. Florrie laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t go yet,’ she said. She looked at Ned and Kate. ‘You two. Come outside with me.’ When Ned began to object she silenced him with a glance.
Left alone with Tom, Lizzie sat on the rough bench opposite his. ‘You are a good husband, Tom Laws,’ she said.
‘I was not a good husband last night. I should not have lost my temper, or thrown the bread, or shouted at you. I am sorry for it.’
Lizzie stared at the table, worn smooth and darkly stained. ‘Do you regret the bargain you made?’
Tom was silent for some moments. ‘It is hard,’ he said at last. ‘Harder than I thought it would be.’
‘But do you regret it?’
‘No. I do not regret the bargain. What I regret is how I have come to feel about you. And knowing that you do not feel the same way.’
‘Well. I do not. I sha
ke with anger when I think of what that man did to me, and I burn with rage when I know that another would do likewise. Even another as good to me as you. But, if you wish it, I will make a new bargain with you.’ She raised her eyes and looked into his.
‘You have been good to me and my family, Tom Laws. You deserve to be treated better than you have been. I will be your wife, if that is what you wish. You may come to me tonight and do as you please.’
The blankness in her eyes saddened Tom. ‘You do not really want this.’
‘No. No, I do not want it. But I want to repay you. I want you to be happy.’
They looked at each other for a long time. ‘Well, Mistress Laws,’ Tom said at last, ‘I shall allow you to make me happy. When you want me to come to you because you want it, and not because you think yourself in my debt, you may tell me so. And I shall come to you. And then I shall be happy.’
‘That may never happen.’
‘So be it.’
Lizzie stood up. She walked round the table and laid her hands on Tom’s shoulders. Bending slightly, she kissed him gently on the forehead. It was the first kiss she had ever given him.
‘You are a good man, Tom Laws,’ she whispered. ‘I do not deserve you.’
Blakiston rode up while they were working on the ditching that morning. ‘You have done well,’ he said. ‘Another week and this should be done.’
‘Aye, we’re almost there,’ said Tom.
‘It is as well. There is not quite the urgency, now the enclosure bill is not to go forward, but...’
‘What?’
Blakiston looked at Tom, then clapped his hand to his head. ‘Tom. I am sorry. I assumed everyone would know...that the matter would be talked about in the village...’
‘What matter, Mister Blakiston?’
