Wild Heritage

by Wild Heritage (retail) (epub)

  That was all she needed. With every ounce of her muscle power, she aimed her fist straight at the contorted face so close to hers. The punch exploded, throwing him back like the kick of a horse. He staggered against the table edge and fell to his knees with blood pouring from his mouth.

  Kitty stood over him, both fists up like a prize fighter, but he did not rise. He rolled around on the floor, clutching his bitten hand to his chest and groaning, ‘You wee bitch. I’ll get you for this. I’ll get you, see if I don’t.’

  She pushed at him with her foot and ordered, ‘Give me the key. I’m not staying here with you another night.’

  He was still wiping blood from his face and muttering curses so she said it again, louder, ‘Give me the key.’ She could not bear to search him for it because that would mean she had to touch him.

  Without looking up, he slipped his fingers into his waistcoat pocket and brought out the big iron key, which he threw on the floor in front of him. She was too wary to bend down for it, but pulled it towards herself with her curled toes. Then she stuck her feet back into her boots, grabbed her shawl and made her escape.

  Outside the only sounds came from hooting owls hunting in the stubble fields. The wild rage left Kitty as suddenly as it came and she felt strangely drained and empty as she stood panting and shaking with nerves in the yard. Now she realised how terrified she had been during the encounter with Liddle.

  ‘Where will I go? What will I do?’ she asked herself aloud. Then she spotted a light shining in the window of the bothy that MacPhee shared with Effie and a younger bondager called May. She ran awkardly across the yard in her unlaced boots and rapped on their door. It was Effie who answered.

  She took one look at Kitty and screamed, ‘Oh my God, what’s happened to ye? You’re in rags.’

  ‘Let me in, Effie. Liddle did it. He tried to rape me,’ groaned Kitty.

  MacPhee appeared behind Effie. She looked even taller than usual in a long white nightgown and an incongruous cotton mob-cap. Even in her distress, Kitty was impressed at the sight of the headgear because most bondagers slept in their underclothes and few owned a nightgown, far less a nightcap.

  MacPhee was cool in crises. ‘Come in at once,’ she said, pulling Kitty inside.

  It was only when she stood in the sanctuary of their room that Kitty realised her blouse was hanging in shreds from her shoulders and her skirt was half-pulled down from her waist.

  ‘He’ll be drunk,’ said MacPhee calmly.

  ‘Yes, his wife’s out and he aye gets drunk when she’s away,’ Kitty told them. Effie was exclaiming about the damage to Kitty’s clothes, both hands over her face. To her that was of more significance than loss of virginity, but MacPhee was more matter-of-fact.

  ‘He didnae get you, did he? He didnae manage anything?’ she asked. Kitty shook her head.

  MacPhee then silenced the still gasping Effie with a shove in the ribs. ‘Shut your mooth. She’ll get anither blouse. What’re we going to do about this lassie tonight? She cannae go back to Liddle’s place.’

  Kitty agreed. ‘I’m no’ going back into that house. Never. I’ve had to fight him off almost every night since I’ve lived there and now he’s really out to get me because I bloodied his face,’ she told them.

  MacPhee looked pleased. ‘Did you now!’

  ‘I hit him with my fist.’ Kitty held up her hand. There were bloodied cuts on the knuckles from Liddle’s teeth.

  ‘Well done,’ said MacPhee. ‘He’s had that coming for a long time.’

  ‘I’m no’ going back,’ said Kitty again. ‘And I canna go home to Townhead because my granny’d just send me back to Liddle.’

  ‘You can stay here so long’s you dinna mind sharing a bed wi’ Effie,’ said MacPhee with decision, ‘but I’ll make Liddle pay for your keep because you’ll still have to be his bondager. You’re bound for this year, aren’t you? I’ll speak to Laidlaw about it. He’ll fix it up.’

  Next morning MacPhee looked formidably angry when she marched over to the gang of men waiting in the semi-darkness of dawn for their tasks to be assigned to them.

  ‘Hey, Liddle, let’s have a look at you,’ she cried, pulling him out of the shadows where he’d been standing. His face was swollen, his lips split and bloodied and one of his teeth was missing in the front.

  ‘Kitty packs a good punch,’ said MacPhee admiringly. ‘That’s what you get for forcing yourself on a lassie. You should have got it years ago if truth be told. Especially over the last wee bairn you hurt.’

  The other men crowded round staring and some of the younger ones were laughing.

  ‘Did a lassie do that to you, Tom? My word, I wouldnae like to admit to being knocked doon by a woman,’ they crowed.

  ‘She’s a bitch,’ he muttered through swollen lips. ‘She’s an animal, no’ a woman. She should be a navvy like her father.’

  The men laughed even more and some of them looked across at Kitty with approval, for Liddle was not popular.

  MacPhee was not finished with him, however. ‘I’ve something to say to you before Laidlaw comes oot,’ she hissed, pulling him towards her. ‘I’m keeping the lassie in my hoose from now on but you’ll pay me twae shillin’s a week for her keep because she’ll still be your bondager, at least till term time. If she bolted, you’d no’ have a lassie and Laidlaw would get rid of you. He’s fed up wi’ your antics anyway.’

  There was nothing Liddle could do but accept this ultimatum. Then MacPhee walked back to her women and said to Kitty, ‘Don’t go near him. I’ll collect your wages and give them to you. How much does he pay you a week?’

  Kitty told her, ‘He gives me a shillin’. He gives the rest to my granny, or so he says.’

  Bondagers on Townhead earned around five shillings a week when there was full work so she was obviously being underpaid, but Big Lily had made a private bargain with Liddle and the amount paid was not told to Kitty. She had literally been sold into slavery because, by the terms of her bond with Liddle, she could not leave him until the time came round for workers to make new bargains in the spring.

  ‘Huh,’ snorted MacPhee. ‘You’re a good worker, so I’ll no’ be givin’ anything to your granny. I’ll pay you what’s due if you work as well as you’ve been doing till now. Look out, here’s Mr Laidlaw coming. I’ll speak to him about this later.’

  The work of the agricultural year was almost finished. Ploughing for next season’s crops had started and the cattle were being brought in from the fields to spend the winter in warm, steamy, smelly cattle courts. Sheep were being driven down from the slopes of the Three Sisters hills where they had summered. For the bad months they would be pastured in meadows by the river.

  The business with Liddle was soon forgotten in the urgency of this work and Kitty settled down to the tranquillity of living with Effie, MacPhee and May. The accommodation was spartan but it was companionable and, above all, safe. She saw Liddle only in the distance now, for he was giving her a wide berth.

  When Saturday morning came round, she told Effie about her plan to go dancing in Rosewell with her friend Marie.

  ‘Have you never been dancin’ before?’ asked Effie.

  Kitty shook her head.

  ‘What are you going to wear?’

  This was a problem that had not occurred to Kitty. ‘My skirt and blouse, I suppose,’ she said, for she owned nothing else. Her ripped blouse had been replaced by an old one of kind Rosie’s daughter.

  Effie squawked, ‘You cannae go dancin’ in your working claes. I’ll lend you a dress. I’ve a bonny green yin I used to wear to the dances when I was thinner. You can have it.’

  Like many young bondagers, Effie was intensely dress-conscious and spent most of her wages on clothes from the pedlars who came round the farm towns with full packs of garish finery to coax money from the lassies.

  The gown she hauled out of her box that evening was viridian green, a colour so bright that it almost hurt the eyes. Kitty stared at it in disbelief. Instantl
y she knew that it was the worst possible colour to go with her hair. At school, Bella and her friends used to chant a verse, ‘Red and green should never be seen, except upon a gypsy queen.’ Gypsies were even more disdained in Camptounfoot than bondagers’ bastards.

  ‘I think I’ll just wear my old clothes,’ she said to Effie, who bridled.

  ‘What’s wrong wi’ it. It’s a braw goon.’

  ‘Yes, it is, but I’m afraid I might spoil it. What if I spilt something on it?’ said Kitty hurriedly.

  Effie was generous. She thrust the dress at Kitty and said, ‘I’ll no’ mind. You can have it to keep. Go on, take it. You’ll really catch the lads’ eyes if you wear it.’

  The dance was to be held in Rosewell Public Hall, a large red sandstone building overlooking the square. When Kitty arrived at Tibbie’s at about half-past seven to collect Marie, she found her friend waiting in a pale-coloured, high-necked dress that was the very model of discretion.

  The shawl that Kitty had draped over herself to hide the green gown as she left Falconwood was not sufficiently concealing for Tibbie’s eagle eye, however.

  ‘What’s that you’re wearing, Kitty? Let’s see it,’ she asked sharply. Reluctantly Kitty lifted the corner of the shawl to show a part of the dress’s ruched skirt and she could tell from a momentary flash of consternation on Tibbie’s face that she looked as garish as she feared.

  ‘I was lent it by a lassie on the farm,’ she explained hurriedly. Tibbie collected herself and covered up her surprise at Kitty’s finery by asking, ‘Have you girls got enough money to pay yourselves into the dance?’

  Kitty stuck her hand out to show a medley of carefully hoarded coins and Tibbie laughed, remembering the times she went dancing with Nanny.

  ‘I’ll give you the entrance money and you can keep all that for the refreshments. Here you are,’ she said, reaching up to her mantelshelf and bringing down an old tea caddy. When it was opened Kitty saw several golden coins and much silver lying inside it and Tibbie presented them each with a florin, which was a fortune to Kitty. Then they went on their way arm in arm.

  During the walk to the hall, Kitty kept herself draped in her working shawl and wished with all her heart that she’d never thought of the idea of going dancing in the first place.

  By her side Marie was thinking the same thing, for she dreaded the evening that lay ahead. Her shyness, and the aspirations she had been given by her visits to Murrayhill, would make it almost unendurable. For Kitty’s sake, however, she pretended to be excited and succeeded so well that the young bondager truly believed her friend was looking forward to the evening.

  Halfway along Prior’s Walk they saw Bella and the schoolteacher, Mr Arnott, coming towards them. Bella was clinging to his arm in a proprietorial way and smirked when she saw her old schoolmates. It was obvious that she intended to stop and talk to them.

  ‘Isn’t it a fine evening?’ she asked, stopping in the middle of the path and effectively making it impossible for them to pass by without talking.

  ‘It’s a fine night,’ agreed Kitty, trying to sidle by.

  ‘Going to the dance, are you? We saw crowds of young folk going in when William and I passed, didn’t we, William?’ said Bella sweetly.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. He was anxious to move on for Kitty’s satirical eye still upset him. Bella, however, had more to say.

  ‘It’s nice for young lads and lassies to have a place where they can meet each other,’ was her next remark. She sounded as if she were about fifty and condescending though she was only a year older than Marie. Squeezing William’s arm, she went on, ‘Of course, we don’t have to go. We’re getting married next month.’

  ‘Fancy that,’ said Kitty in a meaningful voice.

  Bella’s eyes flashed with her old dislike and she sounded falsely sincere as she said, ‘You’re looking very grand tonight, Kitty. Is that green you’re wearing. It’s the right colour for you.’ Kitty flushed as she remembered Bella’s verse about gypsy queens.

  Mr Arnott’s fiancée was not finished with them, however. She turned to Marie and said, ‘And you’re looking well too. I hear you spend a lot of time in Edinburgh now. I always say to William that I’m surprised how friendly you girls are — when you’ve got good reason not to like each other very much, especially you, Marie.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Marie in genuine surprise.

  ‘Because of your mother and her father of course,’ said Bella sweetly.

  Marie and Kitty looked at each other and Kittyjumped in to say, ‘My father has nothing to do with Marie.’ She pulled at her friend’s arm.

  Bella’s voice was like honey. ‘But he has. Marie’s mother was living with him after Benjamin died. And he killed her in the most brutal way. It was terrible. Everybody knew he was the murderer but they couldn’t prove it. Your father killed Marie’s mother, Kitty. That’s the connection I’m talking about.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ said Marie weakly.

  ‘Oh but it is,’ cried Bella as she and William walked away. ‘Everybody knows about it. Everybody but you apparently. I’m amazed your brother’s kept it from you for so long.’

  The girls left alone on the path stared at each other in consternation and Kitty saw there were tears in Marie’s eyes.

  ‘Is that true?’ she whispered.

  ‘Aye,’ said Kitty grimly.

  Marie gave a terrible gulp. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? You should have told me if you knew. You shouldn’t have let me find out like that. I always knew there was a mystery about how my mother died. David has dropped hints from time to time but I just thought he was jealous of our friendship… Oh my God, what a horrible man that Bullhead must have been!’ she whispered.

  Kitty could not bring herself to plead, ‘But it’s not my fault. Don’t hold him against me.’ Her soul was crying it out in silence, however.

  Marie said it for her but she sounded unconvinced. ‘Of course, it’s got nothing to do with you,’ she assured her friend, but she did not take Kitty’s arm again.

  ‘I don’t want to go to that dance,’ said Kitty bluntly, standing still in the middle of the path. ‘I didn’t want to go from the beginning. I was just trying to think of something you’d enjoy. You’ve been so strange recently, so taken up with these folk in Edinbury.’

  Dispassionately Marie noted how Kitty pronounced the name of the capital. It seemed to make the gulf between them wider.

  ‘Because of my classes, I have to spend a lot of time there,’ she said, but they both knew that wasn’t entirely true.

  The anger that she always found so hard to control had taken Kitty over. She turned round and headed back to Camptounfoot.

  ‘You do what you like but I’m not going to that dance for folk like Bella to laugh about us,’ she said.

  Marie felt a rush of relief as she turned with her. ‘I don’t want to go either. I never wanted to go in the first place. I only said I would because you seemed so keen and you made me feel guilty about going to Edinburgh so much. That’s why I said I’d come with you,’ she said.

  ‘Why should I want to go dancing?’ asked Kitty, glaring fiercely at her. ‘I hate men. I’ve never met a good one except that Tim Maquire and poor old Jo. Get yourself back to your friends in Edinbury. I’m going to Falconwood to give Effie back this horrible dress. Goodbye, Marie.’

  Lifting her green skirts with both hands she took off at a sprint and was soon swallowed up in the darkness.

  Marie called after the disappearing figure, ‘Don’t be silly, Kitty. This is what Bella wants.’

  ‘She’s won then,’ came back Kitty’s voice.

  Kitty did not go straight back to the farm. She slipped down the narrow alley between two of the cottages on the village main street and into the field behind Tibbie’s cottage. Once again, her objective was the hiding-place in the hedge. Hurriedly she dug up her tin, tied the half-sovereign in the corner of her shawl and stuck the knife in her boot. The first chance she got she’d run awa
y, she decided.

  Chapter Ten

  At the beginning of February, the cold was more intense than the oldest people in the village could remember. Hoar frost gripped the world, turning it to ghostly white. Even at noon, the temperature never rose above freezing point.

  The houses in the village seemed to huddle, deeper into the ground and grey streaks of smoke rose from the chimneys making defiant trickles in a gun-metal-grey sky. There was little traffic in the streets and when people had to go out they were wrapped up against the biting wind with only their eyes showing above scarves and mufflers.

  Early one morning a galloping horse went through the village street and half an hour later it returned in company with another. Tibbie saw them pass her window and told Marie, ‘There’s Dr Robertson with the groom from Bella Vista.’

  Marie, who was eating breakfast leisurely because she could not get to Edinburgh along the snow-blocked line, glanced up anxiously and said, ‘I hope Lady Godolphin’s all right. She’s been looking terribly ill and sad recently.’

  Tibbie was reassuring. ‘Robertson’s a good man. He’ll look after her and it’s not as if she’s not been through it before. This is her sixth, isn’t

  Marie nodded, but for the rest of the day her thoughts were with her patroness. She tried to tell herself that her concern was not selfish. She had grown devoted to the beautiful and gracious Bethya, but it was impossible not to wonder, ‘What will happen to my painting classes if she dies?’

  The thought of having to give them up, to come back to Camptounfoot and wait for David to get his house, and, worst of all, never to see Murray and the rest of the Roxburghs again devastated her. ‘I mustn’t think about it. I’m being selfish,’ she scolded herself, but whenever a rider passed the cottage window, she rushed to see who it was. There were not many riders that day and none of them was Dr Robertson.

  In fact, Lady Bethya Godolphin very nearly died giving birth to her son. It took all the skill and effort of Alexander Robertson to keep her alive and there were times when even he despaired. The problem was that the patient was so weak that she was unable to put in sufficient effort to deliver the child.