Miss Martha Mary Crawford

by Catherine Cookson (Catherine Marchant)

  She saw him when he was afar off. He was alone, hatless as usual, his hair even in the distance making his head appear as if it were three times its size.

  She knew he had caught sight of her when he stopped; then she watched him, like one of his sheep, or more like a ram, bounding over the ground, coming ever nearer until he was at the foot of the hill, where he paused for a moment and looked upwards, then came scrambling towards her, and when he straightened up she saw that his face was running in rivulets of sweat.

  ‘It’s singeing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it’s very hot.’

  ‘You been waitin’ long?’

  ‘Waiting? I wasn’t waiting.’

  ‘Oh.’ He smiled at her but without derision, then added, ‘You’ve never been this far afore. Why, you’re not more than a mile away from our house.’

  ‘Really!’ She turned and looked in the direction in which he was pointing.

  ‘That clump of trees on the top of the hill just to the right there…Oh my, listen to that.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘We’re going to get it.’

  She looked up into the low sky. Of a sudden it appeared to be falling onto the hills. The light was going like a guttering candle and the rumbling thunder came nearer.

  ‘You’ll get wet afore you get home. You must have walked all of three miles…You look baked.’

  She rubbed her finger round her sweating cheeks and she smiled as she said, ‘I feel baked.’

  ‘Wouldn’t like to come back and shelter in our house?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Aw well, you’ll have to shelter some place…Look, here it comes.’ As he spoke large drops of rain spattered on them. ‘Come on. Come on this way.’ He grabbed her hand now and pulled her into a run as he said, ‘There’s a shippen over beyond that ridge; it’s clean, not used any more. The house was burned down years ago. Coo! Lord, but it is comin’ down.’

  She was running in step beside him now, her body bent against the deluge, and not until he pulled her through the doorless aperture into the derelict shippen did she look up; then gasping, she stood with her back against the wall, while he stood in front of her panting.

  ‘By! You can run. I used to watch you runnin’. I used to think you looked like a young deer; but it’s different altogether to feel you running, like being on a horse.’

  She made no comment, she was still gasping. The water was actually running down her body to her waist, where the bands of her petticoats sopped it up.

  ‘You’re soakin’.’ His hands were on her shoulders. ‘You should’ve had the sense to bring a cloak with you…Stop shivering, you can’t be cold, it’s like hot water.’

  Still she made no reply, and he took his hands from her shoulders and, turning from her, went and stood in the opening. He stood there saying nothing while the slanting rain beat onto his head and face.

  When she turned her head and looked at him, he did not move but very quietly he said, ‘You like to marry me?’

  The sound of her indrawing breath turned him towards her again, but he did not go to her but went on, ‘You’re ripe for marrying.’ He paused now, then demanded, ‘Well, aren’t you?’

  ‘I…I don’t know what you mean.’ She was moving slowly along the wall towards the corner where the light was dimmer.

  ‘Aw, you know what I mean all right, an’ you know you do. And I know what I mean. You know something? I’ve wanted you since I first clapped eyes on you, but as things stood I thought then, she’s not for me. But now I think you are.’ His tone was light as if he were talking about everyday things, like the sheep.

  He went towards her now, and when his hands came forward she gasped and shrank back against a protruding wooden partition; but he didn’t touch her with them, he placed them on the rotten wood at each side of her head. And now his voice coming from deep in his throat and all lightness gone from it, he said, ‘I could take you down and you wouldn’t put up a fight ’cos you’re ready for it, but I won’t have you that way, I want to marry you. Do you understand what I’m sayin’, I want to marry you.’

  As his face moved slowly closer to hers, her eyes stretched wide and she stared as if hypnotised into the depths of greyness that now were shadowed into black. When his mouth touched hers, his hands slid over her shoulder blades and drew her towards him. With a soft pressure she was held tightly against him and he kept her there for a full minute and she did not resist in any way.

  Their bodies were apart again, but he still had his hands on her when he said, ‘Well, what is it to be?’

  She could not answer; it was impossible to say ‘Yes’, but she bent her head and slowly she fell forward against him again, and it was the answer. It was done.

  Five

  ‘You are mad, girl, stark-staring mad, you can’t do this.’

  ‘I’m going to do it, Martha Mary; it’s all settled.’

  ‘Oh no, it’s not.’ Martha’s voice was loud and strident. ‘I shall go across to that place and…’

  ‘There’s no need, he’s calling to see you today on his way back from the market.’

  Martha now held her face tightly between her hands and screwed up her eyes as she repeated, ‘Nancy! Nancy! You don’t know what you’re doing. This is a form of panic, a rebound from William.’

  ‘Yes perhaps, but I’m doing it.’

  ‘I can stop you, you’re not of age.’

  ‘Well, if you do, then I shall take matters into my own hands and go and live with him in sin.’

  ‘Nancy!’

  ‘Don’t look like that, Martha Mary, please.’ There was a semblance of the old Nancy in the tone and expression now. ‘I like him, and more than like him, I could say. And, more to the point, he asked me to marry him, and—’ All lightness leaving her tone, she ended, ‘I intend to be married, Martha Mary.’

  ‘But you will, my dear, you will. I know you’ll be eighteen shortly, but remember Roland’s letter and the guest he’s bringing, it could mean something.’

  ‘Yes, it could mean something, or it could turn out to mean nothing. Remember what Dilly used to say when she used to tell us the tales of the starving people in the strikes, when they had no hope of money or food and wanted to return to work but the agitators used to make them promises. She always ended with “Live, horse, and you’ll get grass”. Well, I cannot wait to see if I will get grass, Martha Mary. I might, like Dilly’s people, starve to death…for want of love…. What is more I want to get away, away from this house, everything.’

  ‘Oh, don’t say that you will never be without love, and don’t say you want to get away from everything.’

  Nancy’s head drooped; then she said, ‘Not from you, Martha Mary, not from you, but you know what I mean.’

  ‘Yes, I know what you mean, Nancy, and who you mean. But Aunt Sophie cannot help her condition, and you used to love her.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but…but now I fear her, I fear I’ll become like her. I do. I do.’

  ‘That’s utterly ridiculous. I’ve told you time and again her illness is not hereditary.’

  ‘You could keep on telling me but I still wouldn’t believe it. She became worse after she was jilted and I can see myself just like her, withering away, shut in that room day after day, year after year just like her until I died.’

  Slowly Martha bowed her head. What could she say? There was nothing she could either say or do that could convince Nancy that she was wrong, that she was working through the turmoil of a broken heart and that some day soon she’d come up out of her misery.

  What would happen to her when she did emerge and found herself married to this drover boy? A drover. She couldn’t believe it. She had seen these men in Hexham on market days. They all gathered together in the evening and frequented the inns, and she understood they fought like madmen. What was more, they were merciless to the beasts they drove, prodding them unnecessarily with goads. And Nancy, her dear, dear Nancy, was determined to marry one of them. What could she do to prevent
it? This was something requiring immediate attention. If only Roland were at home. She could send a letter to him but it might not reach him before he left the school to join his friend. She had been expecting word from him any day to say when he should arrive. What was she to do?—She was expecting him today. Could she tell him? Could she ask for his advice? Would anything he had to say have any effect on Nancy? But she must do something, get help from somewhere. Failing the doctor, she would go into town and see Mr Paine; but first she must face this man, this sly, low individual whom Nancy had openly admitted to meeting frequently over the past weeks.

  Robbie Robson arrived at the house at three o’clock. He did not go to the back door but came up the steps and pulled the bell.

  It was Peg who opened the door to him. She knew Robbie and she knew his father because his father had at odd times left a shive of mutton at the cottage for her grannie; she also knew why Robbie was here now. She had heard all that had gone on between Miss Martha Mary and Miss Nancy and, as she told herself, she just couldn’t believe her ears, and if she had anything to do with it she’d lock Miss Nancy up. Not that she had anything against Robbie Robson, he was a decent enough fellow, and a good-looking one at that, and his people weren’t scum, but still, for him to cast sheep’s-eyes on Miss Nancy, why it was…She couldn’t think of a word that indicated sacrilege but her thoughts told her that’s what she meant.

  She strained her neck up out of the collar of her frock and looked up at him as she said in no polite tone, ‘You’ve got to go across there to that door.’ She pointed. ‘You’re expected.’

  He stepped into the hall, bent down to her, smiled and said, ‘Hello there, you little ’un, I haven’t seen you for a long time. You all right now?’

  ‘It’s no matter to you Robbie Robson if I am or not, an’ it’d be better if you weren’t seeing me now an’ all.’

  She marched before him now, her small buttocks wagging their disdain, knocked on the drawing room door, opened it, and said in a tone that expressed plainly how she felt about this matter, ‘Robbie Robson, Miss Martha Mary.’

  Martha turned swiftly from the window and watched the figure of the young man walking slowly up the room towards her. She hadn’t known what to expect as regards his appearance except that he would certainly have the stamp of the common working man on him, but what she saw surprised her. He had a thin clear-cut face, freckled heavily across the nose and cheekbones, large grey eyes, and an enormous mass of fair hair, and his dress was respectable, very much so, being that his suit wasn’t made of either thick grey homespun or corduroy. The first impression she was forced to admit was good, but it was wiped away when he opened his mouth.

  ‘Afternoon, miss.’

  ‘Good afternoon.’

  They surveyed each other for a moment before he said, ‘No need for any preamble is there, you know why I’m here?’

  ‘Yes, I know why you’re here and I must tell you at once that my answer is no, a definite no. Your suggestion of a union with my sister is out of the question.’

  ‘I expected you to say that, but ’tisn’t for you to say, miss, whether it is out of the question or not; that lies between her and me. She wants me, I want her. Oh, I know she would never have looked the side I was on if young Brockdean had played the game by her, but then he didn’t, did he? An’ to my mind she’s well rid of him ’cos he’s nowt but a weakling, always was an’ always will be. He doesn’t take after his father ’cos his father’s no weaklin’. No, he’s no weaklin’, but he’s a swine of a man. I can say here and now, miss, she’ll stand a better chance of happiness along of me an’ mine than she ever would up in the Hall. And when we’re on about suitability, miss, I know your sister’s a cut above me, but then the Brockdeans consider themselves more than a cut above her, an’ hers…So, well, to my mind it sort of evens things out.’

  Martha stared at him amazed. She could see now what attracted Nancy, how in fact she had come under the spell of this strange individual, for he wasn’t without personality or spirit. In fact, she would say, for his class he had too much of both for his own good, but as he had dared to point out to her his aspirations towards Nancy were, she had to admit, on a par with Nancy’s towards William Brockdean. Yet there were insurmountable flaws in his logic, for whereas Nancy had been educated he showed not the slightest semblance of any learning.

  As she stared at him and found his eyes holding hers in an embarrassing fearlessness, she knew that she must not take a high hand with him for it would get her nowhere, she must try persuasion, even pleading. She attempted the latter device first. Her hand extended, she pointed to a chair, saying, ‘Will you take a seat?’

  ‘No, miss, thanks all the same, I’d rather stand during this business. An’ there’s a time factor, I’m due to collect some animals from Pearce’s farm within the next hour, an’ as you know it’s a good five miles away.’

  How could she deal with this person? He was putting her at a disadvantage. Her face, she knew, was suffused with colour. But she must make an effort.

  ‘Mr Robson.’ She now joined her hands in front of her waist and bent slightly towards him and, her voice low, she went on, ‘I beg of you not to take this matter any further, it would only end in unhappiness for you both, for you must see that you…you are not suitable for her as a husband, and she would be equally unsuitable for you as a wife.’

  ‘Oh no, no, miss.’ His head gave a little jerk to the side which dismissed her statement even before he went any further. ‘As I see it we’re well suited in the fact that we both want to marry, for different reasons like, I grant you. With me I want to marry her because I want her, with her, well, she’s marryin’ for marryin’s sake ’cos she was let down. She sees it as a way of saving her face…You needn’t look so surprised, miss, because it’s the truth.’

  Yes, it was the truth, and this young man was bringing it into the open, which was all the more astounding. She said so.

  ‘You astound me. You would marry her knowing that she is just taking this way out as a means of escape? Do you realise that presently, when she comes to her senses, she will regret it? Oh, how she will regret it!’

  ‘I don’t see it like that, miss. The way I see it is that by the time she comes to her senses, as you say, she’ll be thinkin’ along different lines, I’ll see to that.’

  What could she say? She had no words with which to combat him. Her mouth had opened and closed twice when there came a knock on the drawing room door, then a head appeared around it, and a voice said, ‘There was nobody about, the place seemed deserted. May I come in?’

  She stepped to the side and looked down the room, saying, ‘Oh yes, yes, doctor, please come in.’

  As Harry entered the room and closed the door behind him, he smiled to himself as he thought, She sounds pleased to see me, that’s a change. Then he looked into the sunlight in which her visitor was standing. He hadn’t recognised him at first, never imagining finding Robbie Robson in Miss Crawford’s drawing room. But it was Robbie Robson. There weren’t two heads of hair like that around here. He smiled widely as he advanced towards the young man, saying, ‘Well, well! Hello, Robbie. I didn’t expect to see you here.’

  ‘Good day to you, doctor. I never expected to find meself here, but we never know where God an’ the weather will land us.’

  ‘We don’t that.’

  Martha stared from one to the other. They were exchanging greetings almost as friends. She had looked upon his entry as an answer to an unspoken prayer, but now she wasn’t at all sure if God had understood what she was asking.

  She looked directly at Harry now and said with a certain primness, ‘You’re acquainted?’

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded back at Robbie. ‘You could say we are acquainted. I was able to do a little service for his father a short while ago. Give him a hand, so to speak.’

  She watched them now exchange a soft laugh together and then the young man, looking towards her, said, ‘Give him a hand is right. He broke his knuck
les an’ his forearm in two places; he missed a man’s jaw an’ hit a wall. But the doctor here did a fine job on it.’ He turned his head towards Harry now, ending, ‘It was a night an’ a half I’d say, doctor, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it was a night and a half, Robbie.’

  Really! She knew they were referring to a brawl that this young man’s father had undoubtedly been in, and they were laughing about it as if they both had enjoyed it. She had been foolish to think that she could turn to him for help on this matter for from his present attitude he was almost sure to condone it.

  But there she was wrong, for Robbie Robson, looking at the doctor straight in the face now, said, ‘You’ll no doubt get a bit of a gliff, doctor, when you learn why I’m here the day. I’ve come to tell the miss’—he motioned his head towards Martha—‘that her sister Nancy an’ me, well, we’re aiming to be married.’

  A tense silence followed this statement before Harry said quietly, ‘You’re what?’

  ‘Just what I said, doctor. I said it would give you a gliff. Nancy an’ me are aiming to be married. You heard aright, we’re aimin’ to be married.’

  ‘Since when?’ The question was sharp, there was no friendliness in Harry’s manner now.

  ‘Oh, we’ve been acquainted this while back, since the early part of the year, but things came to a head a week agone, an’ so I came to put it to the miss here.’

  ‘Do you know what you’re saying, Robbie?’

  ‘Aye! Very well, doctor, very well. I’m sayin’ that young Nancy and me are wanting to be wed.’

  ‘It’s impossible.’

  ‘No, nothing’s impossible, doctor. Them were your very words when you pushed the splintered bone back in me da’s arm an’ he said, “I’ll never use that again”, you said to him, “Nothing’s impossible”. I remember those were your very words.’