A Country Marriage (17 page)

‘I hope you two are bearing witness to this,’ he heard Tom appealing to Will and Robert, as he wrestled himself free and started to make his way towards the door.

Once out in the yard though, George immediately swung in his brother’s direction, landing a punch to his stomach and hearing an
oof
as his blow connected. And then while his brother was still doubled over and clutching his middle, he pushed him back against the wall of the house, and putting his hands about his neck, held him there.

‘You… leave… my wife… alone! And don’t you dare raise your hands like that; acting innocent and expecting me to fall for it.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Oh but you
do
! See, I know you were up at Keeper’s Cottage this morning.’ Releasing his grasp but in two minds about whether to land another blow, he watched Tom panting heavily and trying to stand more upright. There was, though, a certain appeal in waiting to see how his brother would try and wriggle out of the matter, since there could be no doubting whatsoever that he would.

‘Aye, that’s true enough, I was. I called by in passing and got… talkin’ to Mary. I don’t deny that.’

‘But you asked what you could
do
for her.’

‘Again, I did,’ he heard Tom answer and noticed that he seemed to be recovering a little. ‘An’ she made a joke about the pear wood. But being the kind of brother that I am an’ knowing how hard it must be for you to keep the place up together after spending all day at the estate… an’ then taking care of your other
interests
as well, I took it upon meself to help out. Much the same as you’d do for me if circumstances were turned about.’

So his brother’s plan was to make light of it, was it? His instinct was to raise his fist but instead, he grasped his brother’s collar and twisted it tightly about his throat.

‘And what, tell me, were you hoping for by way of return?’

‘Merely… a nod of thanks.’

For a man being throttled about the throat, his brother seemed remarkably calm. So, either he was privy to some pertinent fact that would change the lie of things or else he believed himself to have the upper hand in some other way. Well whatever it was, he would squeeze it out of him.

‘
You
are a liar,’ he spat, twisting the material tighter and unmoved by the choking noises that Tom was starting to make. Let him choke.

‘… not…’ Tom gasped.

He shook his head and gesturing in exasperation, released his hold.

‘What did you think was going to happen, eh, Tom? Did you
truly
think that Mary would offer herself up to you in gratitude? Because
I
don’t think you did. No,
I
think that all along, you intended to play on her fear to go an’ help yourself. But it didn’t work, did it?’

‘Oh George, honestly, will you listen to yourself?’ Tom was quick to reply with what sounded like his customary disdain. ‘I never intended any such thing. Your dear little Mary was always quite safe because what you seem to have overlooked is that
I
have no need whatsoever for your raggedy little scarey-crow of a woman. No, I’ve disciplined my own wife into obliging my particular needs, thank you all the same. But don’t think I don’t know what all this is about. See, there’s more meat on a sterlyng than on your Mary and that’s what grieves you, ain’t it, that Annie, with all her womanliness, is more to your liking? No, no need to answer me; I see you lookin’ at her often enough, nigh on dribbling like an infant where you can’t help yourself. It’s pathetic, that’s what it is,
pathetic
. See, I know how it riles you that she chose me over you and in truth, it was worth weddin’ her for that bit of satisfaction alone but
when
you’re looking elsewhere for the pleasures you don’t get at home, don’t come looking at
her
! Unlike
you
, she don’t need to go elsewhere. She may be slow to appreciate it sometimes but I make sure she gets
exactly
what’s good for her. An’
you
, you might want to try doin’ the same for your
own
wife, since from what I seen of her today, I’m inclined to believe she’d benefit from summat far more severe than she obviously gets from
you
. Heed this from a man of greater experience, George: no woman ever benefited from being spared a regular chastising.’

By his side, he could feel his fists keep clenching and unclenching. How he’d like to aim another blow! Something, though, was stopping him. And it seemed to have something to do with the discovery that Tom had uncovered his fascination with Annie. In fact, he must have done so, because nothing else would explain why his brother’s reaction felt so
studied
; and in that light, perhaps he shouldn’t continue to provoke the man, not that he could back down now, since to do so would only lend even greater weight to Tom’s contention.

‘Look, you can try and slither out of this like you do everythin’ else, Tom but believe me, I’ve got my eye on you now. Go
near
my wife again and I will come after you so fast…’ But the look on Tom’s face told him that he might as well shout into the wind. It was a look he knew all too well: the satisfied look he could never resist giving when someone walked into one of his traps.

‘Aha! So now
you
know what it’s like to have your brother sniffing around your wife like some farm animal. Not nice, is it?
Dirty
, ain’t it? Well, hear this, George:
you
stay away from
my
wife. Stay out of the dairy, stay away from Annie and
I’ll
pretend that I don’t know what goes on up at The Stag.’

‘
What
?’

‘Oh, act innocent if it makes you feel better but I got eyes an’ ears up there, you know. Oh yes, I know all about your
meetings
with them
Radicals
. An’ I also know what Pa would say to it were he to find out…’

Back along the wall, the kitchen door swung open and as George lowered his raised fist, both men turned to see their mother holding a lantern aloft.

‘Whatever is it, you two?’

‘Nothing, Ma,’ he answered, his eyes back on Tom.

‘Aye, I’m done here,’ Tom replied and turned stiffly to push his way past.

Left alone in the absolute darkness, George leant against the wall, his entire life force apparently expended in rage. Bending double, he breathed the freezing night air, feeling how it burned the inside of his nostrils. So Tom suspected something between him and Annie, but whatever it was and whenever it had come to his attention, he had clearly taken time to work out how to deliver a persuasive warning. He had to hand it to his brother; he really was the master when it came to vindictiveness. He
could
just have come looking for him to settle the matter directly – whatever it was – but instead, he had decided on something far more twisted and despicable. Yes, he had been outmanoeuvred.

Growling in frustration, he struck the wall with his hand. Well, it was clear that where Annie was concerned – and come to that, his meetings with the
Radicals
, too – from here on he would have no choice but to watch his back and tread very carefully indeed.

Chapter 7

To Love, Honour and Obey

June, 1830

‘Fancy doing something different for a bit?’ Mary heard Ellen calling down the garden to her. She had been leaning on her hoe, admiring the line of ferny carrot tops shimmering in the warm breeze and as Ellen drew near, she greeted her with a hug.

‘You’ve caught me stopping a while to catch my breath,’ she felt the need to explain. ‘These dandelions are hard work. They seem to grow twice as fast as the vegetables.’

‘Aye, that’s this warm weather for you.’

Shifting her weight, she spotted the basket over Ellen’s arm.

‘So what is it you want help with, then?’

‘Gathering elderflowers. Only if you want to, mind. It was Ma Strong who put the idea in my head; swears by elderflower tea for all manner of ills, she does. And I rather like a cup myself. Such a summery thing, ain’t it? And afternoons are perfect for picking the flowers.’

‘All right, I’ll come with you. Wouldn’t mind a break from this,’ she replied and laying down her hoe, turned to follow Ellen up the bank to the lane.

‘I saw some perfect bushes earlier,’ Ellen was remarking, turning to wait for her to catch up. ‘Look, see; over there.’

She followed the direction of Ellen’s nod to where the normally dull-green hedge seemed to have been consumed by a frothy, foaming mass of creamy white. And even before they had drawn near, the heavy, fruity fragrance was dizzying.

‘Funny, ain’t it,’ she mused with a laugh, ‘Ma wouldn’t let Pa put elder on the fire on account that it’s supposed to make you see the devil.’

‘That’s true enough,’ Ellen agreed. ‘What was it Granny White used to say?
Elder
be
a
sacred
tree
,
burn
it
not
or
cursed
you’ll
be
.’

‘That’s right! But my pa used to say that the heart of the wood was real fine to work and I always had a liking for elderberry jam.’

‘Oh, me too. Remind me come autumn time and I’ll make some. Now,’ Ellen said, bending a single spray of cream towards her and wrinkling her nose as she sniffed at it, ‘butter-coloured heads are best. Nothing with a brown tinge and nothing that smells nasty, neither.’

‘Righty-o.’

In the narrow shade of the hedgerow, the daily business of early summer was in full swing; bumble bees hummed in drowsy fashion as they moved between flowers to suck nectar and, from a vantage point somewhere above their heads, a yellowhammer was repeatedly calling for ‘
a
-
little
-
bit
-
of
-
bread
-
and
-
no
-
cheeeese
’, a beseeching wheeze to his last note and a companionable backdrop against which the women plucked blooms and then placed them carefully into the basket.

‘You still keeping well?’ she heard Ellen enquire after a while.

‘Well enough. You?’

‘Can’t complain.’

‘And everyone else?’

Ellen’s long sigh struck her as hard to miss.

‘Same as ever; Tom and Pa Strong are still at each other’s throats day-in, day-out.’

She paused, wondering whether to risk an observation of her own, a glance to Ellen’s face suggesting that there was little harm.

‘Always seems to me that Tom takes great delight in getting folks all riled up.’

‘Aye, he does that. And you know what I think?’ the question posed, she could feel Ellen looking at her. ‘It’s been worse since George left.’

‘Oh?’ She snatched at a flower stem, her action throwing up a haze of pollen that scattered in the sunlight and then floated down to settle on her arm and give it a pale, golden sheen.

‘In fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s been worse since Lady Day.’

‘Lady Day? What was so particular about that, of all days?’

‘Well, that
was
when George was made foreman up at the estate, wasn’t it?’

‘Well yes but…’ She shook her head. What possible connection could Ellen see between the two things? ‘I don’t see why that should bother Tom.’

‘Well I’m sure
I
don’t, either but it’s Will’s view that Tom envies George his freedom. And watching him grouch about the place of late, I must say I’m minded to agree.’

‘Well I’m fair certain George don’t see working for the estate as
freedom
. Far from it.’ Frowning at the notion, she saw Ellen shrug. ‘I mean, surely, with Tom being the oldest, he’s best placed of all of ’em when it comes to making a living.’

‘Well, you got to admit there must a certain satisfaction to be had from earning a wage that don’t depend on working for your Pa.’

‘Perhaps,’ she replied and staring down at the elaborate confection of elder blossom in her hand, twirled the stem between her finger and thumb, the intricacy of the bloom swirling into a blur of creamy white. ‘Is that how Will feels too, then?’ Dropping the flower into the basket, she scanned Ellen’s face.

‘It’s different for Will. He doesn’t have Tom’s temperament to contend with. Will finds it in himself to be rather more… accepting of the situation. And Robert’s the same.’

‘Oh.’ She frowned. How was it that Will conversed with Ellen on matters of family while George seemed to go out of his way not to? He
never
wanted to talk about what might or might not be going on at the farm. But that aside, it did strike her as pitiful that even the prospect of inheriting Summerleas didn’t seem to make Tom happy. After all, surely he wouldn’t really rather have Keeper’s Cottage and George’s job at the estate, even if he
was
now a foreman?

‘I can see how it must be hard to be Tom’s age and still be taking orders from your Pa,’ Ellen had begun again, ‘but surely ’tis small price for being the heir to it all. And anyway, you’d think that by now, he would have just found a way to get on with it, like Will does.’

‘You would,’ she agreed, reaching for more flowers while thinking that in point of fact, from what
she
knew of Tom, he probably wouldn’t be happy unless he had both the farm
and
George’s independence.

‘It drives Will to distraction, all that fussing. He says why can’t they all just work together? An’ to be honest, Mary,’ Ellen was adding, pausing to look over her shoulder in both directions, ‘it’s starting to bother
me
now as well. I mean, once Pa Strong’s gone – not that I wish him gone you understand, no, far from it – but when he
is
, where will that leave us; me and Will? You can see what I’m thinking, can’t you?’ Despite not really understanding Ellen’s point, she nodded. ‘A while back I tried talking to Will about it but he don’t see it the way I do. He says Tom’s just aggrieved at not being able to do things his own way and that when the time comes, he’ll see us all right. But I ain’t so sure, you know. He’s got such a temper; one wrong word from Will or me and we could be out on our ears…’

Put like that, Ellen’s concern did seem to have foundation; not that it would be helpful to say as much.

‘Surely not.’

‘An’ then there’s Annie. You’d think she’d know better, too. A woman’s place ain’t to argue with her husband. “Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord”, that’s what Saint Paul tells us. But even – and only for a
moment
, mind – ignoring her vows before God, telling Tom he ain’t right won’t never achieve anything. Surely even
she
must be able to see that.’

‘Mm,’ she answered, and spotting a particularly fine flower head, stretched towards it, feeling the baby kick in protest. Putting her hand on her belly she smiled.

‘But no, she just
can’t
leave him be. She
has
to dispute his every word and ’course, well that just nettles him further.
I’m
surprised he doesn’t strike her more often. Mind you, I sometimes wonder whether that ain’t what she wants. But don’t get me started down
that
road for that is indeed a mazed way of carrying on.’

Tom was in the habit of hitting Annie? And as a matter of course, as well? She wondered whether George knew.

‘Aye.’

‘Seems to me that if she can make him lash out at her, then she thinks she’s got the better of him.’

‘
Truly
?’ It wasn’t that Annie didn’t seem capable of behaving in such a way but just plain odd that she would want to. As Ellen rightly said, why antagonise the man?

‘Anyways. That seems a good amount to be starting with.’

She followed Ellen’s eyes to the basket. It was the peculiar thing about Ellen: one minute she could be grumbling about the injustice of something and the next, calmly addressing her thoughts to something entirely different.

‘Yes, that should make you a good few pots of tea.’

‘Well, I’m truly grateful for your help. Suppose I’d better let you get on, then.’

‘Suppose so.’

Watching Ellen setting off down the lane, she reflected upon the perplexing nature of their conversation and also upon how, if Ellen’s suppositions were to be believed, then as a husband and wife, Tom and Annie truly did deserve one another.

Still reflecting on the point, she started to walk back down the hill towards the cottage. Perhaps she really should be more grateful then that quite by chance, she had married George, because in comparison to Tom, he had turned out to be an entirely decent – if not on occasion deeply unfathomable – husband.

*

With the dazzling emerald of early June darkening almost unnoticed into the deep luxuriance of midsummer, Mary grew steadily bigger, and George came to realise that not only was she struggling to keep up with the amount of work needed on the vegetable garden and around the house, but also that soon she would be unable to climb the ladder to the loft.

‘Bring her down here son,’ his mother suggested when he had broached the matter with her one Sunday. ‘Tell her that now she’s near her time, she shouldn’t be on her own all day. Tell her it’s neither sensible nor safe.’

Knowing that Mary would already be aware of the perils of being on her own, he also knew her feelings about the farmhouse – or more specifically, about some of the people who lived in it – and recognised that it was going to be hard to convince her to go and stay there.

‘I already thought of that, Ma but I don’t think she’ll want to come.’

‘Well if she ain’t persuaded straight off, then tell her I won’t be expecting her to do housework while she’s here. Tell her she can put her feet up and have a nice rest. And I don’t know a woman in the land who’d refuse
that
offer!’ his mother had replied with a laugh.

However, no more than a few days later, when they were sitting together in the garden after supper, George spotted his chance to raise the matter. It was a flawless summer’s evening and all around them dusk was blurring the landscape to soft shades of indigo, purple and navy. From the eaves of the woodshed, pipistrelle bats were starting their nightly foray for food; in the henhouse, a gentle clucking signalled that the chickens were settling down to roost and from further down in the meadow came the lullaby of the cattle lowing; the only other punctuation to the velvety stillness being the occasional fluty call of a cuckoo.

‘Hear that?’ Mary remarked, as she sat propped against the trunk of the apple tree.

‘What’s that?’

‘The cuckoo; sounds like he’ll be gone soon:

The
cuckoo
comes
in
April

Sings
his
song
in
May

Changes
his
tune
in
the
month
of
June

And
then
he
flies
away
.’

Still searching his thoughts for a way to broach the matter on his mind he smiled and shot her a sideways glance.

‘Aye, soon, no doubt.’ Perhaps now would be a good moment; she did at least look calm. ‘Mary, I been thinking…’

When she turned to face him, he found himself looking directly into her eyes.

‘Aye? About cuckoos?’ Pulling idly at some stems of hawksbeard she gave a laugh that struck him as girlish and carefree.

‘No, not about cuckoos.’ He smiled. She was quite pretty when she laughed like that. ‘No, I been thinking that you ain’t going to be able to stay here much longer.’

‘Here where?’

‘Here at the cottage,’ he said, sitting upright beside her. ‘You’re not far off your time now and I do fret, especially about you going up an’ down that ladder on your own.’ For a moment he paused and then reached for her hand. ‘So I been thinking…’