A Country Marriage (54 page)

Eventually, with no idea how long she had been standing there, she turned aside and reached to unfasten the catch to the henhouse, deceived as she did so into fancying that Francis was coming up through the water-meadow just as he always used to, his golden head a beacon of light in the morning’s late dawn. In dismay at her own suggestibility, she shook her head and looked down to where the hens were filing out, their feathers fluffed against the freezing wind but their pecking order as steadfast as ever as they scuttled away to start another day’s search for sustenance. Clearly, she reflected, as the last bird headed out of habit towards the vegetable plot, her conscience was set to torment her with trickery. Watching as the hens disappeared out of sight, she risked another glance in the direction of her earlier apparition, hoping to rekindle it even for just a moment – but, as she stared with her eyes blurred and watery from the wind, she was astonished to see that it wasn’t her imagination; Francis was indeed coming up the garden, his shoulders hunched high around his ears and his hands pushed deep into his pockets. Hastily she looked down and pushed away a feeling of relief, since there was no earthly reason to assume that it was even
her
that he had come to see.

Unsure how to greet his arrival, she glanced back up, unable to avoid noticing how, in this wintry light, his complexion seemed unnaturally pale and his expression empty. With her pulse racing, she watched as, rather than meet her eyes, he looked beyond her towards the back door; and feeling as though she had been slapped for the stupidity of raising her hopes, she suddenly realised that, in all likelihood, he was simply bearing a message from his mother relating to George.

‘Might I talk with you?’

She nodded, her entire body rigid now as much with apprehension as with the bitter cold; and, as he registered her consent she saw him look uneasily about and eventually gesture towards the woodshed. ‘Let’s go in there a minute, out of this God-awful wind then,’ he suggested, his expression unchanged. Following him through the low door, she stood in the only patch of empty floor. With barely enough room for the two of them to stand side by side without touching, they were closer than felt comfortable, and she noticed how he was avoiding looking at her. With no idea what she expected him to say but bristling with self-consciousness, she reached across to where just five ugly potatoes remained in the wooden tray, their creamy yellow peel pitted with dark eyes that seemed to be mocking her anguish. She risked a glance at him and then rolled the most judgemental of the potatoes upside down. ‘I’ve come to beg forgiveness,’ she finally heard him say and, biting at her lip, forced herself to look up. ‘In trying to look out for you it’s clear now that I stepped out of place. But I need you to know that I did it without malice.’

‘Francis,’

He raised his hand to quiet her and then, with an apologetic look, lowered it again.

‘No, I know you don’t want me here an’ I understand that, but I couldn’t bear for us to part with you thinking I was trying to… to cause trouble between you an’ George. I wasn’t.’

‘No, Francis, I—’

‘No, please Mary, hear me out and then I promise I’ll be gone. These last days I’ve had a lot of time to think and I’ve realised that in my desire to see you come to no harm, I interfered where I had no right, but now all I can do is ask you to forgive me.’

As she listened to his words, the panic holding her rigid seemed to have spread to her mouth, and despite moving her lips she was finding it impossible to make any sound.

‘Francis,’ she finally managed to say. ‘I don’t want you gone.’ Seeing him look, she hesitated. ‘Don’t go, least, not yet. I couldn’t bear it, truly, I couldn’t. These last days have been the worst I ever knew. It
wasn’t
your fault and I see that now. Truth to tell, I saw it almost straight away but I was just too—ʼ

‘No, it was my fault.’

‘No, you were right to tell me. I needed to hear the truth. I mean, for ages I been wanting to know what he was up to, but when it came down to it, I wasn’t prepared for what it turned out to be. And so all them awful things I said to you, well, they were said in shock.’

‘Maybe so but you were right just the same.’ More than anything she longed to touch him, but noticing how he still hadn’t moved, she stayed where she was, awkward and unsure of how things stood between them. ‘Maybe I could’ve kept my peace but I thought you had a right to know what your husband was involved in. And I fancied how cross you’d be if you found out that I’d known all along and hadn’t thought to tell you. But since then, I’ve regretted not leaving well alone and wished and wished it could all be un-said.’

‘No, Francis,’ she said, finally daring to look at him properly, ‘I wouldn’t want you to lie to me, not ever. I know how it feels to be deceived, since my marriage is already full of lies, but when you told me what he’d been doing, I felt… betrayed and stupid; stupid for not seeing what was really going on, for not asking… for never even thinking… and then I felt even more stupid for siding with him over you, since I knew you were only trying to help.’

All around them the wind was whistling through narrow gaps in the timber-lap walls and battering in erratic but relentless waves at the disintegrating roof.

‘You’re not stupid,’ he said, shaking his head and extending an arm to pull her against him.

‘Oh, Francis,’ she said in a long and quivery breath as she felt his arms about her stiff body. ‘Can you forgive me those things I said to you?’

‘Nothing to forgive,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘But if
you
can forgive
me
and then – humbly assuming I’m not getting ahead of myself again – maybe we can forget all about it.’

‘There’s nothing to forgive
you
for!’ she replied with a tearful giggle.

‘You can’t know how glad I am to hear that,’ he replied and, for a moment, she simply stood with his arms around her, her relief too great to express. ‘How
is
George?’ he asked after a while.

‘Asleep, least he was when I came out here. And he’ll mend, by and by. Your ma says ʼtis fortunate he’s otherwise healthy but although I try, I can’t overlook that he was willing to put himself in harm’s way.’

‘No and I understand that, although when I spoke to Ezra last night he was adamant that the bother wasn’t of
their
making. He says it was the squire’s fault.’

‘George said much the same thing and I’m minded to believe him, although summat he said the day before he went makes me think now that perhaps they
were
expecting trouble.’

‘Aye? What did he say then?’

‘Well when I asked him what me an’ Jacob would do if… well, if summat terrible happened to him, he seemed to have already thought about it, since he said most plainly that I should wed again.’ At the mention of marriage, she felt certain that he tensed.

‘Most likely to make light of it.’

‘No, I don’t think so. He seemed real serious. He told me to go to the farm to start with and then to wed a new husband, as though he’d already given it thought.’

‘Maybe since you asked him a fair question, he just gave you a sensible answer. After all, that
is
what you’d do, isn’t it, if need arose?’

‘In truth I’d have no choice.’

‘Well you
would
have a choice but it’d be a very simple one,’ he said, and she pulled away to look at his face, surprised to see that he was grinning.

‘What?’

‘To marry
me
.’

‘You’d
wed
me?’

‘Today if I could!’

‘
Truthfully
?’

‘Of course truthfully. And since the other day, I’m even more certain of it. I’d wed you in the blink of an eye and, to be honest, I’m fair hurt that you’re so surprised.’

‘’Tis just summat of a shock, that’s all, since I can’t think of anything nicer. You truly mean that?’ she asked, and then seeing his expression of mock dismay, shook her head. ‘Don’t tease me.’

‘I’m not. I’d ask you right now if I could. I’ve thought about it oftentimes, although it probably does me no good to admit to it.’ Entirely unprepared for this revelation, especially after how she had spoken to him last time he was there, she burst into tears. ‘Please don’t cry so,’ he whispered. ‘If I’d known how it was going to upset you, I never would have said it.’

‘Sorry,’ she said and sniffed loudly. ‘It’s just that after that to-do between us, I realised how I never felt as happy as when I was with you. You’re so thoughtful and…’ With a long sigh, she paused. How on earth did she explain what she was thinking? ‘When I’m with you,’ she began again, ‘well, it’s what I
thought
it would be like when I wed George.’ She bit her lip and risked a brief glance at his eyes. Would he think it disloyal of her to talk in such a way? ‘Maybe it was just because I was so young but I thought there would be evenings when we’d sit together in front of the fire and summer evenings when we’d sit in the garden. And I thought that once we got to know each other, we would love each other.’ She looked at him again, able to tell only that he was regarding her intently. ‘But it ain’t like that. It ain’t even a
bit
like that. I don’t think we’ve ever sat together and although it was a bit different for a while, he ain’t
ever
looked at me like you do.’ She paused again, aware that he was still and silent. ‘When you look at me, ’tis like you
see
me—’

‘Course I see you.’

‘—but when George looks at me, it’s like I irritate him… it’s like he resents me.’ With a shake of her head, she exhaled a long sigh. ‘Sometimes I’m so lonely, Francis, and when I thought I’d driven you away, I felt empty beyond all understanding.’ His hand, she could feel, was stroking her hair. ‘You know, earlier, when I was thinking that I’d lost you for good, I found myself realising that all I had to look forward to was living here in Keeper’s Cottage, bearing George’s children and living with his coldness for evermore.’ It had been the first time she had pictured the future so dispassionately, and even now the bleakness of it again brought tears. ‘And one day, when Pa Strong goes, we’ll go to live down in the farmhouse but I can’t help thinking that it’ll be much the same. Or maybe even worse, since on top of everything else, George will have the worry of the farm and I’ll have all that goes with it: the house, the dairy, the family. I mean, can you see
me
telling
Annie
what to do in the dairy?’ she asked, laughing now at the unlikeliness of it. ‘You know, I used to envy Annie and Ellen living in that nice house with all the family around them and I couldn’t understand why George kept saying we were better off up here. To me, this place just seemed harder and colder and damper and dirtier. But then I came to realise what it’s
really
like down there and what he meant. However nice it sometimes looks, it ain’t no easier; true, there’s more room but it’s simply filled with more people. And there’s no say in who they are, either. After all, none of us gets to choose our family.’

‘No, we don’t.’

‘And see, the thing is, if Tom hadn’t died, then most likely this place is all I’d ever know. But what I keep frettin’ over, is what if sometime soon, summat happens and we have to go an’ live down there? I can’t tell you how I fear to end up like all them women before me, squashed up against brothers-in-law and their wives and their children too and, well, it frightens me that one day I could wake up and wonder whether perhaps my life could have been different.’ With a sense that maybe she had admitted more than she should have, she bit her lip and looking at him, asked, ‘Does that seem a terrible thing to say?’

‘No, it doesn’t, not to me. It seems understandable and honest, all told.’

Slowly she shook her head and let out a long, juddery breath.

‘And it don’t help that George doesn’t…’ for a moment she looked down again, ‘touch me, well, hardly ever. He
used
to make the effort but he rarely does now, which I don’t mind in the least any more, except that I’m surprised how unwanted that makes me feel; my own husband doesn’t even desire me.’

‘Then he’s a fool,’ he said, tightening his embrace. ‘An’ maybe he don’t love you but
I
do.’

‘You do, don’t you?’ she asked, a flicker of disbelief in her tone.

‘I do. I love you Mary Strong; sometimes so much I can barely think.’

She rested her head back against his shoulder.

‘I love you too, Francis.’

‘An’ that being the case, if ever, well, you know… then I’ll be here to look after you.’

‘That’s real nice to know—’

‘Good.’

‘—but I’m m-makin’ your shirt all w-wet,’ she announced with something that sounded like an amused sob.

‘And I don’t mind that in the least,’ he whispered back.

*

Not long after first light the following morning, Francis crept up to where Mary was gathering eggs from the coop.

‘How’s George today?’ he whispered with a glance across to the back door of the cottage.