A Mother's Sacrifice (29 page)

‘He - he has already shown me he is quite anxious to - to lie with me.’

‘Shown you? In what way, dear?’

‘I believe he thought of taking me and was quite overcome but . . . Oh, I don’t know. He seemed to think better of his actions.’

‘Well, he listens to the vicar’s sermons and is known to be religious in his ways.’ Her mother sighed. ‘Oh my dear, I know why you do this and in truth I cannot see any other way out of our predicament. But I hope you do not live to regret it.’

I am regretting it already, Quinta thought, but said, ‘Listen, I hear a rider. Look happy, Mother, and tell him that he has your blessing. I can make a start on cleaning up his farmhouse when I have finished here tomorrow. I shall have a sweet-smelling chamber ready for you after the ceremony.’

‘Are you sure about this, my darling girl? It will be for your whole life.’

She placed her hands over her stomach. ‘It will be for my child. My child is my life now.’

‘There will be other children, dear.’

‘They will not be Patrick’s children.’

‘They will be yours and you will love them just as dearly.’

Quinta placed her hand over her mother’s and said quietly, ‘I know what I am doing. It is not what I want either. I wished to marry Patrick. But that is no longer possible and this is for the best, Mother, the best chance for my child, for you, for all of us.’

‘I fear that you are right. But I fear also that you are paying too high a price.’

‘You cannot put too high a price on a child’s future. Farmer Bilton’s name will ensure my child’s respectability and reputation. He will not suffer as his father did.’

‘I hope you are right, dear.’

So did Quinta. She had to go through with this marriage. Everything depended on Farmer Bilton believing her child was his. She must share his bed as soon as possible and try not to think of a whole life as his wife. Perhaps when she could tell him she was with child, she would ask to sleep apart for her baby’s sake. The gentry had separate bedchambers and Farmer Bilton liked to copy their ways. She felt better when she’d thought of that and started to imagine her own bedchamber with her baby’s crib at Bilton Farm.

Chapter 19

‘Beatrice, would you drive Mrs Haig home in my trap?’

‘Oh Percival, why can’t you? It’s so dirty at Bilton Farm and I am wearing satin slippers.’

‘Then you shouldn’t be,’ he hissed. ‘You are stealing attention from the bride.’

‘Oh, do you think so?’ Beatrice Wilkins preened.

‘Really, Beatrice, your mode of dress is not suitable for a resident of the vicarage.’

She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘When Mother left her money in trust for me it was meant for my trousseau. If Father had not lingered so, it would have gone long ago. How long must I wait to use it?’

Her brother became impatient. ‘You must show thrift as an example to my parishioners.’

‘Nonsense! If you spent some of Father’s money on the vicarage instead of your endless books, it would be more comfortable for both of us.’

‘I have heard enough of this. Please do as I ask. I must finish my sermon for tomorrow.’

Laura stood patiently at the church gate. She had arrived with Quinta for the ceremony in Farmer Bilton’s trap driven by Seth, who was now taking her daughter and her - she inhaled raggedly - son-in-law to their future home. Michaelmas was almost upon them and already autumn leaves were gathering on the church path. Mr Wilkins helped her and his sister into the trap and handed the reins to Miss Wilkins. They set off at a sedate pace.

‘Will your brother not join us for the wedding breakfast?’ Laura asked.

‘He has his records to write. He spends all his time with his archives but he has promised to ride over later. I must say, Mrs Haig, your daughter’s veil was pretty. I see you have trimmed your bonnet with the same silk.’

‘Yes. Mrs Bilton’ - there, she had spoken her daughter’s new name - ‘came across it when she was clearing the bedchambers. She found a wooden chest full of old-fashioned gowns and trimmings.’ Laura had sewed the veil for her as Quinta had steadfastly refused to wear the lace that Sergeant Ross had given her. She added, ‘You look well yourself, Miss Wilkins.’

Beatrice hitched her skirts higher to show off slippers that matched her gown. Her bonnet, too, had new ribbons for the occasion. ‘There is so little chance to wear a ball gown here. The Riding has no assemblies except for villagers in their barns, and dinners in town are for gentlemen only.The Hall is remiss, if you ask me. When I was at home with Mother and Father our local Manor House had summer and winter balls, and shooting parties. Where is one to meet unattached gentlemen if not at such gatherings?’

Where indeed, thought Laura. ‘Did you attend many?’

‘Sadly I did not. I was caring for my mother and when she passed on my father went into decline and I could not leave him.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘By the time he joined Mother, all the eligible gentlemen had gone. I hoped when I came to live with my brother, I should find someone.’

‘Oh, but you are a great help to Mr Wilkins in his ministry. A woman makes such a difference to a home, don’t you think? I am sure you will be pleasantly surprised when you see Mr Bilton’s farmhouse.’

The trap made slow progress up Bilton Hill. Others from the village caught up and overtook them and Laura recognised the farrier and taverner from the village and the gamekeeper from Swinborough Hall making their way with their families to continue the celebrations of her daughter’s marriage. They had prepared cold meats, pies and cake with sherry wine and a barrel of ale had been set up in one of the front drawing rooms. In the weeks leading up to her wedding day, Quinta had worked unbelievably hard to clean up the farmhouse. Laura had helped with polishing silver, sewing and mending. The upholstered furniture was shabby but tables, chairs and cabinets polished up beautifully. Seth had helped to wax floorboards, window shutters and wall panelling. It was a gracious house that had been too long neglected.

Seth was waiting on the traps and leading the horses away. He helped the ladies down and they walked across stone flags to the front door. Laura watched Miss Wilkins’ surprised expression as they entered the hallway and followed a hubbub of voices to the drawing room.The vicarage was a pleasant enough house but Bilton farmhouse was built on a grander scale. As Laura circulated among the guests she could hear that the main topic of conversation was the improvement in the appearance of the farmhouse. It was generally agreed that, in spite of the differences in their ages, Mr Bilton and Miss Haig had made wise choices in each other.

‘You’re tired, Mother.’

‘Yes, dear.’

‘I’ll take you upstairs to rest.’

‘You must stay with your guests.’

Quinta surveyed the drawing room. ‘Noah is managing quite well without me. He has never been so popular with the local people. Look at him, he can’t believe it.’

‘Do not be too hard on him, dear.’

‘Why not? You forget he was set to turn us out of our home.’

‘We are well and truly out of there now.’

‘The masons will be in by the spring. Seth is to farm the land for Noah until a new tenant is found.’ They climbed the wide wooden staircase to Laura’s chamber overlooking the rear farmyard. ‘Will you be comfortable in here, Mother?’

‘I shall. It’s very cosy and, being over the kitchen, it will be warm in winter.’

‘That’s what I thought. I’ve put a warming pan in the bed for you and your medicine is on the table. Shall I help you with your gown?’

When Laura was settled, propped up by snowy pillows, she asked, ‘Are you happy, my dear?’

Quinta placed both hands on her stomach and thought of Patrick with a shrinking heart. She did not regret their night together but, without him by her side, she was not happy. She replied, ‘I am as content as I can be in the circumstances. It is enough.’

‘You have not lain with your husband yet, have you?’

‘Noah has surprised me. He has avoided being alone with me and is quite rigid in his ways. He dislikes anything that might be described as - forgive me, Mother - as fornication.’

‘Even within wedlock?’

‘For the purposes of procreation only,’ Quinta replied drily.

Laura managed a gentle laugh. ‘Well, that’s what you want, isn’t it?’

Quinta returned her smile. ‘Life will not be so arduous here, after all.’

 

Noah stood at his wide front door while the last of his guests left. Then he walked over to the pigsties with Seth, leaving Quinta to go inside and clear the debris. She had persuaded one of the village girls to help in the scullery in exchange for a pair of dainty boots she had found during her cleaning. The girl slipped quietly out of the back door as Noah returned to his kitchen and stood with his back to the fire. Quinta sat at the table buffing silver and thought about the amount of work to be done in blackleading the range behind him.

‘Nights are drawing in already,’ he commented. ‘We’ll be abed afore nine so as not to waste the lamp oil. Has Mother retired?’

‘Yes, Noah.’ She had noticed that he had referred to Laura as ‘Mother’ and not as ‘Ma’ or even ‘your mother’ all day. Propriety in all things, she reflected. It had crossed her mind that he might bring his coarse farmyard ways into the bedchamber, but the more she learned about him, the less she worried about that.

‘We’ll go and do our duty, then.’

‘Noah?’

He lifted a finger and pointed at the ceiling. ‘Duty, Madam. I’ve told you I have no time to waste. ’Tis Saturday and you will make a start tonight on being my wife.’

She took off her buffing glove and tidied the tray of cutlery. ‘I’ll just lock this in the pantry. Shall I come to your chamber?’

‘Where else would you be? A wife’s place is in her husband’s bed.’

‘You have not allowed me in there to clean as I have in the other chambers.’

‘’Tis clean enough for me.’

‘My box is in the adjacent bedchamber.’

‘Go and prepare yourself while I secure the front door.’

Obediently, she stood up, bowed her head and went upstairs. Although all the chambers had locks Noah left the keys in them and she had taken a peek at his chamber. Perhaps when he became more used to a cleaner, brighter house he would allow her to touch his things.

The landing was dark and she hurriedly retrieved her nightgown and cap from her box and went next door. His chamber was large, dominated by an ornate half-tester bed with thread-bare hangings. The air was stuffy and smelled of the chamber pot and old shoes. The shutters were half open and there was no other furniture save a chair and wooden ottoman box with the lid hanging off revealing a jumble of clothes inside. The mattress ticking was grey and grubby and without linen, as was the bolster pillow. How did this man sleep in such squalor? A dirty blanket had fallen on the bare floorboards. She turned and went downstairs for sheeting.

‘Where are you going?’

‘For clean bedding.’

He scratched the side of his head. ‘Go on then. But hurry.’

She dropped the linen on to the bed and began to unfold a sheet. He stood in the middle of the chamber watching her. She could hear him breathing in a rasping, laboured manner. She glanced behind her. His hands were by his sides and she noticed his fingers twitching slightly. Oh Lord, this was really going to happen and she dreaded it. She prayed it would be over quickly and on past experience of his behaviour she guessed it would. She began to feel nauseous. How was she going to do this without showing how much he really repulsed her?

‘That’ll do.’

‘But I haven’t done the pillows.’

He took hold of her small hand in his grubby clammy palm and pulled her round to face him. Then he pushed her towards the bed and grunted something she did not quite hear.

This was a mistake! How could she have even considered tainting her body and her growing child with anything to do this with awful man, let alone allowing him to invade her so? She feared that she would not be able to do it and he would become angry with her. She had seen evidence of his anger and he was a big, strong man. His farmhands did not disobey him and she would be no exception. But it was too late to change her mind now. She must endure this. It was the price she had to pay. Deception was a sin and it was her penance for deceiving him in this most cruel way.

Yet still she convinced herself that he deserved it, and it was the only thing that kept her sane. He had lied to the court and by doing so had taken away her only chance of happiness.Well, he had shown he had this weakness for her and she had to exploit it now.

‘Get yourself on the bed, I said.’ His breeches flap was down and he was holding himself with one hand as he advanced towards her. ‘Can you hurry up, lass? Have you got any drawers on?’

He bent to pull up the edge of her skirt with his free hand and push her back on to to the mattress. The smell of the chamber pot came strongly through the sheet, but her nose and face were quickly smothered by his waistcoat as he fell on top of her. He was panting with anxiety and sweating so profusely that it dripped from his face on to hers.

His work-roughened hand felt for the opening in her drawers and pushed aside the fabric. ‘Hurry up, hurry up,’ he repeated. ‘Get your legs open.’

She felt like screaming and almost did so as he shifted about on top of her and tried to guide himself into her. Her fists clenched into balls as she tensed and prepared for him to enter her, regretting every aspect of this unholy decision.

‘Aaaaaargh,’ he groaned. ‘Aaaaaargh.’ He flopped over her, his rasping wet face against her and his stale sweat and foul breath assaulting her nostrils. His groaning went on and he stopped fumbling around the opening in her drawers between her legs.

He had not entered her. He had barely touched her and he had finished. She lay there wide-eyed as his heavy weight pressed into her. But there was no hardness about him. She could not feel his desire for her, only a sticky dampness on the leg of her drawers.