A Newfound Land (23 page)

He was substantially happier when he made his way back to the inn. Judging by his behaviour last night, it was evident he needed to shore up his moral backbone, and now he had found someone to help him with it.

Chapter 27

It was dislike at first sight. Alex looked the small, pompous man up and down before dropping him a swift curtsey and disappearing inside the house, carrying the bundles Matthew had offloaded into her arms.

“Why has he brought wee Richard Campbell with him?” Mrs Parson muttered, shaking her head.

“You know him?” Alex was wondering the exact same thing.

“Not as such. Fiery preacher, I must say, a man that can inspire a crowd to do great things in the name of the Lord.”

Magnus glanced at their guest. “Difficult to believe; he looks about as inspiring as a turnip – a very dirty one at that.”

“
Pappa
!” Alex laughed. “Shush, the children will hear you.” But he was right; Mr Campbell looked as if he and water had a very distant relationship – like once a year at most – and he smelled accordingly.

“David can’t talk yet.” Magnus hefted his grandson higher into his arms. “And the others are standing in an adoring circle round their father, in case you haven’t noticed.”

*

Over the coming days, Richard Campbell was horrified by what he saw in the Graham household: lads well over the age of six still under their mother’s tutelage, a wife who spoke her mind, not only to her ageing father and sons, but also to her husband. Even worse, Matthew Graham minded what she said, upholding her authority when necessary. Not that there was much need of that, the sons leaping to do their mother’s will with alacrity.

He studied Alex as discreetly as he could, trying to calculate how old she could be. Seven children, and the eldest was nigh on nineteen, so she must be some years shy of forty. She didn’t look it, her carriage erect, her skin a soft, glowing pink except on her uncovered hands and forearms. Eyes of a startling blue, dark hair that was mostly covered, even if now and then a long curl would escape to bob enticingly below the cap – all in all, Alex Graham was an attractive woman, with a high bosom and what even Richard Campbell could recognise as a promising swell to the hips. He noted how Matthew’s eyes followed his wife around and sighed; a man enslaved to his bodily needs and a wife who knew how to keep him enthralled. No, this needed to change.

“And what are you studying in the Bible?” Richard asked Daniel, receiving a blank stare in return.

“The Bible? We read from it at times, but mostly it is ciphering and writing, and Mama teaches us about geography and history. I know all the capital cities of the world.”

“Capital cities?” Richard shook his head. “But can you name the books of the New Testament?”

Daniel admitted that no, he couldn’t – not all of them.

“Can you cite me the ten commandments?” Richard asked, and Daniel assured him that aye, those he knew. “Well, all is not lost then,” Richard muttered.

*

After some days of interrogation, Richard cornered Matthew in the stable and told him he was failing in his responsibilities as a father.

“I am?” Matthew said warily. Richard Campbell as a constant presence was somewhat less enchanting than he had been as a motivating speaker, and he was already having regrets about having brought him home – particularly as Alex left neither Matthew nor Richard in any doubts as to her opinion on the matter, silently supported by both Magnus and Mrs Parson. It irked Matthew to have all three ranged against him, and it gave him a certain amount of satisfaction to insist that Richard stay a bit longer, making a clear point as to who decided what in his family.

“Your lads are sadly lacking in Biblical knowledge,” Richard said. “You’ve left their schooling in the hands of a woman with no understanding of the Holy Book.”

“I read to them myself; every Sunday I read a text and discuss it with them.”

“And yet they can’t name the books of either the Old or the New Testament, they can’t name the twelve tribes of Israel, have but a rudimentary knowledge of the Epistles, and have not fully studied Revelations. You’ve been remiss, Matthew Graham, and your sons will suffer for it.”

Matthew’s ears were tingling with shame.

“Fortunately, I’m willing to stay for some weeks, and I’ll take over their schooling for the length of my stay. If you want, I’ll be glad to undertake to do something about your wife’s ignorance as well, but that requires she be of a willing disposition.”

“My wife isn’t ignorant, and I’ll not have you talk of her like that. But I’ll gladly take up your offer to school my lads.”

“I don’t want that man teaching my children anything!” Alex said when Matthew informed her of his arrangements with Campbell. “Every time he opens his mouth, in creeps an insinuation that women are somehow deficient to men.”

“He will only be here for some weeks, and it won’t come amiss to have the lads taught the Bible, will it?”

“The lads? So Ruth and Sarah don’t need to be taught? On account of them being too young or too inconsequential?”

“Too young,” Matthew lied. He looked at his father-in-law for support. “You agree, Magnus? That it can’t do any harm?”

“Hmm,” Magnus said, looking anything but encouraging.

“I’ve asked him to stay August out,” Matthew informed them rather coolly. “He’ll be tutoring the lads a couple of hours each afternoon, after they’ve finished with their work for the day.”

“Well, thank you for discussing it with me beforehand,” Alex said.

“I don’t have to,” Matthew retorted, stung into anger. “It is I that decide what’s best for my children, not you.”

“Well done,” Magnus murmured to Matthew, clapping him on the shoulder. The room was still reverberating with the crash of the slammed door.

It went nasty very quickly after that, a previous silent hostility degenerating into open war with Mark, Jacob and Daniel the contested territory. If Richard decided it was time for Bible class, Alex contrived to be on hand, adding elucidating comments whenever she thought they were needed.

“The Queen of Sheba was a fair-skinned beauty of great renown,” said Richard.

“The Queen of Sheba was a beautiful dark woman,” Alex scoffed. “She was queen of Ethiopia which is in northern Africa.”

Richard scowled at her interruption, his substantial lower jaw jutting out in a way that made him resemble a frog attempting to catch a fly. He cleared his throat and opened his Bible at Psalms. “Today, we will talk about King David, a man of utmost piety and righteousness.”

“King David was also a womanizer who didn’t think twice about arranging Uriah’s death to get his hands on Uriah’s wife,” Alex reminded her boys. She swallowed back on a cackle of satisfied laughter at the look on Richard’s face. Instead, she pretended an interest in her sewing.

*

When Richard came to find Matthew, he was so upset he near on stuttered. A woman to take it upon herself to correct him, a minister! Matthew sighed inwardly as the wee minister listed one example after the other of how Alex had undermined his authority, and promised to talk to his wife. He found her in the parlour, singing under her breath as she worked. At the sight of him she fell silent, sitting up straight.

“Richard says you are purposely disrupting his teaching.”

“On purpose? I happen to be in the room. Surely I should correct him when he gets it wrong.”

“He doesn’t want you to be present.”

“Oh really? So now I’m not allowed to sit in my own front room?” The blue eyes narrowed dangerously, and Matthew found himself with a pile of mending in his lap. “In that case, dear husband, it’s best you take over the mending. Or do you want me to repair to the laundry shed to do it?”

“Alex,” Matthew sighed, shamed by the look on her face.

“Don’t you Alex me!” she spat and stormed off.

After that, Alex avoided the front room, remaining either in the kitchen or retiring early to their bedroom. And the mending lay untouched, with Richard commenting on how sad it was to find a woman idle.

On purpose, Matthew tore a gash in his shirt and came to Alex with the ragged sleeve.

“Will you mend it for me?” he asked, hoping she would see this as the olive branch he meant it to be.

“Ask your pet minister – he has sole access to my parlour these days.”

“Only for class.”

“Oh, good. In that case please ask him to take his leisure elsewhere. I have no intention of having him disrupt my evenings of calm and quiet with his grating voice and inane braying.”

“I can’t do that,” Matthew said. “He’s my guest and must of course be welcome in my home.”

She gave him a long look and handed him the shirt. “Mend it yourself. Or have one of the girls do it.” She sat down with her back to him to feed their son.

*

“But Mama says—“ Jacob began, only to be interrupted by Richard.

“Your mother has no idea what she’s talking about; she’s a woman.”

“Mama says women are as intelligent as men,” Mark put in.

“Foolishness!” Richard Campbell said. “Man is set to rule over woman on account of his intellect and spiritual strength. Women are more prone to be taken over by the devil, seeing as they’re weaker souls.”

“That’s nonsense,” Magnus said from where he was sitting by the window. “That’s like saying women are more given to evil, and yet, if you look about the world, men seem to be overrepresented when it comes to crimes.”

Richard sniffed. This tall Swedish man disconcerted him, and even more when he turned eyes as blue as his daughter’s in his direction.

“We were discussing the exodus from Egypt,” he reminded his class of three. “And here we have the truth.” He held up his Bible.

Magnus made a derisive sound. “I bet there’s no mention of Hatshepsut in there.”

“Hatshe who?” Jacob asked.

“A female Pharaoh,” Magnus said. “A fantastic ruler, as I hear it.”

“Hmph!” Richard straightened up. “One swallow does not a summer make. And, mark my words, had she been a man, she’d have been an even better ruler.”

“How would you know?” Magnus said.

“Common sense,” Richard said. “A quality men share but women rarely enjoy.”

With a snort Magnus left the room.

Richard sat back and unbuttoned his coat, quite pleased with himself. “Now,” he said to the Graham lads, “let’s get back to the Scriptures.”

*

An uneasy truce settled over the household. Richard seemed content enough with the lads’ progress, and from what Matthew could make out the lads were not suffering unduly from their imposed hours with the minister, even if Mark muttered something about not liking it: how Mr Campbell addressed his mother.

Matthew sighed inwardly. Alex remained aloof and distant, minimising her communication with Richard. All in all a good thing, Matthew supposed, but he didn’t like it that she treated him the same way, shoulders and mouth set in a constant expression of reproach. At times, he wanted to take her by the arms and shake her, telling her that he was doing this for their lads, for their immortal souls.

“A pretty lass,” Richard said, pointing at Ruth, who was out in the yard playing with her brothers in the summer twilight.

“Aye.” Matthew threw a look at his wife, sitting as far away from him as she could. “Like her mother.” He’d hoped for a smile, but was disappointed, Alex keeping her eyes on the bread she was slicing.

“Umm,” Richard said. “A bit wayward; should a lass really be allowed to run that wild? She’s old enough to spin and knit. As I recall, my own sisters went about with their spindles from their fifth year or so.”

“She helps enough as it is,” Alex said. “She’s not yet six.”

“She must be taught to be a good helpmeet,” Richard continued, ignoring Alex. “She should be knitting stockings for her brothers, learning to serve them first.”

Matthew looked at his lass, not quite sure he agreed with the minister.

“Not in my home; in my home we treat our children as equals. We do, don’t we?” Alex challenged, glaring at Matthew.

“Of course we do,” he said.

“Except, of course, that our boys have to put up with him.” Alex made a contemptuous gesture in the direction of Richard.

“Alex!” Matthew said.

“Luckily, there will be time afterwards to correct all the nonsense he’s trying to fill their heads with. After all, I don’t suppose you plan on having him here forever, do you?”

Matthew compressed his mouth, giving her a warning look.

“Well, do you?” she demanded. “Because if you do, please let me know so that I can start making arrangements to go elsewhere – with my children.” She banged the door on her way out.

“A cross,” Richard sighed, “a cross to bear.”

In reply Matthew flung himself out of the kitchen, hot on Alex’s heels.

“How dare you?” He towered over her, near on stuttering with rage.

“How dare I? How dare you! With what right do you force that idiot of a man on us all?”

“He’s a minister.” Matthew swallowed in an effort to keep his voice controlled. “He’s here to teach our sons the things we can’t teach them.”

“Which adds up to the impressive sum of zero,
nada
. And on top of that, you expect me to feed him, I’m forbidden access to parts of my home, and my boys...” She gave him a bright look, eyes wet with unshed tears. “I want him to leave; now.”

“We have accorded until the end of August. That’s four more weeks.”

Alex studied him in silence. “I see, your pride must come first, right?” Her tone cut him, even more because she was right.

“August, Alex. That’s what we decided.”

“That’s what you decided.” She turned to walk off; he blocked her.

“You’re making this more difficult than it has to be.” He brushed at a lock of escaped hair.

She reared back from his touch. “I am? I don’t think so, Mr Graham. I didn’t bring him here, did I? And now, if you’ll excuse me…” She dropped him an ironic curtsey. “…I’m going for a swim.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked, trying out a smile.

“No way,” she said. “Whatever for?”

*

Over the coming week, Alex more or less stopped speaking to Matthew – she was so pissed off with him she preferred not to. And he, typical man that he was, pretended things were just like normal, even if he was smart enough not to try cuddling her. He probably realised he risked being kneed in the balls if he did, given her present mood. So they went to bed together – in silence – they rose in the morning – in silence. Well, except for the more basic communication along the lines that were there any clean stockings, or was Sarah’s scraped knee healing as it should. And all day long that enervating, brain-dead excuse of a man hovered around her children and her man, a self-satisfied simper on his lips. Worst of all were the mealtimes, dinner conversation shrinking to Richard Campbell’s long, haranguing monologues.