Maggie's Child (2 page)

Her insides ached with the need to hold him. To inhale his sweet baby perfume one last time. The want was so powerful. Suddenly she remembered something she had meant to tell him.

‘Nathaniel,’ she whispered on the wind, ‘your name is Nathaniel. I forgot to tell you, forgive me.’

The pain between her legs subsided to a dull throb. The tender belly area was not so uncomfortable, but the pain in her heart would never leave. Temptation was building by the second. If she took him home, she could only enjoy his baby life and protect him for a few years. However, after that it would be a life of drudgery and aggression. One she had endured since the age of fifteen. With no consideration for Maggie, her parents had sold her to a widower. A man with no morals or love in his bones. A stray dog showed Maggie more affection with one sniff than Jacob Sawbury had shown her in five years. He lay on top of her and grunted like a pig from the sty in order to reproduce.

 If Nathaniel’s biological father, Stephen Avenell, knew the truth, he might be tempted to take him from the farm. Their secret would be discovered. If her husband found out the truth, he would destroy all three of them. He would take pride in being the one to bring scandal to the doorstep of the squire. The safest thing to do was to hope someone investigated the wailing sounds. Maggie prayed Nathaniel would not cry himself to sleep.

Keep screaming, my son. I will come for you one day. Dear God, just give me a chance to glimpse who takes him.

She knew she would never take him from whoever gave him a home, but Maggie needed to know where he would spend his years. If she did not recognise his rescuer, she would follow them until she knew where he had been taken. She could make discreet enquiries if he was given a home elsewhere. Locally, it would be easy to trace a newborn.

For fifteen minutes, she listened to the caw-caw of crows, screams of a child and her heartbeat as it pounded within her chest.

A cart rolled by, and the noise from the wheels against the flint and rocks drowned out the sounds from the basket. Gold-brown leaves fluttered upon the breeze each wheel produced. Maggie watched with trepidation as the driver stopped a few feet away from the area where the babe lay. A large man in working clothes jumped down. He looked around and walked across towards where Maggie crouched. She shrank back into the hedge. Twigs tangled in her hair and scratched her face. To her horror, it became obvious he was about to relieve himself. He fumbled with the button fly and rummaged around his crotch, freeing his flaccid appendage. She assumed he was desperate to heed the call of nature; it was unbelievable he would simply ignore the cries.

Maggie held her breath as the man urinated. She raised her head a fraction to see if she recognised him. She dared not move too much for fear of distracting him. Her stomach gave a small flip of disappointment. Luck was not on her side. The man was Colin Daker, the miller’s help. A pleasant man, but he had birth afflictions. He was a deaf mute. Not one sound would penetrate his eardrums. Nathaniel could scream until he had no air left in his lungs, and Colin still would not respond. Because she had placed the basket in the shade of a bush, Nathaniel would have to cry to be found by Colin. He would never see him by chance as he was too far away from the bush.

Maggie focused upon Colin, staring at the back of his head as he walked away. She willed him to look to his right and around the bend of the hedge. Hope upon hope was thrown his way in silent, invisible words.

Look, just look down. Move around the corner. He’s there, find him, Colin. You are a good man; you will do right by him. Please just look.

‘Hey there. You man, move your cart.’

Maggie was shaken out of her trance-like state and shrunk back into the hedging. A deep well spoken voice was responsible. While she had been concentrating upon Colin, she had not noticed a horse drawn carriage pull up behind his cart.

Colin, oblivious to the fact that he had been spoken to, waved back in acknowledgement when he saw the driver wave to him. He climbed upon his cart and pulled away. Maggie’s heart sank as the carriage moved forward.

‘Wait. Stop the carriage.’ A female voice called out to the driver, through an open window.

It was the voice of Felicity Arlington. The woman read Bible verses in church on a regular basis, enough times for Maggie to know who she was.

‘Whatever is it, Flick?’ the man who had called out to Colin used a pet name, but Maggie knew it was not the voice of Mr Arlington, his was much deeper.

The carriage door opened and a woman in her late twenties climbed down. Her boots were dainty, tan, and Maggie noted, expensive leather. She thought of her own black shabby ones, in need of another repair, and shook her head. Her feet would never house anything so luxurious.

‘Shush. Listen. I can hear a strange noise. Listen.’ Mrs Arlington put her fingers to her lips and looked about her.

A young man about the same age, clambered down from the carriage and stood beside her shaking his head.

‘T’is a kitten. A cat has a litter around somewhere. It is coming from over there.’ He pointed towards the gorse bush that housed Nathaniel. He cocked his head to one side, then nodded and put his finger to his lips to silence those around him. He tiptoed slowly towards the noise.

Maggie squeezed her hands together. Her stomach tensed; her son was about to be found. She raised her head and sent another silent prayer to the wind. This time it was to thank God for sending Felicity Arlington. A good woman with a caring soul. Her family were an upstanding honest one within the Suffolk community. Nathaniel would be safe in their care.

‘Goodness. Flick, come here. It is not a kitten, t’is- well - a baby in a basket, a tiny baby.’ The man lifted the basket from the ground and brought it out from under the bush. His face flushed he hurried towards the carriage.

Maggie sat mesmerised as the woman gently lifted her son from his bed. His fists clenched and his arms flayed around him. His cries were frantic. Felicity patted his back and held him close to her chest. All the time Maggie was crying inside, and more than a twinge of envy passed through her. At least the woman cared for him -- she was affectionate and comforted him.

‘Oh, you poor little thing. Who has left you here alone? There, there, do not cry sweet child, we will help.’ She turned to the man who was still holding the basket.

‘I cannot see anyone around. Get Dukes to see if the mother is lying sick somewhere, this baby isn’t many hours old.’

The two men walked in opposite directions, and for several minutes, his mother watched as the woman stood cradling him. A stranger crooned soothing words of comfort.

‘Hush now. Who could have done something like this? Who has abandoned you here? How frightened you must be alone. Never you mind, you are not alone now.’

Maggie wanted to run to her and snatch him away. To declare he was not abandoned; she thought about where he had been placed, she wanted him, but she could not keep him. She wanted to explain how he came to be there, but knew it was wise to stay in her hiding place.

 ‘I cannot see anyone around, madam. The man in the cart was Colin Daker.’ Dukes, the driver, stood with his hands behind his back and waited for further instructions.

‘Dukes, did you see anything? I haven’t noticed anyone walking around.’ The young man strode up beside the woman.

‘Dukes said he has not, and the man on the cart was the deaf mute from the mill. He would not abandon a child. T’is obvious he would not have heard it crying. What are you going to do with the baby? He needs attending to, thanks to our Lord we found him, and not a mangy dog. For I fear he will not last the day without sustenance.’

Her companion touched her arm, and continued speaking to the bewildered woman. ‘Let us take him home, sister dear, and consider our options from there.’

Felicity Arlington agreed.

‘Yes, we must take him to safety. Help me inside then pass him to me. Poor dear thing. Dukes, head straight for home please.’

 Her brother held onto the baby, he brushed his finger across his cheek, and Maggie could see tenderness in his actions. She was lucky; God had sent good people to care for Nathaniel, and he was safe for the present time. With the vigilance of a soldier, she waited and focused upon the small bundle, broken hearted. When the man lifted her child into the carriage until she lost sight of him. Distressed but not giving into her emotions for fear of being found, she curled into a ball, and stayed in the hedges until the noise of the carriage wheels subsided into the distance. They were heading in the direction of the church, away from the dark dismal hillside Maggie now had to face.

Her body ached and she crawled out of her hiding place. She slumped to the floor and allowed herself the privilege of grief. Her small frame wracked with sobs. If someone came by, she no longer cared. Her world had ended, and life as she knew it had changed.

I loved you so much, Stephen. You destroyed me, and now I will never forgive you. Because of you, I have lost my son.

When her sobs had dwindled to sniffles, Maggie stood and straightened her clothing. She took a small tool from her basket and dug a hole close to the hedgerow. She placed all the bloodied cloths into it and covered them with rocks. The finality of the act brought a fresh bout of tears. She threw bracken on top, straightened her shoulders and headed for home. Her steps were slow, and without enthusiasm, as she walked past the public grazing pasture. The glorious colours of the autumnal countryside did nothing to lift her spirits. She had a pain in her chest, a reminder of what she had lost. There was only one thing Maggie was aware of, and that was sorrow.

Chapter 2

The water from the pump struck cold against her skin, yet Maggie endured it while she cleansed her body. She scrubbed and rubbed her flesh until it became sore. An act of erasing the past is how she saw the bathing process.

Every now and then she stopped, and stared out the small window of her room. It looked down upon the village, and she could see the church tower in the distance. The white brick building was to be her focal point, the area Nathaniel would be living for the present. The Arlington family lived close to the church, and she knew in her heart they would look after him until they found a suitable home.

She gritted her teeth and continued her wash down. The water bloodied as she cleansed between her legs. Tears joined it in the bowl.

With one loud bang, the bedroom door crashed open. Maggie grabbed at a flannel gown and held it in front of her. Wiping away the tears with the garment, she looked up at the large frame of her mean, unshaven-faced husband as he stood in the doorway. His long black, greasy hair, flopped across his forehead when he removed his cap. He swept it back with his filthy bruised hands, and stared at her. Maggie did not intend to hold the gaze of his ice grey eyes. His flattened, twisted nose made her think of Nathaniel’s petite one, and threatened the onset of tears again, so she lowered her head.

‘What the ruddy hell are you playing at? The teats on them cows are dragging along the barn floor. Why are you bathing yourself at this time of day? And look at me when I speak to you.’ He moved towards her, his body language threatening.

Maggie lifted her head but said nothing. If he hit her now she would not feel the pain, she was dead inside - numb. He stopped and looked at the bowl. The blood-stained water angered him even more, and he squared his shoulders, moving closer. His steel, cold eyes looked into hers. His voice became a growl.

‘You lost another one? Chrisake’s, you are useless. Cannot even carry a baby in that rotten womb of yours. Well brace yourself madam, I want a son. If you cannot give me one, I will find another heifer who will. Get your lardy body out into the barn and do some work.’

Jacob Sawbury raised his arm as if to lash out at her. Maggie ducked and slopped the water onto the floor. She stared as the bloodied water trickled down her clean legs. A reminder of a few hours earlier. She bit her lower lip, determined not to cry. She hated the man before her, and would not give him the satisfaction of breaking her resolve. Strength was her champion so long as she could remain impassive against him.

‘Clean that up, you useless lump of flesh.’ Her husband pushed at her shoulder, and she flinched at his touch.

Maggie watched him leave the room, not moving until she heard the kitchen door slam shut. Her clean clothes were laid out on the bed they shared. She dressed herself as fast as she could, she did not want him to come back into the bedroom in an aroused state. In the past he had taken her from behind, with vicious temper. It was only hours after she had given birth to their second child, the pain lived with her still, and she never wanted to go through it again.

She moved around the kitchen, preparing the evening meal. After which, she rinsed out the clothing from the morning and hung them in the yard. As if in a trance, she went from one job to another. She peeled potatoes and lit the cloam oven. When the walls glowed red and reached the desired heat, she made a small mound of hot coals in one corner, and swept out the unwanted remains into the fire grate. A cooking pot took their place and she pushed the door shut, making a mental note to sweep the chimney area the next day. Every action a routine movement; at which she never faltered. Maggie needed to refocus and gain control of her emotions.

With her indoor chores finished, Maggie walked over to the largest barn. The cows, settled into the long, wooden stalls, made low mooing sounds in unison, their noise soothed her. Maggie grabbed a large bucket and stool, then went to her favourite, the cow she named Sophie. The large beast was gentle and her coat a warm velvety texture. With the stool in place, Maggie sat and leaned against the belly of Sophie and milked.

The rhythmic action soothed her nerves, and the warmth from the animal gave the comfort she sought. For over an hour she moved from one animal to another. She carried the buckets of warm creamy fluid into the dairy room. Her husband earned reasonable money from their dairy products, and the room was the cleanest area on the farm. He hired a young dairy maid from the village when their old one died. Lizzie, keen and eager, took pride in her work. She had a wide smile but definitely not the brightest flower in the garden, as her mother used to say. But she was a caring girl, with a heart the size of the county in which they lived. She and Maggie had become close friends since their first meeting on Maggie’s arrival to the farm.