Maggie's Child (22 page)

‘My my gal, that’s a fair sum of money. Not egg money for sure.’ Lizzie looked down at the notes and coins.

‘The dairy brings in a fair bit, but he pays that over for the rent. It is a tidy sum and will pay for a good send off, plus leave enough money to replace the plough. It is my intention to buy one of the new metal ones. Mason said if he went direct to Ransoms of Ipswich he would be able to purchase one at a reasonable price. The sooner we can get the team working again the better.’

She put the money back into the pouch and placed it into the larger of the two tins. Now Jacob was no longer around she would not need to hide money from him. She placed the tin on a shelf behind another containing tea leaves.

‘When I have time to think I need to organise my finances properly. Nathaniel has a good head for figures I will ask his advice.’

‘Good idea gal, good idea.’ Lizzie glanced out of the window. ‘Best get yourself up the stairs to tidy your hair. Your visitors have arrived. I’ll let them in. Go.’

 Maggie slipped upstairs, she needed time to compose herself and change into a black outfit.

She listened to the voices below. Stephen and the parson had arrived together. She was not in the mood for either man but had to play her role as the grieving widow.

When she entered the room both men stood. The parson ventured forward and offered his condolences.

‘Mrs Sawbury. I am sorry for your loss.’

 Stephen hung back. It was an awkward moment for them both. He spoke first.

‘Mistress Sawbury, my condolences. My wife sends hers alongside of my mother’s. It is a dreadful time for you here at Windtop.’

‘Gentlemen, thank you. Please sit. Has Lizzie offered you refreshment?’ Maggie could feel her hands shake. Stephen looked so distinguished. She was thankful Nathaniel did not look like him. He had the features of her family. To see him with the face of a traitor would be more than she could bear. Stood before Stephen now, she saw him in his true light. Lord of the manor, an arrogant man with money. Within seconds Maggie knew her feelings for Duke were stronger than any she might have for Stephen. He was the village squire, no more than that. She turned to the parson.

‘Have the final arrangements been made for the funeral?’

‘We will bury your husband on the hour of eleven tomorrow. I am pleased with your decision to give him a resting place within the walls of God’s house.’ The parson laid his Bible upon the table. Maggie stared at the worn edges; it was black, drab and tired looking. Standing there in her widow’s weeds, she felt like the cover. Full of good intentions on the inside, yet shabby on the outside.

‘I feel it is where he belongs. Please, while you are here would you go with Lizzie and say prayers over his parents and our lost children?’

The parson preened himself. He was a man who liked to feel important. Another arrogant male. ‘Why of course, if it will help you in your darkest hour. God’s word will comfort all.’

After they had left, Stephen found his voice again.

‘How are you bearing up, Maggie?’

She bristled at the sound of him saying her name in an informal manner. He lost that right to do so the minute he lay with another after her.

‘Squire Avenell, I am now a widow. Widow Sawbury. I am not of high spirits and have a funeral for my husband to attend. I am bearing up well under the circumstances. Thank you for your enquiry.’ Sarcasm rolled off of her tongue. She bit back the words -we have a son who is in love with your daughter -instead she enquired after Ruth and her governess.

‘They are upset with the events of yesterday, but Ruth has the support of her family to help guide her,’ Stephen responded stiffly.

‘I understand. I have also noted Nathaniel Arlington and she are growing fond of each other. It is not many years ago they toddled around in play. How time flies. Is it presumptuous of me to ask, do you anticipate a marriage between them?’ Maggie wanted to find out what Stephen’s intentions for his daughter were.

‘They are showing signs of nest building, I agree. Both families are more than happy if a union came from their friendship. Between you and me it is hoped an engagement will be announced in the near future.’ Stephen pulled out a leather bound book from his pocket and his tone changed, he gave a cough and tapped the book. ‘Business matters. I have more important things to discuss with you, than a pair of young children in love. The farm’

Maggie sat down, she had not been prepared for him to talk business so soon, it was something she had to face but surely after her husband’s burial. She was going to jump in and offer her plans and ideas to move the farm forward, but waited to hear what he had to say.

‘You sent a purse of money to pay rent. One thing we do for any of our female tenants who are newly widowed, is waive a month’s rent. ‘Tis only fair, you have a lot of outgoing expenses during the mourning period.’ He handed the purse over to her. She took it and stared down at the worn leather.

‘Thank you, sir. It is most generous of the estate to consider its tenants in this way.’ Maggie held out her hand to offer her thanks yet Stephen never accepted it and continued to speak. His words that followed shook her world. They changed everything.

‘I am confused by the rent you wish to pay. I checked our accounts and it is not money for a field outside of your boundary. Perhaps you could confirm; why do you send me rent?’

Maggie looked at him, his words confused her. ‘I beg your pardon? I do not understand. I paid you rent to secure my home for a few months. It is my intention to run the farm with the staff I have and another reliable couple, should you agree.’

‘Maggie, this is the part I do not understand. You own the farm, why on earth should you pay rent? Your husband brought the place the year after you worked at the Arlington residence. He asked that it be kept quiet, he did not want people asking him for money, should they think he had some to spare. We understood his fear and kept our silence. Never in my days did I think he would have kept it a secret from you. I was wrong; I can see that much is obvious by your face. Windtop is your farm; you own all ten acres, including Dupp’s meadow.’

Maggie sat staring at him. Her chest felt tight, she could hardly draw a breath. Stephen kept talking, she knew that as his lips were moving but she could not hear his words. Her thoughts over crowded her mind. Jacob had spent their money wisely after all, but chose to keep it a secret from her. Why? Was he going to remove her from his life? What was the reason behind his secretive ways? Within a flash of seconds, it hit her. It no longer mattered. The answers were irrelevant. Within twenty four hours she had become widow and a land owner. In a few days she would be the age of thirty eight years and she had become the mistress of her own farm.

‘Is it true? Your words are not in jest?’ She managed a whisper, her throat had constricted with emotion as she struggled with the news.

‘The farm is in both your names. I have copies of the paperwork, the solicitor, Markham, has the originals if I am not mistaken. For all his faults and stubborn ways, your husband was a wise investor.’

Maggie gave a small chortle. ‘This may sound callous, but he would have bought it for his vain self. He coveted what you have. If he had cared for the farm his gambling money would have been put to better use. No, Jacob owned the farm, but he never worked it to its best. I on the other hand, along with the others, worked day and night to keep it going. The future will be different now. I intend to bring Windtop out in its full glory. There was a difference between my husband and me. I love the farm; he lived on it and saw only soil. He never could see what grew in the soil, only the money it provided for gambling.’

She drew in a deep breath and continued. Stephen would hear every emotion held inside with regard to her husband and her feelings for Windtop Farm.

‘He suppressed my ideas, ridiculed me as a human being, and like most men I know, abused me, physically and mentally. ’She noted Stephen’s face flushed at her words and he had the good grace to look to the floor. Maggie raised her voice a notch. ‘Windtop will flourish, and I am grateful for the chance to see it through. You might look at me as an ungrateful wife, but believe me when I tell you, I earned this farm. You heard I nearly lost my life through that man. Every kick and punch earned me an acre.’

Stephen had listened out of respect to her words and Maggie could see he had understood her feelings. She had nothing more to say and remained silent. Stephen spoke with softness to his voice.

‘You are right, you do deserve Windtop, and I wish you good luck for the future. Should you need assistance, please feel free to approach me. I will train your staff on our machines; you can have use of them for the next harvest.’

Maggie nodded with gratitude.

 ‘I had intended to ask Nathaniel to assist me with my finances. I will now ask him to work with me through the farm ledgers. I will make use of your kind offer until such time as I can afford my own. Thank you for taking the time to inform me, Mr Avenell. Now if you will excuse me, I have a farm to run. I ask you please to keep this between us, mention this to no-one. I will inform the staff tomorrow when I have other ideas to put to them. We are holding a private wake in memory of my husband and this news will round off the event.’

Maggie moved to the door, Stephen turned to her and his words chilled her, she knew he was not referring to the death of her man and they were eighteen years too late.

‘I am sorry, Maggie. Truly I am.’

‘Thank you, it is not going to be easy being a widow.’

Maggie pretended she had heard him to mean about Jacob. She was not going to let him back into her life on a sorry. She was her own woman now and Stephen Avenell was not going to try and slip between her sheets. He was her past and Windtop was her future.

 She sat at the table for over an hour. Thoughts raged around her mind, she needed air, to be outside and ran to a coat hook and grabbed her black bonnet. She vowed to wear mourning for the shortest period, she could not mourn the passing of Jacob, and he didn’t deserve the respect of black widow weeds.

Dupp’s Meadow shared its full glory with her. Gold, yellows, reds, pinks and every shade of green surrounded her. She pulled off her boots and bonnet, hitched her skirt and ran around amongst the flora and vegetation. It was hers, all hers. Had Jacob bought it for her, or just wanted to own it? He knew she loved this place, was it his intention to destroy it, or keep it untouched? The answers were ones she would never know.

‘I am free. Free to love you, dear meadow, free to breath, free to speak, free to live my life. Thank you, Jacob. Thank you for dying, I hope you find a place in Heaven. I will not miss you; I have Nathaniel and the farm. My true son and my own business, they have my love. Love you or Stephen Avenell could have enjoyed, he was the only true love I had known until I had his son. Neither of you had any respect for me. Well I am going to gain respect, Jacob Sawbury. Windtop farm and I say goodbye and good riddance.’ Maggie shouted to the clouds as she twirled and skipped. She felt sixteen again, agile and innocent. Her mind slipped back to the day she married, the day her hopes died. Maggie sat to catch her breath and knew in that short emotional burst she had released all pain from the past. The future was hers and she was going to grab it with both hands.

She looked down on the farm and smiled. Already a transformation had taken place. Mason and the carpenter had fixed the window box in place, and the arch sat against the wall. Maggie could not wait to see the farmhouse come alive. She began to consider other forms of decoration and practical matters.

The barns need re-thatching and the hens could do with mobile arks not those dilapidated pens. Two or three could go on the bottom field. It is going to waste and I can expand the poultry side of the business.

So deep were her thoughts, she never noticed the figure leaning against the meadow gate.

Chapter 17

The black trail of mourners weaved their way through the cemetery. Maggie watched them and wondered if any one of them had liked Jacob. Liked him as a person not for his gambling losses, their gains. Stern faces stared as the coffin was lowered into the ground. The parson offered her a handful of soil, but she lifted a handkerchief under her veil and walked away. Lizzie stepped in and dropped it into the grave. Others thought it was distress preventing Maggie from carrying out the task, but she knew Lizzie would understand. For her throwing a handful of soil on the coffin was a final act, for Maggie hers was walking away, never to return.

Dukes approached her when the last of the mourners had spoken with her.

‘Are you ready to leave? They are all heading for the tavern; I gave the landlord the money. I must say his wife has laid out a fine feast. They will all love Jacob from the bottom of a glass, and an empty plate. I hope I leave more than that as my legacy among friends.’ His voice sounded so wistful, Maggie looked up at him.

‘Do you suppose my life meant anything at all to Jacob? I wonder - would he have cared about our babies had they lived? Would life have been different for us all?’ Maggie had not expected to feel so sad. Watching the lowering of the coffin had opened a wound. Four of her babies had entered heaven via the same portal, a hole in the ground. It was them she mourned, not their father.

Dukes handed her a large, clean handkerchief as the tears flowed down her face and soaked onto the front of her gown. His voice held gentle reassuring tones.

‘Maggie, through Nathaniel I can see you would have been a wonderful mother. Jacob would have cared. I am certain he did care, he just couldn’t cope. Remember, children have two people to create them, maybe he felt guilty about their deaths, the same as you do.’ He wiped away her tears with his handkerchief, and handed it to her. Maggie took it from him and composed herself.

‘Thank you Dukes, you are a dear friend. Whenever I eat chestnuts I think of you. Now your words will be added to that memory box. Come now, you must be starved.’ When they reached the carriage the Arlington’s had loaned her for the day, she turned to him.