Sentence of Marriage (44 page)

Arthur looked at him sideways. ‘Don’t lay it on too thick, Frank,’ he said, frowning. Frank subsided, wondering what he had said wrong.

‘I like coming here,’ Frank tried again. ‘It’s good of you to have me around so much.’

‘I can tell you like coming, all right,’ Arthur said. ‘You seem to be here every five minutes.’

Arthur really didn’t seem in a very good mood with him. How was he going to react when Frank asked him for Lizzie? Maybe he should leave it for another day. But then he would have to tell Lizzie he hadn’t asked. He weighed up the alternatives, trying to decide which was the more unpleasant. Lizzie won.

‘It’s good that your farm’s so close to our place, isn’t it?’ That was another thing Lizzie had said he was to mention: that she wouldn’t have to move far away if her father let her marry Frank.

‘What’s so good about it?’ Arthur demanded.

‘Well, it’s really handy for visits. I mean, if I lived miles away it wouldn’t be very easy for someone at my place to come and see you.’

‘You think that would be a bad thing, do you?’

‘Well, it would mean… it’s better than if… well, you know, if someone wanted to move away from home but they didn’t want to move too far, my place isn’t very far.’

‘Frank, that’s one of the most stupid things I’ve ever heard you come out with—and that’s saying something. What the hell are you going on about?’

‘I just meant we wouldn’t be able to visit you much if I didn’t live so close.’

‘ “
We”?’ Arthur repeated suspiciously. ‘Who’s “we”?’

‘It’s… I meant “I”.’

‘You’re not going to start bringing your brother as well to eat me out of house and home? I seem to be feeding you half the time lately.’

‘No, no, Ben doesn’t like visiting, even if I wanted him to. I’d miss being able to come and see you if it wasn’t so handy.’

‘But Frank,’ Arthur said, in the tone of one explaining things to a very stupid child, ‘if you didn’t live close you wouldn’t know me, would you? You would never have started hanging around my place. So you wouldn’t miss it, would you?’

‘No, that’s true. It’s lucky really, isn’t it? I learn a lot from talking to you. It’s really good.’

Arthur stopped walking for a moment. ‘Frank,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘you might think I’m old, but I’m not stupid.’

‘I don’t think you’re stupid. Ah, I don’t think you’re old, either,’ he added hastily.

‘I know I’m not the attraction, Frank. You’re after something, all right, but it’s not my advice.’ He started walking again.

Frank knew that was an opening. ‘I… I did want to ask you something,’ he plunged in, then his courage failed him.

‘What do you want to ask?’

‘I wondered if… how much hay do you feed out at this time of year?’

‘What sort of a question is that? It depends on the weather, if the grass is growing or not, not to mention how many cows I’ve got.’

‘Oh. Yes, I see. Thanks.’

‘Do you think my cows don’t look as though I feed them enough?’ Arthur demanded.

‘No, I mean yes, of course they do. I just wondered.’

Arthur grunted. ‘If you think I don’t know what I’m doing, I’d appreciate it if you said so outright instead of dropping hints. Then I could
argue
about it,’ he said, fixing Frank with a steady gaze.

Frank considered again whether Lizzie’s wrath would be harder to face than her father’s. Lizzie might cry. Yes, she would cry. That would be worse. Maybe.

‘I think you know what you’re doing. I’m sure you know,’ he amended miserably. This was not going well. ‘I wanted to ask you something else,’ he said, wishing his voice would not quaver so alarmingly.

‘Some more advice, you mean.’

‘Yes. No. Yes,’ he said, giving in to his fear again. ‘About, um, fencing. Yes, that was it, fencing.’ Frank knew fencing was the wrong subject to pick as soon as he had said it.

‘I’ve already told you all I know about fencing. If you choose not to take any notice of what I say, that’s your look-out.’

‘No, I didn’t mean fencing. I meant—’

‘Don’t expect me to waste any more of my time telling you things if you don’t take any notice. You’d learn more by getting on and doing a bit of work around your farm instead of hanging around here all the time.’

‘I do—I’ve been getting a lot done lately. I just like coming here, too.’

‘I’ll have to start charging you board if you keep coming for meals.’

‘Mrs Leith said I could.’ That was the wrong thing to say, too, Frank knew.

‘So you think my wife rules me, do you? Or are you trying to make trouble between me and her? Well, you’re wrong, Frank. I run this house, even if those women think they do. Understand?’

‘No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just sort of thought it was all right with you, too. Is it all right?’ he added, dreading the answer.

‘Oh, you’re asking me now, are you? A bit late, isn’t it?’ Arthur knocked the top off a thistle with a vicious swing of his stick. ‘I suppose it is. Especially since my womenfolk seem to enjoy your company so much.’

Frank said nothing, and they walked on in silence for a few minutes.

‘You’ve gone very quiet all of a sudden, Frank. You had plenty to say for yourself before. Haven’t you got any more questions? No one else in your family who needs feeding up?’

‘Well… there was one more thing, Mr Leith.’ If he could only pluck up his courage to say it. He tried to ignore Arthur’s stick. It was a particularly sturdy looking stick.

‘Spit it out, then. Not another stupid question, I hope.’

Why did it have to be today? He had never seen Arthur as grumpy as he seemed to be this afternoon. Would Lizzie really be upset if he left it for another day? Yes, she would. She’d be terribly upset, and she wouldn’t trust him any more.

Frank shut his eyes for a moment and fixed in his mind the picture of Lizzie beaming at him in delight. The way she had looked when he had asked her to marry him. Before the momentary burst of courage that gave him could fail, he blurted out, ‘I want to marry Lizzie.’

‘What?’ Arthur sounded thunderstruck. Frank took a step backwards out of his range. ‘You want to marry my daughter?’

It was too late to deny it. ‘Yes,’ Frank said.

‘What can you offer her?’

Frank felt on surer ground now. ‘Well, I’ve got a half-share in the farm. Pa left it to Ben and me equally. Our farm’s four hundred acres.’

‘What did it earn last year?’

‘Eh?’

‘Your farm—what were your income and outgoings last year?’

‘Oh.’ Frank got a sinking feeling. ‘I couldn’t say, just like that. But… but there’s always plenty to eat. I could keep her all right.’

‘Keep her? I want more for my daughter than living on bread and butter. Could you provide for her properly?’

‘I… I think so.’ What was ‘properly’? he wondered.

‘What if I say Lizzie’s better off staying home? Why should I let you take her?’

‘I’m very fond of her.’ Frank wished that didn’t sound so feeble.

‘Fond? Fond!’ Arthur scoffed. ‘
 
“Fond” won’t give you a full belly, will it?’

‘No.’ Frank looked at his feet. ‘Lizzie wants to,’ he tried.

‘You asked her first, did you?’ Arthur pounced. ‘Before you asked me?’

‘Yes,’ Frank confessed. ‘But I’m asking you now.’ Arthur didn’t answer. ‘I guess you’re going to say no,’ Frank said resignedly, wondering how he was going to tell Lizzie. At least he had tried. At least Arthur hadn’t hit him.

‘Even if you could provide for her, she’s too young,’ Arthur said, startling Frank with his sudden shift of argument. ‘How old are you, anyway?’

‘I’m twenty-two.’

‘That’s barely old enough to know your own mind. You’re not trifling with my daughter, are you? What have you been up to with her?’

‘Trifling? No! I think a lot of Lizzie.’ He steeled himself for one last attempt, and made himself look Arthur in the face as he spoke. ‘Mr Leith, I want to marry your daughter. I want to do the best I can for her. It mightn’t be much, but I want to do it. Will you let me?’

‘Lizzie’s only seventeen. That’s too young to get married. She thinks she’s a grown woman, but she’s not.’

This seemed to Frank a much weaker argument. He thought Arthur sounded less fierce now. ‘She won’t be seventeen for ever,’ he said carefully.

‘No, she won’t,’ Arthur agreed. Frank almost thought there was the hint of a smile playing around the edges of Arthur’s mouth. ‘You can have her when she’s eighteen.’

‘I can?’ Frank stared at Arthur until he realised his mouth was hanging open. ‘I… thank you, Mr Leith, thank you!’ he said, almost breathless with relief. He grinned broadly as he shook Arthur by the hand.

‘You’d better go and tell her you didn’t make a complete hash of it,’ Arthur said. ‘Go on, she’ll want a full report.’

Frank nodded, and he turned to run up to the house.

‘Oh, Frank,’ Arthur said, stopping Frank in his tracks. Had Arthur changed his mind again so quickly?

‘Yes, Mr Leith?’

Arthur sighed and shook his head. ‘I thought you were never going to ask.’

*

Amy carried the last dish of vegetables to the table and sat down quickly, anxious to get her guilty bulge under the shelter of the overhanging tablecloth. The exertion had brought on a coughing fit, which she smothered as well as she could. She wished her seat was not so close to Susannah’s.

‘Well, I can’t get over Arthur letting Lizzie get married,’ Jack said as he helped himself to the food. ‘She’s only a child.’

‘I do wish you’d stop going on about that girl, Jack,’ said Susannah. ‘You’ve hardly talked of anything else the last three weeks. Can’t we eat our dinner in peace?’

‘I just can’t get over it, that’s all. She’s only sixteen—’

‘Seventeen, Pa. Lizzie’s seventeen,’ Amy put in. She regretted having spoken as soon as she saw the eyes of her family on her. She concentrated on her food until she sensed they had looked away.

‘Is she? I thought she was sixteen. Anyway, that’s still too young.’

‘She’s not getting married till next year,’ Susannah said. ‘Do we have to hear about it every day between now and April? What does it matter, anyway?’

‘She’s too young to know her own mind.’

Susannah pursed her lips. ‘That girl has always struck me as knowing her mind quite well. Anyway, what difference does it make to her? She’s going to move a couple of miles down this horrible valley to another draughty house. It’s not as if she knows any better life.’ She glared at her husband.

‘I’d forgotten she was that much older than you, Amy,’ Jack said. Seeing his eyes on her made Amy nervous, and she coughed again. Although she tried to muffle it with her hand, her father looked anxious. ‘You’ve got a nasty cough there, girl,’ he said, frowning.

‘It’s just a tickle in my throat.’

‘It doesn’t sound like just a tickle. It sounds like a real hacking cough. Susannah, can’t you look after her better?’

‘What am I supposed to do?’ Susannah demanded. ‘I’m not a nurse. Haven’t I got enough to do, running this house and looking after the children? She’s got a cough, it’s nothing to make a fuss about.’

‘I hate hearing that noise, like you’re struggling for breath.’

‘Amy, try and make less noise,’ Susannah said with heavy sarcasm. ‘You’re annoying your father.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She smothered the next cough.

‘Can I have some more butter?’ John asked. Amy fetched it from the bench, then hurried back to her chair and the cover of the tablecloth. Susannah was looking at her with a puzzled expression.

‘I suppose she’ll want you to be a bridesmaid, Amy,’ Jack said. Amy looked at him in alarm.

‘I don’t think so, Pa.’

‘Why not? You’ve always been like sisters.’

‘I… I don’t know. Maybe she will.’

Jack smiled affectionately at her. ‘At least I’m not going to lose you for a long time, am I? I know you’re too young to be interested in getting married.’ Amy said nothing as she struggled against both tears and another cough.

‘Stop talking like that, Jack,’ Susannah complained. ‘Really, you do talk a lot of nonsense to Amy. No wonder she’s so difficult for me to manage.’

‘I’m just saying I’m glad she won’t be rushing off getting married for years yet,’ said Jack.

Amy felt a sob rising up in her throat. It came out as a cough. ‘I… I’m not very hungry tonight,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I want any more of my dinner.’

‘Can I have yours?’ Harry said promptly.

Amy pushed her plate over to her brother, then stood up. ‘I’ll just go and do some sewing for a while, I’ll come out and do the dishes later.’
When you’ve all gone into the parlour
.

‘You should eat your dinner, girl,’ Jack said. ‘You need your food, especially when you’re not well.’

‘But I’m not hungry, Pa.’ She longed to escape from the room, but she couldn’t walk away while her father was speaking to her.