The Miller's Daughter (18 page)

Emma shook her head. ‘Oh, Leonard, it’s kind of you, but I can’t. I can’t leave here. There’s no one to mind the shop now, let alone—’

His generous, expansive mood was gone in an instant. ‘Oh, very well, then. Have it your own way. But I shall take my mother. You’re not going to turn her into a drudge too.’ He
turned and strode towards the back door, flung it open, sending it crashing back and then marched across the yard towards the gate.

Emma bit her lip. He was running back to his mother, to be cosseted and pampered and spoilt like the small boy that he still was, she thought resentfully.

She took a deep breath. ‘Well,’ she said aloud to the empty kitchen. ‘Looks like there’s no help coming from that direction, m’girl, or from Bridget today.’
With a sigh, she turned and went through to the shop, leaving her fancy new clothes lying in their boxes on the kitchen table.

The days passed and Emma still felt sick all the time, especially when she first rose in the half-light of the early hours to drag herself downstairs into the bakehouse. It
persisted every morning, until white-faced, she went to see Sarah.

‘Can’t you persuade Luke to let you come back at least?’ she said without preamble as she allowed herself to be ushered into the kitchen of the small cottage and pressed into a
chair at the table. ‘Bridget’s a willing soul, but she’s no idea. She spends most of the time chatting and laughing with the customers, and although William’s been a brick
coming to help first thing in the morning, it just isn’t the same.’

‘And what’s ya dad had to say about
that
?’

‘A Metcalfe coming to the mill, you mean?’

Sarah nodded.

Emma pulled a wry face. ‘He hasn’t
said
anything, but if looks could kill.’

The older woman shook her head. ‘Aye, I know. But sit down a minute, lass. You look done in. Eh, I feel so guilty, but my Luke’s adamant. We’re not to set foot inside the mill
or the bakehouse – either of us – till ya dad apologizes.’

‘Then we’ll all be waiting a long time.’ She gave a groan and dropped her head on to her arms as they lay folded on the table. ‘Oh Sarah,’ she mumbled. ‘If
only I didn’t feel so sick all the time.’

‘Eh? What’s that you say?’ Sarah was patting her arm. ‘Look at me, Emma.’

Slowly Emma raised her white face and looked up into the older woman’s face. She knew there were dark smudges of weariness beneath her eyes and her skin, normally glowing with health and
vitality, had given way to a white, unhealthy pallor. She felt so bone-weary she could cry and indeed, under Sarah’s kindly scrutiny, tears sprang to Emma’s eyes. To her surprise,
however, Sarah was smiling.

‘You’re expecting, Emma lass. That’s what’s the matter with you.’

Emma’s eyes were large and brilliant against the paleness of her skin. Stupidly she stuttered, ‘You mean – a baby?’

Sarah nodded. ‘Yes, lass. A baby. You’re going to have a baby. Why, it’s not so surprising, is it?’

‘Well, no, I suppose not. But . . .’ She stopped and was silent whilst she took in all that this meant.

A child. She was going to have a child. And that child could be a boy. A grandson for Harry Forrest.

Suddenly, without needing to be told, she knew what the deal – or at least part of it – had been between her father and Leonard Smith. ‘Marry my daughter and give me a
grandson.’ But what had Leonard got out of the deal in return, she wondered, apart from the promise of the mill? A mill he did not seem to have any interest in at all. So, Emma pondered,
there must have been something else. She could not begin to guess what that had been, but obviously it had appealed to Leonard, it had been sufficient to bribe the young man to marry her and
produce a grandson for Harry; a future heir for the mill who would have Forrest blood in his veins. Unbidden, the thought thrust its way into her mind; that at the same time, her father’s
plan had prevented the mill from ever passing into the hands of the Metcalfe family. In one ‘deal’ Harry Forrest had brought about the two things he wanted most. But what, Emma still
wondered, had he promised Leonard Smith in return? What was Leonard getting out of it now?

‘Aren’t you pleased, lass? You seem very quiet.’ Sarah’s question interrupted her thoughts.

Emma forced a smile on to her lips. ‘Yes, yes, of course I am. I was just thinking, that’s all.’

‘Now don’t you go thinking about what happened to ya mam,’ Sarah patted her hand, misinterpreting Emma’s preoccupied thoughts completely. ‘You’re built
differently to ya mam. Childbearing hips you’ve got, me lass, an’ no mistake. Ya mam was thin and delicate, not really made for it at all. No, you’ll be fine. And besides –
’ Sarah’s grin broadened, ‘I’ll be there when ya time comes, don’t you worry.’

‘Really?’ Emma looked up at her. ‘Will you come?’

‘Couldn’t keep me away. Ne’er mind these stupid men and their quarrels.’ She thought a moment and then said, ‘’Sides, this puts a different light on all that
anyway. We can’t let you go on trying to cope with all that work yasen. You leave it with me, Emma.’ Again she patted Emma’s arm. ‘I’ll speak to Luke.’

Emma hid her smile. Despite the fact that Sarah always led everyone to believe she obeyed and deferred to her husband in all things, the truth was that in reality she twisted the older man
around her little finger. It had been a surprise to Emma that Sarah had not persuaded Luke to return to work before now.

‘Oh, Sarah,’ Emma said thankfully. ‘What would I do without you?’

Sarah smiled and moved towards the back door and reached down her coat. ‘I won’t be a minute. There’s just something I have to do.’ Before Emma could speak again, Sarah
had lifted the latch on the back door and hurried out. Through the window, Emma saw her scurrying towards the orchard.

Tears of laughter ran down Emma’s face. ‘Oh, Sarah, Sarah,’ she murmured.

Even before her own husband or her father knew of Emma’s forthcoming ‘happy event’, the bees would be informed.

Her husband was the first person to hear the news from Emma. He smiled, put his arms about her shoulders and kissed her forehead. ‘Why, you clever girl. Your father will
be delighted.’

She watched him carefully. ‘What about you, Leonard? Are you pleased?’

‘Of course I am.’ Deliberately, it seemed to her, he puffed out his chest. ‘Any man likes to sire a child, especially if it’s a boy.’ Then he threw back his head
and laughed. ‘Though I’m not so sure my mother will like being a
grandmother
.’

Emma felt her mouth twitching at the thought of the glamorous, flirtatious Bridget Smith becoming a grandmother. She was hardly everyone’s picture of a typical grandmother.

‘But she’ll spoil it rotten,’ he was saying. ‘Mind you, I expect she’d like a girl to dress up in pretty clothes, but your father . . .’

He left the words unspoken, but Emma murmured, ‘Yes, my father . . .’

They both knew full well what Harry Forrest would want the child to be.

‘A son! A grandson!’

Emma watched her father’s face. The deep, perpetual frown on his forehead lightened and his mouth stretched into a wide, genuine grin. ‘My dear girl . . .’ He held out his arms
and came towards her, enveloping her awkwardly in his embrace.

She could not remember when she had last seen her father quite so happy. Even his satisfaction at her marriage did not come close to his delight now. Emma stood rigidly, so unused to such a
display of affection from him, that she did not know how to respond.

‘I’m glad you’re pleased,’ she said faintly.

‘Pleased? I’ll say I’m pleased. At last, an heir for Forrest’s Mill.’

‘Father, I’m only two or three months gone. And it – it may not be a boy.’

‘Of course it’ll be a boy.’ He rubbed his hands together, refusing to be thwarted in his hopes, not this time. ‘At last,’ he said again, more to himself than to his
daughter. ‘Old Charlie’s dreams will come true. I shan’t have failed him after all.’

Oh, Father, Emma moaned silently. Don’t get your hopes up so much. It could all end in bitter disappointment. But she kept these thoughts to herself, not wanting to spoil the moment either
for her father or for herself. It was something she wanted to savour.

‘Have you told Leonard yet?’

‘Yes, yes, I told him just before he went away.’ She paused, remembering how it had been Harry Forrest’s anticipated delight that had been Leonard’s first thought, rather
than his own pleasure at becoming a father.

She looked up quickly. ‘Father, do
you
know just what his business is?’

Harry Forrest avoided her questioning gaze. ‘Oh – er – I dunno. A bit o’ this and a bit o’ that. Ya know.’

‘No,’ Emma said quietly. ‘That’s exactly it. I don’t know.’

‘Women shouldn’t trouble their pretty heads about such things.’ He waved his hand dismissively in the air. ‘You’ve got enough to do, lass, and now you’ll soon
have a babby.’ He beamed again. ‘You leave Leonard to his own affairs. He’s a good husband, ain’t he?’

Slowly, she said, ‘Well, yes, I suppose so . . .’

‘There you are, then. You be a good wife – and mother.’ Now there was a note of pride in his voice. ‘That’s all I – we – ask of you.’

She looked at him sharply, but her father had turned away saying over his shoulder, ‘You’ll have to stop doing so much of the heavy work now, Emma.’

She opened her mouth to retort ‘And how do you expect me to do that when you’ve sacked Luke?’ but instead, she said with deliberate casualness, ‘Why don’t you ask
Leonard to help out in the mill?’

Her father swung round, the frown back on his face. ‘Now you leave things be, Emma. You hear me? You’re still my daughter and this is still my house. You’ll do as I say.
Leonard’s all right. He wants no part in the running of the mill. I’ve told you that ’afore. Don’t keep going on about it, girl. It was all agreed ’afore you was
wed—’ Harry stopped abruptly, as if his sharpness had almost led him to let slip more than he intended.

‘Was it indeed?’ Emma’s eyes narrowed. ‘And what exactly was agreed?’

He stabbed his forefinger towards her. ‘It’s nowt to do with you. It’s between him and me. I’ve told you, you attend to your womanly duties. The home and your child. I
want a grandson, Emma, and you’d better not do anything to cheat me of one.’ He turned and left the house, banging the door behind him.

There! It was said. His joy was not really for her. All he wanted, all he had ever wanted, was a boy-child to fulfil old Charlie’s dreams.

‘Luke, won’t you come back to work? Please? We really can’t manage without you or Sarah. You know full well we can’t.’

They were standing in the middle of the yard, all five of them: Emma, her father and Leonard, Luke and Sarah. There had been a moment’s awkwardness as, in an uncomfortable coincidence,
they had all come into the yard at the same moment. It was early one Monday morning. Leonard was about to leave for Lincoln and Emma was walking with him to the gate. Harry, too, had paused to bid
his son-in-law goodbye before he crossed the yard to begin work in the mill. At that moment, Luke and Sarah appeared from the orchard and began to cross the yard towards the gate before they
realized the presence of the other three. Seizing the moment, Emma had greeted them as they made to pass by without a word.

Luke stopped and Sarah, her arm through his, was obliged to do so too. The older man’s glance flickered towards Harry Forrest. Slowly Luke answered her, but in a tone that made it obvious
to them all that he was in no way apologizing. ‘I will come back, aye, but only because of you, Emma.’ Luke shook his fist towards Harry and Leonard. ‘This poor lass’ll pull
’er guts out for the pair of you selfish beggars. Aye, an’ you’d both let ’er and all.’ His eyes turned towards Leonard. ‘I’ve no time for you, lad, as ya
probably know ’cos I reckon there’s more gone on between you and this new father-in-law of yours than any of us knows about.’

Emma saw the look that passed between her father and her husband and she wondered afresh. Luke’s sharp eyes had not missed the exchange either for as his tirade continued, he said,
‘Ya might well look at each other. Time you acted as a husband and stayed home of a night wi’out gallivanting off to the bright lights of the city. And as for you – ’ he
prodded his forefinger towards Harry Forrest, ‘you’ve never acted as a proper father to ’er, forever moping that you wanted a son.’

Harry’s scowl deepened. ‘And you have, I suppose?’

‘I care for Emma as if she were me own. Both me an’ my Sarah do. So, mek no mistake, Harry Forrest, it’s for ya girl’s sake I’m coming back to me work and for no
other reason. You hear me?’

‘And who ses I’ll have you back, eh?’

Before either of them could speak again, Emma said firmly. ‘I do.’

Harry raised his hand and pointed at her. ‘Now you listen here, m’girl . . .’ he began and then, as he met her steady, unflinching gaze, he faltered. His hand fell away and his
glance dropped lower, towards the slight roundness of her belly. With a grunt, he turned on his heel and walked towards the granary to start heaving sacks about in a temper.

Luke grinned wryly and set off towards the mill, leaving Leonard standing in the middle of the yard dressed in his smart suit, a red flower in his buttonhole and his hair, parted in the centre,
slicked down.

‘Silly old duffer,’ he muttered, then he turned, grinned broadly at Emma, pecked her on the cheek, set his Homburg at a jaunty angle on his head and said, ‘Well, I’d
better be off then. See you sometime, darlin’. Take good care of yourself – and our son.’

Emma watched as he walked towards the yard gate, a swagger in every step. He gave her a cheerful wave and set off up the road towards the market place, carrying the small suitcase that meant his
absence was going to be at least one night and, she was learning, probably even longer. She sighed. Obviously, Leonard had no intention of changing his ways. Luke’s words had certainly fallen
on deaf ears as far as her husband was concerned but at least Luke, and Sarah too, were back.

She held out her arms and, with tears in her eyes, said, ‘Oh, Sarah, Sarah, thank goodness!’