Convict Queen Page 5

  'There was some sort o' trouble, I 'eard. With the young master where she worked.'

  They nodded with understanding.

  'Trouble. The usual. But girls gettin' above 'emselves, working in posh 'ouses, know what to expect. Sewing maid, indeed!'

  'No better than she ought, nay doubt.'

  'An' Mr Gough's wife is heavy with child.'

  'An' now her's workin' at the Sun. We know what that means. No respectable lass would work in a tavern.'

  They pursed their lips and moved away. Morgan watched Molly as she, her parents and brothers crossed the stream and took the path towards Corfton. He wanted to get to know her. And if she proved to be the sort of girl they suggested, that was fine by him. So far he hadn't been able to tempt any of the girls in Diddlebury to give him more than a kiss and a discreet fumble.

  As he entered the taproom the drinkers there looked up and there was a lull in the conversation. Then someone laughed, and Mr Cound slapped his hand on the table.

  'Another young ram sniffin' around,' he chortled. 'You must have doubled your takings since young Molly worked here, John.'

  Morgan blushed, but stood his ground. A couple of the younger men took pity on him and beckoned him over to the table where they sat. Thankfully he joined them, pulled up a stool, and tried to behave nonchalantly when Molly appeared at his elbow. He ordered a pint of ale, and tried not to look at her swaying hips as she went towards the bar, dodging the men who reached out to pat her rump. He had made the first contact. Next Sunday, after church, he could speak to her, perhaps persuade her to walk a little way with him. He'd bide his time, but he'd taken the first important step.

  *

  Molly found the last of the eggs under the hedge beside the lane, where one of the oldest hens chose to lay them. She was about to enter the cottage when she paused. William Gough was walking up the lane towards her.

  'Molly, is your father around?'

  'He's just getting his tools. Mr Maebury wants some job done.'

  William nodded, and sat down on the bench outside the doorway. 'I'll wait for him. I'll not keep him long.'

  Molly went past him and put the eggs carefully into the basket her mother had woven from willow fronds. At this time of year they were doubly precious, as only a couple of the hens were laying.

  David Jones was putting a hammer into his pocket. He picked up his cap and went outside. He left the door open and Molly, who had started to chop vegetables for the stew, could hear him greet William Gough.

  'Can I help?' he asked, and Molly knew he was hoping Mr Gough had come to offer him some work. It seemed unlikely. She'd done the rounds of all the farms within walking distance, and knew there was nothing available for casual labourers like herself and her father.

  'I want to ask your Molly if she'll come and look after young Will, just for a few months, until Elizabeth's back on her feet. She's finding it hard this time round, and needs help.'

  Molly stopped chopping and held her breath. This was the sort of job she'd not even contemplated. Few farming folk in Corvedale could afford to employ more than one maid.

  'You'd best ask 'er,' her father said. 'I'd be glad fer the lass to take anything. I don't like her working at the Sun. I'm needed there now, mending broken stools.'

  'I heard there'd been a bit of a brawl last night, some of the Diddlebury lads, wasn't it?'

  'Johnny Cound started it. Just because 'e thought one of the Diddlebury lot was bein' too familiar with Molly. None of 'is business.'

  'Elizabeth thinks he's sweet on her.'

  David laughed. 'Well, 'e's got his work cut out! She can't abide 'im. But she seems to be getting friendly with William Morgan.'

  'The blacksmith?'

  'Aye. And he packs a punch. Johnny went flying, three stools broke, as well as a bloody nose for him.'

  'So you would be agreeable?'

  'Ask Molly. It's her choice, but I suspect she'll be glad of it. Must go, or Mr Maebury will be after me.'

  Molly went to the door and stood looking down at William Gough. 'I heard that,' she said quietly.

  'And will you come? I've noticed you don't enjoy working in the tap room. Elizabeth knows you, the pair of you should get on. And you know Fanny, don't you?'

  'Known her all my life. What would you want me to do?'

  'Look after young Will, mainly. He's so lively he exhausts Elizabeth. Fanny will do the housework and she'll enjoy doing the cooking, which Elizabeth used to do. Elizabeth needs help for three months, and afterwards I can give you plenty of farm work.'

  Molly thought quickly. 'Would you give me a reference so's I can get another job as a maid?'

  'You want to work in Ludlow again?'

  Molly couldn't suppress a shudder. 'No, not there. But I could try Shrewsbury, perhaps. Well, would you give me a character?'

  'Elizabeth will. So can you help me now?

  Surely not all employers were like the Lewis family. She'd try to find work where there were only old men or women on their own. And then her mother would be happy, and know she'd be safe. 'Thanks. Yes, I'll come. When d'you want me?'

  'Today, if you can.'

  'I'll let Mr Maebury know and be over after dinner. Do you want me to sleep in?'

  William looked over her shoulder at the small room. There was one other, even smaller, beyond it.

  'You haven't much room here,' he said. 'And it would be useful if you were there if Will wakes in the night. He sometimes has nightmares.'

  Molly watched him walk away down the hill. Then she did a triumphant little jig. This was much better than slaving in Ludlow. She liked the little boy, and she was sure she and Elizabeth would get on. And Mr Gough had offered her more money than she'd been getting in Ludlow. This time there was no Mrs Lewis to deduct most of it on the pretence of breakages or poorly done work. She'd be able to give all of it to Ma. For now, though, she'd finish preparing the potato soup, then tell Ma, who was digging in their small vegetable garden. Then she'd have the pleasure of telling John Maebury she was no longer free to work for him. And with a good reference from Elizabeth Gough she'd be able to find work in a decent house somewhere.

  *

  'You've hired Molly Jones?' Elizabeth demanded. 'But there's no need. I was just tired, that day you found me in bed.'

  It was dinnertime and they were eating the mutton pie Elizabeth had made that morning.

  'And you've been trying hard not to show it since then. But you are tired, Elizabeth. Will's so energetic, he exhausts you.'

  Elizabeth admitted to herself that making the pastry had been almost too much for her, but she was reluctant to say so to William. She didn't want him to think her weak and incapable of managing their home and family. 'I don't want somebody else looking after Will.'

  'She'll just be here to help you, sweetheart. You can do as much as you want, but if you feel tired again you can go and sleep without feeling guilty. You must keep your strength ready for when the baby comes. It won't be long now.'

  Elizabeth knew deep in her heart that he was right. She'd been feeling ill for weeks now, and it had been a struggle to do all her usual jobs. Fanny had taken over some of them, and her mother came frequently and tried to look after Will, but these visits were more stressful than looking after him herself would have been. Mrs Wellings expected him to behave like a child twice his age. She never played with him, and was always chiding him for making too much noise, or running around too fast. When, as inevitably happened, he fell over and hurt his knees, instead of comfort she would scold him and point out that he would not have been hurt if he'd been playing with the nice rag doll she'd brought, which had once been his mother's.

  The resulting tears and tantrums made Mrs Wellings even more critical of Will, and of Elizabeth herself for not bringing him up in the way she had suggested. At least Molly Jones was younger, and would have no right to tell Elizabeth what to do with her son.

  When Molly knocked on the kitchen door an hour later Elizabeth smiled in welco
me. She'd see how it went, and if she didn't like the arrangement she would persuade William to change his mind.

  Molly looked apprehensive. 'Do you really want me?' she asked bluntly.

  Elizabeth swallowed the desire to say she didn't. She needed Molly, or William might find an even less welcome solution. 'I think you'll be a help, just while I have this baby and get back to normal.'

  Molly nodded. 'It must be hard if you can't look after your own child, but I'm here to do what you tell me. Ma told me some posh nannies lay down the law and won't even let the parents play with their children, except at certain times. I'm not a posh nanny. If I'm in the way just kick me out.'

  Elizabeth laughed. She liked Molly's attitude. 'I don't think I could at the moment. I'm too ungainly.'

  It would be all right, she realised with a sigh of relief. Molly was sensible.

  Over the next few days she accepted that William had been right. Molly did a great deal, but unobtrusively, and never seemed to be in the way. Will took a liking to her, and Elizabeth was happy to leave them alone while she rested. Sometimes, it seemed, they were more like sisters than mistress and maid, giggling together over all sorts of silly things. Molly told her about life in Broad Street, and Elizabeth was alternately shocked and amused, for Molly was a good mimic.

  They were teaching Will his letters one afternoon when, without knocking, Mrs Pearce walked into the kitchen.

  'I heard you were here,' Mrs Pearce said to Molly. 'John Maebury wasn't best pleased when you walked out of your job at the Sun. But no doubt playing with a child's easier work than the taproom.'

  'Yes, it is,' Molly said.

  Elizabeth, indignant on Molly's behalf, was about to list all the jobs Molly now did for her, but Molly shook her head slightly, and Elizabeth subsided.

  'What can I do for you, Mrs Pearce?' she asked instead

  'I wondered if you'd need some help, at the birth. It's comforting to have an older, experienced woman around at that time.'

  'My mother will be here, but thank you. I'm sure we'll manage. especially as Molly can take Will out of the way.'

  'And I'm used ter running up and down stairs with jugs of water,' Molly said, glancing pointedly at Mrs Pearce's comfortably plump body.

  Mrs Pearce flushed with anger. 'Then I'll leave you to your many tasks!' she said and flounced away.

  'They say she drove her first husband into his grave, and Mr Pearce sometimes looks very harassed,' Elizabeth said when Mrs Pearce was out of earshot.

  Molly laughed. 'Ma once said she'd set her cap at your William, before he wed you. And she wasn't the only one with a husband who'd have enjoyed a roll in the hay with him!'

  *

  On the following day Molly was pleased when Elizabeth said she felt stronger than she had for some time. Her presence was helping.

  'I have a sudden urge to walk up the hill and visit the chapel,' Elizabeth said in the middle of the morning. 'We were married there.'

  'St Bartholemew's? D'you think you ought? It's quite a steep climb over the Mount.'

  'I can go round. That way's not so steep, and it's only five minutes.'

  Molly was reluctant, but agreed. 'I'll come with you, just in case you fall.'

  They were setting out when Dinah Green arrived.

  'Elizabeth, my dear, you look better than when I last saw you.'

  'Blame Molly. She does all my work for me, she even makes the butter and cheese now, and I'm a lady of leisure.'

  'But I can't walk up the hill for her,' Molly said ruefully, and explained where they were going.

  'I'll come too. I brought some baby clothes for you, Elizabeth. Just a little dress and bonnet. I'll take them into the kitchen and catch you up.'

  They were standing at the end of the field, looking up at the mound which had once been a castle, when she rejoined them.

  'I wonder what it would have been like living up there?' Elizabeth said. 'It was built by the Normans, wasn't it, hundreds of years ago?'

  'Probably,' Dinah agreed. 'There are castles all over Corvedale, and the Marches. The Kings wanted to control the peasants, and prevent the Welsh from invading. They sold any strong men they captured to the Irish as slaves, you know.'

  Molly chuckled. 'Mr Hawkins is always telling folk about the old days. He said archers used to practise here. That little ridge round the field was once a fence to keep out the enemy, and they could bring all the people and the animals inside if there was a raid. I'm glad I didn't live in those times.'

  'I don't suppose it was all bad,' Dinah said. 'It must have been rather exciting when there were visitors to the castle, such as troubadours or other entertainers.'

  As they talked about what life in the castles must have been like, they had climbed the slope. Will had raced ahead, and was sitting on the grass staring up at the squat bell tower of the tiny chapel. Elizabeth, Molly was relieved to see, did not seem unduly tired from the climb. It would be easier going down.

  *

  William Morgan went to the Sun on several evenings after he'd finished work, but Molly was never there, and eventually he discovered she had taken a job looking after Elizabeth Gough's little boy.

  'Ye can't go courtin' yer lass there,' old Mr Hawkins said, chuckling.

  'I'm not courtin' 'er!' William replied, while knowing he would be so doing if he had the chance.

  'She's a frigid bitch,' Johnny Cound said, and hastily ducked away as he saw William clench his fists.

  'Turned yer down, did she, lad?' another of the regulars asked, and there was a general laugh. Johnny blushed, but William wasn't taking any notice. He was too busy thinking.

  Molly nearly always went to church, he could meet her there next Sunday, and perhaps walk home with her. If she was working for the Goughs, she'd be with them and not her family. That might give him an opportunity to talk to her afterwards.

  To his delight, she was there on the following Sunday. He tried not to look at her too hard, in case it was noticed, or she herself felt something. He paid no attention to the service, instead he gazed up at the memorial plaques. Most were, he'd been told, to the Baldwyn family, but as he had never been interested in learning to read he couldn't decipher the words.

  Afterwards he escaped as soon as he could, and stood just beyond the lych gate. He could watch the worshippers leaving the church, and soon he saw William Gough, holding Elizabeth's arm, and followed by Fanny and Molly. Molly was carrying the child, who seemed to be asleep. William didn't blame him. He barely understood the sermons, so lord knows what a child made of them.

  As the small party came under the lych gate and paused to talk to Elizabeth's parents, William moved forward.

  'Molly, I dain't know you'd changed your job.'

  'Why should you?'

  She hitched the child higher in her arms, and William stretched out his own arms. 'Let me take him. He's too 'eavy for you.'

  'I'm all right, don't fuss! I can manage him. I expect he'll wake soon, and then he'll want to run all the way home. Beats me where little ones get their energy from.'

  'Er, Molly – '

  She looked at him, tilting her head to one side, and he wanted to put his arms round her and kiss her. He'd have done it, too, if she didn't have the child in her arms.

  'What?'

  'I – I wanted to ask you, will yer come out for a walk with me? This afternoon. You won't be working then, will you?'

  She shook her head and his heart gave a leap of excitement.

  'I can't come,' she said, and he couldn't find a trace of regret in her voice. 'I must stay near Mrs Gough. Her time's near. She could have the baby at any time. I can't leave her.'

  'Oh. Well, perhaps another day.'

  *

  'How long is it going to take?'

  Molly looked at him, wondering if all fathers took on so when their wives were giving birth. He'd pushed his hands through his hair so many times it was standing up, a fiery circle around his head. He hadn't shaved that morning, and his whiskers w
ere much darker than his hair, almost black. She'd noticed that before with red-haired men.

  'It won't be long now,' she said, though in truth she didn't know how long women might be in labour. Elizabeth had woken at six, and it was now late evening. William had eaten nothing all day, despite her urgings. He'd drunk ale, and as dusk fell he'd opened a bottle of brandy. Half of that was gone and in between frantic striding to and fro William sat slumped against the kitchen table, his head resting on his hands. Molly privately thought Elizabeth might have had a better use for the brandy. It didn't seem to be calming William much.

  She'd been kept busy looking after Will, but he, thank goodness, was now in bed and fast asleep. She'd taken so many jugs of water up to the bedroom she'd lost count. Mrs Wellings and the local woman who acted as midwife had not permitted her, an unmarried girl, inside the room, and all she could hear when they opened the door to her was Elizabeth moaning occasionally. She couldn't give William any news, despite his constant demands to know how his wife was.

  'You must have something to eat,' she said now, and banged a platter down in front of him. 'Here's some bread. Elizabeth baked it yesterday. And some of your favourite cheese.'

  'I can't eat a thing.'

  'You must, or you won't be able to climb the stairs when they tell you it's over and you can go and see them. You don't want to breathe brandy fumes all over Elizabeth, do you? And it wouldn't do the baby any good, either!'

  He laughed, the first laugh she'd heard all day. 'Oh, Molly, how glad I am to have you here. You're keeping me sane.'

  Molly cut a slice of bread and handed it to him. He cut a chunk of cheese, balanced it on the bread, and began to eat. He was ravenous, and silently Molly cut more bread.

  As he reached for it there was a timid knock on the door. William didn't hear it, but Molly slipped across and went outside. One of the farm hands, the cowman, was standing in the yard.

  'Oh, Miss, is the master there?'

  'Yes, but he's staying there. What do yer want?'

  'Can you ask him what I'm to do about Daisy?'

  'Daisy?'

  'One of the milkers. She's got blisters on – on – well, Miss, you know.'