Not many womenfolk up in the High Peak,
Noah had said. It followed then that there would not be many babies either, not many children to labour on the land or in the farmhouses. Horrified, she realised that Noah meant to give her child away! No, not give, but sell. Her baby, once born, would be sold to some childless farmer for a lifetime of hardship and labour like his father before him. Of course! That was what Noah was planning for her. She could not let him do that! She would not. It was her child and she would not let anyone take him from her.
The ensuing nights were restless, for her baby was growing and soon her belly would become cumbersome. She took a lamp with her and kept it alight beside her for most of the night as she talked to her child, stroking her little bulge and repeating how much she loved him. Or her, she acknowledged. Alone in the small bedchamber when she heard Noah’s snoring through the walls, she took off her nightgown by the yellow glow and traced the blue veins in her white skin.
‘I won’t let anyone take you from me.You are my life now and I shall find a way to keep you,’ she promised.
She did not know how. She thought of running away, but she was too large to get any distance before she would be found and brought back. If Noah meant to sell her child he would not let her go until he had his payment. And if he didn’t drag her back she would as likely perish in the cold without shelter.
But, throughout all her despair, one thought kept her going. Patrick. Patrick was with her and part of her as his child in her womb. It did not matter where she went or what she did as long as she had Patrick’s child and that knowledge gave her strength, although she feared for the future and the unknown.
After the snows melted, the ground underfoot was slushy and muddy and no one ventured far. But Noah walked to church on Sunday and she wondered what he told them, for as the weather improved neither the vicar nor his sister called on her.
In Noah’s more approachable moods, when the work for the day was done and he had taken a little ale, but not enough to make him maudlin, she tried to find out more about his plans for her.
‘How shall we travel to the Peaks?’ she ventured. ‘It will be too long a journey on horseback in my circumstance.’
‘Aye, I’ve thought of that. I’ll be taking one of my fat stock to the innkeeper at Crosswell, so I’ll need the cart for his fodder ’til we get there. You can ride in the back with that.’
‘Shall I be staying at the inn?’ Quinta imagined the bullock might be payment for her keep, but Noah did not answer her. She poured him more ale and went out to the scullery. The journey would take much longer with a beast in tow but it would be more comfortable for her.
She went upstairs to finish packing her box with garments she had prepared for her baby and herself. The fresh aroma of clean linen after a blowing on the washing line cheered her. The days were growing longer and the sun’s rays had warmth in them at last.
Noah had insisted that she finish her plaited straw halter and he threw it on top of her box as they left in the cart. He took the Sheffield road that skirted the town and rose steeply towards the moors. The track climbed steadily, leaving behind furrowed fields and budding trees for the bleak heights of granite and scrub. The air became misty and damp and Noah had to get down from the cart to read the guideposts. They passed few houses and even fewer hamlets and spent the first night sheltering in an isolated barn with no hot food to warm them.
Quinta felt tired and cold the next day as soon as she woke. She had only spring water, oat biscuit and cold bacon for breakfast. The cart slithered and slipped down a steep incline until, quite suddenly, they were below the mist and the sun’s rays lit up the moors. Quinta turned her face to its warmth. She saw other carts and people on foot and shepherds with small flocks heading in the same direction. They were nearing their destination.
Crosswell did not sprawl in the way the town she knew in the South Riding did, but it was just as busy. She thought he would want to sell the beast first and maybe she could disappear into the throng while he was distracted, but her condition was noticeable and burdensome. He went directly to the inn and sent in a lad to fetch out the innkeeper. After a long wait he appeared, smartly dressed like a prosperous farmer, accompanied by a butcher who examined the beast.
‘Good stock, Noah.’
‘I sell to them that thinks they’re gentry in the South Riding. Mill owners and the like who don’t have the land like proper gentry. I’ve got some fodder left that you can take.’
‘Are you not putting him in the auction?’
‘I said I’d bring you one of my beasts next time I was round these parts and here he is.’
‘How much are you asking?’
Noah named his price, adding, ‘I want coin though, none of your fancy banknotes.’
‘I’ll have him. Townfolk hereabouts eat mostly sheep meat and they’re partial to a bit o’ beef.’
‘Aye, well, you can’t fatten beef like this on moorland.’
The butcher looked in the back of the cart. ‘Who’s the wench, Noah?’
‘She’s for the hiring fair.’
‘She looks in calf to me.’
‘Some passing gypsy had her. That’s why I want rid.’
‘How much are you asking for her?’
‘Five guineas.’
‘That’s a bit steep for a servant.’
‘I reckon Miss Banks’ll pay it for a wife for her Davey.’
Chapter 22
The butcher raised his eyebrows and glanced in her direction. ‘A wife? You wouldn’t do that to her, would you?’ He looked more closely. ‘Are you sure you want to sell her, Noah? She’s right bonny.’
‘Aye. She’d have been better for me if she weren’t.’
‘How come?’
‘Buy me a jug of ale and I’ll tell you.’
The butcher seemed interested in this prospect.‘Come inside, then.’
‘Just let me tie this one to the wagon and I’ll be with you.’
Quinta listened to this conversation in astonishment. She’d thought he was bringing her here to farm out her child and until now that had been her greatest fear. But he meant to be rid of her completely! She struggled to stop him binding her wrists with rope. ‘Noah! You can’t sell me like one of your beasts. I am not a servant. I’m your wife.’
‘Not after today, you’re not.You’ll be somebody else’s.You’ll not be deceiving me again. I’ll see to that.’
The two men continued their conversation as though she were not present.
‘Has Miss Banks come into town today?’ Noah asked.
‘She’s at the auction getting rid of her barren ewes.’
‘Is Davey with her?’
‘I’ve not seen him. He might have stayed on the moor with the early lambs. If he is here he’ll be with Amos. Amos lost most of his breeding ewes in that bad snow and he’s selling what’s left of his flock.’
‘Amos’ll be for hire, then?’
‘I think he’s fixed up.’
She sat huddled in the corner of Noah’s cart, her wrists burning from the rasp of the rope as she tried to free herself. Surely he was not really going to sell her at the hiring fair? And ask such a high price? No one around here could afford that anyway. Perhaps he only meant to frighten her? To show her that he could, and would, do this to her if she strayed again?
He was inside with the butcher for a long time and came out the worse for drink. But he untied her, picked up the straw halter and said, ‘Bring your box to stand on.’
It was the most appalling humiliation that Quinta had ever experienced, standing in a line of down-trodden, ill-dressed men and women to be prodded and picked over like the sheep in their pens waiting to be sold.The same farmers and butchers that leaned over the hurdles and poked fleeces with their staves walked past her using the same sticks to lift aside her straggling hair and stare into her face.
‘How much?’ one asked. But when Noah told him he moved on and Quinta was pathetically thankful for that. She was reassured that no one would buy her and Noah would leave her here in lodgings until her baby was born to learn her lesson. She began to hope for that, especially when a dark-bearded shepherd in a thick grubby country smock lingered, even when he knew her price, and hooked his crook under the bottom of her skirt, lifting it clear of her ankles.
She bent down to shake it free. ‘Stop him, Noah!’
‘Nay, lass. He has to look at what he’s buying.’ He grasped the folds of her skirt and lifted it higher. ‘Sturdy one, she is,’ he said.
He placed a cold hand around her calf and then slid it upwards to squeeze at her thigh. The straw halter was around his wrist and it fell heavily against her leg, snagging at her stockings.
‘Feel that. She’ll give you good service with a grand pair of legs like these. Got proven breeding an’ all in her, this one has. You can see that for yourself.’ He had his own staff in his other hand and he passed it over the curve of her stomach, flattening the folds of her skirt to show her bulge.
Quinta was mortified by his words and her heart started thumping. She might just be able to accept being sold as a servant to work as a housekeeper. But to imply that she might be bought to provide more children for some High Peak sheep farmer was too much to bear. She kept her eyes down as the shepherd lingered, grateful that he had more respect for her than Noah and refrained from touching her. She stole a glance at his face, met his piercing dark eyes and looked away hastily.
‘I’ll give you three guineas,’ he replied.
Noah shook his head and grimaced. ‘No deal,’ he said.
‘It is all I have.’ The shepherd moved on, closely followed by a black and white dog at his heels.
Quinta breathed out raggedly. She hadn’t realised how tense she had become and said to Noah, ‘Please let me get down now. I am very tired and no one here can pay your price. Take me where I am to stay to have my child. Please, Noah.’
It was the truth. Her baby was heavy in her belly and she was exhausted from standing there for what seemed like hours and from the anxiety of taking part in this humiliating spectacle.
‘I’ll get what I ask.You’ll see. Here comes Miss Banks. She’ll have heard about you from the inn.’
The prospect of being taken on by a woman cheered Quinta. But Miss Banks looked as bleak and colourless as the overcast sky, and her pale blue eyes had a cold stare that unnerved her. She was very thin and a sallow skin stretched over her face. Her bony hands clutched at a leather satchel as she approached them.
‘They say you have a wife for sale.’
‘Aye, this one here.’
‘And that she is with child.’
‘It is no secret. You will have two for the price of one.’
‘Who was the father?’
‘He was a travelling man with a strong back and a - a sound mind.’
Quinta was surprised that Noah had seen fit to say anything good about Patrick but she kept her eyes down.
‘Can she graft?’ the woman asked.
‘More than that. She can read and write.’
‘Can she?’ Miss Banks sounded interested.
‘She’s just right for your Davey. That’s what you want, isn’t it?’
‘I might.’
‘She’s dear, though, seeing as you get the two of them.’
‘I know how much you’re asking. It’s all round the inn.’
‘Interested then?’
‘What’s she got in the box?’
‘It’s linen for her and the babby. She made it all herself.’
The spinster chewed at the inside of her mouth. ‘Well, yon butchers have paid a good price for my old ewes this year. Not many for sale, you see, after all that snow killed a few off. I’ll just go and settle up with the auctioneer and be back to pay for her.You can take her down.’ Miss Banks spat on her grimy hand and held it out.
Noah echoed her action and their palms touched. ‘I have a cart round the back of the inn. I’ll wait for you there.’
Quinta froze to the spot. He really meant to do this. He had struck a deal to sell her.
Sell her as a wife to someone else!
She did not believe it was happening until Noah pulled at her arm and she half fell off her box.
‘Pick it up,’ he ordered. ‘You’re on your way.’
‘Where am I going, Noah? Who is this woman and why isn’t her son Davey here for himself?’
‘You’ll find out.’
She struggled with the rope handles of her box in front of her stomach and pleaded, ‘I’ll have to have a sit-down, Noah. I feel weak.’
‘You’ll be as right as rain after a bite to eat.’ He bought her a mutton patty from a pie-seller in the square and she sat on a low stone wall in a brisk breeze to devour it. ‘Aren’t you having one?’ she asked.
He smirked. ‘There’ll be a good dinner for me at the inn when I’m rid of you.’
She wondered where she would be eating her next meal. ‘Will you fetch me a drink?’
‘Get one yourself. The pump’s over there.’
She thought she might have a chance to make a run for it but he followed close behind her and waited while she drank. She guessed he would see to it that she had no chance to escape until he had his five guineas. Although the food and drink revived her a little, she was weary from the journey and cold from standing in the marketplace and, for the present, no longer wished to flee. Surely being a servant to Miss Banks wouldn’t be as bad as being a wife to Noah Bilton? Not unless she really expected her to marry her Davey? Was it her son, she wondered. Miss Banks? Perhaps he was born out of wedlock? If so, maybe she would have some sympathy for her situation.
She couldn’t marry this Davey, anyway. Her marriage to Noah had been a proper one in the village church. They had taken vows in front of the Lord and the vicar had written their names in his parish register. For better or for worse, she would tell Miss Banks and her Davey. Selling her at a hiring fair could not nullify God’s law, whatever their local customs were. Her eyes began to close and her knees felt wobbly. She slid down the wall, the rough stones grazing her back, to sit on her box and rest.