Old Sins Long Shadows (35 page)

‘
I will marry you, Daniel Kellow,’ she said, ‘and I thank you for giving my baby a name.’

He turned the hor
se and cart back to the village.

‘
From now on it’s
our
baby,’ he said, snapping the reins.

‘
Where are we going?’ she asked, holding on tightly to the seat as the wagon turned in the road, riding the bank as it did so.

‘
To the vicarage,’ he said as the cart lurched forward by the horse, ‘We have a wedding to arrange.’

Reverend William Smith had had a torturous morning. He had just conducted the funeral of Boxer Bull Edwards and it would be one that he was unlikely to forget. Boxer Bull Edwards was a brute and a bully. He was built as wide as he was tall, with fists the size of cabbages and knuckles as hard as stone. He got his nickname from his readiness to use his fists and his unpredictable temper which he meted out to anyone that crossed his path or dared catch his eye. No one called him friend and he had liked it that way, it was a life he chose and a life he forced on the woman he married.

For thirty years the villagers watched his pretty wife fade before their eyes to be
come a nervy, timid, skinny woman, aged beyond her years and regularly sporting a black eye or cracked rib. His domination isolated her from her family and friends and she was rarely seen except running his errands and tending to his needs in a cowering subservient manner. She rarely spoke as her brutish husband, after years of insults, convinced her she had nothing of importance to say. Reverend Smith’s heart went out to her as she sat in the pew silent and in shock, terrified how she would cope without the man who had convinced her she was nothing without him. In time she would begin to bloom again but for now she was petrified at what the future might hold.

The rest of the congregation was made up of three other people
. Widow Blewett sat at the back and attended every funeral in the village and even travelled to nearby villages to attend theirs, “if the pickings were scant” in St.Wenna. She did not need to know the departed, or even like them, it was more of a macabre hobby and started the day she attended her mother’s funeral as a child. She often said she would be sitting in the back pew at her own funeral and the reverend was to make sure that her seat was not taken or she would be most upset. The other couple sat slightly bemused that they found themselves attending a funeral at all. They had visited the reverend that morning to discuss their baby’s baptism. Newly moved into the village they were strangers and the vicar had cajoled them into attending to make up the numbers. Fearing they might upset him, they had agreed. However, to find themselves the main mourners at a funeral of someone they didn’t know took them by surprise, if not the wife of the deceased. They were too polite to say anything and acted along with the façade that Boxer Bull Edwards had meant something to them as the newly widowed Mrs Edwards thanked them for coming. As the funeral came to a close they left the church much quicker than they had entered it an hour before.

Reverend Smith took a sip of his flask as he prepared to leave the now empty church and winced at the memory of the funeral
. The low numbers in the congregation was bad enough but there wasn’t one singer amongst them. If he had known before hand he would have left out the hymns all together but it only became apparent when the first hymn had started. It resulted in his own voice being the only one echoing inside the granite church, a voice he usually took care to hide amongst the tones of the many singers in the village. There was no such luxury this morning. His voice, with all its flaws, laboured through the first hymn providing a painful torture to his ears and all that cared to listen. To his shame he took advantage of the widow’s state of shock and confusion in her bereavement to cut out the next two hymns and end the funeral ten minutes early. After all, he concluded, if he carried on singing it might very well wake the dead and the last thing anyone wanted was to bring Boxer Bull Edwards back to life!

He stepped out into the cemetery and to his surprise saw another man he thought he would never see walking towards his church door
. Daniel Kellow, head down and feet crunching on the frozen patches of snow that still remained despite a part thaw, was walking determinedly towards him and in his wake walked his opposite - pretty, God fearing, well mannered Janey Carhart.

‘
Good morning, Daniel, Janey. This is a surprise.’  Daniel, in his haste, ignored the greeting.

‘
We want to get married, vicar,’ the reverend did not hide his surprise. ‘…today,’ Daniel added.

‘
Good morning, vicar.’ Janey replied, a little embarrassed at Daniel’s behaviour. The reverend gave a little chuckle as he turned to lock the old oak door of the church.

‘
Not today, Daniel. There’s a procedure to go through.’ He smiled at Janey, ‘Good morning, my dear.’ 

Daniel would not be put off.

‘What procedure?’ he asked impatiently.

‘
Well the banns need to be called for three Sundays prior to the marriage date to see if anyone has reason to raise any legal impediment to the marriage. So the soonest you would be able to get married is in three weeks time.’

‘
Then see to it.’

The vicar gave him a look before making his way down the church path, Daniel at his side and Janey following a step behind.

‘..And I need to be satisfied that you both understand the commitment you are about to make. Marriage is a sacred union before God and must be taken seriously.’

‘
We understand,’ said Daniel, not being able to hide his impatience. The vicar was not convinced. The last time he had seen Daniel he had turned his back on the girl, in fact he wasn’t even aware they were courting. He told him so. Daniel brushed his concerns aside. ‘What do we need to do to convince you we want to be married?’

‘
I don’t doubt
your
desire, Daniel,’ said the vicar but there was something beginning to trouble him. He had remembered Janey seeking him out for advice many months ago. She had told him that someone was trying to pressure her and confuse her thinking. He began to wonder if it was Daniel she had spoken of. He had just spent the last hour in the company of a woman who had become a shadow of her former self due to her overbearing husband. He did not want Janey to follow in her footsteps. He looked at Janey who stood behind Daniel’s shoulder and felt a sudden desire to speak with her alone.

‘
Janey, take a walk with me around the church grounds,’ he said. He looked at Daniel, ‘Alone,’ he added pointedly.

They walked along the path in a companionable silence leaving Daniel to stand alone by an oak tree, his hands thrust in his pocket
s and his collar turned up against the cold. He watched them with a worried frown. He guessed what the vicar was planning to speak to her about and wondered if the discussion would result in Janey changing her mind. He had hoped that they would be married by the end of the day, that tonight she would be his wife. As he watched them make a path through the gravestones he felt as if she was slipping away from him and his plan would fall to dust before it had even begun.

‘
I have not seen you at church lately, Janey,’ said the vicar.

‘
Lady Brockenshaw has been ill so I was required to attend to her.’

‘
If you marry you will be leaving your post?’

‘
Lady Brockenshaw left Bosvenna Estate to live with her brother a few days ago, vicar. His estate is in Falmouth.’

‘
And you stayed to be with Daniel.’ Janey did not reply. ‘How well do you know Daniel?’

‘
I know of his background, vicar.’ She did not tell him she had only learnt of it on the ride to the church.

‘
I feel it is my duty to ensure you know of the rumours about him.’

‘
I know something of them.’

‘
But not all?  Let me tell you so you are fully aware of the marriage you may be entering into. The rumours remain and as his wife you will have to live with them too.’   They stopped and turned to see Daniel watching them and in that moment she saw that he knew what she was about to be told. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear yet she knew, for the sake of her baby, she must listen to what the vicar had to say.

‘
Daniel was eighteen when Zachariah, his guardian, died. He was found lying on the ground outside the house, the back of his skull was caved in and a hammer lay by his side covered in blood. Daniel said he had fallen from a ladder and indeed there was a ladder on the ground at the time. The constable was called and it seemed like a tragic accident. The rumours started when the will was read. Six months before the accident the farm had been willed to Daniel. Zachariah’s wife, Amy, had already died by then but even so it was his cousin who was expecting the farm to be left to him and not Daniel. It was also well known that Zachariah was crippled by arthritis and he could not use his hands which were very swollen and painful at the time. Daniel’s explanation started to look suspect and the rumours took wings. Only Daniel knows what happened that day and he refuses to speak about it. Some say it’s because he is guilty.’

‘What do you think?’ she asked, not taking her eyes off Daniel, who also held hers. A sudden breeze blew through the church yard whipping up some long dead leaves into a whirling frenzy between them.

‘
I know Daniel feels guilty but whether it’s of murder I don’t know. Folk around here are happy to accept his help but they don’t seem to change their opinion of him. Many are jealous that a boy like him has become a man of property. Most people around here are tenant farmers and will never have the opportunity to own their own ground. However there is always the possibility that Daniel did kill in order to own the farm and be rid of the old man. Daniel has had a rough life. His determination helped him survive. Determination can help you do a lot of things.’

‘
Do you think he would commit murder?’

‘
I think, given the right circumstances, anyone can commit murder. It is whether a man chooses to is the difference between us.’  

Janey wondered for a moment whether she could
. If someone was attacking her child would she kill to save their life?  If James Brockenshaw had tried to rape her again while she carried a knife, would she have used it?  Given the right circumstances she just might.

‘
Daniel keeps himself to himself but there are some who think well of him,’ continued the vicar, ‘Have you met Edna, the old woman that cooks for him?’  Janey nodded a half smile on her lips. ‘She sees some good in him and she is not easy to please!   I too like the man, although I feel he could benefit from opening his mind to God’s voice and being friendlier to folk.’

‘
It sounds like folk aren’t friendly to him,’ defended Janey, ‘My father used to say that God’s voice is not only heard in the church,’ she added.

‘
I trust your father did not like attending service.’

‘
He preferred reading his books,’ smiled Janey.

Daniel had started to pace.

‘You still want to be married to Daniel, despite his background and the rumours about him?’ he asked. She nodded realising that she did. She did not want her child to grow up illegitimate with a workhouse for a home. ‘No doubt his handsome looks make up for the rest,’ chuckled the vicar as he took her arm and walked her back to him.

They watched Boscarn Farm come into view. Neither had spoken on the journey home, both coming to terms that in three weeks or more they would be man and wife. Daniel brought the trap to a halt at the top of the hill and they sat in silence for some minutes.

‘
Boscarn Farm,’ he said looking at the white washed walls of his home. ‘The house and garden are yours to run how you see fit.’

‘
And Edna?’ she asked. He flicked the reins and they were off once more.

‘
Edna will still be welcome, she will be a great help when the baby arrives. She will always have a place at Boscarn. She doesn’t know what they say about me in the village,’ he glanced at Janey, ‘or what the vicar thinks.’  It was the first time he had referred to the conversation the vicar had had with her. ‘Edna cares little for the people that live in the village,’ he continued, ‘as they care little for her.’

‘
Tell me about her,’ she asked, intrigued why he would hold such fondness for the cantankerous woman.

‘
She has a house near the Methodist chapel in the village. When her husband died she became a recluse and refused to leave her home. She spent her days cursing anyone that chatted too loudly below her window or sat on her door step to pass the time of day. She often threw things at passersby, even emptying her chamber pot over their heads. Some folk would stand beneath her window and taunt her, hoping to goad her into shouting and cursing. She became a freak show and the children teased her awful. The year before Zachariah died she threw a turnip at me and it hit me on the head.’  Janey started to laugh. ‘It hurt!’ said Daniel indignantly, ‘I told her she was a miserable old woman who wasted her life and was no good to anyone. It seems I was the first one to stand up to her and she quite liked that. The next morning she turned up at the farm, cooked a meal and left without saying a word. She’s been coming every day, except Sundays, ever since. She’s never left the village, or speaks to anyone else, just walks the mile to the farm and back again.’