Authors: Valerie Wood
They had been on the highway no more than ten minutes when they heard the sound of hoofbeats coming up fast behind them. Will turned to look, and in the moonlight saw two riders bearing down swiftly upon them. He pulled on the reins as they drew alongside and called out in mock anger, ‘Go steady there. What’s tha hurry?’
The two officers sat high on their mounts, one on each side of Prince.
‘What’s your business out here?’ one of them asked.
John leaned forward. ‘What seems to be the trouble, sir. Can I help you?’
‘Oh – sorry to bother you, sir, but we are on the lookout for a thief.’ The soldier was obviously nonplussed by John’s manner and accent.
‘I see, and you thought that you had found him? Well, I’m sure that the driver won’t mind if you look in the back of his waggon.’
Will shrugged his shoulders and feigned indifference.
‘That won’t be necessary, sir. I can see that there is no-one there.’ He looked more closely at John. ‘Could I ask what brings you out on the road tonight?’
‘Certainly,’ John replied cheerfully. ‘My horse went lame on the other side of Beverley and this good fellow here offered me a ride home.’
He leaned towards the officer confidentially and lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘It will cost me something, I expect, but I didn’t want to wait for the coach. I need to be home before midnight.’
‘I understand, sir, I am a family man myself.’
The other officer had been observing Will closely and beckoning to him said sharply, ‘You. Step down a minute.’
Will turned in surprise towards him and shuffled along to the edge of the seat. He took off the sack which had been covering his legs. ‘Aye, I will, but tha’ll have to give me a hand to get up again.’
The soldier saw then his disability. ‘Your pardon. I didn’t realize. It’s just that the man we were looking for is seemingly quite tall, and I thought that you fitted the description. But obviously it couldn’t possibly be you.’
Will took up the reins again and prepared to move off. ‘If there’s nowt else?’ he said sullenly.
‘By the way,’ John asked, ‘what has this villain stolen?’
The officers shifted uneasily. ‘Well,’ said one, ‘he hasn’t exactly stolen anything. As a matter of fact, he brought something back.’
John sat silently, gazing at the two officers, then slowly he nodded his head and smiled quizzically. ‘What kind of a thief would bring something back? Some kind of jape, is it? Or perhaps he’s diverting you whilst he’s up to some other mischief?’
‘I don’t know, sir, but I regret having bothered you. I trust you won’t be too late home.’
They were anxious to be off, back to the delights of food and wine and feminine company, and with more apologies they wheeled about and galloped back the way they had come.
Maria was uneasy. Something was happening that Will didn’t want her to know about. He had wanted her out of the way at all costs. He had been irritable and tense all the evening, constantly going to the window and looking up at the small patch of sky which could be seen above the houses at the opposite side of the entry. She knew better than to harass him with questions. To choose an ill-timed moment might unleash a sudden explosion of exasperation, a thunderous flashpoint which once set free would then melt away as instantly as it had appeared, leaving him as penitent as a rebuked child.
She took Alice by the hand and Tom ran in front of her as they made their way towards the apothecary’s shop in the market place.
‘Will needs something for ’soreness on his leg, Mr Dobson. It’s still giving him a lot of pain and it hasn’t healed properly.’
‘Try to get fresh comfrey leaves, they’re the finest poultice of all,’ said the man. ‘They reduce the swelling and help the wound to knit, but I’m afraid that I haven’t any in stock.’
He reached up to the shelves which lined the walls of his tiny shop, and from amongst the coloured bottles and stone jars there, took down a large bottle and poured some of the contents into a smaller one.
‘Try this rosemary oil and see if it helps, but tell him he must keep the wound clean or it will become infected again.’
He sighed, shook his head morosely, and patted Alice on the head. ‘Let’s hope this poor child gets through the winter safely. I do believe we shall have a cold one; and you’ll have to take care, you ought not to be lifting those heavy fish barrels.’
‘I’m very fit,’ Maria reassured him, ‘and we don’t lift them, we roll them, there’s a knack to it.’
Nevertheless, in spite of her cheerfulness in the face of his gloom, she felt perturbed, especially by his concern over Alice who, although she didn’t want to admit it, seemed to be growing paler day by day.
‘Come on,’ she said as they stood outside the shop. ‘Let’s go and visit Annie and her bairns, we haven’t seen them for a long while.’
The small house in the dim square was in darkness as Maria knocked on the door and tried the sneck. ‘Annie, it’s me,’ she called.
She could hear a soft shuffling sound inside and then silence as though someone was listening behind the door. She called again. ‘It’s Maria, Annie.’
There came the rattle of the bolt being drawn, the door slowly opened and through the crack a pair of wide blue eyes in a small pallid face stared up at her.
‘It’s only me, Lizzie, is tha ma at home?’
The child opened the door a little wider and shook her head without speaking.
‘Can we come in then?’ Maria stepped inside. The room was cold and bare with a stale, damp smell. There was no fire in the grate, nor had there been for some time, Maria observed, for the ashes were grey and lifeless.
‘Has tha no light?’ she asked.
Lizzie shook her head again but remained silent.
Maria took her by the hand and led her over to the window where she could see her better. She drew the child towards her and said softly, ‘What’s ’matter, Lizzie, come on, tha can tell me. Is’t afeard of ’dark?’
The little girl shook her head again and started to tremble, first her hands and then her thin slight body, until she was shaking uncontrollably.
Maria bent down and put both arms around her, holding her close to her, and gently rocked her to and fro.
‘It’s all right. Tha’s quite safe, just tell me what’s wrong. Where’s thy ma?’
‘She – she’s gone out to look for – to look for Frankie.’ Lizzie started to tremble again as she uttered Francis Morton’s name.
‘He hasn’t hit thee?’ Maria demanded.
‘No, no – he never hit me,’ she whispered, her eyes wide and frightened. ‘He said he wouldn’t hit me—’
Maria stood up straight and stared down at Lizzie. ‘Unless what?’
Lizzie bent her head and refused to be drawn any further. Maria could see that she was too afraid or ashamed to say any more. She took her gently to one side, away from Tom and Alice and very quietly said, ‘Listen to me, Lizzie. If anyone tries to hurt thee or tries to make thee do summat against thy will, come to me – come to my house and I’ll take care of thee. Understand?’ She shook her gently to impress what she was saying.
They stayed with her, waiting for Annie’s return. Maria sent Tom to look for kindling and they lit a small fire which sent dark shadows dancing around the room, accentuating the bareness but giving a little warmth and comfort, but still Annie didn’t come.
‘I’ll go and look for thy ma, Lizzie,’ Maria said at last, ‘and send her home. Now don’t forget what I said.’
Lizzie nodded tearfully and on Maria’s instructions she bolted the door after them, promising to open it only to her mother or her brothers.
Maria hurried through the town. She guessed that Annie would be in one of the inns or alehouses, but which one she frequented she had no idea. Fruitlessly she searched in the dram shops by the river, peering through the steamy windows, and enquiring of other women who were listlessly hanging around outside several establishments, some about their own business, and others who with young children clinging to their skirts were waiting patiently for their men to appear, but no-one had seen Annie or Francis.
Wearily she decided to go home. It was very late and Alice had started to cry fretfully with tiredness. She hoped that by now perhaps Will would be back from wherever he had been. She wanted to discuss the matter with him, to ask if he thought she was imagining things. She felt a gnawing concern about Lizzie, a feeling deep in her mind that all was not right.
Surely, she thought, not even Francis Morton would harm a child, not a gentle, docile little girl like Lizzie, who had suffered bruises already at the hands of her bully of a father. She was bewildered too by Annie’s apparent lack of concern over her children, though she excused her, for she guessed how difficult it would be for Annie to manage on her own.
As they reached home, Tom charged in through the door in front of her but stopped so abruptly in his tracks that she almost fell over him. The glow from the fire highlighted the corners of the room and they stared in amazement at the sight of Francis Morton rising from a crouching position on the floor by the bed, where they had obviously disturbed him.
Maria, recovering from the shock of seeing him there, and with a growing anger at seeing him uninvited in her home, demanded, ‘What’s tha doing in here, how did tha get in?’
He smiled slowly at her. ‘Tha needs a new lock, Maria, tha’ll have to persuade Will to fix one. There’s a lot of villains about, tha can’t be too careful.’
‘Tha didn’t answer my question. What’s tha doing in here?’ Her voice was sharp.
His face flushed with anger and brusquely he answered, ‘I’m only looking for what’s mine.’
‘There’s nowt of thine in here, Francis Morton, so I’ll thank thee to leave now before Will gets back.’
Francis laughed savagely. ‘Dost think I’m afeard of that cripple? It’ll take more than him to scare me off.’
He took hold of her arm roughly. ‘Now then, what’s he done with ’sacks? Tha’d better tell me or it’ll be ’worst for thee.’
Angrily she shook him off. ‘I don’t know what tha’s on about. There’s no sacks in here, nor has there been.’ She stopped suddenly, drawing in her breath, as recollection came to her. What was it that Will had been doing last night when he was so late home, when she’d woken to find him moving something? He’d said something about stowing some stuff away, but in her sleepy state she’d thought that she was dreaming.
Francis caught her look of uncertainty and smiled again sardonically. ‘So – little innocent Maria, so chaste and virtuous, tha does know summat after all!’
‘I know nowt,’ she said, backing away from him.
‘Come on, Maria, tell me where he’s hidden them.’
He lifted her chin with his finger so that she was forced to look into his eyes. Blue, penetrating eyes, that sparkled like splinters of ice, cold and cruel.
Frantically she signalled to Tom and Alice to run, for the two children were standing in stark terror at the sight of their mother in Francis’s grasp. Eventually Tom understood her gestures and with a backward glance he slid quietly out of the room.
‘Thee and me could have a good time together.’ He ran his fingers down the front of her dress. ‘Tell me where he’s put ’sacks and we could go off together, just ’two of us.’
Slowly and deliberately he started to unfasten the buttons on her dress. ‘Tha knows I’ve always wanted thee, Maria,’ he muttered huskily. ‘That look of purity hides fire – I know it.’
Her dress fell to the floor in a heap about her feet and she shook her head and banged her fists against his chest.
‘No – don’t, please. I’ll lose my babby.’
He stroked her neck and breasts. ‘I won’t hurt thee. I promise,’ he murmured. ‘I just want to hold thee and touch thee.’
With a sudden spurt of fury she pushed him from her. ‘Is that what tha told ’bairn? Did tha say that to young Lizzie?’
‘Who’s been telling thee that?’ The viciousness in his voice frightened her and she shrank from him. ‘Just keep thy mouth shut or tha’ll feel my fist in it,’ he shouted and raised his hand towards her.
The next instant he was lying spreadeagled and groaning on the floor as the force of Will’s crutch caught him on the back of his head and sent him reeling.
Unbridled rage had given Will mercurial speed when he saw his son hurtle out of the dark entry, and Tom had blurted out to him to come quickly for Francis Morton was hurting his mother.
With all the strength he could muster, he grasped him now by his hair and coat collar and dragged him towards the door.
Maria cried out in fear, ‘Don’t hit him again, Will, tha’ll kill him.’
‘Killing’s far too good for ’likes of him.’ Will replied and with a great heave threw him outside into the entry.
The oil lamp was sending thin spirals of smoke twisting and curling up to the ceiling as Will and Maria talked quietly. The children were both asleep, worn out by the late hour and the turmoil of the evening.
Maria had attempted to tell Will some of her fears about Lizzie, and he said bitterly that he wished he’d hit Francis Morton harder and made a better job of it.
‘Could tha face moving away from here, love?’ he started to say when he stopped and they both listened intently to a sound coming from outside the door.
Will reached for his crutch and moved quietly across the room, then stopped as he heard a soft tapping on the door.
‘It’s only me, Maria – Will. Can I come in?’
Annie stood there with Lizzie in front of her. The child looked tired and white-faced, but Annie was flushed and her eyes were bright and feverish. When she spoke there was a tremble in her voice. ‘Hast tha seen him? Is he upstairs? Francis, I mean!’
Will took her arm gently to bring her into the room, but she shook him away fretfully.
‘I need to find him, tonight. I’ve a score to settle.’
‘He’s out somewhere licking his wounds,’ Will said with grim satisfaction. ‘He’ll have found some hole to crawl into.’
‘Then I’ll go and look in all ’holes.’ Annie answered bitterly. ‘I’m familiar wi’ most of ’em.’
She turned towards Maria. ‘Can I leave Lizzie here with thee for a bit? And if owt should happen to me, or if by any chance I don’t get back, will tha take care of her for me?’