Lucinda Sly (6 page)

‘As regards the land,’ Sly spoke with authority, ‘I would be happy to make a will leaving it to you should I die before you. Against that you would sign your house and your few acres over to me. Then the best thing would be to let it out to pasture and put the money into this farm.’

‘Yes, but what about my house? Will you be putting it on the market?’ Lucinda questioned him with a doubt in her mind as to what Sly had said.

‘You can bring your furniture and any personal belongings you have your heart set on to this house and, I suppose, after a while
when you are properly settled in here, we could sell it,’ Sly allowed.

Lucinda was in deep thought again.

‘Sell my house?’ she erupted. ‘The house where I reared my child without a father’s help and where I churned the best butter in the seven parishes on the hearthstone every season since my husband died?’

Sly realised that he had better back off at this point as he was playing with a strong-minded woman. He would have plenty of time to deal with minor matters after they were married.

‘Sure if you have your heart set on that small felt house we’ll leave it aside. It won’t make any money without the land going with it,’ Sly replied steadily.

‘It is I who will be in charge of the churning and sale of the
butter
,’ Lucinda insisted. ‘I will have permission to spend some of the money on myself. Without a doubt, most of the money will go on the running of the house. I want to sell the butter on the side of the street just as I have done for more than thirty years.’

‘Yes,’ Sly assured her. ‘Upon my word you will be in charge of the churning, the running of the house and milking the cows. Without a doubt, if the work should at any time become too heavy for you, we will get a servant girl or boy. At our age, we don’t need slavery.’

When she heard this, Lucinda could not but be happy in her mind. She would have her own kitchen, control of the butter
making
and the freedom to spend some of the money.

‘Isn’t it a pity I didn’t meet this man thirty years ago?’ she thought to herself. She grew excited when Sly told her that they
should go to the attorney as soon as possible.

‘I’ll be going to Carlow on Thursday selling my butter,’ she informed him. ‘Will you be able to meet me any time about
midday
, Walter?’

‘I’ll be going to town the same day,’ Sly told her. ‘I’ll meet you at the attorney’s office at three o’clock.’

After Lucinda had taken the ware from the table, put them in a dish of water and cleaned and wiped the table, she sat on a chair by the fire. Sly sat beside her and reddened his pipe with a coal from the fire. He was totally at ease.

‘When I have finished my smoke, we will walk around the farm,’ he suggested.

They walked out the back door and through the broken bog to the top of a low hill where they had a fine view of the countryside all around. The way Sly was casting his eyes around, one would be forgiven for thinking that this was his first trip to the top of the hill.

‘Look down there in the direction of Carlow town,’ he boasted as he stretched himself, ‘and east towards the thatched house … then west to the big glen … I own every acre of it. Between commonage and land there are more than three hundred acres and perhaps in a few years a few holdings will be added to it.’

Lucinda saw the glint of the landlord in his eyes but she let itgo without saying a word. She supposed it wasn’t a bad thing in a man to have a desire for land.

Lucinda Singleton couldn’t but be satisfied in her mind as she guided her horse home from Oldleighlin that evening. There
would be an end to her poverty not to mention her fear of putting a ha’penny astray. She would be able to buy a new pair of shoes and a shawl at least every other year instead of resoling old shoes whose uppers and seams were rotten from cowdung and milk that spilled from the pails. She imagined she would have a good life as soon as she was married and settled in Walter’s farm. Yes, and the
snooties
who sold their butter on the side of the street and were looking down on the widow wouldn’t be able to do so any longer.

She visited her son and his wife briefly before she left Bilboa to strengthen the friendship Walter Sly had re-established between them. But she didn’t spend too long in their company as night was falling. In those days a woman travelling on her own wouldn’t be safe on the King’s road. At that time stories were going around that a woman who was walking home on her own from a neighbour’s house was viciously attacked. The poor woman ended up in the lunatic asylum as a result. Yes, and it wasn’t the fairies who attacked her.

When Lucinda reached home she unyoked the horse and let him out in the field. There was so much running through her mind that she almost forgot to milk her two cows.

‘Anyone would think that I’m only an eighteen-year-old the way my head is spinning,’ she thought to herself as she loosened the spancel from the second cow’s legs. The day’s events were still going around in her mind.

Because there was a nature of frost in the north wind, she lit the fire. She would get no sleep until she went over in her mind her arrangement with Walter Sly. Suddenly she began to have doubts.
Was she doing the right thing? She had spent most of her life working her few acres on her own without anybody to tell her ‘do this’ or ‘do that’. In a short time she would be married and she would be answerable for two.

Little by little the fire lit up until it threw light on the whole kitchen. Lucinda sat looking into the heart of the fire, her mind still on Walter Sly’s farm and question after question worrying her. Oh! She had a long dark road ahead of her. It wasn’t too late to pull back from the brink but, then again, would she end up a
cantankerous
, tormented old woman sitting on her own in the corner with nobody to look after her? Contact had been re-established between herself and her son thanks to Walter Sly. The blaze of the fire was a help to her, she felt. If it did nothing else, it put her mind at ease and, at the end of the night before she put her head on the pillow, she had decided that she would take a chance on marrying Walter Sly.
 

Lucinda Singleton spent the first three days of the following week doing the usual household chores and working on the farm. She baked twenty cakes of bread for the market on Thursday and because she had done the churning on the previous Saturday, she churned more during the day on the Wednesday. That took the edge from the strange thoughts that were running through her mind since the previous Sunday’s events. On the Monday, she was saying to herself that she still had three days to accept or reject his offer although she had given Walter Sly to understand that the match was made. Matters hadn’t quite come to a head by that Tuesday. But, when she sat in front of her turf fire on the Wednesday evening, when all the work was done and with
nothing
before her but her fateful day, she was both frightened and excited. She was sitting in her own comfortable corner
independent
of husband or government. But would things be like that after she married? ‘Oh! God direct me on the right road in my time of need,’ she prayed. Then, shaking herself, she said: ‘I will always have my own little house here.’

She spent the whole night weighing up her situation. ‘I’ll go ahead with the wedding,’ she would determine one minute, and, a little while later, she’d think, ‘am I gone completely astray in my head?’ The more she worried about it, the more confused she became. She tried to divert her thoughts, but in a moment they would have returned to the same old story again. It was getting late in the night and still she could get no proper sleep. If she didn’t get at least eight hours’ sleep, neither her mind nor her body would function properly the following day. And, perhaps, one of the most important days of her life was staring her in the face.

She got up, put a mug of milk into a saucepan and laid it on a few coals on the side of the fire. A saucepan of hot milk would put her to sleep any time she was troubled in her mind. When the milk was hot, she cut a hunk of wheaten bread and sat down again on the chair in front of the fire. First she ate a bite of bread and
followed
it with a mouthful of milk. What with the heat of the fire and the hot milk, Lucinda began to relax. ‘Right, Lucinda,’ she determined, ‘put your head on the pillow before the night’s sleep completely evades you.’ She banked up the fire and returned to bed. She was barely a few minutes on her back when she fell into a deep sleep. She spent the entire night dreaming: her wedding to Walter Sly caused her nightmares that night.

When Lucinda woke the following morning she was in a cold sweat. She was as tired waking up as she was when she went to bed the previous night. Every bone in her body was weary as if she had just put in a hard day’s work. After she had milked her two cows, skimmed the cream from the previous day’s milk and cleaned and
scalded the dishes she poured the morning’s milk into the dishes. Just then she found herself getting hungry. She took a handful of potatoes that were roasting in the ashes of the fire and put them on a plate on the table. She satisfied her appetite as usual with a bowl of buttermilk along with the potatoes. She put Sly and the
attorney
to the back of her mind until the horse was harnessed and her bread and butter were secured in the cart. She jumped into the front of the cart and guided the horse down the King’s road in the direction of Carlow town …

When Lucinda had found the stand she had stored in one of Langstrom’s sheds, she stood it on the side of the street as usual. She was a couple of minutes earlier than the other women. She tied her horse to an iron ring that was on the side of the street and put an armful of hay under his head. She was waiting for her usual customers who came for their choice of the twenty fresh cakes of bread not to mention her butter that was in such high demand. Lucinda wanted to be finished early that day more than any other.

When she had a few moments to herself, she would look down the street expecting that she would see Walter Sly. By the time she had sold her last cake of bread, the sun was high in the sky. Just as she was dismantling her stand to store it in the shed at the back of Langstrom’s tavern, she caught sight of Walter Sly on horseback, a tall black hat on his head; he was dressed in an expensive suit from the tailors. ‘Oh! He is as well turned out as the Duke of Leinster,’ Lucinda was thinking excitedly. She looked then at the other women who were standing at their stalls down the street. Like Lucinda, they, too, had their eyes on the big man on horseback.
Lucinda put a pack she had specially made on her horse’s head with a fist of oats in it. She was making sure that he would stay quiet while she and Walter were attending to their business in the attorney’s.

Walter guided his horse into Langstrom’s stable and then walked cheerfully over in Lucinda’s direction.

‘Have you everything sold?’ he asked her.

She looked at him with affection.

‘If you were ten minutes earlier, you would have to wait,’ she informed him.

‘Right so, we have urgent matters to attend to,’ Sly said with authority.

They walked down the street towards the attorney’s office. The women who were selling at their stalls gathered in twos and threes whispering and peering inquisitively at the two who were walking close together quickly down the street.

Just as they were turning in the attorney’s entrance, the woman who was in charge of the stand in front of the door spoke:

‘Whatever business you have, or bargain you have made with that tramp, it won’t be long before you regret it, my good woman,’ she spat.

Sly turned violently.

‘When you go home this evening,’ he retorted, ‘take a shovel in your hand and give your husband a couple of belts of it across his back. Maybe he might get up off his arse and do some work.’

‘At least he isn’t running poor people off their land,’ she replied. ‘But, I promise you, the earth in the field between us will turn to
limestone before your name will be on it, Walter Sly.’ Lucinda stood inside the door and looked hard at him.

‘What was that woman out there talking about?’ she demanded.

‘Ah! Don’t worry about that old hag,’ he reassured her. ‘She is a neighbour of mine whose husband came to me in service when he had nothing to do on his own few acres. And what a lazy lout he was. If he wasn’t lying asleep in the cow’s stall, the layabout would be stretched in the middle of the bog, his two legs sticking out from the heather and turf to be footed all around him.’

Walter Sly knocked gently on the door of the office.

‘Come in,’ said a soft voice from inside.

Sly opened the door and beckoned Lucinda to enter before him. There were two chairs beside a table and a small, tidy man seated behind it.

‘Welcome,’ he greeted them. ‘Is this the young woman you were talking about, Walter?’

When Lucinda heard this she had to laugh.

‘It’s a long time since I was called a young woman,’ she said shyly.

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ the attorney replied. ‘You are still a fine woman. If you were not, the finest of men and the richest farmer in the area would not be looking for your hand in marriage. Yes, now, sit you both down and we will get matters underway. My name is John Burke. I expect that you will have matters arranged between yourselves. If you have we should have no delay.’

‘Yes, we have, but we have nothing put on paper,’ Sly informed him.

‘That is why you have come to me,’ Burke replied. ‘Now, I shall begin with you, Lucinda. Tell me what arrangement you have come to with Walter Sly. Take your time and think clearly about what you have to say because when you have signed this paper and the official seal is on it, it will have the force of law.’

Lucinda spent a minute in deep thought before she began to speak. She looked at Walter and in those few seconds the thought struck her that she would be better not to proceed. But the life of a healthy person is eighty years and she was not far off her last two decades.

‘Walter and I have decided to rent my land for grazing and to put the rent money into the farm in Oldleighlin, then I will do the churning and sell the butter in Carlow town, a job I’m well used to. I will help with the milking of the cows and, if I have time, other farm work as well. I will put up three meals a day on the table for him. The animals on my holding will be brought to Oldleighlin and they will be part of the stock on the land there. I will do my duty as a faithful partner in marriage and he will do likewise. On those conditions he will have to put in his will that if anything were to happen to him, for instance if he were to die
suddenly
– God between us and all harm – that the farm will be mine. But the farm will remain in his name as long as he is alive. That is my part of the bargain. Along with that, my farm will be put in Walter’s name as a dowry,’ Lucinda finished, glad that that much was over.

The attorney looked at Sly.

‘Is that your understanding, Walter,’ he asked him, ‘or is there
something you want to add to it or maybe make some
corrections
?’

Sly spent a little while in thought.

‘That is exactly what we have agreed,’ he said quietly.

‘All right,’ the attorney continued. ‘You may go out in town for an hour or so. That will afford me an opportunity to draw up the document and you both can read and sign it on your return. I will keep it under lock and key in the safe and it will be there in the event of any disagreement later on.’

Lucinda felt much better leaving the office than she did on going in. It wouldn’t be long before the bargain was sealed and in the attorney’s safe. Now all that was to be done was to go to the minister to solemnise the marriage and she would have a happy and contented life from then on.

‘I have a couple of hunks of bread in a bag in my cart and a
bottle
of this morning’s buttermilk,’ Lucinda told Walter. ‘Will you come and eat with me? We will have to wait for an hour for the attorney to prepare his paper.’

‘I have some business in town,’ Sly lied. ‘I’ll meet you here in an hour.’ Lucinda believed him. What was in Sly’s head was to have a word in private with the attorney. When Lucinda had gone out of sight, he turned in to the office again.

‘Excuse me,’ Sly began, ‘but could you add one more thing to the document – that if Lucinda doesn’t discharge her duties
properly
I can change my will?’

There is no need,’ the attorney informed him. ‘You have a right to do that without putting anything in writing. But you will have
to make a will soon because, what with the document I am
currently
putting together, if any accident should befall you,
everything
would be null and void if Lucinda is not mentioned in your will. You may alter your will at any time in the future. Married women don’t understand this, but they have little power when it comes to having a claim on land or possession of a house because if the holding was originally the husband’s, he puts his wife’s name in his will. The husband can change his will during their marriage and the wife will not get even what she brought with her as a dowry the day they married.’

‘I understand,’ said Sly.

He put a half sovereign in the attorney’s coat pocket.

‘Have a drink on me later on,’ Sly said, winking at the attorney.

Sly walked out the door with a smile on his face.

The glass of whiskey he had in Langstrom’s a few minutes later went down well. He met some of his old cronies who wanted to know why he hadn’t been seen much in the taverns for over six months.

‘Oh! I got sense,’ he replied and left it at that.

He kept an eye on the clock. He didn’t want to make any
mistake
until they were safely married and Lucinda was under his roof for some time.

Sly and Lucinda were both going in the attorney’s door at
virtually
the same time.

‘Did you get your business done?’ Lucinda asked him.

‘I did,’ Sly lied. ‘There was a few pounds coming to me from a man who bought a horse from me. We had a drop of whiskey in
Langstrom’s to seal the bargain.’

‘Hum,’ was all Lucinda said, pretending to be disgusted and
letting
him know that she still remembered the day they first met on the side of the street.

‘I understand that you don’t like drink,’ Sly offered, ‘but believe me I had too much to drink the first time we met. That won’t
happen
again.’

‘I hope not,’ Lucinda warned him.

The attorney offered the document to Lucinda.

‘Read what is written in this document,’ he advised her, ‘and, if you are satisfied that everything is in order, sign your name or make your mark where I have made a cross.’

Lucinda pretended to read the document, but she had had
little
education in her youth. Then she took the pen in her hand and signed it. Sly signed it after her without so much as reading one sentence. They thanked the attorney and walked towards the door. When they were out on the street they both stopped. Sly was first to speak.

‘Yes, now,’ he cleared this throat, ‘that’s the most important thing discussed and set right. I suppose we should go to the
minister
and fix a date for the wedding.’

‘We should,’ Lucinda agreed. ‘And we each will have to get a witness. I’ll ask my next-door neighbour, Mary Joy. She is a member of the Church of Ireland like myself.’

‘I’ll ask your son, Thomas,’ Sly informed her. ‘All my neighbours in Oldleighlin are Catholics and they hate anybody sympathetic to the Crown. Isn’t it usual for the couple to tie the
knot in the woman’s local church?’

‘That’s right,’ Lucinda replied.

‘You can go to the minister and fix a date and I will see you at the market next Thursday,’ Sly said.

‘And what will happen if the date doesn’t suit you?’ Lucinda questioned him.

‘Any date will suit me,’ Sly assured her.

‘Right,’ Lucinda smiled. ‘I’ll be shortening the road home and I will have news for you on Thursday. We won’t make with a big day’s drinking out of it, Walter Sly, but maybe the four of us will have a few quiet drinks after the wedding. We’re too long in the tooth for that.’