The Hungry Tide (43 page)

‘What?’

‘Was there something more you wanted to say?’ Her eyes held his.

‘Oh. No. I beg your pardon, Sarah. Nothing more.’

Tom strode briskly through the yard at Garston Hall and across the lush meadow. It was a good idea of Sarah’s that he should take Lizzie with him on the journey to Aldbrough. A trip out together would mean they could have a good talk like they used to when they were young.

Nowadays it seemed that there was never time, everyone was always busy. Only at mealtimes when they were all seated at the big table in the kitchen at Garston Hall did they talk, and then it wasn’t proper conversation for there was always a bell ringing somewhere and somebody would have to jump up and attend to the demands of the gentry.

If there was a big party on with a lot of guests, and his mother and Ma Scryven were too busy to stop and eat, then Tom and his father would collect a basket of food that had been prepared for them and take it home to Field House where they ate in silence, neither of them bothering to speak without the women there to prompt them.

But he wanted to talk to Lizzie. She bothered him, made him feel nervous somehow. She had changed recently, become distant, and it seemed that at times when he came across her she would deliberately avoid him. She’d got something on her mind, he was sure of that. He frowned, his dark eyes bewildered. Perhaps he had upset her without meaning to. Something he had said. He sighed at the whims and fancies of women with all the profundity of a young male.

‘Hello, Lizzie.’ He put his head around the door. ‘Sarah said I would find thee here.’

Lizzie looked up from her mending. It was her day off and she chose to spend it here at the place she thought of as home, away from the bustle of the kitchen at Garston Hall. ‘Did tha want me for summat, Tom? I’m not specially busy, just doing a bit of stitching.’

He came in, sat down opposite her and stretched out his long legs. ‘Mustn’t it be grand to sit down just when tha feels like it, like ’gentry do?’

‘Then I’m just like ’gentry today,’ she said as she stitched a tear in an apron pocket. ‘It’s my day off, to do what I like with. I can sit, or walk or do my sewing. Today I can pretend to be Mrs Masterson.’

Tom looked at her. Her cheeks were pink from the fire and she had let her long fair hair fall from its customary knot and had tied it loosely at the nape of her neck with a blue ribbon, which, he noticed now, matched her eyes.

He rubbed his dark bristly chin with its three days’ growth of beard. He’d grown tired of scraping his whiskers and had decided that the time had come to put away his youth and grow a beard.

He cleared his throat nervously. ‘There’s just one difference though, Lizzie. Tha’s much prettier than Mrs Masterson.’

She blushed and looked away. ‘Well, she is quite old,’ she answered awkwardly. ‘She used to be pretty.’

‘Aye,’ he said. ‘But our ma is still bonny, and she’s only about ’same age as ’mistress.’

‘That’s because ’mistress is never really happy, and Maria is good and gentle inside, and it always shows through. Besides,’ she said, smiling wistfully, ‘she has your da, and he tells her that she’s lovely and that makes her so.’

There was no privacy in the kitchen at Garston Hall and Lizzie had seen the bond of affection between Will and Maria, the impulsive touching of hand on hair, the spontaneous warmth. She noticed these things and basked in the reflected comfort which she knew had been absent in her own parents’ lives.

Tom stood and looked down at her. ‘Lizzie?’

She raised her eyes in query and he saw the silky lashes, only slightly darker than her hair, which encircled them. ‘Yes?’ she answered softly.

‘Er.’ He ran his fingers through his thick black hair and scratched his head. ‘I have to go to ’mill at Aldbro’ to tek ’grain. Would tha like to come for a ride?’

She felt inconsistent emotions of disappointment and elation. It wasn’t what she wanted him to say, but the thought of sitting next to him in the waggon filled her with a disturbing pleasure.

‘Mrs Masterson would have to have a chaperone. She wouldn’t travel alone with a man. It wouldn’t be seemly for a lady.’ She tried to be arch, but she knew it didn’t suit her, so she giggled instead.

He looked at her in astonishment. ‘But we’re practically brother and sister, Lizzie. Why would we want a chaperone?’

She winced and stared at him. How could such a bright, shrewd, handsome lad be such a dullard? ‘It was a joke, Tom,’ she said briefly. ‘I’ll just get my shawl.’

There was a constrained silence between them as they sat side by side on the jolting waggon. Tom clicked his tongue and cracked the whip over the horses’ haunches as they pulled out of the village and on to the long road.

‘Ist tha cold, Lizzie?’ He saw her shiver and reached for a clean sack to put over her knees. ‘Perhaps tha’d rather have stayed by ’fire, than come out on such a day?’

The morning was grey and cloudy, though it wasn’t raining, and the road stretched on in front of them, the bare fields shorn of their crops and supporting a scattering of cattle and sheep.

‘No, I’m enjoying it.’ She looked around her. ‘It’s not often I get out of ’village.’

‘Wouldn’t tha like to work somewhere a bit more lively, like Hull, or Scarboro’, like our Alice?’ he asked, looking sideways at her.

She clasped her shawl closer to her. ‘Oh, no, Tom, I couldn’t. I’d be that scared of being on my own. Besides, I need to be near to folks that I care about.’

He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again when he couldn’t find the words.

‘It’s a pity there isn’t a mill a bit nearer,’ she observed after a time. ‘It’s a long way to come to grind corn.’

‘That’s what I’ve been saying for long enough,’ he replied eagerly. ‘There’s enough folk traipsing up and down this road to warrant building another one a bit nearer to Monkston.’

He mused over this line of thought for some time. ‘Tillington. That would be ’best place. Not Monkston, it hasn’t got a hill, and anyway at ’rate it’s falling into ’sea, there’s not going to be owt left to harvest.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘But Tillington – there’s that rise behind ’church. That would be a good place to put a mill. It would catch all ’wind blowing on or off ’sea. Nowt to stop it – straight off ’Wolds or straight off ’sea. By, if only I had some money, Lizzie,’ he protested earnestly, ‘that’s what I would do. Buy some land and build a mill.’

‘That’s a grand idea, Tom.’ She turned to him and joined in his enthusiasm. ‘Then all ’farmers would come to thee, even big ones like Mr Masterson.’

‘Aye,’ he said, carried away with the idea. ‘They’d be doffing their caps at me to keep in favour. Then when I was rich enough, for millers do get rich, I’d buy another bit of land and build a house, and keep a carriage for my wife to drive in, just like Mr Masterson does.’ He turned laughing towards her. ‘How does that sound, Lizzie?’

She bent her head and answered quietly, ‘It sounds right grand, Tom. I hope as tha’ll still talk to them as used to know thee, when tha was poor.’

He drew in the reins, and the horses bent their shaggy heads to eat the grass at the side of the road. ‘Lizzie?’

She turned her head away to hide the tears that were glistening on her cheeks.

‘Lizzie, what’s up? Why ist tha crying?’ He gently wiped away the tears with his fingers and she didn’t notice the roughness of his ploughman’s hands.

‘I don’t know, Tom,’ she whispered so that he could hardly hear her, ‘I suppose it’s because I can’t bear to think of thee doing summat without me.’

He put both hands around her face and turned her so that she had to lower her eyes or look at him. ‘How could I ever do owt without thee, Lizzie? Tha’s part of my life, always have been. I said a long time back that I would tek care of thee, and I meant it.’

Bashfully he kissed her wet cheek, tasting the salt of her tears and sensing a deep emotion within her and a great happiness unrolling inside himself. ‘I shan’t ever be rich – tha knows I’m only boasting about that. But if tha’ll have me, just as I am—?’

Her tears started to flow even faster now, and she could hardly speak she was so overwhelmed. ‘Oh Tom,’ she sobbed, ‘I’m so happy. If only tha knew how long I’ve been waiting for thee!’

He put his arms around her and held her close and she lifted her trembling lips to his. The inward conflict of loving affection he had felt as a brother towards her, which had been rocking unsteadily for so long, vanished, leaving in its place a glorious, passionate elation which left him bewildered and totally bemused.

‘Tha’ll wed Lizzie in church then, Tom?’ Mrs Scryven viewed the young couple critically as they stood blushing in the kitchen after announcing their intentions.

‘Aye, nowt less.’ Tom was determined on that score.

Will shook his head and lit his pipe. ‘Tha’s ower young, Tom. I reckon tha should wait a bit.’

‘What difference does it make, Da,’ Tom stood straight and tall facing his father, ‘whether we wed now or later?’

‘Babbies is ’difference,’ said Will, looking at his son. ‘Once they start coming, thy youth is over and tha’s got responsibilities of other mouths to feed. It’s not easy, lad, thy ma and me know only too well.’

Lizzie blushed and looked down, slipping her hand out of Tom’s, embarrassed at the scrutiny of the family and the knowing grins of the other servants. They shouldn’t have blurted it out like that in front of everybody, but they were so excited they wanted everyone to share their happiness.

Maria caught her gaze and smiled. ‘No, it’s not easy, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way, Will, and nor would thou, if tha’s honest.’

Briskly she dismissed the other servants about their tasks, and sat down to talk to Tom and Lizzie. ‘Tha’ll have to give up thy room here, Lizzie, once tha’s wed, and live with Tom and us at Field House. It’ll be like old times when we first came here, except that we’ve more room now that Sarah is living here at Garston, and Alice hardly ever comes home.’

She gave a small inward sigh. Alice didn’t visit them as often as she might and Maria missed her.

‘We were having a laugh, Lizzie and me,’ said Tom, feeling a sense of pleasurable possessiveness as he linked Lizzie’s name with his. ‘About what we would do if we were rich.’

‘And how would tha manage to get rich, son? Can we all share in ’secret?’

‘It’s like this, Da. I’ll buy a piece of land and build a mill and become a miller, and ’money will start pouring in like ’grain that I’m grinding.’

Will laughed. ‘I always knew tha’d make a good tradesman. It’s a good dream, Tom. But first dream of finding ’money to buy land, and tha won’t do that with a wife and bairns to feed.’

He looked across at Lizzie and said soberly, ‘I’m only saying it for thy own good, Lizzie. Tha knows I only want best for thee and Tom, and that’s why I’m saying wait a bit.’

She shook her head. ‘Tha’s been better than a fayther to me, Will, and I hope that I’ve been as good as a daughter should be.’ She swallowed nervously. ‘Only I have to go against thy wishes this time. I love Tom and I want to marry him, and to have his bairns. And if we have to struggle, well, I shan’t mind that either. Everybody I know has lived in poverty – me ma and da, and Maria and thee until we came out here to live. This has been like heaven to me – to have clean clothes and good food, and now that I know that they exist, well, I shan’t give them up, and Tom and me’ll work to have them always.’

She stopped, too overcome to go on. Tom gazed at her in amazement. It was the longest speech he had ever heard her make and he swelled with pride. What couldn’t he achieve with such a woman behind him?

Will too looked open-mouthed in astonishment at the formerly quiet and timid Lizzie. Then he limped across the kitchen and planted a huge kiss on her cheek. ‘Well done, Lizzie. Tha’s quite right, and I give thee both my blessing.’

Sarah had come into the kitchen unnoticed and stood quietly by the door listening to the conversation. She smiled at Lizzie and then came over and gave her a hug. ‘I’m so glad,’ she said happily. ‘Now I shan’t lose a sister.’

She reached up and gave Tom a kiss. ‘You’re very lucky, Tom, Lizzie will be good for you – you’ll be good for each other.’ She looked at him seriously. ‘I overheard what you were saying about a mill. Why don’t you ask Mr Masterson about it? He would probably be interested in building one if it meant less travelling with the corn.’

Will looked thoughtful. ‘Tha could well be right, Sarah. I can’t think why we haven’t thought of it before. ’Miller at Aldboro’ is getting past it and can’t cope with all ’work.’

He turned to Tom, a commanding tone to his voice. ‘It’s hard work being a miller. I’ve watched them, they work all ’hours that ’wind blows; but we could do with one a bit nearer and it would bring ’price of flour down for ’locals.’

Tom stared. It had been a joke, just a bit of make-believe, and now suddenly the idea was assuming reality. He glanced at Lizzie, whose eyes were wide in wonder, and then back to his father who he realized was perfectly serious.

‘He’d never pay out, would he?’ he asked incredulously. ‘Would he buy some more land, does tha think?’

‘I think he might.’ Sarah answered him. ‘He’s a business man, after all, and if he thought it would bring him a profit! Anyway, it would be worth asking him.’

Maria and Mrs Scryven had been quietly listening to the discussion without making any comment. Maria shook her head in disbelief. ‘Surely he would have done it already,’ she said cautiously, ‘if there was a profit to be made?’

‘Happen he hasn’t thought of it,’ Mrs Scryven said slowly. ‘And if he had, he would know that it wouldn’t be any good here at Monkston. Now, if he had land at Tillington, that would be a different kettle of fish to be boiled.’

‘That’s just what I said,’ said Tom, his voice rising in excitement, ‘Tillington is just ’spot for a mill – on that piece of high ground near ’church.’

‘Ah, well, now that does give thee a problem.’ Mrs Scryven sat back in her chair and folded her arms and rocked gently backwards and forwards. ‘That bit o’ land isn’t for sale!’

The others looked at her curiously. She would know if anyone did what was available.