Authors: Shayne Parkinson
Tags: #family saga, #marriage, #historical fiction, #victorian, #new zealand, #farming, #nineteenth century, #farm life
Mud and Gold
B
ook Two
Shayne Parkinson
Copyright © S. L. Parkinson 2006
Smashwords Edition
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment
only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
If you would like to share this book with another person, please
purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then you should return to
Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting
the work of this author.
Other titles by Shayne Parkinson at Smashwords:
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/shaynep
Family trees and some extra background to the book’s
setting may be found at:
http://sites.google.com/site/shayneparkinson/
Contents
February 1885
Amy sat at John’s side as the buggy rattled
its way homewards. It was as though nothing had changed during
their few minutes in the courthouse. The only thing that felt
different was the ring on her finger. She twisted the thin band
absently and from time to time glanced at her new husband. Charlie
rode beside the buggy, close to Amy’s seat. Jack attempted to
converse with him, but got only an occasional monosyllable in
reply.
Thomas soon began to irritate Susannah by
demanding to sit with Amy. ‘He’ll crease your dress, dear,’
Susannah protested.
‘It doesn’t matter. Come on, Tommy.’ Thomas
clambered over the seat and onto Amy’s lap. She held him close,
welcoming the distraction of his prattle.
It was almost milking time, and Charlie left
them at his gate. ‘When do I come over to fetch her?’ he asked.
‘Come at dinner time, Mr Stewart,’ Susannah
said. ‘We’ll have a nice little family meal together.’
Harry was nowhere to be seen when the Leiths
pulled up to the house, but John assured his father that Harry
would meet them at the cow shed. Amy replaced her silk dress with a
pink gingham frock, and helped Susannah with dinner preparations
until her stepmother glanced at the clock and shooed Amy off to her
room.
‘You’d better get your things packed—not
your pretty dress, though, you can put that on again for dinner.
You’ll want to wear it when you go to your new home.’
Amy took a large drawstring bag she
sometimes kept mending in and loaded her clothes into it, wrapping
her shoes in paper so as not to soil anything else. It did not take
long to pack her few dresses and all her underwear. She left the
two maternity dresses lying on the bed and looked around the room
at her other possessions.
There was her work box; it had been her
mother’s, and Amy knew Susannah would not want it. And of course
her precious photograph. Amy wrapped it carefully in a chemise and
put it into the centre of the bundle. Her eyes went to her
neglected books. They only took up one small shelf, but they would
be heavy to carry. But the books had been friends to her, before
her reality had become too harsh to escape from. It didn’t seem
right to abandon them.
I can carry them. I’m strong again now. I
wonder if he’ll let me put them up somewhere
.
She slipped her brush and hand mirror into
the growing bundle, along with the little box that held her
grandmother’s tortoise-shell comb and cameo brooch. Amy hesitated
for a moment over the crocheted mats on her dressing table, then
packed them away with her clothes. She had made them herself, under
her grandmother’s instruction, so surely they belonged to her.
The same reasoning applied to her bedspread,
though it seemed a large thing to take without permission. But she
did not want to leave the beautiful thing behind when she left her
home to go to this man who was still a stranger.
She was still fretting over the bedspread
when Susannah came in.
‘I’ve fed the children and put them to bed
early, so they won’t get in the way while we’re trying to eat. Have
you nearly finished packing?’
‘Almost. Susannah, do you mind if I take my
bedspread? Granny and I made it together, and I’d like to have it
with me. Is that all right?’
‘I’ll have to get your father to buy another
one for this room if you do… oh, I suppose it doesn’t matter. That
one’s not very practical, anyway, being white. Yes, go on, take
it.’
Susannah sat down on a chair and watched as
Amy folded the bedspread. ‘You know, if you were as you should be,
I’d have to give you a little talk now. Your father even suggested
it this morning. That’s just like him, of course. He’s never been
very good at facing facts when it doesn’t suit him to.’
‘A talk? What about?’
‘About what to expect, of course. Your
duties as a wife. Just like my mother had a little talk with me.
She could have told me rather more, too,’ Susannah said with a
trace of bitterness. ‘Ah well, you’ve saved me that job, anyway. I
doubt if there’s much I could tell you.’ She glanced at the
maternity dresses, which Amy had put on the dressing table before
folding her bedspread. ‘Why haven’t you packed those?’
‘They’re yours, not mine. I thought you’d
want them back.’
‘Of course I don’t. Why would I want those
horrible things? I’m not going to have any more children.’
‘I don’t want any more babies, either,’ Amy
said quietly, fingering the soft cotton of her bedspread.
‘Don’t say that,’ Susannah said sharply. She
studied Amy’s downcast face. ‘Amy, I will give you some advice
after all. Don’t say anything like that to your husband. He’s
likely to have quite different ideas.’
‘You told Pa you didn’t want any more
babies.’
‘That’s completely different. I’d done my
duty, giving him two sons. Even if I hadn’t, he already had grown
children, he didn’t really care whether he had more or not.
Anyway,’ Susannah seemed to be choosing her words with care, ‘your
father’s different. Here’s a little bit more advice, Amy. Men
expect to get their own way. Your father’s become quite bossy the
last few months, but he could be worse—I can still manage him. But
I think your husband’s going to be… well, a little more difficult.
You must do your very best to please him.’
‘How can I do that?’ Amy asked.
‘Do whatever he wants, and do it well. At
least you won’t have stepchildren to put up with. Now, pack those
dresses away and make yourself pretty again for dinner. I’m going
to put my good dress on now.’ Susannah went out, closing the door
behind her.
Amy changed back into her blue dress, and
joined Susannah in the kitchen. It was not long before Jack and
John came in from milking. ‘Where’s Harry?’ Susannah asked.
‘Sloped off,’ said Jack. ‘He’s got himself
invited to the Forsters’ place for dinner.’
‘I do think he might have let me know before
I started cooking,’ Susannah complained. ‘Though he’d probably sit
there looking grumpy all through the meal, anyway. You two had
better hurry up and get changed before Charlie arrives.’
‘I’m going over to Uncle Arthur’s for
dinner,’ John said. ‘You don’t mind, do you Amy?’
‘No, John. You do whatever you want.’ She
managed a smile for him as he went out.
‘Well, really,’ Susannah said. ‘Those two
haven’t a good manner between them.’ She was still grumbling when
Charlie arrived, putting a stop to her flow.
Susannah was attempting to treat the
occasion as a genuine celebration, using her best cloth and china
and even decorating the table with flowers. It appeared to be
wasted on Charlie, who sat grim-faced throughout the meal. Amy was
glad she had baked the bread herself that morning; she thought
Charlie would look even grimmer if he had to contend with one of
Susannah’s leathery loaves.
‘And what do you think of your beautiful
bride, Charlie?’ Jack said. ‘Quite a picture, isn’t she?’
‘She looks well enough,’ Charlie said,
looking up for a moment from his plate, then returning his
attention to the roast chicken set before him.
The worst moment came after dessert, when
Jack decided toasts were in order.
‘First a salute to our gracious sovereign
lady, Victoria,’ he announced. He and Susannah got to their feet.
Amy had just begun to rise in her turn, when Charlie caught hold of
her wrist and pulled her forcibly back down into her chair.
‘I don’t drink the health of that German
woman who calls herself Queen of Great Britain,’ he told the room
at large. ‘And neither does my wife.’
There was a shocked silence. Everyone in the
valley knew that Charlie had some strange ideas about the royal
family, but none of them had ever realised it went as far as
outright disloyalty to the Queen.
Jack cleared his throat. ‘Yes, well, let’s
not talk politics in front of the ladies.’ He drank a sip of his
wine, and Susannah followed suit.
Having shown their loyalty, Jack tried
again. ‘A toast to the happy couple.’ This time he took a hearty
swig from his glass. Susannah took a dainty sip from hers, and the
awkward moment passed.
Amy tried to react as she knew her father
wanted her to, but it was not easy to conjure a smile when she
looked at the stern man opposite her. A life sentence, Mr Leveston
had said. It sounded a very long time.
As dusk set in Charlie had a last piece of
cake, then pushed back his chair and got to his feet. ‘We’ll be off
now,’ he announced.
‘Don’t worry about your milking tomorrow
morning—I’ll send the boys over,’ Jack said. ‘You have a
lie-in.’
‘There’ll be no need for that,’ said
Charlie. ‘I don’t care to have other people messing about with my
stock. Thank you,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘Come, Amy.’ It was
the first time she had ever heard him use her name.
Amy hurried off to her bedroom, which was no
longer her bedroom, and gathered up the bundle she had made of her
possessions. She put her beautiful hat on and gave the room one
last glance. It looked bare and impersonal now. Amy closed the door
on the sight.
At the farmhouse gate Amy got a bear hug
from Jack and a peck on the cheek from Susannah. She set off beside
Charlie down the track in the deepening dusk.
*
Jack watched his daughter struggling to
match her husband’s long stride. ‘He could offer to carry that
bundle for her.’
‘Charlie’s not used to polite manners. Don’t
worry, he’ll improve now he’s got a wife,’ said Susannah.
Amy looked a small child beside Charlie.
‘She’s too young,’ Jack murmured.
‘That’s why it’s good she’s married a man
old enough to be her father. He’ll look after her. You wouldn’t
want to see her going off with a boy of eighteen, would you?’
‘I suppose not.’ Jack refrained from saying
he would rather see Amy with the fellow of twenty who had caused
all this. Best to forget all that now. Amy had found a husband, and
she’d make the best of it. It was easy to believe that Charlie
would be charmed by her.
He watched till Amy was almost out of sight,
then Susannah surprised him by taking his arm. ‘Come inside now,
and stop worrying,’ she said. ‘You’ll catch a chill if you stand
out here much longer.’
*
Amy walked beside Charlie in silence.
Watching her footing in the gloom took all her concentration. And
she had no idea what she should say to him.