The Straw Halter (9 page)

‘His cottage is along the lane. Primrose Cottage. Third one along from here.’ The men parted on convivial terms and Richard made his way to the gamekeeper’s home. He was in luck as Jim Pike was indoors. The two men spoke of many things to do with game and country matters before Richard broached the reason he had come.

‘Jim, did your father ever speak to you about my brother Benjamin’s accident?’

Jim shot him a wary look, then nodded his head slowly.

‘I’m checking a few things from the past, Jim. Ben was a superb horseman and no other rider was involved, yet
something
threw him that day.’ Jim continued to look at him without speaking, and Richard said, ‘I was a child at the time, yet I heard
rumours. I didn’t fully understand their meaning then, of course, but thinking about it all now I am wondering whether it was an accident or something more sinister. Will you tell me what your father told you?’

‘No harm to now, I s’pose.’ Jim drew his lips together into a sucking movement, sending lines running up his
weather-beaten
face. ‘’Twas when he were ill, not long afore he died when he mentioned it. “Jim,” he says, “I’m going to tell you something I wouldn’t have believed if I hadn’t seen it with me own eyes, lad.” ’

‘Go on,’ Richard said into the silence which followed the gamekeeper’s words.

‘“A few yards from where young Ben lay there was a rope stretched between two trees. I rushed to Ben, of course, but he were dead and I went straight to the big house and when I went back to the wood afterwards the rope had gone.”’

‘Gone?’

‘That’s right, gone. That’s what me dad said. No sign of it at all, so he didn’t mention it to anyone.’

‘What else did he tell you, Jim?’

‘Said it played on his mind a bit – you know – that someone had deliberately tied it across.’

‘Well, thanks, Jim. It’s too long ago now to follow it up, of course, but it looks as though someone set out to kill my brother, doesn’t it?’

‘It’s what me dad thought. He said the horse would be going too fast there to stop.’ As Richard rose and extended his hand the gamekeeper said, ‘There was one more thing he told me. When he went back, while the others were with your poor brother, who had been taken up to the house, he stood looking round for the rope which wasn’t there any more.’

Richard held his breath as Jim Pike paused dramatically and rubbed his big hand against his chin. ‘As he moved away he saw the back of a woman hurrying through the trees. He ran after her but she dodged him and he never saw her face.’

‘He had no idea, l suppose, who she might be?’

‘No. He said she had a black shawl or something round her head and shoulders. He never told the master or mistress because they were in such a state. He did ask what time the
accident
was, though. You know, if he’d been lying there dead a long while, and Sir Benjamin told him the doctor said it had only just happened before they arrived, even though he’d been out all morning. It seemed he was on his way back.…’

Richard thanked him and took his leave. He returned thoughtfully to his carriage and home. Had Betsy’s mother killed the man responsible, and because Pike came along looking for him at that point she had had no time to take down the evidence until he went to fetch help? It looked suspiciously as though that were the case. Now she was dead he would never know the truth. The old man at the cottage in Marshdean would probably know, might even have helped tie the rope, but he’d never admit it.

The village of Marshdean wasn’t far from Chasebury Manor, especially if you cut through the woods, and it would have been as easy for any of the girls from there to meet Ben as it was for those from several other hamlets in the area.

Richard shuddered, suddenly wondering if he wanted to pursue this any more. What was it that that greedy man had said to him the day he went to the village, ‘You got some money for ’er then?’ He was one of the Saldens, her mother’s brother maybe, which would make him Betsy’s uncle, the same as me, he thought, if my workings out are anywhere near the truth.

Forcing his mind back through the years he recalled that Ben’s horse, Strike, although uninjured, had been shot
afterwards
. Knowing about the rope now he thought the horse had probably pulled up sharply on seeing it, Ben had been thrown and the horse had galloped back the way it had come. He remembered how upset he had been when he knew that Strike had been killed, and the warmth of the comfort he found in the kitchens of Chasebury Manor, while his parents upstairs cried for their elder son.

D
uring the winter Betsy concentrated on her fight for women to be recognized as equals and partners to men. She wrote letters to the papers, to members of parliament and to anyone in public life who she thought could help her cause.

Daniel supported her in these efforts and although she still hoped they would have a child she tried to take a realistic view and accept that it might not happen. It wasn’t easy. Loving him as she did she wanted to bear his children. What was wrong with her that she hadn’t been able to? Her heart told her she hadn’t conceived when she was with George Hatton because he forced himself on her, but her thinking told her that it would have made no difference. It was a natural happening.
I’m a simple country girl,
she told herself,
but I have been taught how to use my mind, and there is a reason somewhere. I’m not educated enough to find it.
Nevertheless she took comfort from the fact that three times now she had found herself with child.

She quietly mourned for those lost children but she kept these thoughts to herself, and would have been surprised if she could have seen into Daniel’s mind sometimes when he observed her in these moments and felt her sadness but did not know what to do to ease it.

Why do I lose my babies,
she wrote in her notebook, for she had returned to writing down some of her thoughts as she used to do for Mrs Wallasey.
Maybe the answer to that is to do with my father because my mother managed to have many children.

She wrote a passionate piece about educating girls
because they are the mothers of all the country’s children and if they are educated and respected they in turn will do the same for their sons and daughters and life will be fairer for everyone.

She even wrote to the king decrying the practice of public wife-selling. Not knowing how to address him she simply put:
To King George, Will you do something to stop the barbaric practice of buying a wife in the market as if she was a sack of flour?
She did not receive a reply.

She did have answers to a few of her other letters, however. Some from like-minded people and some from folk who wanted no change in the treatment of men and women.
But then, the girls it happens to are usually the ones who cannot read and write,
she confided to the notebook.
I can and I must use my knowledge to help them.
She formed a bond and exchanged letters with the ones who answered but neither she nor any of them were in a position to do something about the situation just now.

‘But the time will come,’ she said to Daniel when they discussed the matter, ‘and teaching all children to read and write is the beginning of it.’

Employing her energy in the fight for a better deal for women went some way to putting the episode with Tom Shooter behind her.

In between her letter-writing and managing the house and dairy she was often out with Daniel and Jim seeing to the animals during a bad winter.

At the beginning of December Joseph rode over to say the
older Mrs Forrester was ill and he couldn’t manage. Apart from the animals it was quiet at this time of year on the farm and Daniel went over to see his mother, but on the second day he returned.

‘The farm is in a dreadful state,’ he told Betsy. ‘Everything falling to pieces around them. That lazy brother of mine has only ever been interested in having a good time and apparently our mother has been ailing for some weeks and has let things go. Will you come with me tomorrow? We can leave Jim here to see to things and the dairymaid can manage on her own for the day.’ The dairymaid lived with her parents and younger siblings in one of the four cottages at the end of the lane.

They took some provisions with them and while Betsy cleaned and cooked Daniel helped Joseph with repair jobs around the farm and house. He was careful to be indoors when his brother was there, never leaving him alone with Betsy.

They came home that evening but returned the following day to Sandilands Farm. Mrs Forrester seemed a little better. ‘That’s because of your good food and attention,’ Daniel said to Betsy.

It was as she was leaving the bedroom later that afternoon, having taken her mother-in-law some soup and waited while the old lady slowly drank it, that she encountered Joseph on the steep, narrow stairs. Instinctively she pulled herself into the side and he said quietly, ‘Come on, Betsy, one little kiss won’t hurt.’

‘You touch me, Joseph and I’ll push you to the bottom of the stairs. I mean that.’

She saw the uncertainty in his eyes and pressed home her advantage. ‘Keep your hands off and let me pass. I don’t give second chances,’ she said. To her great relief he did just that and she went down the stairs and into the kitchen with the invalid’s soup bowl.

It was another week before the old lady was up and once more in charge of the farm and her kitchen. Betsy and Daniel drove over in the trap for part of each day, Daniel always did some things on his own farm first because he said it wasn’t fair to leave too much to Jim. Betsy left soup and bread and cheese and sometimes a piece of apple-pie for Jim’s lunch. He stayed willingly enough and Betsy later confided to her notebook.
Jim is the best there is. How would we have managed without him?

On the last day they were at Sandilands Daniel’s mother grudgingly thanked them for helping out. ‘Now I’m on me feet, Joseph will work,’ she said. ‘I’ll make him.’

Betsy did not doubt that when she came in from feeding the hens and overheard her shouting at her younger son. ‘Getting that bastard brother of yours over here, you lazy sod. From now on you do your share here, I’ve had enough of giving in to you. You’ll get nothing more from me if you don’t pull yer weight. I could’ve died while you sat on yer bum and let me.’

Daniel injured his ankle on that last day, twisting it as he tried to avoid falling on to some wire netting thrown down outside. He limped indoors and Betsy found some clean rag and put a cold compress on the swelling. Joseph, who had seen what happened laughed and their mother said to Daniel, ‘You’ve always been clumsy.’

Betsy was kneeling on the floor tying the cold rag round his ankle and she almost bit her tongue when Daniel shook his head at her to stop her losing her temper and answering back. Later, as they climbed into the trap to leave she said, ‘Why do you let her treat you like that?’

‘I don’t like arguments. But I couldn’t leave her to die and Joseph would not have done anything.’

He was silent until they had travelled some distance from
Sandilands Farm and then, as though there had been no break in his words he said, ‘You heard her, Betsy – what she called me. Joseph and me, we are not full brothers you see. I have always known that.’

‘You are her son, no matter who your father was. Did she used to taunt you with that too when you were little, Daniel?’

‘Yes. I don’t often think about it now and she did feed and clothe me when I was a boy. I still owe her that.’ He gave the reins a flick and the pony moved faster.

‘You do not owe her anything. She’s a cruel, cruel woman and I hate her for what she did to you. What she is still doing to you. Oh Daniel, my love, if I had known all that I would not have lifted a finger to help her.’

She leaned against him and he said quietly, ‘Careful, you’ll tip us out. It’s over now. I should not have mentioned it, so we won’t talk of it again.’

For the rest of the journey Betsy thought about the cruelty and ignorance in the world and renewed her determination to do something about it. Teaching folk to read and write was the first step. More and more she realized how lucky she had been. Looking across to Daniel’s set face as he drove along, she knew that good did sometimes come from bad practices. She would always think that selling people was wicked, but in her case it had proved to be a blessing, even though she still felt ashamed to have had to stand in that line in the market and be looked over like livestock.

As they reached Redwood Farm they saw two of their pigs wandering down the road with Jim herding them back inside. Daniel stopped and climbed down, limping along to help.

‘I was milking the cows when I thought I heard someone,’ Jim said. ‘When I finished I checked. The gate was open and the
pigs were out. I’m sure someone was about but whoever it was had gone by the time I came out.’

‘Never mind, Jim,’ Betsy said. ‘Come and have a stoop of ale now everything is safe again.’ Looking across to her husband’s tired face she added, ‘And you need to rest that ankle Daniel.’ She took hold of his hand as the three of them went indoors. She pushed away the immediate thought that Thomas Shooter had returned and let the pigs out as revenge for her spurning of him. Was he in the area again and was this the start of a spiteful campaign against them? She shivered and decided to keep an eye on everything even more than usual.

That night as they almost fell into bed and into each other’s arms, she was laughing and crying together. Coping with Daniel’s surly mother and fending off his brother while running their household for a few days had made her appreciate even more the joy of their own home. She said no more to Daniel about the way his mother treated him and Joseph. Even if he accepted it and tried to please her, she never would for his sake. Maybe it isn’t only women who need to be set free, she thought, but I cannot discuss that with Daniel because I know it would hurt him too much.

Snow fell on Christmas Eve and as Daniel piled more logs on to the fire and Dumbo came to rub against her legs before settling in front of the blaze Betsy thought she must be the happiest woman in the land. All her preparations were done ready for tomorrow’s festive meal and she even dared to wonder if 1822 would bring them the child they both hoped for.

‘Young Tom who worked here last year is back,’ Daniel said coming into the kitchen one morning the following April. Betsy
shivered but her husband had his back to her at that point and didn’t notice.

‘He’ll be over the stable again. If you get time slip over with some sheets and bits and pieces so he can be comfortable there, will you?’

As he went through the door Betsy found her voice. ‘Where is he now, Daniel?’

‘Down the bottom field. He can eat with us at midday, and fend for himself in the evening.’ Then he was gone and Betsy shivered again.

She quickly gathered the things she needed and hurried over while she knew Thomas Shooter was a long way away, but his words from a twelvemonth ago as he left the farm pounded in her head. ‘You’ll pay for this.’

She knew she ought to tell Daniel and the problem would be solved. Yet surely she could handle the trouble herself. If she complained to Daniel now he would wonder why she had not done so last year. She must simply never let a situation arise when she was alone with Tom.

He greeted her with a grin when he came to the table at midday, but said nothing to her. Nevertheless she was conscious that he was watching her throughout the meal and she felt very uncomfortable and glad when the ordeal was over and the men returned to work.

In spite of her optimism at Christmas, she had, since the last miscarriage, been afraid to hope too much that one day she might carry Daniel’s child to full term. Daniel said that the next time she must rest from the moment they knew but although she had not argued with him about this, she knew it wasn’t the answer. The cause, in her view, still lay within her family
background
and she was determined to find out much more about the Choicelys. She wasn’t sure how she would do this, but her mind constantly reverted to Mrs Wallasey and her many wise words during the years she had worked for her.

‘There is always a way,’ she had told Betsy on more than one occasion. ‘When a difficulty stands between your dream and the reality, examine your dream and if it is genuine then look for another route around the problem.’

‘My dream is genuine,’ she told Dumbo as he rubbed round her legs one morning when she was working about the house. ‘But I don’t know how to find the answer without upsetting Daniel.’

The cat moved away, curled his tail around his body and sat as still as the china-cat ornaments offered for sale in the
marketplace
. Betsy smiled down at him, ‘You have a lot of patience, Dumbo,’ she said, ‘but not much intelligence, I’m afraid. It’s all instinct with you.’

She had no more trouble with Thomas Shooter. She only saw him when he came to eat in the kitchen and to her great relief he ignored her, never lingering now but going back to the fields with the others. She was glad she hadn’t made a fuss because they needed all the help they could get at this time of year and it could be difficult to find anyone else now.

For those first few days after his return she was anxious in case he pulled the trick of coming over faint ‘queer’ as he put it, and not returning to the stable loft, but coming into the kitchen instead, but it didn’t happen and she felt herself relaxing more. Nevertheless she stayed well away from the stable.

It looked like being a good harvest but Betsy tried to think of an excuse not to attend the harvest supper when the time came,
yet if she stayed home that could present an even greater danger. Perhaps it would be best to take part but to stick by Daniel’s side throughout the entire evening. These thoughts went round in her head as she busied herself with her daily tasks, until the morning towards the end of harvesting when she saw from the kitchen window her husband and Tom approaching the farmhouse.

Tom went round the corner to the stable and Daniel came into the house. ‘Bit early for food,’ he said, ‘but I want to talk to you while the others aren’t here.’

Wiping her hands she turned towards him, and he pulled a chair out for her to sit on. ‘I’m thinking of taking young Tom on permanently, Betsy. We can afford it and it will mean you won’t need to work so hard outside. I know it’s a strange time to do this but there’s a lot of maintenance work to do around the farm and he can do all this during the next few months.’

At first she didn’t fully take in what he was saying, then she felt herself gripping the sides of the chair as his meaning crept into her brain.