I know what Fletcher means, Harriet thought later as she changed into her old skirt and warm jumper ready to help with the milking and put the hens away. Darkness was drawing in and clouds heavy with snow were gathering ominously overhead. At least I think I know. There’s a tension in the house, an antagonism between Mr and Mrs Tuke, which rubs off on the brothers. Are they taking sides? Have they always fought? Did Mr Tuke pit them against each other when they were young?
Fletcher seems to be milder, the more tolerant of the two, which is odd as he’s ’eldest. Noah is the aggressor, quick to take offence or pick a fight, and not only with Fletcher. I feel that I must be careful of what I say to him. And it seems as if when Noah scores, then so does Mr Tuke, and yet when Noah is rude to his father it bounces off him. But what I don’t understand is that Mrs Tuke is almost untouched by what Noah does or says, as if it doesn’t concern her. It’s so strange and it’s very disturbing.
The week dragged. Fletcher and Noah were outside most days, repairing fences, keeping the area around the house and yard clear after each fall of snow, for it kept coming down thick and fast, chopping turnips for the sheep in the shelter in the field nearest the house, and supplying the stock with plenty of straw. And they kept the ditches clear, which seemed to be the most important job of all.
Mrs Tuke showed Harriet how to bake a cake with flour and oats, a small amount of butter, ginger and black treacle. ‘It’s cheap to mek,’ she said, ‘and we’ve allus got ’ingredients in ’larder. Or you can use ’same ingredients and add a couple of eggs and you’ve got a different kind of cake that’ll keep – if it doesn’t get eaten.’
As Harriet stirred the mixture she reflected that this was the very first time she had heard any kind of humour coming from Ellen Tuke’s lips.
They usually ate their midday meal and supper in silence, until one evening Fletcher suddenly said, ‘We should dig out a pond in ’bottom field and let ’water in. Or talk to ’bailiff about it.’
‘Don’t go on about that again,’ his father rebuked him. ‘I’ve said no.’
‘It would improve ’land,’ Fletcher maintained. ‘They’re doing it further up ’estuary. It’s good river silt.’
‘Aye, and how long afore you can use it?’ Noah butted in. ‘Years! And in meantime you can’t use ’land for owt.’
‘We can’t use it for much now,’ Fletcher argued.
‘What do you mean by good river silt?’ Harriet asked cautiously.
All three men looked at her. ‘Keep your nose out.’ Noah patted the tip of his own with his forefinger. Mr Tuke guffawed and said, ‘Hark at her!’
Fletcher said nothing for a moment, and then answered her. ‘At ’mouth of ’estuary what was once an island in the middle of ’river now joins ’mainland. It’s been warped; that means that most of ’land is man-made.’
‘Not woman-made,’ Mr Tuke mocked, but Fletcher ignored him.
‘In a nutshell, they dug warping drains and built sluices on ’land and let ’water flood in, then the sluices drain most of ’water out and leave ’sediment behind.’ He paused. ‘It’s ’best farmland in ’county now, but Noah’s right, it teks years afore ’land is good enough for planting. But it can be done.’
‘You’d have thought that Master Hart would’ve done it, wouldn’t you?’ Harriet commented.
‘He doesn’t need to,’ Mrs Tuke broke in. ‘He’s renting it to us to farm it. He’s got plenty of land elsewhere.’
‘Aye,’ Mr Tuke interrupted. ‘He’s not bothered about ’bit that we’ve got, as long as we pay ’rent on time.’
Harriet watched as Mrs Tuke bent over her sewing and saw a wry grimace play momentarily over her lips. Harriet listened and watched, but even after spending time with them when they were confined to the house and yard by the weather, she was no nearer to understanding any of them.
It was a relief when her day for going to the manor came round. The snow had eased, though there were icy pockets on the road where the snow had melted and then frozen again which were treacherous to walk on. But the sun broke through the cloud and Harriet’s spirits lifted as she strode out towards the manor.
Mary had sent a message that she was sick and couldn’t come, but Lizzie had already filled the washtub with water and lit the fire beneath it and the water was just right for the mistress’s delicate underwear, which Harriet washed straight away. She hummed to herself and thought again that she wouldn’t at all mind working here. But I’m tied to Noah for life and I’ve to mek ’best of it. But increasingly, whenever she thought of Noah, Fletcher came unbidden into her mind.
She finished the washing and put it all to dry on the racks and went to tell Cook that she’d have to come back the next day to do the ironing. She was given a cup of tea and ate a slice of bread and beef and then said she would get off back to Marsh Farm as the weather was looking threatening.
‘I’ll come early tomorrow,’ she said. ‘About six, and then I’ll be finished by dinner time.’
It started to sleet as she got to the road and although she was pleased because the snow would clear, she knew she would be soaked before reaching home. She walked hunched with her head down and wished she had borrowed the mackintosh again. When she glanced up she saw someone in the distance walking towards her. A tall man, moving purposefully. She’d never seen anyone else on the road before and wondered who it was. There were no other houses or farms round here.
She looked up again as he drew nearer. He had a rain cape over his head, but took it off as he approached. It was Fletcher.
Rain dripped off her shawl and hair and down her face and she brushed it away from her eyes. ‘Where are you off to?’ she asked.
‘Nowhere,’ he said. ‘I’ve arrived.’
Harriet laughed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve come to meet you.’ He unwrapped the cape from his shoulders and put it over her. ‘I thought you’d be on your way back.’
‘I – do you think you should’ve done that? What if—’
‘Noah’s asleep by ’fire. It’s too wet to do any jobs outside.’ He took her hand and led her toward a shelterbelt of trees at the side of the road.
‘What …? For heaven’s sake, Fletcher, what ’you doing?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I just want to talk to you.’
‘You can talk to me in ’house. We don’t have to talk out here!’
‘I can’t talk to you in front of everybody. Everything I say is questioned, and you – you can’t have an opinion on anything, don’t you see that?’
He was standing very close. She could smell the dampness of him. His hair was soaked, as hers was, and it hung damply about his face.
‘Noah would have an opinion if he should see us here like this,’ she said nervously.
‘He won’t see us,’ he said, leading her deeper into the wood. ‘I told you, he’s sleeping.’
‘What do you want of me?’ she whispered.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said again. ‘But I don’t want Noah to have you.’
‘I’m his wife,’ she pointed out. ‘We’re married – in church.’
‘You don’t care for him,’ he insisted. ‘It’s not a marriage made in heaven.’
She scoffed. ‘That it’s not. But I’m stuck wi’ him. For better or for worse, that’s what I promised.’
‘And you got ’worse,’ he murmured.
‘I must go,’ she insisted. ‘I’m frightened.’
‘Not of me?’ He frowned. ‘I don’t intend you harm.’ He touched her cold cheek with his finger. ‘I just want to talk to you.’
‘No.’ She drew away from him. ‘Not of you. Of myself, perhaps, and of being found here with you.’
It was true, she thought. I’m afraid of being alone with him. He’s standing too close. He shouldn’t touch me like that. I don’t feel threatened, but I’m nervous of my feelings towards him. I’ve never felt like this before.
‘What do you want to talk about?’ She licked her lips. ‘I’m cold.’ She shivered.
He put his arms round her. ‘I could make you warm,’ he said softly. ‘Can I kiss you? Just a kiss?’
She said nothing, just looked at him. Her breathing quickened and she felt her pulses racing. ‘I – don’t think you should. I – we’d regret it. If you – we – did, it would mek things different between us. Noah would know.’
‘He wouldn’t.’ He brushed his mouth softly against hers. ‘He’d be ’last to notice anything.’
‘But it’s not right.’ She felt her resolve disappearing, melting, just as her bones were doing.
‘No, it isn’t.’ She felt him inch away from her and felt disappointment. But he shifted only to bring one hand to her face, to run his fingers round her eyes and lips as he gazed down at her. ‘But sometimes doing right seems wrong, and doing wrong feels so right.’ He bent his face towards hers and kissed her mouth, and she didn’t draw back but let her lips soften in response.
She gave a small moaning breath as he put both hands to her face, holding her fast. ‘I’ve ached to do that since you first arrived,’ he whispered. ‘How can I bear it that you’re my brother’s wife?’