The streets were less crowded now but they were still grateful when they reached the foot of College Street and turned across the broad roadway opposite the courthouse to walk under the shade of the trees. They sat down on the first available seat and breathed more deeply in the cooler air.
‘It was a lovely lunch, Jonathan. Thank you,’ she said quietly, ‘but I’m rather glad to be away from everyone. I can think better down here,’ she said, laughing briefly. ‘Perhaps I’m a country girl at heart,’ she went on, glad to see him relax a little, though it was clear to her that something was on his mind.
‘Do you want to tell me what happened before you arrived at the Charlemont Arms?’ she asked cautiously. ‘You did say you would,’ she added encouragingly.
‘No, I don’t want to tell you at all,’ he said, with a wry smile, ‘but I must. Honesty is required for my dear friend.’
He paused as if he were not sure how to put it, then suddenly making up his mind, he began. ‘I’d had the idea that I might buy you a little gift, some flowers, or a plant in a pot that you could take care of. I’m sure you’d have green fingers if you had a little garden. So I went up to the market, but I was disappointed. There was nothing that looked right. As I was walking back down again, in plenty of time to meet you, I found a group of men just ahead of me. They were very rough-looking and had sticks and cudgels in their hands; they were pushing their way into a bakery through the people just coming out.’
He stopped, looked her straight in the eyes and went on: ‘I nearly passed by on the other side. They did look so fierce: unshaven, wild-eyed, ragged. I knew I had to do something, but what was I to do? I really hadn’t the slightest idea. But I found myself following them into the shop. There were a couple of women inside who’d obviously been waiting to be served and when I looked at them I could see they were really frightened. There was a young assistant behind the counter and he wasn’t much better.’
‘So what did you do, Jonathan?’
‘How do you know I did anything except turn tail and disappear?’
‘Because I do know a bit about you. Not as much as I could know, but enough to know you’d have done something. Do tell me, please.’
‘I turned and spoke to them. I couldn’t believe I was doing it. I said something like, “What’s the matter my friends, can you not ask for what you need? Ask and it shall be given.” And one of them put down his stick and said, “Sir, we need bread, our wives and children are starving.”
‘It was then that the baker appeared from the back of the shop, at least I assumed he was, certainly he was dusting flour from his hands. “Can you provide these good people with bread?” I said. “Have you enough for all of them and the two ladies over there?” “I have, sir,” he said, counting the heads. “You’ll be wanting large loaves then, sir.” So I agreed that I would, though I didn’t know how much money I had in my purse.
‘Well,’ he said, taking a deep breath, ‘I took it out and found I had two sovereigns, so I gave them to him and he handed me one of them back. “You might need that if you’re travelling in these parts,” he said, and turned away from us and went away into the bakery. He came back loaded up with the largest loaves I have ever seen. He gave one to each man and one to each of the two women.
‘Sarah, I don’t think I shall ever forget what happened next. The thought of it makes me weep,’ he said apologetically. He paused, took a deep breath and went on. ‘One of the women handed hers back. “Baker, please share this out. I still have food at home,” she said, and the men stood back to let her pass. And the other one did the same and followed her. So the baker carved the two loaves into big pieces and they shared them between them, giving the biggest pieces to the one with the most children. Then they wished the baker and me good day and one of them said “God bless you, sir” and I was really hard-pressed not to weep tears of relief and joy.’
Sarah looked at him gently and took his hand. ‘Well done, Jonathan. Now you know the courage you have, you must treasure it. That’s what my wise grandmother would say, so I’m saying it for her.’
He nodded gently, clasped his other hand over hers and said: ‘I need even more courage now for what I have to tell you. I hope you’ll not be angry with me, but I won’t see you again till almost Christmas and it seems such a long time to hold this pain in my heart.’
‘What pain, Jonathan dear? What’s troubling you? Tell me what I can do to help.’
‘Sarah, my dear, when I met my wife, she was very young and beautiful and full of a gaiety I had never known in all my life. I was not so young, but I was enchanted by her. I was welcomed by her family because they knew I could provide well for her and it seemed as if our marriage would bring such happiness to everyone. The liveliness and gaiety, the “disinhibition” as the doctors now call it, was an early sign of her mental illness. Within a year of our marriage, she had to have professional care. Now she doesn’t know who I am. Sometimes she is angry when I visit, throws my gifts on the floor or tramples on them. I cannot recognise even the shadow of the young woman I thought I loved. But she is my wife and so I cannot therefore confess the love of a mature man for the woman I truly love. And the pain of concealment is truly hard to bear. What am I to do, Sarah? There is no one else I can ask but you.’
‘But you had your answer earlier today, Jonathan. Have you forgotten what you said to the men in the baker’s shop? You said, “Ask and it shall be given.” You must ask this woman whom you love to tell you what to do,’ she said gently, as she drew her hands back from his.
‘You are the woman I love, Sarah. I shall never love anyone else while you live, but I cannot ask you to marry me, even if I knew you loved me too.’
Sarah had but little doubt that she was the woman he was referring to, for Jonathan’s face was always so revealing. He could not be deceitful even if he tried. But what was she to say to him? She had loved John so dearly, would have gone on loving him, but now he was beyond her love and this man was dear to her, she had no doubts at all about that.
‘What would you like me to say? What would comfort you? You know I care for you. You are my dearest friend and yes, I have love for you. Were you not married, I could indeed give you my promise.’
‘To marry me?’
‘Yes.’
‘But that, my dearest, is all I need to give me courage. If you find someone you want to marry, I must release you and wish every blessing upon you, but if you do not, then all I have is yours to deal with as you wish, whether I am able to marry you or not.’
They walked all afternoon, moving from one sitting place to another on the tree-lined walk that circled the green of the racecourse lying at the centre of the small city of Armagh. They walked side by side as if they had always walked together, not touching or holding hands, merely being as close as it was possible to be, looking at the same falling leaves, at the nursemaids pushing prams outside the handsome new houses in Hartland Place, at the detachment of cavalry who went jingling past in the direction of their barracks.
They talked about all manner of things, sharing details of their very different lives in a way that letters could seldom convey; easy with each other, a great burden lifted from Jonathan, and for Sarah, the pleasure of seeing the distress fall from his face. Their only sadness was that time was passing so quickly. It was hard to believe they must go back to the hotel so soon and say their goodbye in the stable yard where Daisy would be waiting and Jonathan’s luggage stood ready for the evening coach.
‘Will you write to me tomorrow, Sarah dear, so that I have something of you to come and comfort me in my empty house soon after I get back? Please.’
‘Indeed, I would willingly, if I had your address,’ she came back at him, laughing, reminding him of the omission that had caused him such anxiety only a very short time ago.
He had to dash into the hotel, beg a sheet of paper and write down the address for her while Daisy was being brought out of her stall. They clasped hands just for a moment in the busy stable yard and then he handed her up into the trap, passing her the reins when she settled herself.
‘I will write tonight, on the ship, but you will probably not get it for a day or two. But you do know I’ll be thinking about you.’
She nodded vigorously as Daisy fidgeted.
‘Be of good cheer. It’s been a wonderful afternoon,’ she said, trying to smile and not quite managing it, knowing how sad he was they’d had to part so soon.
‘See you at Christmas,’ she said, as easily as she could manage. ‘I hope you have a good crossing.’
‘My luggage is heavier, full of papers and problems, but my heart is much, much lighter,’ he said, looking up at her and raising a hand as the trap clattered slowly over the cobbles.
Sam Keenan was watching for her as she came between the large stone pillars. Only when she saw him did she remember she’d said she would be back early. A good thing Scottie was nowhere in sight. He’d become more confident in her driving but she knew he would never forget what had happened to John on that lovely spring day. It was often clear that he still feared he might lose her as well.
‘You should be away home, Sam. I’m sorry, I got delayed,’ she said, as he helped her down. ‘Have you seen Scottie?’
‘Aye, the old lady’s gone but he’s left you a note. I think there’s somethin’ else wrong but I thought I’d not ask him whit it was till he tole you first.’
‘Sam, go on home,’ she insisted. ‘Whatever’s in the note will keep till Monday. Your good wife will be wondering what’s kept you. I don’t want her worrying.’
‘Aye, well. Women do be worryin’ but sure amn’t I the lucky one that she pays that much attenshun. Some men’s wives don’t even notice them.’
‘Yes, you have a point there,’ she said, as she watched him unharness Daisy ready to be led out to her field. ‘Now away on, as they say. I’ll see you Monday, all being well.’
The house was warm but the fire was out. It was a very long time since the fire had been out, for Scottie had always watched over it, whatever else was happening, since she’d been going to Castle Dillon. It reminded her of stories John had told her about hearths that had never cooled in fifty years or more, someone always taking over, until finally some old person died with all his family in America and there was no one left to carry on.
She was reluctant to set it going again while wearing one of her work dresses. But then she caught sight of the envelope on the table. Scottie’s note, addressed in his swirling hand. ‘Mrs Sarah Hamilton. By hand.’
She sighed as she picked it up. Another death, but an old lady sadly failing for many years. A merciful release, some would say, but Sam seemed to think there was something else as well as the old lady’s death. She tore the envelope open, scanned the carefully written sentences quickly and took a deep breath. Another problem, another person in need. This time it was her dear Scottie. It would take more than a fresh fire and a mug of tea to work out what to do about this one.
She changed her dress and lit the fire. After a good lunch she wasn’t hungry, but the thought of a mug of tea was very appealing. As the tiny flames moved from dry sticks to small pieces of turf, and then on to carefully placed pieces of coal, she finally put the kettle down and brought the teapot and caddy to the table.
What comfort there was in the familiar things of every day. How many pots of tea shared with John, with John and Scottie and Ben, with friends and neighbours and welcome customers at the forge. She thought of Paddy McCann and the trap he had repaired, a critical part of her everyday life now. And on Thursday evening, Jonathan had sat by the fire with her for the first time. And now they had what one might call an understanding. If circumstances changed to leave him free then she knew she would marry him.
What a different life she might have if that were to happen. No fires to make, no stone floors to sweep, no bread to bake, or food to cook. Jonathan was a wealthy man though he chose to live simply enough and to use much of his time – and no doubt part of his fortune – to help those in the greatest need. But would the change in her life matter if she loved the man?
Marrying John had also changed her life, but they had been so happy together. What was new to her, he’d helped her with: explaining patiently what she didn’t understand, whether it was the rules relating to apprenticeship that meant she had to provide food for Ben and Scottie, or the secret of baking bread on a griddle.
She had no doubt in her mind that if you loved someone then the tasks could be shared and the problems resolved. Whether it was a country blacksmith or a wealthy manufacturer made little difference when in both cases there was love and trust.
She sat for a long time, quite glad to be alone, knowing that Mary-Anne was visiting Billy’s elderly parents and that she would see her tomorrow. Now, she could no longer feel lonely. Sad, yes. Missing John’s presence in the life they had made together, yes, but lonely? No.
To have even one person with whom one could be oneself was richness, to have more than one was true wealth, and she had many friends. And now there was Jonathan. Whatever hardship the future might bring, and there was indeed much to fear as the depth of poverty increased, she nevertheless saw that she was steady in herself and was valued by those with whom she worked. She still had the capacity to laugh. She was truly blessed and must give thanks.
She stood up and went to the open door. The evening was windless, the light lingering though the nights had already begun to drop down. Jonathan would have a calm crossing. They had never spoken about his journeyings, whether he was a good sailor or not. She knew he had often slept in barns or lofts, when he found himself in places with no inn and no one who could offer him a bed. He accepted what he was offered and was thankful. That was something else that they shared.
Suddenly weary, she decided it was time she went to bed. It had been a long day. She remembered her morning at work and Annie and her good news. What an age away it seemed, and how little she ever expected to have good news of her own.
At this moment, she could not think of anyone, other than Mary-Anne, with whom she could share it. Perhaps not even with Mary-Anne. She would have to consider carefully in case it might cause her pain, though she knew that Mary-Anne, in her usual generosity of spirit, would never grudge her any possible happiness. She would have to think about that tomorrow.
There was no surprise in Scottie’s note when he’d asked for a few days’ leave to help with his grandmother’s burial. Rereading it on a quiet, rather misty Sunday morning, she saw that he planned to come and see her when he had the chance, but he couldn’t come to work, at least not till Uncle Edward arrived to take charge of what had to be done.
Last night, she’d been so relieved when she read that his uncle was coming over from Scotland. The thought of being part of another wake and funeral, so soon after her days helping Mary-Anne, lay heavy upon her, but as she reread his letter she was reminded of the different and more serious problem she’d set aside when she knew she was too weary to make decisions.
Scottie explained that his uncle would have to pay for the old lady’s funeral for no provision had been made during his granny’s lifetime. Not entirely surprisingly, as a result, Uncle Edward had told him he would have to come back to live with him in Ayr and find a job nearby. Scottie couldn’t stay in Ireland with rent to pay for the cottage and his uncle said he was no longer able to help with feeding and clothing him for the rest of his apprenticeship. Perhaps if he saved his money, he could complete his apprenticeship at some future date at a nearby forge in Scotland.
‘Poor Scottie,’ she said aloud, thinking of how Scottie had changed and developed in the last year. The last thing he’d want to do was go back to Scotland, leaving his friends to go and live with his uncle whom he hardly knew and to set aside his apprenticeship, just when he’d found his feet and his confidence and the strong support of Sam Keenan.
He had worked so hard all the time he’d been in the forge. Now that he’d grown several inches and filled out a little he looked much more like a blacksmith, but there was still over a year before he could be classed as a journeyman. What a disaster to have to give up all that he’d achieved.
She laughed to herself as she laid out her jotter and writing things, even before she’d made her breakfast. So many things in life could be resolved by money. It was true that money by itself would seldom create happiness, but without it the opportunity to be happy was very limited. What Scottie needed was money and, after she’d had some breakfast, she’d set herself the task of finding it.