the first time in weeks, Elizabeth did not feel quite so alone.
****
It was well into May and as yet there was no sign of summer. It rained for days on end and the children had begun to behave like caged animals, fighting and arguing all the time. Their noise brought Charles bellowing from his study on a number of occasions. Elizabeth was spending most of her time in the nursery and was unaware of his many visits to the stables. She was thankful that he stayed out each night until almost dawn and returned too tired to pay her any unwelcome visits.
****
For Charles the past few weeks of gambling were beginning to tell financially as well as physically. Carey and his fellow players might be having a run of luck, but he assured himself, it was only a matter of time until his turn came. In the meantime his coffers needed replenishing. With an estate the size of Maycroft, there must be many ways of doing this. He would send for Ryan, the estate manager and set him the task. Feeling very sorry for himself, he drank almost a decanter of whiskey.
SIX
Endless days of rain were bad enough, but it was the cold and damp that bothered Timmyâs mother most. She needed to keep a fire going constantly and this used up most of the turf. Since her husband was working in the fields and Timmy in the stables, it was up to her to cut more in the bog. Turf-cutting mostly depended on the weather. In dry weather the turf was at least clean. Now, with the constant rain, it was proving to be a nightmare.
Her back had been bad since the birth of Rose, a breech that had almost cost her life. She had paid a high price for her labour, taking weeks to recover. Weeks when her husband shouted at her to get up from the bed, berating her for what he saw as laziness. It was loss of blood that kept her there, and the pain that shot like fire along her lower back. Even afterwards, when he turned to her at night and she begged to be left alone, he paid no heed. Four children to feed and he still only cared for his own needs. The priests were worse for filling menâs heads with their nonsense. Increase and multiply, fill the earth. Aye, the men took them at their word.
She had gone to see Father OâReilly once, begged him to speak to Pat for the sake of her health and that of the children. Instead, he berated her and sent her away with her head bowed in what he though was disgrace, but was, in fact, despair.
âWhere thereâs life thereâs hope, woman. Go home and do your duty as a wife and, if that means youâre to bear more children, then so be it. Itâs Godâs will, and he will see you through.â
See her through, she thought, as she heaved the old wicker basket over her shoulder. He was taking his time.
Peter carried the spade as he walked beside her. They would have to make at least ten trips before there was enough turf to last the week. The rain had turned the bog into a soggy, puddle-dotted, swamp. The spade sliced through easily enough, but it was hoisting the waterlogged peat that hurt the most. Each sod seemed to weigh a ton as she tore it from the earth, and her sweat mingled with the rain, so that she was soaked through within minutes. Twice during the day, she slipped and fell in the mud, wrenching and pulling her back. She had to lie breathless and allow waves of pain to wash over her until, finally, she was once again able to stand. Peter tried to do as much of the digging as possible, but the spade was too big for his hands and he was more of a hindrance than a help.
It was late evening when they collected the last load and she was glad of the pelting rain. At least the child could not see the tears that ran down her cheeks, making tracks through the dirt on her face. She knew that there would be four hungry mouths waiting at the cabin when they got there. Despite three of them working, there was little left to spend each week on food. They put aside a large amount for rent, more for seeds, and Pat
****
It was well into May and as yet there was no sign of summer. It rained for days on end and the children had begun to behave like caged animals, fighting and arguing all the time. Their noise brought Charles bellowing from his study on a number of occasions. Elizabeth was spending most of her time in the nursery and was unaware of his many visits to the stables. She was thankful that he stayed out each night until almost dawn and returned too tired to pay her any unwelcome visits.
****
For Charles the past few weeks of gambling were beginning to tell financially as well as physically. Carey and his fellow players might be having a run of luck, but he assured himself, it was only a matter of time until his turn came. In the meantime his coffers needed replenishing. With an estate the size of Maycroft, there must be many ways of doing this. He would send for Ryan, the estate manager and set him the task. Feeling very sorry for himself, he drank almost a decanter of whiskey.
SIX
Endless days of rain were bad enough, but it was the cold and damp that bothered Timmyâs mother most. She needed to keep a fire going constantly and this used up most of the turf. Since her husband was working in the fields and Timmy in the stables, it was up to her to cut more in the bog. Turf-cutting mostly depended on the weather. In dry weather the turf was at least clean. Now, with the constant rain, it was proving to be a nightmare.
Her back had been bad since the birth of Rose, a breech that had almost cost her life. She had paid a high price for her labour, taking weeks to recover. Weeks when her husband shouted at her to get up from the bed, berating her for what he saw as laziness. It was loss of blood that kept her there, and the pain that shot like fire along her lower back. Even afterwards, when he turned to her at night and she begged to be left alone, he paid no heed. Four children to feed and he still only cared for his own needs. The priests were worse for filling menâs heads with their nonsense. Increase and multiply, fill the earth. Aye, the men took them at their word.
She had gone to see Father OâReilly once, begged him to speak to Pat for the sake of her health and that of the children. Instead, he berated her and sent her away with her head bowed in what he though was disgrace, but was, in fact, despair.
âWhere thereâs life thereâs hope, woman. Go home and do your duty as a wife and, if that means youâre to bear more children, then so be it. Itâs Godâs will, and he will see you through.â
See her through, she thought, as she heaved the old wicker basket over her shoulder. He was taking his time.
Peter carried the spade as he walked beside her. They would have to make at least ten trips before there was enough turf to last the week. The rain had turned the bog into a soggy, puddle-dotted, swamp. The spade sliced through easily enough, but it was hoisting the waterlogged peat that hurt the most. Each sod seemed to weigh a ton as she tore it from the earth, and her sweat mingled with the rain, so that she was soaked through within minutes. Twice during the day, she slipped and fell in the mud, wrenching and pulling her back. She had to lie breathless and allow waves of pain to wash over her until, finally, she was once again able to stand. Peter tried to do as much of the digging as possible, but the spade was too big for his hands and he was more of a hindrance than a help.
It was late evening when they collected the last load and she was glad of the pelting rain. At least the child could not see the tears that ran down her cheeks, making tracks through the dirt on her face. She knew that there would be four hungry mouths waiting at the cabin when they got there. Despite three of them working, there was little left to spend each week on food. They put aside a large amount for rent, more for seeds, and Pat
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