Read Online A Carriage for the Midwife by Maggie Bennett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maggie Bennett
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social differences that put her at the very bottom of the scale. And the one way of asserting herself would be to outstrip them all.
‘Come, Poll, we ha’ rested long enough,’ sighed Susan, closing her book and tucking it inside her bodice. ‘The others are startin’ again.’
‘No, Sukey, wait – see o’er there by the gate, three fine gen’lemen be lookin’ our way.’
Susan’s heart gave a sudden leap at the sight of Edward and his brother with another tall, fair-haired young man. She did not care to be seen toiling in a field, especially with that dark, menacing presence among the men working some way off.
‘Don’t look at ’em, Poll. We better get back,’ she muttered.
But Polly had returned Edward’s smile, encouraging him to approach them. He had been drawn to seek out Susan in Lower Beversley, much to Osmond’s irritation and Midshipman Hansford’s amusement.
‘’Tis a disgrace that these girls should labour in the fields all day while we play fools on horseback, Henry! We talk of abolishing the enslavement of negroes, yet turn a blind eye to the condition of the poor among our own people—’
‘Oh, spare us your pious sermons, Neddy, on matters you know nothing about,’ sneered Osmond. ‘I’ll wager the parents of these girls drink every penny they earn and then come whining for parish relief. You listen too much to Cousin Sophy’s cant.’
‘Whoa, Osmond, steady on. You are as cross as a bear since you returned from school,’ chided Henry. ‘Edward may surely talk with the girl if he pleases.’
The boy had already dismounted and was walking over to the Lucket sisters.
‘Good day to you, Susan. I had hopes of seeing you,’ he said artlessly. ‘So is this your sister, Polly?’
Susan gave a half-smile, but her eyes looked towards the new-cut grass that the women were raking up into a line of haycocks; Farmer Bennett’s eyes missed nothing.
‘Aye, master, this be Polly.’
‘And
this
be our brother Jack,’ added the younger sister as a small sun-browned boy sidled up to them and gave Edward a cross-eyed grin. Edward was surprised at his own instinctive recoil; why should Susan’s poor little brother send a shiver down his spine? After all, he couldn’t
help
having a squint.
‘And are your father and mother working in this field too?’ he asked, shading his eyes as he looked towards the circling haymakers, the men cutting, the women raking and gathering.
‘Oh, aye, Ma be o’er there wi’ Joby, and Da be—’ began Polly, but Susan cut in quite sharply.
‘If ’ee please, master, we ha’ to get on, or the farmer’ll be arter us fur gossipin’,’ she told him, and he glimpsed the shadow in her downcast grey eyes. He supposed it was the effect of poverty and the deaths of her three brothers that had brought about this change, yet he sensed a wariness in her look and tone, as if she were on her guard. It troubled the boy in a way that he was too young to understand, and reluctantly he took his leave and returned to the gate where he had left his horse. Osmond had ridden off, disgusted by Henry’s defence of Edward, but the young midshipman seemed inclined to talk as they rode at a leisurely pace back to the village centre.
‘What did Osmond mean when he spoke of your cousin Sophia, Edward? He said you had been – er – influenced by her.’
‘Cousin Sophy is a great friend to the poor, and she says that faith must be shown in good works or it is worth nothing,’ replied the boy promptly, having spoken at length with Sophia the previous day.
‘Is that what she says? And why didn’t I see her in church on Sunday?’ smiled Henry.
‘Because she quite often goes to Little St Giles to hear Parson Smart preach. She prefers him to Dr Gravett, she says.’
Henry laughed. ‘I don’t suppose the rector cares for her praise of poor Smart. But tell me more, Edward. I hear that Miss Glover visits filthy hovels where nobody else ventures.’
‘Yes,
‘Come, Poll, we ha’ rested long enough,’ sighed Susan, closing her book and tucking it inside her bodice. ‘The others are startin’ again.’
‘No, Sukey, wait – see o’er there by the gate, three fine gen’lemen be lookin’ our way.’
Susan’s heart gave a sudden leap at the sight of Edward and his brother with another tall, fair-haired young man. She did not care to be seen toiling in a field, especially with that dark, menacing presence among the men working some way off.
‘Don’t look at ’em, Poll. We better get back,’ she muttered.
But Polly had returned Edward’s smile, encouraging him to approach them. He had been drawn to seek out Susan in Lower Beversley, much to Osmond’s irritation and Midshipman Hansford’s amusement.
‘’Tis a disgrace that these girls should labour in the fields all day while we play fools on horseback, Henry! We talk of abolishing the enslavement of negroes, yet turn a blind eye to the condition of the poor among our own people—’
‘Oh, spare us your pious sermons, Neddy, on matters you know nothing about,’ sneered Osmond. ‘I’ll wager the parents of these girls drink every penny they earn and then come whining for parish relief. You listen too much to Cousin Sophy’s cant.’
‘Whoa, Osmond, steady on. You are as cross as a bear since you returned from school,’ chided Henry. ‘Edward may surely talk with the girl if he pleases.’
The boy had already dismounted and was walking over to the Lucket sisters.
‘Good day to you, Susan. I had hopes of seeing you,’ he said artlessly. ‘So is this your sister, Polly?’
Susan gave a half-smile, but her eyes looked towards the new-cut grass that the women were raking up into a line of haycocks; Farmer Bennett’s eyes missed nothing.
‘Aye, master, this be Polly.’
‘And
this
be our brother Jack,’ added the younger sister as a small sun-browned boy sidled up to them and gave Edward a cross-eyed grin. Edward was surprised at his own instinctive recoil; why should Susan’s poor little brother send a shiver down his spine? After all, he couldn’t
help
having a squint.
‘And are your father and mother working in this field too?’ he asked, shading his eyes as he looked towards the circling haymakers, the men cutting, the women raking and gathering.
‘Oh, aye, Ma be o’er there wi’ Joby, and Da be—’ began Polly, but Susan cut in quite sharply.
‘If ’ee please, master, we ha’ to get on, or the farmer’ll be arter us fur gossipin’,’ she told him, and he glimpsed the shadow in her downcast grey eyes. He supposed it was the effect of poverty and the deaths of her three brothers that had brought about this change, yet he sensed a wariness in her look and tone, as if she were on her guard. It troubled the boy in a way that he was too young to understand, and reluctantly he took his leave and returned to the gate where he had left his horse. Osmond had ridden off, disgusted by Henry’s defence of Edward, but the young midshipman seemed inclined to talk as they rode at a leisurely pace back to the village centre.
‘What did Osmond mean when he spoke of your cousin Sophia, Edward? He said you had been – er – influenced by her.’
‘Cousin Sophy is a great friend to the poor, and she says that faith must be shown in good works or it is worth nothing,’ replied the boy promptly, having spoken at length with Sophia the previous day.
‘Is that what she says? And why didn’t I see her in church on Sunday?’ smiled Henry.
‘Because she quite often goes to Little St Giles to hear Parson Smart preach. She prefers him to Dr Gravett, she says.’
Henry laughed. ‘I don’t suppose the rector cares for her praise of poor Smart. But tell me more, Edward. I hear that Miss Glover visits filthy hovels where nobody else ventures.’
‘Yes,
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