Read Online The Stony Path by Rita Bradshaw - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rita Bradshaw
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this big, gangling half-nowt, this pit-yakker upset Frederick! Henry should have said something, put him in his place, instead of just sitting there with that silly look on his face, smoking his stupid pipe. She’d have something to say to him later, the weak, spineless fool.
Once Polly, Ruth and Michael had followed Luke and Arnold outside, Hilda rose to her feet, drawing her breath in through her teeth in a low hiss as her anger continued to burn. Where was the respect for Frederick’s superior knowledge? He was well read; the study at Stone Farm was lined with books, and besides Frederick’s taste in literature and the arts, he had an excellent knowledge of current affairs. Their father – Hilda was emphatic in claiming the paternity and never allowed herself to dwell on the reality – had always maintained it was education that made the difference between the working man and his betters, and he had been right. Oh, why had she allowed herself to become linked with these people? If only she had known then what she knew now. It would have been better for her to remain a spinster all her days than to be interned in this dreadful place.
She climbed the narrow, steep stairs slowly, the muscles in her legs being weak through lack of use. Once in the bedroom she sank down on to the bed as her thoughts continued to flow on. Henry had tricked her when he had married her and brought her here, oh yes, he had, he had. He had given her to believe that this farm, although smaller than the one she had grown up on, was a prosperous entity with plans for growth, but within a month of their arriving home from honeymoon Walter had dismissed his men and closed up the cottages. When she thought of those early days of marriage ... She shut her eyes tight, swaying slightly as her arms crossed over her flat stomach and her hands gripped either side of her waist.
She had been expected to work harder than ever Betsy and the kitchen maid at Stone Farm had done, and the nights with Henry, the close proximity with this man who had changed from courteous, respectful suitor into someone with wants and needs that horrified and disgusted her, had been unbearable. She had never imagined that people did ‘that’ to procreate. Perhaps if her mother had lived longer she would have explained something of it to her, but the degradation, the utter baseness of the night hours had sickened her. And she didn’t believe Henry when he said that some women found it acceptable, even pleasurable. It was too, too humiliating, too vile for that. And what was the end result? Months of wretched bloatedness, and then agonising pain as the thing planted in her had made its appearance into the world. But she had put a stop to all that.
The thought brought Hilda’s head – which had been bent over her flat chest – slowly upright, and the rocking stropped-as her cold pale blue eyes narrowed. Henry had always denied he married her to establish a solid link with Stone Farm, but if it hadn’t been that, then what else? It certainly hadn’t been because he loved her, she had realised that even before they had been wed; in fact from the first time they had walked out together. But she hadn’t cared for him in a romantic sense so she hadn’t been unduly concerned. Henry had been the only man of her acquaintance who had shown the slightest interest in her, that had been the plain fact of the matter, and she had known that if she’d refused him she would have been condemning herself to a life of spinsterhood – a life which appeared very sweet with hindsight, Fredenck would have taken care of her; he wouldn’t have expected her to soil her hands with low, menial work of the kind she had encountered here.
She undressed slowly, but her indolence was engendered more by the bitter nature of her thoughts than by fatigue, and when Henry opened the bedroom door a few minutes later and glanced across at the thin, still figure of his wife lying primly
Once Polly, Ruth and Michael had followed Luke and Arnold outside, Hilda rose to her feet, drawing her breath in through her teeth in a low hiss as her anger continued to burn. Where was the respect for Frederick’s superior knowledge? He was well read; the study at Stone Farm was lined with books, and besides Frederick’s taste in literature and the arts, he had an excellent knowledge of current affairs. Their father – Hilda was emphatic in claiming the paternity and never allowed herself to dwell on the reality – had always maintained it was education that made the difference between the working man and his betters, and he had been right. Oh, why had she allowed herself to become linked with these people? If only she had known then what she knew now. It would have been better for her to remain a spinster all her days than to be interned in this dreadful place.
She climbed the narrow, steep stairs slowly, the muscles in her legs being weak through lack of use. Once in the bedroom she sank down on to the bed as her thoughts continued to flow on. Henry had tricked her when he had married her and brought her here, oh yes, he had, he had. He had given her to believe that this farm, although smaller than the one she had grown up on, was a prosperous entity with plans for growth, but within a month of their arriving home from honeymoon Walter had dismissed his men and closed up the cottages. When she thought of those early days of marriage ... She shut her eyes tight, swaying slightly as her arms crossed over her flat stomach and her hands gripped either side of her waist.
She had been expected to work harder than ever Betsy and the kitchen maid at Stone Farm had done, and the nights with Henry, the close proximity with this man who had changed from courteous, respectful suitor into someone with wants and needs that horrified and disgusted her, had been unbearable. She had never imagined that people did ‘that’ to procreate. Perhaps if her mother had lived longer she would have explained something of it to her, but the degradation, the utter baseness of the night hours had sickened her. And she didn’t believe Henry when he said that some women found it acceptable, even pleasurable. It was too, too humiliating, too vile for that. And what was the end result? Months of wretched bloatedness, and then agonising pain as the thing planted in her had made its appearance into the world. But she had put a stop to all that.
The thought brought Hilda’s head – which had been bent over her flat chest – slowly upright, and the rocking stropped-as her cold pale blue eyes narrowed. Henry had always denied he married her to establish a solid link with Stone Farm, but if it hadn’t been that, then what else? It certainly hadn’t been because he loved her, she had realised that even before they had been wed; in fact from the first time they had walked out together. But she hadn’t cared for him in a romantic sense so she hadn’t been unduly concerned. Henry had been the only man of her acquaintance who had shown the slightest interest in her, that had been the plain fact of the matter, and she had known that if she’d refused him she would have been condemning herself to a life of spinsterhood – a life which appeared very sweet with hindsight, Fredenck would have taken care of her; he wouldn’t have expected her to soil her hands with low, menial work of the kind she had encountered here.
She undressed slowly, but her indolence was engendered more by the bitter nature of her thoughts than by fatigue, and when Henry opened the bedroom door a few minutes later and glanced across at the thin, still figure of his wife lying primly
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