For a Father's Pride (30 page)

‘Aye, I love you, but we shouldn’t have done that, not really; not before we are married.’ Daisy was starting to worry. Her passion had got the better of her, and now panic had
set in.

‘You’ll be all right, lass; you’ll be bloody unlucky if you are in the family way after having it just the once.’ Sam sat up and buttoned his trousers and shook the grass
seeds from off his shirt.

‘I suppose so.’ But all Daisy could think of was that it had only been the once with Clifford Middleton, and that had had a terrible outcome. She combed her hair through her fingers
and fitted her displaced boater on her head.

‘You’ll be all right. Stop worrying; we are to be married anyway.’ Sam held his hand out to her and pulled her up from his jacket, which he shook and then put back on.
‘Come on – they’ll be missing us, so we’d better show our faces. And, Daisy, keep the ring and our engagement quiet today. I want to pick my time to tell my mother and
father – they’ve enough on today.’ Sam smiled as he linked his arm through Daisy’s and started whistling.

‘Of course, Sam. I understand.’ Daisy looked at her fiancé. She’d made a terrible mistake, and she knew it. All she’d do now was worry whether or not she was
pregnant. She’d been in that situation before and had not forgotten the anguish that went with it.

Daisy stood in her former bedroom’s doorway. It had been a week since Sam’s proposal. Looking around her old bedroom, it felt as if she had never been away. Her bed
with its rotting, dusty covers stood in the centre of the room, along with the marble-topped washstand and chest of drawers. On top of them were Daisy’s old toys: a rag doll that her mother
had made her, and a tatty cloth cat that had once belonged to Kitty. She knew every inch, every crack of the room, and she hated it. It had been – and still was – a cell to her and, no
matter how she cleaned it, it would always remind her of the guilt she’d carry with her all her life about her liaison with Clifford and subsequent conception.

She set to work, stripping the bed and folding up the ticking mattress into a roll. There were bloodstains on it – her bloodstains from childbirth. She pulled the whole lot down the stairs
and out into the garden, putting it on top of an already-lit bonfire. There she watched it smoulder, slowly burning away the evidence of her guilt. Tomorrow she’d paint the walls of the
bedroom and wash the floor and then, at the end of the month, she’d move into her new home – away from Clifford Middleton, her unsympathetic sister and Clifford’s son –
ready for a new life.

‘You look surprised to see me.’ Sam stood on the doorstep of Mill Race cottage. ‘I went up to Grouse Hall, but they said you were here, getting ready to move
in.’

‘I haven’t heard anything from you for weeks – not since Moorcock fair day. I thought you’d had enough of me.’ Daisy rubbed her engagement ring on her finger. She
was relieved to see Sam, but also annoyed, thinking the worst of him as the days passed and, with them, his integrity.

‘What do you mean? You thought I’d have my wicked way with you and then leave you high and dry? Besides, Daisy, it’s only been three weeks, and we’ve been busy. Hawes has
been heaving this last week or two, with sheep and lamb sales. The Penny Garth holding pen has been full every day and, where there’s sheep being sold, there’s hungry farmers –
and money to be made.’ Sam rubbed his head with his cap and looked at Daisy’s worried face. ‘Anyway, I’ve come to pick up what you’ve made and take you to tea at home.
With it being Sunday, and my father in a good mood with all the brass he’s been making, it’s as good a time as any to tell them our news.’

Daisy sighed with relief, and then panic set in. ‘But I’m not even dressed right. I’ve got to do my hair, and my hands are a mess from scrubbing my bedroom floor with
soda.’ She gazed at her rough hands.

‘Does it matter? You should see my mother. Some days she looks like something the cat’s dragged in. It’s a good day for telling them. Besides, my mother knows you are coming
and she’s guessed something’s afoot. She keeps looking at me strangely and nearly crying.’ Sam made his way into the parlour of Mill Race. ‘Go on, get changed and tidy. If
you must change, I’ll wait for you here. You must have something fresh to put on here.’

He sat down on the reupholstered sofa, which had previously had mice nesting in it, and looked around him. She was a good home-maker, Daisy, and he’d done right asking her to marry him.
Folk had told him all sorts: that she was after his money; that she shared Clifford Middleton with her sister; and that she cared for nobody. But none of them knew the real her – they’d
just listened to the gossip spread by the evil Joshua Oversby at Yore House.

‘Are you ready, lass? It’ll be dark, if you don’t hurry up.’ Sam heard the floorboards above him creak. He put the waiting jars of preserves into his father’s
basket and placed it on the floor.

‘I’m coming, I’m coming.’ Daisy rushed down the stairs, still pinning her hair tightly into place as she reached the bottom.

‘Aye, tha looks bonny. There’s a blush in your cheeks from rushing about.’ Sam put his arm around her waist. ‘Maybe we could have half an hour to ourselves? I bet your
bed’s comfy upstairs – should we try it out for size? Just to see if it’s big enough for when we are married.’

‘No, we will not, Sam Allen. Your mother’s waiting for us, and I’m not being led astray again by your sweet talk.’ Daisy kissed him on the lips and pushed him gently away
as he tried to demand more from her.

‘Bloody spoilsport. But you’re right. Let’s not put the cart before the horse, else me mother would never forgive me. God help me if I was to be a father before we were
married. I take it we are all right, that way?’ Sam nodded at her.

‘Yes, you’re all right, so stop bothering. But we are not tempting fate again, not until we are married. I did nothing but worry until I knew I was all right. That was why I was cool
with you, turning up on my doorstep after weeks of no word. I thought you’d gone and left me.’ Daisy blushed.

‘I’d never do that – you know I wouldn’t.’ Sam squeezed her hand and lifted the basket from the floor as the couple made their way outside to the trap and to tea at
Luke Allen’s.

‘I knew it, I just knew it. I could tell on Moorcock Show day that something had happened. There was that look in your eyes when you came back to us. I said to you,
Father, didn’t I?’ Mary Allen sobbed into her hankie at the news of her son’s engagement.

Daisy blushed at the thought of what had happened at the fair, grateful that Mary hadn’t witnessed the unleashed sexual exploits of her son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law.

‘Aye, Mother, you’d think it was a funeral, not an engagement. I’m right suited for you both. Couldn’t be a more perfect match. You keep him on the straight and narrow
now, Daisy, you promise me? He can be a bit of a bugger, can this one.’ Luke Allen slapped his son on his shoulder. ‘Time for a tipple, I think, Mother. Get the sherry out. That is, if
you haven’t used it all in the trifle. It was a bloody good one, by the way, lass.’ Luke sat back in his chair. ‘When are you thinking of getting married – have you set a
date then?’

‘Stop it, Father, give them time to think.’ Mary passed over the sherry bottle from the sideboard and turned around for the small sherry glasses that were displayed on its shelves.
She sniffed into her delicately embroidered handkerchief before passing everyone a glass.

‘No, we haven’t set a date. In fact, we have hardly talked about it since fair day; we haven’t had time.’ Sam looked at his parents: his father was taking the news well,
but he knew his mother was going to give him a lecture about marrying below what she thought to be his status.

‘Where are you thinking of living, lad? Here isn’t the place for you and Daisy; you’ll want family, so you’ll want a home of your own.’ Luke sipped his sherry.

‘I haven’t thought about it. I suppose, if Daisy will let me, we’d be happy at Mill Race in Grisedale. It’s a bonny little cottage, with a good kitchen and orchard, and a
paddock big enough to keep a pig or two for bacon.’ Sam smiled and squeezed Daisy’s hand for a response.

Daisy nodded. ‘Yes, that would be perfect. It would make me happy for us to stay there and raise a family.’

‘Hush, now, there’s no need to talk of family yet. I can’t get it into my head that my son’s getting married, let alone me becoming a grandmother. I’m not old
enough, and are you sure you are both ready for this? Sam, you’ve never been with another woman – are you sure Daisy is the one for you?’ Mary stared at Sam. Daisy was not good
enough for her precious son, but then again, nobody could look after him like she did. She wouldn’t let him go without a fight.

‘Mother, you are upsetting Daisy and insulting me. I’m no longer your little boy.’ Sam placed his sherry down sharply, nearly spilling the golden liquid on the white linen
tablecloth.

‘I think I’d better go. You need to talk to your family alone, Sam.’ Daisy’s cheeks were flushed and her legs shaky as she stood up from the tea table. ‘I do love
him, Mrs Allen, and I’ll always be there for him, if that’s what you are worried about.’ She pushed her chair away and walked to the doorway.

‘Don’t be silly, Daisy – stop! My mother will never be happy with whoever I marry, and I want to marry you.’ Sam grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her back into the
room.

‘Aye, lass, tha’s right with me. I can see it being a good marriage,’ said Luke. ‘In fact, I was going to give you a bit of a nest egg to start you off right. Maybe
you’ve rushed it a bit, eh! Mother? Have a long engagement, and let your mother get used to the idea, Sam. Shall we say a spring wedding, if you are still hell-bent on getting wed?’

‘Spring! That’s ages off.’ Sam raised his voice.

‘I can wait until spring, Sam. What’s six months, when we love one another like we do?’ Daisy squeezed his arm. ‘We’ll do that, Mr Allen. I’d rather you all
accepted me than we all sneak and plan behind one another’s backs.’ She aimed her words at Mary; Daisy knew she’d never win her over.

‘Nay, lass, we’d never do that. Say it as it is, that’s the best way. Give Mother here some time to get used to it, and then she’ll be celebrating with the rest of
us.’

Mary Allen said nothing. A lot could happen in six months, and it gave her time to turn her son’s head away from the woman who was going to pinch him from her.

‘Daisy, I’m sorry. Are you sure you are happy to wait that long?’ Sam looked worried; he didn’t want to lose the woman he loved.

‘We’ll still only have known one another a year, and some folk are engaged to be married for years, Sam. As long as it makes everybody happy.’ Daisy’s face belied her
innermost feelings. She was disappointed, but she had time to win over Sam’s mother before they wed.

‘See, lad, happen your lass has got sense – it’s no good rushing these things. I’ll feel better about it when I know Daisy better. And I’m sure she thinks the same
of me.’ Mary smiled a dry smile and wiped her eyes, knowing that she’d won the battle this time.

‘All right, we’ll wait, but neither of us will be changing our minds. You can count on that.’

Daisy leaned on the garden gate of Grouse Hall. It was a quiet autumn day and the smell of decaying leaves and drying peat from the turfs cut for winter filled the air. Across
on the surrounding fells the purple heather gave the hills a glorious hue, and the rowan tree at the bottom of the garden hung laden with red berries. She smiled as she listened and watched a flock
of sparrows argue over the berries, despite her standing there; they were too busy fighting over easy food supplies.

Despite the stillness of the day Daisy felt uneasy. She was going to leave Grouse Hall tomorrow and live back at Mill Race by herself – a time she had looked forward to, in honesty. But
still, something was holding her back from feeling happy. Perhaps it was the fact of leaving young Tobias behind. She had grown fond of the lad, but he knew he could visit her if he was ever in
bother, and so far her sister had been playing the game with Daisy’s monthly allowance for him. She looked at the penned-up fox cubs. They weren’t cubs any more; they were fully grown
and Tobias no longer played with them like puppies. Their teeth were like razors and they’d bitten the young lad a time or two, just enough for him to lose interest in them. She hoped the
poor creatures could run fast enough to outwit the huntsmen and dogs. What Clifford had agreed to wasn’t right; the cubs should have been killed along with their mother, rather than be ripped
to pieces by the pack. She looked back at Grouse Hall. She’d hated it the first time she’d visited it and was no fonder of it now. It was an ugly house, like its owner – cold and
grey. Clifford and it were well matched.

‘What are you doing, Daisy?’ Tobias ran up to her and smiled.

‘I’m thinking, my love, that it’s time to leave you. I’m going to my own home in the morning. But don’t you fret, you’ll be all right. Things are in place to
make sure you’re not treated as you were.’

Tobias cried and wailed. ‘I don’t want you to go, Daisy. He’ll beat me and make me live under the table, like a dog again.’

‘No, he won’t, my love. I’ve paid Kitty to look after you, and if ever he touches a hair on your head, you come to me in Grisedale and tell me. Because Kitty won’t get a
penny more, if she doesn’t look after you. But you keep this a secret – not a word; she mustn’t know you know.’

Daisy kissed Tobias on his head and held him tightly against her. The poor lad, she’d miss him. But she had a life to live, and he was not part of it. From now on her life would be spent
cooking for the Allens and living quietly until her wedding day. How things had changed for the better within a year. Yet still she felt something was waiting to happen just around the corner. Call
it intuition. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something more was to happen, she was sure, although exactly what she didn’t know.

Oversby and the Lunesdale Hunt came galloping at a pace up the roadway to Grouse Hall. The hounds bayed and sniffed, chasing whatever sport they detected on the dewy
early-morning grass. The whipper-in blew his horn as they approached the garden and watched as the hounds went frantic at the smell of fox around the newly emptied cage.