the maltese angel (26 page)

Meanwhile, Jessie had reached the bottom of the second field where Mick Riley and Rob, with the assistance of Carl, were patching a dry stone wall bordering the bridle path on that side of the land.

Mick and his son greeted her as they always did with exaggerated Irish courtesy: "Mornin' to you. Miss Jessie," with Rob's voice just a little behind that of his father, but he left the rest to Mike as his father said, "Tis a grand day, isn't it, miss? Can't ya hear it singin' " Spring's on its way"?"

Jessie did not answer, but she smiled, then turned to Carl who was now saying, "You want me. Miss Jessie?"

Jessie looked at him. His blond hair looked to be almost silver; his face, as always, appeared beautiful to her; and his straight body was something on which she must not let her thoughts dwell; and she could have answered, "Yes, I want you, Carl. I always have; but you don't want me; you want the daughter of this rough man, don't you? I wish I hated Patsy, like I used to, but she won't let me, for she, more than any other, has understood how I have felt, and in her own way she has been kind to me. She it was who would put her arms around me after Mother died, not Annie, and oh, not Daddy. No, the only one who's ever felt his arms since then has been Angela. Yet his love doesn't satisfy Angela. Angela would fly away tomorrow and forget him if her fairy prince were to come riding along, whereas I, who have never had his love, could never forget him."

Carl was saying, "Is anything the matter. Miss Jessie?"

"What? ... No. I'm sorry." And she gave a little laugh.

"I was thinking of something else for the moment; as Mike says, it's a bit of a Spring day ... Father would like to see you in his study."

Now? "

"Well' she shrugged her shoulder 'he sent me for you."

Looking at Mike, Carl said, "I won't be long," the words implying, And so you had better keep going; no sliding down against the wall and lighting your clay pipe ..

They were walking side by side across the field when she said, "Will you be going to the magic lantern show tonight?"

He laughed as he replied, "No; I don't think so. In fact, I've seen it so many times I could give you the show without the slides."

"But the parson tells us he has twelve new slides."

"Oh well, I suppose that's something to look forward to. And he's always obliged to you when you go. It makes his efforts worthwhile.

He's a good man. "

"Yes. Yes' she nodded 'he's a good man. It's a pity he's so sick.

But I feel he'd improve somewhat if he'd only move out of the Hollow.

It's a damp place at the best of times. "

"Yes, you're right there. But those down there are his flock; although half of them' he refrained from saying, the Irish 'don't pass over the church steps; but nevertheless he treats them all alike. They would all have known even harder times if it hadn't been for him."

"But Daddy's been kind to them." Her voice sounded on the defensive now, and he confirmed quickly that he

recognised this by saying, "Yes; yes, of course. No-one kinder. With his taties and turnips, and all the odd bits, and giving Mike half a pig at Christmas. Yes, you're right." But again he had to stop himself from saying. It's easy to give when you've got plenty, but when you've got as little as Parson Noble, it's like his name: it's a noble deed he does every time he shares the little he's got. Instead he said, "You say your father's in his study?"

"Yes. Yes, Father's in his study."

When they reached the yard, she left him to go into the kitchen alone, and there, looking at Annie, he said, "I'm wanted in the study. What's afoot? Do you know?"

"Now, why ask me that? What would I know of the inner workings of the master's mind?"

He smiled and pushed her gently in the shoulder, saying, "More than the next, Annie."

"Are your boots clean?"

He looked down at them, saying, "Yes; yes, they're clean; the ground is as hard as flint."

A minute later he was knocking on the study door, and when Ward's voice called, "Come in!" he entered the room, which was small, although it was lined with bookshelves, the only other pieces of furniture being a desk and two chairs, in one of which Ward was sitting, the other one being placed near the window.

Pointing to it. Ward said, "Draw it up; I want to talk to you."

They sat for a moment looking at each other; then Ward, running his fingers through the front of his greying hair, said, "I've asked you here because this is a private talk. It will be the one and only, I suppose, we'll ever have along these lines. How old are you now?"

"Oh ... Oh. Well, you know, master, I wasn't sure whether I was nine or ten when I came to you, but I reckon I am now twenty-seven." And he was in such a position in this household that he could add, "I wouldn't have thought you would have to ask that."

"Oh, perhaps not. But I just wanted it to be emphasised that you are twenty-seven; you are no longer a youth, not even a young man, you are a fully-Hedged man. And now I am going to ask you if you have thought of your future."

"Oh yes; many a time."

"Have you ever thought that one day you could own this house and farm?"

Carl moved slightly on the chair, which caused the legs to squeak on the polished boards; then emphatically he said, "No! No, never!"

"Well, well; you surprise me, because any onlooker, any close onlooker, that is, would have said you have been running this farm for a good few years now."

"Oh no ... no."

Carl was shaking his head, when Ward put in, "But yes; I don't want to hear any false modesty: you know you've been carrying the weight of it since I lost my' he had to gulp in his throat before he could bring out

'wife. I haven't been the farmer I was before. My mind has been

centered on protecting my daughters;

and yes .. and yes, myself, too. I have enemies in that village,

strong enemies. I'm only too well aware of it; and because of this, I've left you to carry on, for you've not only helped to grow the

produce, you've seen to the marketing of most of it. I've taken the profit and paid out the bills and wages, and in a way, I am still

master here, but I haven't been running my farm. You have. So, what would you say if I offered to make you my heir? But wait! " He lifted a hand.

"There is a condition. And the condition has weighed heavily on me for some time. I am going to ask you a straight question: do you like

Jessie?"

Carl sat perfectly still for at least ten seconds; then he closed his eyes and bit on his lower lip before he said quietly, "Yes; yes, of course, master, I like Jessie. Apart from yourself and Annie, I was the first to hold her. She is like ..."

"Don't... don't say she is like a sister to you, because she is not your sister; and she has never felt that she was your sister. Jessie is very fond of you."

Carl drew in a deep breath before he said, "Yes ... yes, I know that, master; and I am fond of her ..."

"But what you are going to say is, fondness isn't love;

you don't love her. "

"Yes; that's about it, master."

"But let me tell you, Carl, that after marriage fondness very often grows to love, a lasting love. There's more to marriage than a burning flame that attacks you."

It was at this point that Ward sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. What was he saying? More to marriage than a burning flame. Had he not been consumed with the flame? Were not its embers still burning within him? It wasn't only protection of his daughters that had filled his mind all these years, it was the constant ache for his loss, for his love had been a mania; there was nothing reasonable or logical about it. And here he was telling this young fellow, whom he already thought of as a son, that love grew out of fondness.

He was actually startled when Carl said, "I'm afraid I can't agree with you, sir. And anyway, now that we're speaking openly, I love someone else, and I am sure you know who that is. And I've often felt, sir, that as you loved your dear wife so I, in a similar way, love .. "

"Don't say it! Don't speak of Patsy Riley in the same breath as my wife, or of my feelings for her. What is she? She is not even a

village girl, but springs from that Hollow where pigs are cleaner than some of their owners. And don't say to me that she is different, for breeding will out. Just look at her father and her brother. Do you want to link yourself with that lot? You will either marry Jessie or you will no longer remain here."

Carl was now on his feet looking down on the man whom he had loved as a father, and his heart was sore for him as he said, "I would do anything m the world for you, sir, because I owe you a great debt, but if I did what you ask I would make two people very unhappy, not to mention a third, for I don't love Miss Jessie as a man should love a woman, and she would suffer for that. Then the woman I love would suffer, too.

And yes, she is from the Hollow, but she is an intelligent woman; she is a fine woman. You, sir, have never spoken more than half a dozen words to her in all the years she's been in your employ. And now I am going to say this: your wife valued her; she lent her books, and she talked with her on the side when you were out of the way so it wouldn't annoy you, because she realised that the little Irish girl who came to your door, pointing out that she had washed her hands and her hair in the river, was worthy of better treatment than that meted out to a pig swiller or dairymaid. "

They were again looking at each other, each in deep sorrow now.

When Carl stepped back, he asked one question: "Do you want me to leave now, sir?"

It was noticeable to them both that he was no longer using the word master; and with averted gaze Ward answered, "You may work your month."

When Carl passed through the kitchen, Annie turned from her seat and, looking at him, asked, "What is it, lad? Something wrong?"

"Yes, Annie. Yes, you could say that, something's wrong. I'll ...

I'll talk to you in a short while. " And with this, he hurried out into the yard, where he stood as if in a daze, until he saw Patsy

coming from the open barn.

He ran towards her and, taking her arm, drew her back into the barn, into the corner where some bales of hay were stacked but where the sunlight streaming in through the shrunken old oak slats dappled them both in light and shade as they stood looking at each other.

Patsy did not question, "What's the matter? What's happened?" for from the look on Carl's face she guessed

something vital to them must have taken place; and when he suddenly moved from her to lean back against a supporting beam, his head

touching the wood as he muttered, "We're free!" she sprang towards him, her hands on his shoulders now, her voice rapid as she said,

"You've told him? You've told him? And he said we can? Oh Carl!

Carl!"

He brought his head down to the level of her own now, and quietly he said, "No, he didn't say we can, he gave me the option: he offered me the house and the farm if I married Jessie."

"No." Her voice was a whisper.

"He made it as plain as that?"

"Yes, my dear; he made it as plain as that. But I told him I couldn't make her unhappy and myself at the same time because I loved you."

When she fell against him, her head on his shoulder, he placed his arms gently about her; and as he held her he said, "It was awful.

Patsy, really awful. Although I felt I owed him so much, the price he was asking was too much for me to pay. "

"It's my fault."

And to her almost inaudible mutter, he replied, "No, it isn't your fault; it's nobody's fault. Anyway, we've got a month to find another place. And we'll be together, in the open. That's the main thing,

because it's been a long time' he raised her face to his now 'overlong.

It's odd, you know, but I was thinking about it this morning, that it was overlong already. Now we're going to be like Jimmy Conway and

Susan Beaker. By what is said in the village they had been going

together since he was nineteen and she eighteen, but he had to stay with his father until he died, and she had to stay with her mother until she died. And there they are now: she's thirty-six and he's

thirty-eight, almost twenty years' courtship; and I could see ours being the same, because we've known each other for nearly sixteen

years. Anyway, they are being married today. That's what made me

think of it."

She turned from him, yet retained a hold of his hand as she said,

"Strange that you should mention them; that was the first thing I thought of, too, this morning. I thought it was because Ma said

yesterday that there would be high jinks in the village tonight, for both inns were stocking up, and Da said there would be free drinks all round because the butcher's business has been thriving and he had been the closest of men, and so Jimmy would be very warm. And he said the Beakers would be, too. Strangely, though, I didn't think about their wedding, I just wondered if we would have to wait almost twenty years, and if could we last out."

They turned together to look at each other.

He bowed his head and, his lips in her hair, he said, "For my part, I doubt it." Again they were in each other's arms; and now tightly holding, he added, "We can make it as soon as you like."

"Oh, Carl; as soon as ever you like."

After they had kissed again a gentle, warm gesture now, they separated from each other and walked side by side into the yard.

But beyond the farther side of the barn, Jessie did not move, only, just as Carl had done, to lean her head back against the wood as she pressed her lips into an indrawn thin line in order to prevent the tears from spurting from her eyes. She hadn't meant to listen. It was as she walked along the back of the barn towards the hen pens to gather the morning eggs that she heard their voices, and stopped for a second to look through a cleft in the wood. And so she saw and heard almost all they had to say to each other.

Now she was saying to herself, "Oh, Daddy! Daddy, why had you to do it? I could have borne it. But never to see him again. I might have been able to change my