‘I can guess your plan, Lucy. I noticed that you were sweet on him when he introduced you to me. I don’t think your father would be that pleased if I took him on as well as you; and besides, you’d be too busy flirting to get anything done for me.’ Adam grinned and looked at Lucy’s cheeks flush.
‘It’s not like that, sir. I just feel sorry for him. Archie never has any time for himself and he works so hard to keep a roof over his own and his mother’s head. He used to have dreams, like me, when he was young, but with being the only bread-earner at home, he’s worn down. He deserves a bit of luck and he hates working at the flay-pits. I’ve known him since we were little, so I do tend to wind him up a bit with my cheek, but I never think of him in that way. It’s like you say: my father would kill me if I had to marry him. My father has set his head on somebody far more important for me, although I’ll marry who I want and he’ll not stop me, if I have my way.’ Lucy hung her head and then walked to the oven to check on her bread.
‘And who does your father think suitable for you then, Lucy? It sounds as if he has somebody in mind.’ Adam looked at the flushed young woman, who had ideas of her own when it came to the man she was going to love.
‘He thinks I should be fluttering my eyelids at Alex Braithwaite from the quarry, but I’m not having any of it. Or one of the Buck lads, but neither are for me really. I might flirt with them, but I haven’t come across the right man yet. Besides, Alex Braithwaite is never out of The Fleece of an evening. It’s no good marrying a drinker – my mother told me that and she should know, because my father likes a gill or two and often comes home from The Fleece the worse for wear. It’s his usual night for having a gill tonight, and I bet he’ll come home in a right stinker this evening, especially if my mam has told him her news. Me and the young ones will keep out of his way and hide under the bedclothes, if he starts ranting. He’ll not have taken the news well, and I only hope my mam will be alright.
‘He’s got a bit of a temper sometimes, although he never raises his hand in anger; just gobs off and frightens everybody with his language. But it’s as my mam says: at least she’s not like Rebecca Town that lived down in Keighley – she had thirty children before she died at the age of forty-four. Thirty children, and all of them died before they reached five! The poor woman must have died of a broken heart.’ Lucy was thankful she couldn’t see the response on Adam’s face, as she bent down to take the second loaf from the oven. Her father’s temper wasn’t something she’d told everyone about, but her new employer seemed a kind man and had shown a tender side to him, in the two days she’d worked for him.
‘Now I’d never have thought that of your father. He seemed a reasonable man. I’ve not heard of this Rebecca Town, but it does not surprise me, in the depravity of Keighley town. It is somewhere I’m not very fond of.’ Adam looked concerned at his young maid; it would seem that Bill Bancroft was not what he appeared, and that Lucy had seen fit to talk to him about her father’s temper, out of worry.
‘My father’s just got a lot on his mind, what with the tannery and all of us to feed. It’s only when he’s had a gill that he lets rip. We all know to keep out of his way then. You’ll not say to anyone that I’ve told you, will you? He doesn’t like us to gossip – he’d bray me to within an inch of my life.’ Lucy shot a look at Adam and wished she hadn’t said anything.
‘No, I’ll not say anything, Lucy. But if he gets too violent, you come here with your sister and brothers. I’ll not have any of you hurt by a man in drink. Even though it’s none of my business.’ Adam looked across at the blushing young woman and decided to leave it at that, saving her any further blushes. ‘I’ll go and have a walk around the higher pastures, inspect the walls and see what needs to be done. Can you put me a slice or two of that newly baked bread with a chunk of cheese? That will do me for my dinner, and then I’ll return before dusk, for you to go home.’ Adam watched as Lucy hurriedly cut into the new loaf and bundled a good slice of Wensleydale cheese into a napkin for him to carry.
‘Don’t be going too far – think of your leg,’ Lucy said, as Adam took the napkin in his hand and put his cap on. ‘I’ll be making a stew of some sorts, with what we’ve got, for your return; and I’ll tidy that spare bedroom, not that you have a lot of furniture in it.’ Lucy wanted to make sure her new master realized that she wouldn’t be idle while he was out and about.
‘Aye, that’s grand. And don’t worry – I’ll take it easy. It’s been a long time since I’ve walked up the moors around here. I used to love the view. I’ve had many a tanned backside for being late home, and my parents wondering where I’d been, when I was just
