‘Morning, Lucy. I’ve just finished chopping the kindling sticks. I can lay the fire, if you wish?’ Adam looked up at his maid and smiled.
‘No, it’s alright, sir. I’ll do it.’ Lucy knelt down next to the fire and riddled the still-glowing embers from the previous evening, laying the newly chopped sticks on the warm coals and blowing gently for them to catch fire, before adding coal to the blaze.
‘I’ve filled the kettle and got the bread out of the pantry. A slice of bread and butter with some cheese will suffice for my breakfast. I want to be out in that garden as soon as I can. The day promises to be a good one, so hopefully I’ll get the rest of the soil turned over and then you can help me set it with whatever seeds we have.’ Adam sat back in his chair, with his jacket not yet on and his braces hanging down by his side, instead of being pulled over his white chambray shirt.
Lucy looked at her boss. He was better than any other man she had ever known. Who else would do the things he had done, when it was expected of a maid.
‘Thank you, sir. I’ll brew your tea and butter the bread, and then I’ll go and milk the cow. It does look like a good day – spring is here, by the looks of it. It will soon be summer and the swallows will be returning to nest under the eaves of the buildings. They always tell me that summer is not far away,’ Lucy said as she put the kettle on to boil. ‘Archie is due to be here today, isn’t he?’ she enquired, hoping that he had not changed his mind about the day’s work.
‘Yes, he’s going to be up on the moor. He’s going to make a start on the top pastures, now that all is straight in these bottom fields. I can let the cow out in another few weeks, so she won’t have to be fed, once the odd sneaky frost has disappeared, so that will be a job less. Next I’ll go to the May Fair and buy myself some sheep and perhaps a piglet, and then I’m fully stocked and can quite happily feed myself and sell the surplus for a little profit down in Keighley. To think I turned my back on all this, all those years ago. I didn’t know what I was giving away.’ Adam sighed.
‘Perhaps it was not the right time for you, sir, but now you appreciate it more. You sometimes don’t realize what you’ve got until it’s threatened.’ Lucy passed Adam a slice of bread and cheese rather than have him leave the warmth of the fire, and poured him his tea when the kettle had boiled.
‘You have got a wise head on your young shoulders, Lucy. I wish I had been blessed with as much sense when I was your age. Instead I was headstrong and selfish.’ Adam looked into the fire and thought about the past.
‘I’m sure you did what you thought was right at the time. Sometimes you have to do things that you regret, but hopefully things always right themselves.’
Lucy stood up straight and looked at her master. He had regrets, but none of his regrets would touch hers, if she got blackmailed into marrying Thomas Farrington. She couldn’t do it; she wouldn’t do it; and she would not be walking out with him on Saturday night.
13
Adam stood back and looked at his handiwork: the garden was free of weeds and the ground was dug over and planted with potatoes, broad beans, beetroot and cabbages. And Lucy had planted a row of peas, with sticks foraged from nearby hedges already in place, for the young shoots to grow up. It had been a good day, but now he was in need of a slice of the bacon-and-egg pie that Lucy had left him for his supper, and a drink.
The days were drawing out and the sun had not yet set, when he decided to sit outside with his supper and ponder the day. He bit into his cold pie and looked around him. No wonder his parents had been so content to live here, for there was nothing more to be desired in life. He’d enjoyed his day, getting his hands dirty with the earth’s good soil and Lucy keeping him company. Although saying that, she had not been her usual sparky self today, it seemed, and she’d asked if she might walk home early with Archie, even though she didn’t seem to be flirting with him in her usual manner. In fact, the more he thought about it, Lucy had definitely been a little reserved in her ways the whole day. He must remember to ask her if she was troubled by anything, and if her mother and family were alright? It was usually her family that she was bothering about, when she had not a lot to say for herself.
He took another bite out of his pie and followed it by a drink of tea, then thought how good a gill of ale would be, after a day of toil in the garden. In fact he’d been meaning to pay a visit to The Fleece for some time. Perhaps this evening was as good as any, he thought, as he collected his cup and empty plate from beside him and went inside, to change his shirt and wash before he walked the half-mile to where the inn stood by the roadside, at the crossroads between Halifax, Keighley, Cullingworth and Denholme.
The Fleece was the local hostelry for those who worked at the flay-pits and the quarry. It was Thursday evening, so nobody should be intent on drinking themselves into a stupor, as all would have work the following
