‘So Adam Brooksbank said he loves Lucy and wants to marry her? That’s all very well, but he’s not the richest man in the valley. Our Lucy could do so much better; she could have any man she wanted, if she did but know it. I’m against it, Bill. She’ll not be going to work for him this morning. Both of them need to come to their senses.’
Dorothy looked up at the crack that was lengthening on the bedroom ceiling and thought about her own lot in life. She had wanted so much more when younger, but then children had come along and, with them, a lack of money; life was hard, and that was not what she wanted for any of her children. She wanted more for her two girls – especially Lucy who, with her startling good looks, caught many a wealthy man’s eye, and them a lot younger than Adam Brooksbank.
‘He might not be the youngest, but he’s got brass,’ Bill mumbled. ‘I always thought he dressed posh, but I never thought he had that much money. He’s thinking of trying to buy High Ground off the courts. She could do worse.’ He closed his eyes.
‘He’s got money! I had him down as simply inheriting his father’s farm and having nowt,’ Dorothy said, with her eyes still focused on the state of the ceiling. Of late, she’d noticed a few cracks beginning to show on the walls of their home, and it was causing her another worry.
‘Aye, now hold your noise and go to sleep. We’ll talk about it in the morning.’ Bill pulled on the bedcovers and turned his back on his wife. All he wanted was to sleep. He’d no concerns over Adam Brooksbank marrying his lass. In fact, from what he’d seen and from what the landlord in The Fleece had told him, Adam was a gentleman, and Lucy could do no better than to wed him.
‘I’ve told our Lucy that she’ll not be going to work at Black Moss this morning – or any morning, if I have my way. She’s gone back up to her bedroom and is balling her eyes out and calling me all the names under the sun.’ Dorothy thrust a cup of tea under Bill’s nose and glowered at him. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I’m still not happy with the state of affairs. And as for you, I’ve no sympathy for you; you shouldn’t have drunk so much. Look at the state of you.’ She shook her head at her dishevelled husband. ‘You’d better square yourself up, before you go and tell those men out there the business for the day.’
‘It’s not just me that needs to square up. You want to do the same yourself. I told you last night that Adam Brooksbank is a wealthy and good man. What I didn’t tell you was what Ernest Shepherd said about him.’ Bill took a long drink of his tea and looked at the annoyed face of his wife. ‘After Thomas Farrington’s untimely death, Adam Brooksbank gave the local peelers his account of how the death had been accidental, and Ernest Shepherd happened to comment that he’d been glad Adam had been there to give evidence, else it could have been a little awkward. Anyway, during the course of the conversation it turned out that the peelers all knew Adam, because he was once one of them, but, as you already know, left the force when his wife died tragically. But they were even more willing to accept his account of what happened because of his service in the Crimea. Adam Brooksbank was awarded the Victoria Cross, Dot – the highest medal anyone can receive! He saved a lot of his regiment at Sebastopol from certain death, and put his own life at risk, after holding back an attack on his company on his own. That’s how he’s got his limp. Now, if someone who holds the Victoria Cross and has money and his own land is not enough for you, I don’t know who is?’ Bill looked at the dismay on Dorothy’s face. ‘You should be proud that our lass has fallen for such a good man.’
‘Well, how was I supposed to know? Lucy’s never said anything, and he’s not made it known to us. The Victoria Cross – the Queen doesn’t give them away for nothing! He must have been brave. That still doesn’t make him any better, though.’ Dorothy looked at Bill. She didn’t want to admit that this time she was in the wrong.
‘Dorothy, he’s a decent man, and he doesn’t brag about what he’s done – and God knows, he should. You let our Lucy court him, and be right with them both.’ Bill looked sternly at his wife. ‘Give her a yell. Tell her to go and see to him, and give her your blessing. She’s got herself a good one.’ Bill got up from his chair and looked at his wife. ‘You can’t keep her at home forever. Let Lucy make her own way in life.’ He went over and kissed Dorothy on the cheek. ‘She’s got a good man, so be thankful for that.’
‘She’s still my baby. I just want the best for her.’ Dorothy hung her head.
‘Well, you’ll not go far wrong with Adam Brooksbank. Now shout her down here, and let her be away to him. I heard her sobbing this morning as I got up, and she’ll make herself ill if she carries on like that.’ Bill smiled at his wife. ‘She’ll be alright with him, so don’t you worry.’
Dorothy went to the bottom of the stairs and yelled for Lucy to come down and join them. She listened as her daughter came out of her bedroom and, still sobbing, made her way down the stairs, to what she must have thought would be yet
