‘Not yet, Adam, else the Reverend will think we are in a rush to wed,’ Lucy chastised.
‘Oh no, not just yet. I wasn’t thinking.’ Adam backtracked on his words.
The parson smiled. ‘Children will be an extra blessing, whenever they arrive. Now go and prepare, and look after each other. And I will pray that the weather keeps warm and kind to us until then.’ He watched the happy couple leave his study and shook his head as he looked at the date in his diary. Adam Brooksbank had found love once more; he was a lucky man. And she was a lucky young woman.
27
The weeks till the wedding had flown by so quickly. The whole of the Bancroft family had flitted from Providence Row and were now living happily at High Ground. Dorothy loved her new home; the boys had a bedroom each, and Susie – once Lucy was married – would soon also have a bedroom of her own. But the most noticeable thing was that the air was fresh and clear every morning, and the drinking water from the well outside was clean and pure every day, not discoloured on some days, as at Providence Row.
‘I can’t believe you get married this Saturday. It doesn’t seem five minutes since Adam and you sat across the kitchen table from us at Providence Row.’ Dorothy looked at Lucy, who was busy stitching buttons onto her wedding dress in front of the fire.
‘Time does seem to have flown, but it’s because we have all been so busy. Adam has been putting his stamp on his new land here, and you have been making this place your home. Perhaps we should have waited until spring to get married, with one thing and another. And just look at the weather this morning – when will it ever stop?’ Lucy looked up from her delicate lace dress and watched the rain pouring down outside. It had rained hard for the last four days, and the land was saturated and the rivers were swollen. Adam had told her to stay at High Ground until the weather improved, and she was missing him deeply, as well as worrying about the bad weather continuing until her wedding day.
‘Aye, your father’s not suited; he’s getting sodden each day at the flay-pits and he says the river is rising and flooding into the terrace. It’s a good job we all found new homes. He said the kitchen was a-swimming, and the water was running around the end terrace that Thomas Farrington lived in. He’s never known it to flood like that before; he said even the rats were having to swim for it.’ Dorothy sighed and looked at her daughter. ‘We’ve a lot to thank your fella for.’
‘Well, I only hope Adam’s remembered to dig up my chrysanthemums and put them in plant pots inside the barn. Else they will be battered to death and not fit to use on Saturday, and then I’ll have no bouquet. It isn’t frost that I’ve had to worry about, it’s this bloody rain.’ Lucy twisted the cotton that she was using around her finger and broke it off beneath the beautiful small silk-covered button that would fasten the high collar on her wedding dress. ‘There – all done; that’s my dress sorted anyway, if nothing else.’ She held it up in front of her and inspected her needlework. Every stitch on the tight bodice and long, flowing white skirt she had sewn and decorated with lace and embroidery, and now it was finished and she looked at it with a critical eye. ‘What do you think: should I have had a lower neckline? I like these high-standing collars, but do you think it makes me look as if I’ve got a double-chin?’
‘You’ve not got a double-chin at your age! It’s perfect, and so is Susie’s bridesmaid dress. I’m going to have all on not to cry. My precious girls looking so beautiful, and I’m to lose you – I don’t know how I’m going to cope.’ Dorothy’s eyes filled with tears. Her eldest was getting married and she would miss Lucy so much.
‘Mother, I’m only just over the moor. You live in Adam’s house, and I’ll never be away really.’ Lucy scowled. She herself couldn’t wait to leave home and start her new life with Adam, and Saturday could not come fast enough. She even disliked staying away from Black Moss while the rain poured down. It was only the knowledge that after Saturday it would be her permanent home, and that she would no longer be simply the maid, that made her stay at home and feel partly satisfied with her lot.
Bill looked around him. He was drenched to the skin and the flay-pits were overflowing with water, which swirled around his feet and those of his workers, who looked miserable and disheartened.
‘Bugger this for a lark! You wouldn’t send a dog out to work in this,’ he shouted, as even the men scraping the hides in the shelter of the shed looked dejected with the wet weather. ‘Get yourselves home. I’ll pay you for the rest of the day and we will see what tomorrow brings.’ He shook his head as his workers put down their tools and thanked him, then made their way back to the warmth and dryness of their own homes. They were sodden and frozen and knew that, come winter, their working conditions would be even worse when it froze outside, but the rain today made work impossible.
Bill looked across at his old home. He missed living there, as he’d been able to go and get a warm-up and a quick brew, if he’d been cold. But now he used it just to hide from the rain, and to scan the empty house and recall his childhood and that of his own family when
