A Mother's Sacrifice by Catherine King Page B

him and eventually added, ‘Mother thought she might housekeep for him at one time.’
    ‘Seems like a good idea. He might attract a wife then. What happened?’
    ‘She didn’t like his terms. She’s a proud woman, my mother.’
    ‘I see.’ He frowned. At least he thought he did and guessed that a brutish man like Farmer Bilton might not bother with a wife and expect more than housekeeping duties from an attractive widow like Mrs Haig. ‘I’m sure that was for the best. She probably knows him better than you do. He’s coarse and selfish. Not gentry either. How did he get the farm in the first place?’
    ‘It was entailed and the only direct heir was killed in one of the battles in Spain before Waterloo. So it came to him. We’re told he’s a distant cousin through the female line. She married beneath herself and had a son, so he inherited. He comes from Derbyshire, I think. He’s a good farmer though. Everybody says so.’
    ‘Well, your holding is small in comparison to his. But if it was worked well it would support a decent rent.’ He hesitated. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. The two of you do your best.’
    ‘When Father was alive we kept a milking cow and made hay for her winter feed. I remember a bullock once and sheep on the pasture. Father’s beasts always fetched a good price at the market.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll have to find work. There’ll be a hiring fair on Lammas Day when the harvest starts.’
    ‘And leave your mother here alone?’
    ‘They’ll have to take both of us. What else can I do? If we don’t give Farmer Bilton his dues, he’ll turn us out.’
    ‘Your mother isn’t well.’
    ‘I know. She’s never had a cough that lingered so. If only she could throw it off,’
    ‘I talked to the apothecary about her. My father asked me to. He learned much about ailments during his soldiering. I have a strong mixture that will help her.’
    ‘Thank you, Mr Ross. I am grateful to you.’ She meant it. It was the longest conversation she had had with him and she realised that he was articulate and educated, as well as being a good farmer. But he had had a difficult childhood which, by his own admission, had set him on the road to becoming a vagabond and she wondered how much of that cunning remained. She fell silent again until they approached their parents.
    ‘Please do not speak of Farmer Bilton’s behaviour. Mother worries so,’ Quinta whispered.
    ‘Very well,’ he replied. ‘You must tell her of the rent increase, though.’
    ‘Tomorrow, when she is rested,’
     
    ‘Will you walk and talk with me, miss? It will make the last stretch home bearable,’ the sergeant asked as he struggled to his feet. ‘If your mother has no objection?’
    ‘Of course, sir.’ Quinta would rather have stayed by her mother’s side, but as Laura seemed to approve of the arrangement, she felt obliged to agree. They moved slowly as Laura was weary and the sergeant’s leg pained him.
    ‘It was generous of you to give us all the kindling money, sir,’ she said.
    ‘Not at all. It is your wood.’
    ‘And your son’s labour.’
    ‘Which pays for our rent of your cowshed.’
    Quinta did not argue. She understood only too well the value of such a bargain. And she had learned today that townfolk were ready to pay well for all their produce. This had surprised her at first as they could just as easily grow vegetables for themselves, and many did so in their long narrow gardens. But there were lodging houses and inns to supply as well, and she reflected that life in the town was very different from Top Field. She wasn’t sure she agreed with her mother about not going to market any more.
    ‘Can you read and write, miss?’ the sergeant asked.
    ‘Oh yes. My father learned how from the vicar when he was a lad. He taught my mother and me. We have a Bible indoors and story books, too. We read them to each other on summer evenings. Then in the winter, when it’s dark, we try and remember the