Mary shook her head slowly, and again she spoke to him as she had never done in twelve years of marriage. ‘You are not a stupid man, Jeremiah, so don’t act like one,’ she said acidly.
And it said much for how the balance of their relationship had changed in just a few short hours that her husband made no reply . . .
It was a week later and the blizzards that had arrived the night Esther had come home had finally died out. The snow lay thick and the keen north-east wind had gathered it into deep drifts which in places could swallow horse and cart whole.
Esther had made no attempt to leave her room, not because of the weather which would have made it impossible for her to walk in the gardens of the vicarage, but because she had felt unwell and wanted nothing more than to lie in a warm bed and watch the flickering flames of the fire which Bridget raked out and lit every morning. Normally possessed of a vitality which enabled her to function on no more than four or five hours’ sleep a night, she felt drained and exhausted and slightly nauseous, eating only a few mouthfuls of the meals brought to her and sleeping most of the time when the child in her womb allowed her to do so.
For the first morning since Esther had arrived at the house a weak winter sun was shining when Bridget brought her breakfast. After the maid had plumped up the pillows behind her back and placed the tray containing a bowl of creamy porridge and a plate of bacon and eggs across her lap, Esther said quietly, ‘I think I may get up today, Bridget, and sit by the window in the sunshine.’
‘Oh aye, I would, ma’am. Makes you feel better, don’t it, a bit of sun. Would you like to come downstairs to the drawing room? I’ve just lit a nice fire in there.’
Esther smiled. She liked this cheery young soul with her warm brown eyes and curly light brown hair which always seemed to be trying to force the little lace cap off her head. ‘No, I won’t come downstairs today, but perhaps you would be good enough to move the armchair over to the window so I can see out.’
‘Of course, ma’am, an’ I’ll sort out a nice blanket for your legs. Always nippy round the legs in the warmest room, I find.’ Bridget bustled about, hauling the high-backed leather armchair from its place next to the bed to the window, and then delving into the oak blanket box at the foot of the brass bedstead for a thick wool blanket. That done, she came to stand by the bed when Esther murmured, ‘You may take the tray now, Bridget.’
‘Oh, ma’am, can’t you try an’ eat a bit more?’
‘I’ve had sufficient, thank you.’ And then, in case Bridget took her words as a rebuff and not wishing to hurt the girl’s feelings, Esther added, ‘Perhaps I’ll find my appetite again once I’m up and about. All I’ve done for the last week is sleep.’
‘Best thing, ma’am, if you don’t mind me saying so, what with the long journey and your condition an’ all.’
It was the first time her pregnancy had been mentioned and Esther nodded but didn’t comment.
Bridget hesitated a moment, and then said tentatively but with an eagerness she couldn’t conceal, ‘I hope you don’t think I don’t know me place, ma’am, but can I ask you what France is like? Is it very different to England? Me da, he’s always had a yen to travel but he’s never bin further than over the water from Ireland to these parts, bless him.’
It wasn’t often Esther’s conscience made itself felt but as she looked into the maid’s trusting brown eyes she found it difficult to lie. ‘I think your father would find most places in most countries differ only a little,’ she said at last. ‘France is beautiful but then so is England. Every country has its strengths and weaknesses, and people are the same the world over.’
Bridget nodded. ‘Me mam always says that wherever you go the rich get richer an’ the poor get poorer. Oh, not that I mean anything by that, ma’am.’
‘I know what you mean, Bridget.’ Esther smiled. ‘And I agree with your mother. Life is rarely fair.’
Again Bridget hesitated before saying softly, ‘We’re right sorry about what’s happened, ma’am. Me and me mam and da, I mean.’
For a moment Esther was at a loss and then she realised Bridget was referring to her supposed French husband. ‘Thank you,’ she said just as softly.
‘The babbie’ll be a comfort, ma’am, when it comes.’
‘Yes, I’m sure it will.’
‘Would you like me to help you get dressed, ma’am, if you’re going to sit by the window?’
‘I don’t think I’ll bother to get dressed, Bridget. The room is lovely and warm, and with the blanket you’ve provided I’ll be as snug as a bug in a rug. You get on with what you have to do and I promise I’ll ring if I need anything.’