Free A Mother's Sacrifice by Catherine King Page B

marketplace before.’
    He smiled at her with his fat lips but not with his glittery dark eyes. They stared at her piercingly and she wished that he’d move on. She wondered why Quinta was taking so long to fetch the meat. His manner was shifty and he had a crooked nose, one that had been broken at some time. In a fight, she didn’t doubt. She had a close view of his boots and saw they were the kind favoured by Sir William himself, black with a natural tanned cuff and dear to buy.Very smart, too, she thought, but the hair escaping from his tall hat was tangled and greasy.
    ‘I’m new ter town,’ he volunteered. ‘I’m still finding my way around. I saw you selling yer vegetables in the marketplace earlier, with a girl.’
    ‘Not me,’ she answered shortly.
    His eyelids narrowed and his fleshy lips pressed together. ‘Well now, I am sure I did, missus.’
    ‘What is it you want?’ she demanded shortly. She was beginning to feel uneasy about this fellow and wondered whether to call out for someone. She decided not. He might turn nasty.
    ‘I know ’ow ’ard it is ter get by these days, what wi’ rents and the price of flour going up all the time. I got work in the town fer yer lass, you know, wi’ proper wages and a decent ’ouse ter live in.’
    ‘Decent house?’ That’s not what Laura Haig had seen. Ordinary working folk lived squashed together in rows of damp hovels no better than their cowshed.
    ‘Aye,’ he went on. ‘A big ’ouse ’as ter ’ave a lot o’ lasses to keep it straight fer the folk that live there.’
    ‘Servants, you mean?’ Like the Hall. Laura Haig only knew of the Hall at Swinborough, which had a lot of maids.
    ‘That girl of yours would do well fer ’erself, I can tell yer.’
    ‘Oh yes? How do you know that, then?’
    ‘Because I do,’ he snapped harshly. He seemed to think better of this reaction and added, ‘I saw ’er with you.’
    Laura was glad that Quinta was not present. She didn’t like this man at all. ‘Well, she’s gone. She went off home an hour ago.’
    He looked around. ‘Is that ’er over there wi’ the basket?’
    ‘No. Besides, I know for a fact she’s already suited for work.’
    Suddenly he bent over her menacingly and breathed, ‘You’re a liar, old woman.’ He grasped the coils of hair at the back of her head and yanked her head upwards, making her call out in pain. ‘If I can’t ’ave the lass, I’ll ’ave that purse off yer.’
    ‘I haven’t got a purse,’ she denied. ‘She’s taken it with her!’
    ‘We’ll see about that, you stubborn old crone,’ he growled and reached under her skirt to the exact spot in her drawers.
    ‘No,’ she squealed, struggling to throw him off. ‘Help! Help!’
    But he pushed her down easily, throwing her sideways and flinging back her skirts, exposing the side of her drawers. He tore at the sagging pocket and grasped the leather pouch of coins. ‘This’ll do fer now. But I’ll be back fer the girl. I know she’s from round these parts somewhere.’
    ‘No! You can’t take that! It’s for my rent. Give it back to me. Oh! Help me, somebody!’ She raised her voice to a shout. ‘Quinta! Quinta! Help me!’
     
    Quinta was enjoying looking at the shop fronts on the other side of the square. The market stalls had been taken down and the crowds had thinned, but she heard a high-pitched call that she recognised as her mother and turned with a startled cry. She saw the man in his tall hat bending over Laura with her skirts all over the place and shouted, ‘Stop it! Stop it! I’m coming, Mother!’
    Hoisting her own skirt clear of the ground, she ran for all she was worth, crying, ‘Get away from her!’ As she approached, the man straightened. He had their purse in his hand but he didn’t run off. He turned towards her and she saw his face, his dark and threatening features, break into a sneering smile. She slowed and looked around for a weapon, picking up a heavy stone and holding it