Free A Country Marriage by Sandra Jane Goddard Page B

that alluring experience, either. She had certainly already acquired it before she met Tom, and although it was so much part of her appeal, it was also, surely, why Tom had such difficulty keeping her under control. No, he didn’t need that sort of trouble from a wife, whatever the less-than-exciting alternative.
    Exhaling a long, slow breath, he wiped his hand across his forehead. A few months back, his best and most sensible hope had seemed to involve finding a reasonably capable and accommodating wife who he might eventually grow to like or possibly, even love. And the first time that he’d met Mary, he thought that maybe he had found her. So, why, now, was he wondering what had possessed him to marry her? Contrariness was bad enough in a woman but definitely not an admirable trait in a man.
    He paused from sawing the planks and straightened his back. Well, second thoughts were no good to him now. By any assessment it was far too late for regrets. Of far more use would be to come to terms with the situation and accept that it was down to him and him alone to make a go of it. And this morning, out here, in the light of day, there felt to be just the slightest of possibilities that given time and sufficient encouragement, she might eventually turn out to be what he wanted. Working in the garden yesterday, he had seen a little of what people – and by people, he really meant his mother – had said about her; that she might only be seventeen but she knew the way of things when it came to keeping a home and a piece of land. So perhaps what he needed to do now was to try to get her to stop fearing him. Then, maybe, with an equal application of hard work and good fortune, everything else might fall into place. Either way, now that they were inextricably bound together – and given that he had no one but himself to blame for that – it had to be worth hoping for. Turning back to the partly finished henhouse in front of him, he gave a resigned sigh, and reaching for the hammer, determined to direct all of his efforts to getting it finished.

 
    Chapter 3
    The Uncomfortable Truth
     
    ‘We’ll fetch some hens from market on Thursday,’ George had said to Mary once the henhouse was finished. ‘Pa takes Ma and Annie into Wembridge to sell the butter and cheese every week so I’ll ask if we can journey in with them.’
    At the mention of Annie, she had noticed how her stomach had knotted, but three mornings later, she found herself standing with George, stamping her feet against the cold and blowing into her hands while they waited for the cart to come up from the farm.
    ‘Sharp this morning,’ she commented, pulling her shawl more tightly about her and noticing how her breath hung in the chilly air.
    ‘Aye but hark; this’ll be them now.’
    Hearing the splash of wheels through the ford, she turned to look down the hill and saw the swaying arc of lantern light drawing closer.
    ‘Mary, back here,’ a voice called to her as the cart came to a halt beside them. ‘I got a blanket for warmth and we can have a good old hob an’ nob on the way.’ To her surprise it was Ellen. And as George handed her up into the rear of the cart, she could see that she was alone. ‘You’re coming to market, then,’ she was remarking, reaching to tuck the blanket over their laps. ‘That all right?’
    She nodded, watching while George climbed up to sit with his mother and father. By what stroke of luck was it Ellen going to market rather than Annie? Not that it mattered. She would just be grateful that, somehow, her prayers of the last few days had been answered.
    ‘Yes. George has finished the henhouse so we’re going to buy hens.’
    ‘And how are you settling at Keeper’s Cottage?’
    She still needed to be careful with what she said, though. Ellen may appear to have taken a liking to her but her first loyalty would surely still be to Ma Strong.
    ‘Oh, fine, thanks.’
    ‘I do envy you, you know, in a place of your