Free The Silk Factory by Judith Allnatt Page B

felt the sharp pang of homesickness that always accompanied such recollections. His elder brothers were both married now, with children of their own, and settled near his parents; part of a close family life of visits and tea parties, walks and picnics. Well, he had taken a different path in search of excitement and a more active life, and one couldn’t have everything …
    ‘You miss your family,’ Effie said, seeing a wistful expression pass over his face.
    ‘A little,’ he admitted. ‘But God knows, I have enough to keep me busy with fifty men to oversee.’
    ‘You are from the barracks at Weedon Bec?’
    Jack nodded. ‘Though some call it Weedon Royal, since the garrison was built.’
    ‘’Tis a monstrous place, is it not? The walls seem to take in an area bigger than the village itself! And the place is quite overrun with soldiers, more than five hundred of ’em, I’ve heard – all filling the inns with drunkenness and brawling with the locals.’
    Jack pulled a face. ‘It’s true it can be difficult to keep some unruly elements orderly when they’re on furlough but I can assure you that on duty all is order and discipline.’
    ‘Well, I dare say we are all glad enough of it keeping us safe from Old Boney,’ Effie said as they reached a place where the track forked, the main thoroughfare continuing and a thin path splitting off from it. It was evidently little used, as weeds grew down the middle, dead and brown, sticking out of the snow like rusty wires. The path wound down to a wood where a cheerless chimney without a wisp of smoke could be glimpsed between the trees.
    ‘Can I accompany you to your door?’ Jack asked.
    ‘No, no, don’t trouble yourself,’ Effie said hastily. ‘I shall have to get back to work directly. Thank you once more for your assistance.’ She bobbed a curtsey and set off down the overgrown track holding her skirts aside from the brambles that grew from the hedges, all clogged with snow.
    ‘I hope we shall meet again,’ Jack called boldly after her. ‘I’m often out riding in these parts.’
    Effie hurried on, telling herself that she must not smile, even though his obvious admiration warmed something in her heart, but as she reached the bend that would take her from his view she found herself turning, quite involuntarily, to look back. He raised a hand in farewell and she inclined her head before walking quickly away.
    What foolishness is this? she thought to herself. A soldier – and a lieutenant to boot; he would be collecting girls’ hearts like loose change in his pocket. She was not some silly maid to have her head turned by a red coat and a handsome face, she said to herself sternly. And yet … he had not seemed glib or practised in his compliments, and he had told her something about himself … She was glad that she had stopped him from coming down to the cottage; she would not have liked him to see where she lived. In a rush of confusion, she realised that if she were not at least a little impressed by him she wouldn’t have cared about him seeing the place.
    As Effie passed through the trees to the deserted clearing beyond, the cottage came into view, if cottage it could be called, and she came face-to-face with the evidence of the difference in their stations. Once two dwellings, the left-hand side of the building was now derelict. Their neighbours were long gone, forced out since the farmer was no longer obliged to provide board and lodging for his hands but merely to pay a wage and ‘hang the consequences’ if it proved insufficient to feed a family and still cover the rent. Since the enclosures, there was no longer common land left for grazing a beast of one’s own or rights to gather firewood or take a rabbit for the pot. The low, thatched roof had fallen in, leaving spars of joists and beams showing like a chair frame through old upholstery. Beneath the patchy snow the reed thatch was grey and mildewed, streaked with vivid green moss and