The Wheelwright's Daughter by Eleanor Porter

Author:Eleanor Porter [Porter, Eleanor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books

25

Jacob’s Search

When I woke all was quiet. Every part of me ached – even lifting my arm to my face exhausted me. I could feel that I was cut about, too. My eye felt swollen and in places my skin stuck to the rough cloth of the blanket. I listened for my father’s cough and then remembered he was not there. The smell in the cottage was all wrong. Tears leaked out of my eyes. Through the gap in the curtains that shut off my cot I could see Goody Reynolds asleep in my father’s chair before the fire. Her scrawny hands twitched in her lap and she mumbled, but I could not make out the words. Then came the sound of the latch and voices and stamping feet. She jumped up in a flurry and one after another men stumbled in, till the place could hold no more. Jacob was with them, and the Widow. Groggy with sleep though I was, I recognised Sir William himself take a cup from her. I lay very still behind the curtain.

He spread his large hands wide. ‘Well, madam,’ he bellowed, as though to Parliament itself, ‘there’s no better feeling in the world than to be proud of a fine son and, madam, you can be proud today. Why, the boy has rescued not one, but two strays from the flock. Not one, but two, mark you.’ And he grabbed Jacob by the shoulder and clapped him on the back.

I leaned up on my arm. So Owen was found! I wanted to shout out for particulars, but fear prevented me. The presence of so many men in our cottage quite confounded me. Even if I had been able to speak, I should have been ashamed to appear like this before gentlemen – for there were at least two others with Sir William whom I recognised from the Hall.

I did not have to wait long for the news. With a great bustle the party departed, leaving Goody Reynolds, Jacob, and his mother, who was rubbing away with her apron at the coin Sir William had pressed into her hand. Jacob sat quiet on a stool, warming his hands on a great bowl of broth. After a moment he addressed me.

‘It is all right, Martha, they are gone. You were right, you know. But it was not an evil vision.’ He laughed. ‘Not snow, Martha, sheep.’

‘Whatever are you talking about?’ his mother put in. ‘Why, the boy is losing his wits. Did you hear Sir William, sister? I am so glad I insisted on Jacob’s going out again. Drink your soup, boy, and tell us what happened.’

I hooked the curtain back and carefully sat up on my bed to listen.

‘Remember, Mother,’ Jacob went on, ‘Martha insisted I looked in Stockings Field. Said she had a vision of Owen smothered by whiteness? Well, listen. I went out, meaning to find the other men and tell them what Martha had said. I thought they might laugh, but I found old George Tanner first, and he heard me out and nodded.

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