The Land Endures by Mary E. Pearce

Author:Mary E. Pearce [Pearce, Mary E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Family Saga, Romance, 1920s, English countryside, nostalgia, rural, love and marriage, country life
Publisher: Wyndham Books (Family Saga)
Published: 2018-03-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

It was Saturday, the First of December, a day of keen winds and sharp stinging showers. From the steps of the Corn Exchange the Member of Parliament for Chepsworth, Mr James Crown, was addressing a gathering of some three score of his constituents, reminding them that in five days’ time they would be asked to cast their votes. Mr Crown had been Member for Chepsworth for seventeen years. His election campaigns had been smooth and painless. He had never had to fight for his seat, and he was unused to the cut-and-thrust, the pertinent question, the jeers and abuse and derisive laughter that were coming his way from the crowd this morning.

And the one person who had started it all was a young woman, apparently alone, dressed in a bottle-green coat with a high collar and a pillbox hat trimmed with fur. Being only of medium height and surrounded mostly by men, she had climbed onto the edge of a horse-trough, and was thus head and shoulders above the crowd, looking straight across at the Member for Chepsworth. Her questions rang out across the town square and Mr Crown had the greatest difficulty in following the speech he had prepared. It was pretty much the same speech he had made in previous election campaigns. His simple beliefs were embodied in it. It had always been heard with respect until now.

‘Would the fair-haired young lady in dark green ‒ who is wearing a very entertaining hat ‒ be good enough to repeat her question?’

And the young lady, quite unmoved by the compliment, was only too willing to oblige. The questions came, thick and fast, and Mr Crown was kept busy. Would he say that the coalition government, during its term of office, had done well by the unemployed? Was he reasonably well satisfied with the sight of ex-servicemen begging their bread in the town’s gutters? And could he promise, if returned to his seat again, that these atrocious conditions would be maintained and that perhaps a new and even worse record might be achieved?

Stephen stood at the back of the crowd, having come from some business in Millichip Street. James Crown was known to him: he owned an estate at Newton Childe and farmed six hundred acres of it himself; Stephen had sometimes bought sheep from him. Crown was a good enough man in his way; he scarcely deserved his fate here today; and Stephen, smiling to himself, braced his back against the wind and settled down to watch and listen. Betony Izzard was now asking questions about conditions on the land.

‘Why is there no national insurance for farm workers?’

‘Because they don’t need it,’ the Member said. ‘There is plenty of work on the land.’

‘Take us to it!’ a man shouted, and a few others took up the cry.

‘You are a landowner, Mr Crown,’ Betony said in her clear-ringing voice. ‘Will you give these men a job?’

‘I already employ more than twenty men.’

‘How much do you pay them?’ Betony asked.

‘They don’t complain!’ the Member said.

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