Maggie's Child Read Online Free

this one take.’
    Maggie gave Lizzie a wan smile, and went back to her home and as she crossed the yard, from the corner of her eye, she could see Lizzie scuttle towards the wood barn. The news of their loss would soon be gossip on the farm.
    Maggie tidied away the baby items and crib she aired in the back parlour. She had made a show of keeping things normal, despite the fact she would not have the opportunity to use them. She went through the nesting motions in the home to fool Jacob. As she placed them back into storage, the task brought about genuine sorrow. Jacob would expect to see a measure of emotion; she had always done so in the past, so she never held back the sobs that burst forth. After a few moments of sadness, and yet another bout of tears, she took comfort knowing there was a living being with her blood in its veins. Despite the dull sensation inside, and the overwhelming urge to scream, Maggie allowed herself a small smile. There would never be a chance to hold him again but her son lived; a triumph over Jacob.
    A Blackbird announced the end of the day, and the light faded. With it came a deeper melancholy mood. Maggie thought about her son and who was holding him in their arms, while she prepared vegetables for a man she despised.
    The aroma of fresh bread could not remove the memory of the baby perfume she had inhaled that day. Mutton stew simmered slowly and the meaty smell permeated the farmhouse, but still the memory of the sweet, soft flesh lingered for Maggie.
    Jacob broke the spell of silence when he crashed his way into the kitchen. Muddied boots were thrown against the hearth to dry off ,and he scraped his chair away from the table. Each sound resonated in Maggie’s ears. They sounded far louder than ever before, and the sounds irritated her nerves. The tension in her body made her limbs ache but if she relaxed, Maggie convinced herself she would explode in temper.
    ‘Managed the cows, did you?’Jacob grunted the words through a mouthful of bread. His words held an edge of sarcasm.
    Maggie carried the stew pan to the table and ladled his meal into a deep bowl, all the time avoiding his eye.
    ‘Yes, there was a good yield. Lizzie will have plenty to churn for selling tomorrow.’
    She sat at the other end of the table. Jacob made it a rule that they ate alone and first. When they had finished, Maggie took the extra food to a rundown cottage across the yard. A simple building where the few farm workers they had ate and rested. Lizzie lived in a smaller building to one side. She was the only female, and Maggie insisted she had private accommodation, although she suspected Lizzie spent a large part of the nights with the men in their beds.
    Jacob grunted an approving sound during the slurping of his meal. Maggie hated his crude manners. Her parents may have been poor, but they knew how to conduct themselves at a table. Her husband behaved like the pigs at the trough, all grunts, and mashing sounds.
    She nibbled at her own meal, though her stomach was in no mood for food. While she chewed, she reflected on her past, to when she was fifteen, and upon her parents. She thought back to the reasons they had sold her to the bully seated in front of her.
    ***
    June 1851
     
    Maggie’s father took ill with pneumonia one winter, and it left his lungs weak. He weakened even more after the death of her eldest brother; killed in a farming accident three years later. It was a dreadful incident. He worked parring nettles when a bull charged. A field worker for the squire let it into the field by mistake. After his death and her father’s illness, Maggie, and her mother, ran the farm for a few months. Maggie, although fifteen years old and fit, found the work of two men, plus her own chores, far too hard. The family struggled to maintain the fields and the barns, yet, despite working all hours of the day, the squire reclaimed them, and the main farmhouse, for others to manage. He allowed the Eagle family to