Reconciliation

Captain Peacock strode slowly back to the Manor, his hand smarting and beginning to swell. He looked down at the ground as he walked, trying to decipher the events of the past 24 hours. He kicked at a few pebbles and watched the chickens scratching and pecking the freshly turned compost.

Betty scurried down the back stairs and through the kitchen, not bothering to cast a glance at her fellow residents as she fled through the kitchen door. Her deep violet chiffon dress flowed behind her like a sail.

She eyed Captain Peacock coming up the gravel drive towards her. He looked up and smiled as he saw her. She quickened her pace and stopped when she was within a few paces of him.

"Where's Mr. Moulterd?" she gasped, out of breath from her jaunt in heels.

"I saw him headed towards the milking barn," he replied.

He rubbed his right hand, wincing. Betty could see his hand was bruised and a small amount of blood was crusting along the knuckles.

"What's happened to your hand?" she questioned, concerned.

He shook his head, "It was nothing. A careless accident, that's all." He stepped aside and continued on his way to the kitchen.

Betty hurried to the milking barn.

Captain Peacock entered the back door and walked over to the sink to wash his hands.

"We saw the whole thing from the door, Captain Peacock!" Mr. Humphries chirped, "It's about time someone put him in his place for how he's been talking to Mrs. Slo-, err..I mean Mrs. Peacock."

Captain Peacock sighed dejectedly. Mrs. Peacock. His throat constricted as he thought about all that had happened. Would she still be Mrs. Peacock after today?

Would she want to be? He grimaced as the cool water and soap washed over his injured knuckles. The pain in his heart was excruciating. He silently turned and left them, ascending the stairs with heavy footsteps.

"I'll bring you up a nice tray of tea and toast, Captain Peacock," called Mavis.

They all sat gaping. They felt helpless to do anything to help their friends.

"I don't know what to say," said Mr. Rumbold dumbfounded.

"Then don't say anything!" Miss Brahms admonished.

Mr. Rumbold's shoulders slumped dejectedly. She was right; he would just make a cock-up of things if he started talking. He filled his cup with tea and drank it slowly.

Betty entered the milking barn to find Mr. Moulterd sitting on the milking stool with his forehead resting against Betsy.

"Maurice?"

He sat up and spun round to look at her, his eyes red-rimmed and the corner of his mouth crusted with dried blood.

"Rachel, what're you doing here?" his eyes fixed on the straw bedding under the cow.

"I came to see you," she breathed..

"Rachel, I never knowed what became of you when you left Tiverton. Whenever someone would go to Rackenford, I would ask to go, but they would never let me. You know I never learnt to read and write, so I couldn't send word to ya. I would ask whenever someone came from that other farm and I was told you didn't want nothin' ta do with me," he lamented.

She laid her hand gently on his shoulder, "I was in shock; they stole our baby. The girls I was with resented me because I couldn't do the heavy work and they called me all sorts of hurtful names. The farmer's wife treated me awful because I had to eat more on account of the baby and I couldn't do the field work any more. I had to have the baby in the barn; the farmer and his wife didn't want me befouling their house with my 'bastard child'! There was a terrible storm the night I gave birth. The doors of the barn blew open and I could see lightning striking all around. The farmer's wife had to deliver the baby because the doctor refused to come out in the storm. She treated me like she would have treated a cow. I had to lie down on a horse blanket on straw. The game keeper held a lantern, but nobody held my hand; I was terrified; I thought I was going to die in that barn and I know no one would have cared!"

"I would have cared," he said softly, "I'm sorry I put you through that. I would have raised that baby meself if I had known."

"I know, but I wasn't given any choice. I just about gave birth and they took her straightaway, literally cut the cord and ran!" she sobbed.

"Then you come out here and I was so rude and nasty to ya! I had no right to act that way," he admitted, "Can ya ever forgive me, Rachel?"

She squeezed his shoulder gently.

She nodded silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. He reached into his coat and pulled out a grimy rag, "Here, take my handkerchief!" he offered.

"I think I'd rather not," she wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"You know," he bellowed, "That Cap'n Peacock really loves you. He's a good man and he's got a good right hook! Go to him, Rachel."

She smiled tightly and turned to leave. She gave him one final glance before heading back up the driveway to the Manor.

"Don'chu worry 'bout me," he drawled, "I'll be a'ight."

He reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of fags, jerked his hand up quickly so one popped up, and put it to his lips. He scraped a match across his tired boot and lit it, then touched the match to the end of his fag. His cheeks puckered as he sucked in a long drag, exhaling slowly.

Betty hurried through the kitchen to the back stairs.

"It's like Kensington Station!" exclaimed Mr. Humphries.

Mavis was treading down the stairs as Betty was going up.

"I brought Captain Peacock a tray of tea and toast. I set some on it for you as well, Mrs. Peacock," she said cheerfully.

"Thank you, dear. That was very kind of you."

"He's in his room," Mavis informed her.

Betty quickened her pace up the stairs, her shoes thunking on the wooden steps.

Her stomach knotted as she stood quietly outside the door to Captain Peacock's room. She could hear him inside stirring a cup of tea. Mustering her courage, she swallowed hard, and gently tapped on the door.

He shuffled a bit and cleared his throat, "Hmm…Yes?"

"Stephen, it's me, Betty, may I please come in?" she pleaded.

The door opened slightly and he peered out. He smiled at the sight of her; his eyes were puffy but he was happy to see her.

He swung the door open and stepped toward her.

"I'm sorry I put you through all of that. Oh! Look at your hand!" she cried, "You did that for me?"

He looked down at the hardwood floor and his mouth curved into a short smile. She took his hand in hers and pressed her lips into the palm, avoiding the scraped part. He cupped her cheek in his hand and leaned in to kiss her.

He stopped just before he reached her lips, "This is alright, isn't it?"

"Yes!" she chirped and pursed her lips to receive his kiss.

"Come in, Mrs. Peacock!" he welcomed her, "Mavis brought a tray of tea and toast. Won't you sit down?"

The elegant tray sat on his tightly made bed. Mavis had included a bright orange wild honeysuckle in a bud vase made of cut crystal. He led her to the armchair and poured her a cup of tea.