'Pleased,' retorted Elizabeth through clenched teeth. 'Why wuld I be pleased? I am married to Richard.'
'Richard is deed, lass. When are you going to accept that?'
'Never!'
'You are with child! Your condition will begin to be obvious soon and then whot will you do? Will you go to the priory? Will you give your child up?'
''e is so old,' said Elizabeth in a quieter voice that was on the brink of breaking into a cry.
''e is a successful baker and a gud man. 'e will take gud care of you and your child,' urged her mother, sensing that she was wearing Elizabeth down.
Elizabeth was crying now and would not look at her mother.
'And if you know whot is gud for you, you will nay say anything aboot your child. If you are fortunate, 'e will accept it as 'is own.'
Elizabeth wiped her eyes, but she was still gasping for air as she tried to stop crying.
'Comb inseed now,' said her mother as she took her by the elbow and directed her into the house.
Thomas smiled as they entered, but Elizabeth did not look up. He took her by the hand and told her how beautiful she was and that he would make her very happy. Then her uncle announced that the marriage would take place in three days hence. Elizabeth bit her lip so hard that it nearly bled. 'Three dees!' she thought to herself. ''ow dreadful.' Her head began to hurt. ''ow culd this be 'appening to me?' she wondered. Just a few weeks earlier she was the happy wife of a handsome young man that loved her dearly and she loved him. Now it felt as though that life was a world away and maybe it had not happened at all. It seemed as a dream that she had awaken from all too soon.
Chapter Twelve
March 1438
Stamford
A cold wind swept across the North Sea from the east and found no resistance as it pushed across the Fens and into Stamford the day that John Darby rode into the village on a beautiful horse. His purple cloak was an impressive sight as it caught the wind and sailed behind him. His horse kept his head high and great plumes of steam escaped his nostrils with each lunge forward. John thought that it felt good to be home again after being gone for so long. His schooling was completed, he had been to the south of England and to Calais, France. He had observed first hand how the wool trade functioned and now he was ready to join his father in the trade.
His father was pleased that his son had chosen to join him in the trade and upon his arrival they rode the nearby area to survey the sheep. There were thousands upon thousands of sheep in the fields and their wool was thick. The Darby's had every reason to be optimistic about the harvest of wool in the coming spring and summer. Wool prices were up and so the future look bright indeed.
On the way back to the estate, John wanted to stop at the All Saint's Church. He was fond of the church of his youth and though it was smaller and less ornate than some of the fine church's that he had seen outside of Stamford, it remained dear to him.
As he and his father approached the church, he was surprised that it seemed even smaller than he had remembered. 'This church really ought to 'ave a fine steeple,' he remarked to his father as they dismounted.
'Aye,' agreed his father. 'Per'aps you and I can pay to 'ave a fine steeple added if wool does well this year.'
The priest had come outside at that moment and overheard the last comment. 'God will surely smile upon you if you were to raise a steeple in 'is name,' he said.
Smiling, his father replied, 'And per'aps me bones will also find a resting place within the walls of the church.'
'Aye, per'aps they will,' agreed the priest. With that the priest embraced John and welcomed him home. 'I trust that you 'ave faithfully been attending church while you 'ave been away.'
'Aye, I certainly 'ave,' John assured the priest.
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On the road between Boston and Nottingham
Richard had returned twice to the Nottingham area in the ensuing months since he had first gone to Trowell in search of Elizabeth. He had searched many hamlets and villages without success. After each trip, he was a little less hopeful than he had previously