1 June 1124

　　Rachel was frustrated.

　　"No Ma," she urged. "You don`t understand, they`re ruining everything! Martin says they`ve completely changed Holford."

　　"Come now dear," Ma said absentmindedly as she stirred a pot of red sludge above the hearth. From the Foreigner no doubt. Rachel`s stomach betrayed her with a hungry rumble. "You`re being silly, not all change is bad. Just look around, I`ve never seen our neighbours working so hard. And yet also so happy."

　　Rachel looked at Ma with disbelief and finally realised that she too was a lost cause. Just like the others, Ma had succumbed to the guile of the redheaded bitch. Rachel gave up. She accepted the aromatic bowl from Ma and nodded along as Ma nattered about her work with the village women. She scoffed her sludge and fled at the first opportunity.

　　"Don`t forget," Ma called out after her, "The arguments will subside if you just talk to Alan! Take care of that grandchild of mine!"

　　Frustrated at Ma`s obvious advice, Rachel left the cottage and walked the familiar roads back to her new house. There were signs of change wherever she looked. Neighbours` hovels had been renovated with tiled roofs or rehung doors. Strange tools were propped beside buildings and gardens brimmed with unusual plants. Every second face she passed was unfamiliar.

　　The whole village had gone mad. The Foreigner`s arrival had upended Rachel`s entire existence. Matilda was confident, independent and beautiful. She could travel wherever she liked, whenever she liked. Even her clothing hinted at a femininity that Rachel had always been forbidden to embrace, yet the Foreigner showed no fear or shame. Rachel hated her for it.

　　As if on cue, Matilda marched across the village square shadowed by followers who interrupted each other to ask questions before darting off to another corner of Holford. It was madness. There was a time when Rachel had been followed by a gaggle of admiring followers, younger girls wishing to be her or admiring boys wishing to be with her.

　　But that was no longer the case. One by one Rachel`s friends had tired of her efforts to expose how things had been better before. They too had abandoned Rachel, pointing to their own secondorder benefits from Matilda`s efforts. Now even Ma had joined their side. Rachel felt her lonely world shrink even more.

　　She missed Margery. Her younger sister would`ve at least heard Rachel`s point of view and always had some pearl of wisdom that could be hatched into a full-blown plan. But Margery was gone. Rachel admittedly could`ve been kinder to her sister when among Holford`s adolescents. But surely Margery understood that Rachel only sought to improve their family`s social standing. Countering the embarrassment that William attracted with his constant antics.

　　Rachel`s feet carried her along while her mind was elsewhere and she eventually found herself standing before Mama`s headstone at the chapel cemetery. Rachel visited the grave most days. Mama`s passing was another loss brought upon by Matilda`s arrival. Another voice that Rachel could no longer rely upon for counsel.

　　Mama had understood the importance of social standing. Had experienced the harsh sting of its loss. Mama was buried beside her wealthy husband beneath a grand headstone carved by Stowey`s masons. But her final years as a widow had been a drought compared to her lavish life as a miller`s wife. For years, Rachel had witnessed the pain of that fall.

　　Rachel startled as she felt her baby moved around inside her. The intrusive reminder of new life was a complete contradiction to graveyard around her. She lovingly clutched her visibly extended stomach. The baby was her one glimmer of hope. Her chance to finally have the happy family she`d always dreamed of.

　　She hoped it was a son. Life was easier for a man.

　　Ma and Pa had always wanted a son. Even as a child Rachel had been all too aware of that. It was the reason they`d tried to have so many children. The four that made it past infancy and the many that didn`t. Rachel had watched them try all of the Midwife`s schemes for conceiving a boy. The potions and prayers. The position of stars and chants. It had bordered on heresy.

　　But they`d received Rachel and her sisters instead. Their eldest daughter was constant source of trouble, as Pa had reminded Rachel all too often. Her efforts to secure Alan`s attention had required the Midwife`s other fertility services on several occasions. Pa accused Rachel of bringing shame upon the family but he too failed to see that she actually sought the exact opposite.

　　It was inevitable that Rachel would end up with Alan. The Miller`s son might`ve provided even greater wealth but he was socially awkward, an outcast. Plus, he was closer to Margery in age so why not double the family`s chances of a good marriage? Pa had suggested several respectable boys from nearby villages but Rachel knew it had to be Alan. As Martin Brewer`s eldest son, he was guaranteed to inherit a lucrative trade and, more importantly, he was well respected amongst his peers. He was undeniably a bully but Rachel didn`t care whether it was respect or fear that underpinned his social clout.

　　Despite years of insisting that Alan and Rachel weren`t mature enough to marry, Pa was finally prompted by Rachel`s third visit to the Midwife to make a proposal to Martin. Pa promised a generous dowry to the Brewer - much more than he could afford - on the condition that they be married after Alan`s eighteenth birthday. The sole positive of Matilda`s arrival was that the date had been moved forward.

　　Rachel had been so happy in the lead up to the wedding. Her soonto-be father-in-law spared no expense in organising the event and she was the talk of the entire region. All of the details she and Mama had discussed for years finally came into place, though it was a knife to the stomach that Mama wasn`t there to see it herself.

　　In contrast, life after the wedding was far from what Rachel had dreamed. She had tried to be the perfect wife. She prepared meals just as Ma had shown her, tweaking the recipes to accommodate Alan`s specific tastes and using the expensive ingredients available to the wealthy. Sugar, caraway, pepper. She worked harder than ever before in the first weeks of marriage to make a beautiful home, only for Alan to return from the brewery, inhale his meal and provide little more than grunts as conversation. He would retire to bed and have his way with her before rolling over without a word. Every day was the same.

　　Rachel always knew that Alan was a brute - selfish and aggressive - but foolishly hoped that the love of a new marriage would cool his temper and warm his heart. She learned that he was a sad man, cursed by his alcoholic father and the weight of responsibility. Even amongst his cruelty and neglect, Rachel discovered that she felt sorry for her husband.

　　Martin Brewer had managed to establish a successful trade despite being a younger son without claim to a large inheritance. Martin had built his brewery through tenacity and hard work, overcoming doubters and debtors alike. But the endeavour took a toll and he`d heavily sampled his own brews to cope. Much like his brother Edric, Martin was a mess behind closed doors. Responsibility for keeping the brewery running had fallen to Alan years prior.

　　It was a heavy burden for a young man and Alan also used his product to blunt his worries. He spent most evenings away from his marital home, drinking with friends while Rachel obediently awaited his return. Alone.

　　Rachel bore the loneliness for as long as possible but each day became harder. Her pleas for companionship fell on deaf ears, enraging Alan who saw them as yet another responsibility he was forced to bear. Each confrontation drove Rachel`s husband further into his drink. The new couple`s limited interactions were often spent fighting and there were many nights that Rachel fell asleep in their lavish house with tears streaming down her cheeks, praying that her husband would wrap her in a warm embrace.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

　　For so long, marriage had been a beacon of hope. A chance for her to escape the oppressive life with her parents and William`s constant irritating presence. And yet it had soured so quickly. But it was alright, Rachel told herself, she had her baby.

　　Realising that she`d been away from the house for too long, Rachel raced from the graveyard and back home. She rushed to have food ready for Alan`s return that evening but knew deep down that he would be late. Again.

　　Rachel sat in silence by the warm hearth while she waited for her husband`s return, cradling her stomach and dreaming of the life her baby would have. She no longer felt alone, as she had in the early weeks after the wedding. She had hope.

　　It was well after dark when Alan finally stumbled into the house. Rachel had fallen asleep against the wall and he was so drunk that he didn`t even see her at first. Rachel stood up, her eyes still bleary.

　　"Welcome home dear. It`s late," she observed wearily.

　　"Don`t you start," Alan slurred. "I`ve already had an earful from my father."

　　"That`s no good. Why don`t you take a seat and tell me about it? I made beef stew. Just how you like it."

　　Alan grumbled but dropped into his seat. Rachel ladled stew into his bowl and lay it in front of him.

　　"What happened with your Pa?" she asked cautiously.

　　Alan ignored her, his unfocused eyes fixed upon his bowl as he ate.

　　"Was it another busy day?"

　　She waited. Again there was only silence.

　　"I visited Ma today. I told her how the Foreigner is ruining the village. That too much is changing. She didn`t believe me and said Holford is actually improving."

　　Alan scoffed.

　　A response! At least it was something.

　　Alan finished his food and lay down his spoon before clumsily pushing himself up and shuffling towards their bed.

　　Rachel plucked up her courage and spoke plainly to her husband.

　　"Please talk to me."

　　Alan staggered around and stared at her.

　　"Please?" she begged, hating the desperation in her voice. "I don`t want much, just to hear about my husband`s day."

　　Tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

　　Alan swayed and gaped at her. His addled mind processed her words. And then his face scrunched up with rage.

　　"You don`t&want much?" he hiccoughed. "You got me, didn`t you? What more could you want?"

　　Rachel saw what was coming and tried to back down.

　　"No Al, that`s not what I`m saying. Never mind, we can talk another night."

　　"No!" he yelled. "You got what you wanted. You got me! You made your stinking Pa talk to mine and they hatched their grand scheme to lock me away. For life!"

　　Alan stepped toward her, menace in his eyes.

　　Rachel cowed before him. She`d never seen him so worked up.

　　"And now they gang up on me in front of the Redhead? This is all your fault."

　　He struck her across the face.

　　Rachel cried out in shock and fell to the floor. She tried to pick herself up but Alan shoved her back down.

　　"It`s all your fault!" he cried.

　　Rachel looked up and caught a glimpse of his eyes. An unfocussed cocktail of devastation and fury.

　　Then he attacked.

　　Rachel`s drunk husband rained blows down upon her. He struck with an open fist but each blow rang her head like a bell.

　　"No!" she begged. "Please? Stop! The baby!"

　　Her last words cut through her husband`s rage and he stopped, shoving her to the ground one last time.

　　"Get out," he hissed. "Now. Go to your parents. Go to mine. I don`t care. Just get out and leave me alone."

　　Rachel`s ears rung and she barely heard him.

　　"Now!" Alan yelled.

　　Rachel didn`t need to be told again. She lunged for the door and tore it open before running aimlessly into the night. One hand wiped tears from her eyes, the other cradled her baby.

　　She had no idea where she was going, she just ran. Away from Alan. Away from her parents. Away from all the people who`d let her down.

　　Rachel ran past the village boundary, until she couldn`t run any more. She was suddenly woozy and the pain in her head made her drop to the ground. She threw up and crawled to a hedge at the side of the road, hoping to use it to stand back up. She propped herself up but anything else was too difficult. Tears streamed down her face.

　　Her swollen eyes were starting to close over when a light appeared on the road, coming towards her from the village. Fearing it was Alan, Rachel scrambled again to stand up but her body refused to obey. She was forced to lie in a heap by the hedge, filled with dread.

　　Rachel realised it was a woman as the figure drew closer. Some lucid part of her brain wondered what woman would risk walking the outer roads so late. Then she glimpsed the red hair.

　　The Foreigner was the last person Rachel wanted to see and she was mortified that Matilda would see her in such a state.

　　Rachel saw Matilda notice the shape by the side of the road and watched the shock register on the Foreigner`s face as she realised it was a person. Matilda rushed towards Rachel, her otherworldly light searing Rachel`s swollen eyes.

　　The Foreigner propped Rachel up, her voice urgent but speaking in calming tones. Rachel was numb and too sore to push away the assistance but noted with morbid amusement the shock on Matilda`s face as she recognised William`s sister. Yet still the Foreigner helped.

　　"Oh Rachel," Matilda soothed, "what has he done to you? I knew it was bad, but this?"

　　Rachel was surprised by the genuine concern in Matilda`s voice. Despite her hatred of the Redhead, Rachel relished being cared for.

　　"We`re not far from my mill," Matilda told her. "We`ll fix you up there."

　　Matilda carefully coaxed Rachel up from the ground and led her back to the mill. It was slow going and Rachel stumbled several times but Matilda held her with a firm yet gentle grip.

　　Rachel hadn`t been to the mill since the fire and was amazed by the small village that had grown around it. Even by the moonlight, she saw the tiled roof and freshly plastered walls. It was the grandest building in Holford.

　　Matilda brought Rachel to her bed in the completed corner of the warehouse and lay her down gently.

　　"Wait here," she said kindly.

　　Matilda disappeared and returned with a bucket and cloth. She delicately wiped Rachel`s face, reminding Rachel of her own efforts to care for Mama. Tears flowed once more.

　　"Shh," Matilda hushed. "Stay still. Be calm. You`re safe here."

　　Her soothing worked and Rachel felt herself starting to relax.

　　"It`s alright Rachel. It`s going to be alright. I`m here to help."

　　Rachel closed her swollen eyes and savoured Matilda`s deliberate strokes.

　　"Tell me what happened Rachel. It`ll help." Matilda paused with the cloth. "I`m not here to judge. I honestly don`t understand the animosity between us but I wish it were gone."

　　Rachel stayed silent. Matilda resumed wiping and eventually got up for fresh water. She returned with a salve and when she`d finished applying it, Rachel spoke.

　　"It was Alan," she confirmed.

　　A dam broke and Rachel poured her heart out, telling Matilda everything. She didn`t care anymore. She told Matilda about Alan. About her marriage. About the baby. She told Matilda about her loneliness and the changes in Holford. She told of her hatred.

　　Matilda just listened, stroking Rachel`s hand the whole time. Rachel felt Matilda tense as she described Alan`s attack.

　　"You poor thing," Matilda said. Her voice was full of compassion but her eyes were aflame. "No one should have to go through that. You deserve so much better." Matilda took a deep breath and centred herself. "You stay here tonight ok? Get some sleep. We`ll work out a longer-term solution in the morning. You`re safe here, I`ll keep watch."

　　The Foreigner stepped out of the warehouse and stood by the door.

　　Rachel felt empty but she couldn`t explain why. It was a good empty, as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders.

　　Finally feeling safe, Rachel permitted her eyes to shut.

　　Sleep came instantly.

　　+++

　　All was silent when Rachel woke the next morning. Only one of her eyes would open and her head pounded but she forced herself up and silently left the warehouse. Matilda lay asleep by the door, still wearing her clothes from the previous night. Rachel felt embarrassed at letting her former rival see her so weak. She fled.

　　Rachel limped back into Holford, hoping to avoid anyone familiar but the roads were mercifully clear. She considered going to Ma and Pa`s cottage but dreaded the awkward conversation. Ma had said only the previous day that it was her duty to obey her husband.

　　Instead, Rachel turned towards her marital home beside the brewery. She stood at the door for what felt like an age before finally lifting the latch and entering.

　　Alan was nowhere to be seen. The house was a mess, their belongings strewn across the ground. Several items lay in pieces. Alan`s dirty bowl still lay on the table.

　　Rachel didn`t know what had happened but she spent the rest of the day putting the house back in order and tidying up the mess. Matilda tried to enter the house at one point but Rachel yelled at her hysterically until the Redhead retreated. Rachel calmed down and spent the rest of the day baking bread and refreshing the stew for her husband`s eventual return.

　　She`d spent all day trying to figure out the right words to say but Rachel`s apprehension evaporated when Alan opened the door and she saw his face. It too was covered in bruises. His eye was black and he carried his left arm by the wrist.

　　Alan stopped in his tracks and looked around the recently tidied house. At the stew by the hearth. He glared at Rachel and disappeared into the bedroom.

　　Without a word.

　　(C) Jay Pelchen 2023. All rights reserved.