Taking A Chance

By Susan Williams

Set in the 1600's during 'The Plague' and 'The Great Fire of London,' this is the story of a young Kentish Maid, who is taken to London by her husband.
Sadly, when they arrive in London, she soon realises, that London is not the paradise Frank has promised her. Instead, she finds a city filled with poverty, filth and debauchery.

Made worse by the fact, that her husband takes immense pleasure in physically and mentally abusing her; and her only respite form the abuse, is when he goes to sea.

Thankfully, a few days into their marriage, Frank does return to sea, but he leaves her destitute; and fearing that she will starve, she has to scour the dirty streets of London looking for work.
Fortunately, she finds work in a Bakehouse in Pudding lane, working for a Mr Farynor; selling his bread and pies on the streets of London.

The work is hard, and Frank's beatings and the hardship she suffers on a daily basis, starts to take its toll, and she escapes to Kent, only to find, that her father has lost the farm. Having nowhere to go, (because she'd promised her mother she would look after him) she is forced to take him back to London. Back to Frank!.

Then, while delivering bread up at the Newington House, she meets a young gentleman named Ashton. When they converse, she finds solace in the fact that he treats her as an equal, and for the first time in a long while, she feels she has a future.

Despite her life of misery, Mary still dreams of going back to Kent, but before she can do that, she has many obstacles to overcome, man made as well as natural.

Will she survive the Plague and the Great Fire of London unscathed?

With the fear of being disinherited weighing heavily on his mind, will Ashton act on his feeling.

Or, will a chance meeting with Richard, a man of means, allow her to follow her dreams?

Most of all, will Mary find the strength she needs to pull herself out of poverty and escape Frank, or will she flounder in the cesspit that is London.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Williams
• Release date: Mar 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781370626830

Susan Williams

Hi, I live in Dorset, England and I was a Teaching Assistant. Due to Covid 19 I have decided to retire. Not sure what the future holds with regards to work, but for now, I'm concentrating on my writing and other hobbies.I am married and have two wonderful sons.I enjoy, reading, writing, playing darts, crafts, exploring coffee shops and mooching .

Book preview

Taking a Chance

Smashwords Edition

Copyright @ Susan Williams 2023

Mary looked at her father as he slept soundly in the corner of the room and sighed. She knew that he wouldn’t be getting up for a while and that was the last thing she needed today. Frustrated, she tiptoed through the cottage and out into the cold winter air; and wrapping her shawl tightly around her face she ran towards the barn.

Carefully, she took four eggs from the coop, dropped them gently into her apron pocket and grabbed the empty pail from its peg.

It had taken her ten minutes to draw the water up from the well and she was exhausted. In the past, her father would have done this for her but ever since her mother had died two summers ago, her father had not only lost interest in her, but he had also lost interest in the farm. Sometimes, she mourned for the kind and loving father she once had.

How she wished her mother was there to hold her, and how she longed for those days when she would watch her mother knead bread on the kitchen table and then rub the flour from her hair. If only, she thought, as she dragged the pail back to the cottage, losing half of its contents in the process.

‘Time to get up father,’ she called out as she cut into the bread.

Her father opened one eye, looked at his daughter and groaned. He’d lived to see another day, but oh how he wished he could leave this godforsaken place. He loved Mary dearly but nobody could take the place of her mother. That woman had fair taken his breath away and

there wasn't a day that passed when he didn't think about her.

‘The cows ain't going to milk themselves father and I've got to feed the chickens as well as my normal chores. Robert has come down from Box Farm to help today and he's only after a meal for his troubles. If we are going to get the churns into town, you'd better get a move on.’

‘It's bleak out there; I don't see how we will get the milk into town today anyway?’

‘We'll do it, we have too! We need salt and flour and a lot more besides. We must get the milk delivered; people are counting on us.’

Her father grumbled to himself and sat up, pulled the curtain around his bed to hide his modesty, stood up and started to get dressed. Like it or not, he knew they had to go to town, for the weather was on the turn and he knew from experience that it was going to get even colder; and he didn't want to be left out in the countryside with no supplies. He might have wanted to starve himself to death, but he had promised his wife that he would look after Mary and he wasn't a man who broke his word.

As usual, the journey into town was arduous. It took fifty minutes and the cart shook all the way, causing their bones to ache.

‘You better get as many supplies as you can, looks like the weather may be on the turn and who knows when we'll be in again.’

Mary nodded and got down from the cart and her father took the milk to the market.

‘Good to see you Mary, are you well?’ Mrs Stone asked kindly.

Mrs Stone, as well as owning the local shop had been a great friend of her mothers.

‘I am, thank you Mrs Stone and yourself?’

‘My joints hurt a little, but I can't grumble. Riddled with it I am.’

‘Can I leave you with this list while I go to the market to help my father?’

‘Certainly, let me see,’ she said kindly, looking down at the list. ‘Yes, we have everything here. Of course, I need to be paid upfront.’

‘Of course,’ Mary said, blushing slightly.

Since her mother had died her father had not been paying the bills promptly and their credit had been taken away from most places in town.

Mary walked across the muddy road towards the market and looked around for her father. Eventually, she spotted him talking to an old friend of his and as she walked towards them, she looked at her father as if for the first time and was surprised by what she saw. He looked even thinner than normal and his cheekbones were sunken in; and the shiny brown curls he once had were now lank and grey.

He looked ten years older than his eight and forty years and a tear came to her eye when she realised, he resembled nothing of his former self, but she quickly brushed it away. She wasn’t going to let him know how much she was hurting.

Her mother was dead and that was the end of it and her father just had to learn to live without her. She knew he was hurting, but so was she. He needed to look at what he

had, and not what he'd lost. He needed to start living again, after all, he was still a young man.

‘I've got a decent price for the milk. Here, pay Mrs Stone and I'll meet you at the cart. Say in half an hour?’ her father said quickly, before scurrying off down the road.

What he really meant was, come back in half an hour after I've been to the inn for a drink.

Mary placed the coins in Mrs Stone’s hand and after thanking her, Mrs Stone asked if she would like to join her for some tea. On answering yes, Mrs Stone called for a young girl to mind the shop and she and Mrs Stone walked into the back room.

Mary was pleased when Mrs Stone offered her a piece of cake and ate it greedily, for not being much of a baker herself she rarely had treats.

‘How are you Mary?’ Mrs Stone asked, genuinely concerned.

‘I'm good, but father is not doing so well, he just can't get used to the fact that mother is dead.’

‘I know dear, the poor man, he misses her terribly, but enough of your father, seriously, what about you?’

Mary chewed the last piece of her cake, took a swig of ale and said shyly, ‘Working on a farm isn't an easy life but we manage.’

‘I would offer you work here but times are hard, and the harvest wasn't as good as it should have been, and people aren't buying much. So, it looks like we could be in for a hard winter.’

‘I think so,’ Mary said politely and then she excused herself, picked up her wicker basket and walked out of the shop towards the cart.

Thankfully, her father was waiting for her, usually he wasn't so prompt and she had been dreading spending any more time out in the cold; it looked like snow and they needed to get home and put the animals in the barn. The last thing they needed this winter was for any more of their animals to die. They had lost a few cows in the summer and hadn't been able to replace them, and if they were to lose any of the ones they still had, they would be done for.

Once the cows, goats and the pig had been locked up in the barn Mary walked back into their warm cottage to start the dinner. She was going to boil a nice piece of lamb that Mrs Stone had hidden in the bottom of her basket.

Two hours later, having ate the lamb and vegetable stew, her father went to bed. Leaving her to wash up. But she didn't mind that, for she loved the quiet evenings. For a few hours each night she could do exactly what she wanted and tonight she was going to read.

Mary took the half-burnt candle from the back of the draw, checked there was some left then took it over to the fireplace and lit it, then she retrieved her book of poems from under her bed and sat by the fire, ready to enter an imaginary world. A world she could only dream about.

Two days later and as predicted it started to snow and Mary and her father knew that they wouldn't be going anywhere for a couple of weeks. Mary was grateful that she’d had the hindsight to buy in what they needed, and she knew too, that if things got bad, they could always kill the pig. But she didn't want to think about that. Luckily, she’d made plenty of preserves, pickles and salted meat which would last them well into the winter and hopefully, through to March.

‘Who the hell comes out in this weather?’ her father grumbled when he heard the knock on the door.

Mary went to answer the door but just before she opened it, she took the large pot down from behind the front door and held it tightly in her hand. As she gripped the handle she looked over to her father in the hope that he would come to her aid but as usual, he remained steadfast on the bed, his face showing no signs of emotion.

He may as well be dead, she thought to herself as she started to open the door, then she bit her bottom lip in anger, wishing she hadn't had such a terrible thought.

‘Answer it girl,’ her father said irritably.

So, with no help coming from his direction she gingerly opened the door. Relief washed over her when she saw her best friend Martha Reed standing outside.

‘Come in, good lord you look terrible. Come, sit by the fire.’

Martha dutifully obeyed because she was cold and her feet were absolutely freezing, due to the fact that there was a large hole in the bottom of one of her boots.

Mary handed her a cup of hot broth and she drank it eagerly.

‘Whatever is the matter Martha?’

‘Father is sick, and mother was wondering if you had any spare food. He is terribly weak. He's not been eating see, they've been depriving themselves in favour of us lot. But I told him, if he doesn't eat, who will look after us.’

‘We have food. I'll make you up a basket straight away. How will you get home?’

‘I've got the horse and cart; I don't suppose you have any hay?’

‘We have some hay, but I can only spare a little, now sit down and drink your broth while I get some things together.’

Under the watchful eye of her father, Mary packed some salted beef Mrs Stone had given her and some winter vegetables, and when her father briefly turned away, she shoved some rye bread down the side of the basket. It wasn't much but it was all they could spare. She would give her some milk too, that was something they had in abundance, and she would give her plenty of plum preserve, a treat for her younger siblings.

‘We've barely got enough for ourselves girl!’ her father said angrily, as he tried to grab her arm.

She shrugged his arm away and said rudely, ‘They've given us food in the past when we've had none. It’s the least we can do for them. Who do you think fed me and gave me shelter when you were grieving alone in the barn all those months?’

Her father shrugged his shoulders and walked back to his part of the room and swished the curtain across. The last thing he wanted was another row.

‘I'm sorry to be such a burden Mary but I've got no one else to turn too?’

‘You are a good friend Martha, I'm glad we have some spare, now would you like a piece of rye bread or have you had your fill?’

‘I'm fine now thank you Mary, but I'd better be going. They’ll all be waiting on me. This will see us out for a week or two and then…’

Martha said no more. She couldn't allow herself to think that far ahead. Hopefully, when the weather cleared there would be work for her and her parents up at the big house. The snow always did some damage, and her father was a dab hand with wood and suchlike.

Mary watched her friend as she drove down the lane and up the hill. It was over an hour’s ride to her house and she hoped that she would get there safely.

Mr and Mrs Reed hadn't been lucky enough to procure a farm of their own and they relied on labouring jobs or domestic work, and that sort of work was scarce in the winter. With the snow arriving early this year, she hoped the family would survive; she wished now she'd asked Martha to stay in the cottage. It would have been one less mouth to feed for the Reed family. Even though her father would have forbidden it, she would have found a way around it somehow.

Thankfully, Mr Reed had been lucky enough to be born strong and healthy and when people were hiring, they would always pick him first, so she comforted herself with the fact that when the snow cleared there would be plenty

of things to mend up at the manor. At least she hoped so, for the sake of their four children.

Mary and her father were laid up in the cottage for the next couple of months and their relationship was becoming strained, so much so, that her father rarely came out from behind his curtain now and she had to slide his meals underneath it.

But eventually the snow cleared, and they were able to make the journey into town and as usual, whenever they were in town her father took the milk to the market and she went into the shop, which was the main area for gossip and news. Mrs Stone knew everything that went on in the village and the surrounding areas, and what she didn't know, she simply filled in the gaps herself.

‘Where is everyone?’ Mary asked, as she walked into the shop.

‘They’re mostly in church. Little William Reed died and a couple of babies out yonder lost their lives. Their poor mothers were too weak to produce any milk.’

Mary's heart went out to little William’s family and her friend Martha but at the same time, she was angry with Martha for not telling her just how dreadful things were. William couldn't have been more than three months old and she’d already lost her older brother the year before in a farming accident. If she had known the full extent of their problems, she would willingly have taken the child in. Then she was annoyed with herself for not offering to do so when Martha had come to the cottage.

‘I'd leave them alone for now. It's still raw. I'd give them a few weeks and then go and see them.’

‘Yes of course, I can do nothing for them now. I will wait.’

‘It is God’s will my dear, nothing we can do about it. It was the poor babes time to go.’

Mary wasn't sure if she believed in God, so she didn't say anything. Although she tried to follow the ways of the Lord, she could never understand why God would want to punish children when they’d done nothing wrong. Or why he would take those dearest to you.

‘Well, well, what have we here?’

Mary looked across the shop to where the booming voice came from, then smiled at the gentleman.

‘Frank's me name, and you are?’

‘Mary,’ she replied shyly.

‘That's my brother Frank, just come back from sea for a few months. He lives in London but he’s staying here for a while.’

Mary was completely taken by surprise. In all the years of knowing Mrs Stone she had no idea that she had a family. She’d just presumed that being childless and without a husband she was all alone in the world. Besides, it seemed strange that he was so much younger than Mrs Stone; but she didn't dwell on the matter for too long as it was really none of her business.

‘You haven't met Frank, have you? He goes away a lot but he's been sick, and he's been staying with me while he recuperates. But he's on the mend now and I see he hasn't lost that cheeky tongue of his. He gets that from his mother.’

‘I caught something out in India but I’m on the mend now and ready to go back to sea,’ he said plainly.

Mary hadn't met anyone who had been to India and she was intrigued.

‘Why don't you come in the back and have some tea with us,’ Mrs Stone asked, and as usual she called the little girl to help mind the shop. Mary didn't know who the girl was and although she was sorely tempted to ask, she decided that it was none of her business but she guessed, that with her ivory skin and black hair, the girl didn’t come from around these parts.

Mary sat on one of the wooden chairs in silence as Mrs Stone and her brother conversed. Frank was extremely good looking. He was tall, had a thick mane of brown curly hair and his eyes were a brilliant blue. She wondered about his age for she guessed that he looked older than his years. Being a sailor and working out of doors had made his skin tanned and craggy. His voice was gruff too and his manners when drinking his tea were not to be admired, but still, his handsome looks more than made up for his lack of manners.

‘So, miss, what do you do all day?’

Mary was surprised to be asked that question and thought about it for a while before answering.

‘I help my father care for the farm sir and I look after the house.’

‘Of course you do, you're in training to be the mistress of your own home someday. Just like every other young maiden in these parts. Well, I'll tell you straight. I'm on the lookout for a companion for life and it seems to me, you have all the qualities needed for that position. You are pretty in a country sort of way and you seem to be of sound mind. Are you up for it?’

Mary stifled a giggle, he was extremely brash and once she had composed herself she said, ‘You are presumptuous sir, what about love?’

‘Love,’ he scoffed, as he stood up, towering over her small frame. ‘What about love?’

Mary had never met a man so forthright and she smiled and said, ‘You think a lot of yourself don't you?’

Frank laughed, a big haughty laugh that made Mary smile. She had never met anyone like him and she had to admit, she was taken with him.

‘Well, what do you say, do you want to be my companion for life?’ he asked mischievously.

Shifting nervously in her chair she looked up at him and said firmly, ‘I do not.’

‘You don't know what you're missing my girl, how old are you?’

‘Five and twenty.’

‘Five and twenty? And you still live with your father. I think you should not take my offer so lightly.’

‘Sir!’ she groaned, amazed and annoyed by his behaviour.

Frank went and sat next to his stepsister who was giggling to herself. She had never seen Frank like this before.

‘You may be a beautiful young maiden now, with your curves, those mysterious brown eyes and brown curls of yours, but over time your looks will fade and then what will you do? I'm offering you marriage girl.’

Mary stood up and said as proudly as she could, ‘I thank you for your offer, but if there is no one else who would have me, it would not trouble me.’

‘Then spinster it will be. I see no men in this village. Perhaps you should not take my offer so lightly. You will have to go a long way to get a better offer.’

He had a point she thought. Sadly, the plague had taken a few of the young men, leaving mostly old men and women, and the ones that were left were starting to move to the cities because there was more work there.

‘Please excuse me Mrs Stone I have to get back to the farm.’

Mary stood up and Frank opened the door for her.

‘Can I walk you home my fair young maiden?’

‘No thank you, I know the way.’

‘I like your spirit girl. May I come courting tomorrow.’

He was coarse and too sure of himself and she knew that she shouldn't like him but for some reason she was attracted to him, but not wanting to appear too forward she said plainly, ‘You would have to consult my father on that matter. Good day Sir.’

‘Then I shall visit tomorrow. Make your father aware that I will be coming.’

Mary did not answer because she didn't want to appear too eager. However, she was looking forward to seeing him again.

‘Who is this man Mary?’ her father asked suspiciously as he picked a piece of lamb out of his front tooth.

‘He is Mrs Stone’s brother and wishes to become acquainted with us.’

‘What do you know about him?’

‘He is a forthright man who will take no nonsense and although he does not show it, I suspect that deep within that bravado he displays he is a decent man, although it may not be that obvious to everyone because he can be abrupt sometimes. Look, he gave me this tea. He said that he got it off the last ship he was on; it cost