Peg of Pex Hill

By Hazel Watkins

Peg of Pex Hill came about when I was asked to produce a few pieces of work for my creative writing group, Peg was one of the subjects.
I was told of the legend and after doing some research, became engrossed, My late husband and I spent many an hour in the reference library looking at ordnance survey maps, local history, pub names, coach time tables, receipts, and such like.
Peg was a local girl, it is said she had an affair with the squire's son, until he dismissed her out of hand. Why her story has remained a legend, when at the time it was not an unusual occurrence.
I felt she must have had something special about her, possibly more than a farmer’s daughter...Who knows. I took on her story and wove around her, a personality, a background, a life……
I hope I have served her well in my quest to flesh out the bones of her life story

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jul 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728354897

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© 2020 Hazel Watkins. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/09/02020

ISBN: 978-1-7283-5488-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-5489-7 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or

links contained in this book may have changed since publication and

may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those

of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher,

and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Preface

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

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PREFACE

Peg, a local girl of who it is said, had an affair with the squires son, until he dismissed her out of hand.

Why her story should remain a legend to this day, when at the time it was not an unusual occurrence, I felt she must have had something special about her, possibly being more than just a farmer’s daughter.

I took on her story and wove around her, a personality, a background, a life….

I hope I have served her well in my quest to flesh out the bones of her life story.

Hazel Watkins

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CHAPTER ONE

P eg approached the corner of the road, where market stalls where laid out from one end to the other, all displaying their wares. A cacophony of sound assaulted her ears, voices shouting, animals screeching and children running wild. She glanced away in horror, from the variety of cages containing birds of all descriptions, most ill-treated, cramped and many more fraught with fear. Gentlemen’s gentlemen! Arguing at the top of their voices, over the prize-winning cock. Peg hated the sport, but men thought it clever, to set one bird against another, to scratch, claw, and peck until the weaker of the two-lay dead, or almost, which was often worse.

On her arm was a basket of eggs, covered with a blue, checked linen cloth. Gingerly, she wore a path through the milling crowd, standing up on tiptoe to peek over the bobbing heads of the throng. The woman she was looking for had laid out her stall on the opposite side of the path. Looking down at her eggs, she wondered how much she would receive for them today, knowing however much the fat, dirt streaked woman offered her, the price would not be reflected in the eventual sale to an unsuspecting customer.

Stop thief! a man who was chasing a youth had stopped directly in front of peg. He leant heavily against one of the stalls, his hand clutching at his chest as he fought noisily, for breath, his body bent double as he took a fit of coughing. A young, barefoot boy, with a dirty face ran like a frightened rabbit, clutching a loaf of bread. He pushed peg unceremoniously out of his way. The basket of eggs tipped dangerously on her arm, but she managed to save any spillage by her quick reaction. She swallowed deeply with fright

You stupid fool, uttered the man who was by now, regaining his breath and his coarse, hard voice. Why didn’t you stop him!

I do beg your pardon!, cried Peg, with more annoyance in the tone of her voice. but I fear he was a trifle to too quick for me. She was about to turn away.

Bah!, the man snarled, then muttered under his breath. another useless woman.

During the chase, his flat cap had fallen to the ground, he turned about face and snatching it up in his hand, knocking the dust from it against his leg. He then placed it on top of his head and strode away in disgust.

A man with a piano organ began playing a jaunty tune nearby and the moment of drama was over, or so she thought, until she tried to cross the lane to get to the stalls. Peg lifted the hem of her brown serge skirt to just above her ankle, she stepped down from the grass verge. The excitement had quite distracted her concentration, so she didn’t notice the horse galloping toward her, until she found herself in a heap upon the ground, she was covered in broken eggshells and dripping yolks. A crowd gathered quickly around her while she tried, with difficulty, to sit up, now it was her turn not to be able to catch her breath. The difference being, she had had hers knocked from her body. Someone shouted, give the lass some room before she swoons. Peg thought ‘the suggestion had come too late,’ as her head swam, and stars danced before her eyes.

Oh, leave her be! a rough voice shouted She ain’t worth the bother!

What are you on about now, Ted? asked a plump, rosy cheeked woman, who was holding on to Peg’s hand, trying to rub some life back into the young girl, who felt more than her pride had been hurt as she sat on the hard, cobbled stones. Ted was still angry, from the episode earlier, when she had let the thief get away, unchallenged. In his estimation, she got what she deserved.

She let that lout get away, didn’t she! His whole demeanour was begging sympathy from other stall holders, but people knew Ted’s reputation for being grumpy and more than one person had to stifle their sniggers.

Oh, go on with you, you old fool! You can’t blame the young lass ‘ere…. just because your old legs won’t carry you as fast as they used to. He snorted an inaudible reply and stormed away again. Peg looked into the kind woman’s face and tried her best to smile.

Thank you she uttered

Oh, don’t fret, my lass, his bark is worse than his bite, but look here, your eggs are done for. They are not even any good for scrambling, still, you are alive, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

She nodded but wasn’t sure. She was thinking about the explanation to her Father, when he knew that there would be no money to be had from the sale of the eggs. It would probably mean that she would have to take in some extra washing and sewing, to make up the difference in the housekeeping. Her fingers were already sore. How she managed to work on the farm, do other people’s washing – a local habit, due to the softness of the water thereabouts, then turn to the delicate task of embroidery and mending in the evenings by candlelight, nobody knew, but they needed every penny they could get their hands on. Peg’s mother had died of diphtheria some years before. Since then, such tasks had become her duty. She never complained, as a matter of fact she loved her work, which was just as well, having a hungry brother and father to feed did take some doing, especially after a hard day’s work in the fields.

come on lass, up you get now! the kindly woman said, brushing as much of the mess as she could from Peg’s skirt and cloak. My you do look a rare sight! she commiserated, still wiping her down with the hem of her old work skirt.

Peg was just about to reply, when through the remaining busybodies who had not begun to make their way about their own business, a tall, dark figure approached her. He had tethered his horse to a convenient tree and seemed not to be in too much of a hurry to get to the huddle of people. Peg began to move away, brushing her hand against her dishevelled, fair hair. A streak of mud sullied her pretty, pale cheek and she fought back tears from her large blue eyes. Two shocks in as many moments is more than any person could cope with. Now all she wanted was to make her way home.

Wait! the newcomer commanded, With a voice as rich as claret. Are you injured at all? Peg turned to see the stranger bearing down upon her, his dark skin, and raven hair gave him a rather foreboding appearance. She tried to sound as calm as she could, though the quiver in her voice belied her actions.

No sir, I am fine!

Are you sure?

Quite sure, except for a bruised ego and a little dented in the purse, I’m fine.

I see your little accident has done nothing to hurt your sense of humour.

Peg lowered her eyes as she felt the heat of a betraying blush stain her cheeks, adding colour to her recent pallor. Looking about her, for the woman who had been kind enough to help her in her moment of need, she found that upon the arrival of the gentleman, all helpers and observers had scattered away. Now she was alone with the man whose presence, for some unknown reason, disturbed her, more than she would like to admit. Taking firm hold on her arm, he guided her to safety of the grass verge.

The middle of the road can be a dangerous place, he informed her sarcastically. As you have no doubt just learnt.

Peg bristled with anger, she knew it was partially her fault, for not paying attention to where she was going after her brush with the irate, old man and his loaf episode. Yet she thought, he must have been riding at quite a gallop all the same.

May I be permitted to escort you home? The man’s voice jolted her back to the present.

No thank you, Sir, for I have some more marketing to do.

It was a lie, but she felt the need to get away from his vice like grip, as he still held onto her, quite needlessly she thought. This man was obviously, from Gentry, and a farmer’s daughter did not give a piece of her mind to the likes of him in public. One never knew when their patronage would be required.

As you wish, my girl! He said, then with a shrug of a solid shoulder, he swept down to retrieve her basket from the ground, which was now in a sorry mess. Yours I believe!

Peg held out her shaking hand and took it from him. Thank you, Sir. She almost choked out he words of feigned gratitude, before leaving his presence, to disappear among the crowds, away from his disturbing glare. All around her there were people discussing the events in hushed whispers.

He’s the Squires son, from Cronton Hall said one.

Him deigning to stop to talk to a farmer’s girl! said another.

And her so haughty to reply. Who does she think she is? someone else joined in. She should be grateful he didn’t kill her.

There were mutterings of agreement. Peg had heard some of the rumblings, just as she was meant to, she believed she behaved with some decorum, under the circumstances, by not having accused him outright of such wild behaviour, which in her estimation, had been quite unacceptable. Slowly she made her way along the lane, her legs felt as though they were filled with lead and her head ached, delayed shock no doubt.

She had been walking for some time, when coming upon a hawthorn hedge, she found she had to stop and away from prying eyes, she wretched, perspiration drenched her brow.

It was a hot thunderous day, toward the end of august. Soon it would be autumn, when the trees that shaded the lane, would lay a thick russet carpet on the ground. She lingered only a few moments longer, until the dizziness began to recede, and her heart had stopped its heavy pounding. A pool of water from a sudden downpour the previous day, had remained on the ground. Slowly she bent, cupped her hand and scooped up a little in her palm. She splashed it over her face, its coolness refreshing her buttermilk skin and as no one was watching her, she lifted first her skirt, then the white petticoat she wore beneath and wiped away the drips from her face. She now felt able to continue along her way

The face of the Squire’s son was etched clearly in her mind. Peg did not remember having actually reached the gate of the farm, for as she made her way home, her mind had been preoccupied with his face – the unusual deep brown, almost black of his eyes, they had glistened with amusement, the uncontrollable quiver of his lip, and all this, adding to peg’s annoyance. She tried to clear her mind, as her brother Will was collecting the empty milk churns that stood, side by side on a ledge in the old stone wall, the full ones having been carried away by cart earlier that morning. They only kept enough milk to last them for the day, for drinking and enough for butter and cheese, which is what they would be eating for their evening meal now that there was no money to be had from the egg’s. Peg had baked bread upon rising that morning and the fields to the side of the house yielded much fruit, so there would be preserves.

‘We shall not starve’ she told herself.

Where is Father? she asked Will

He was in the top field when I left him, those blasted cows broke through the fence yesterday, we had the devil’s own job to round them up, so he is mending the gap.

Will was pointing out the direction of the breakthrough, when a loud, agonised neighing rang through the yard, from the direction of the stable. Both brother and sister ran to investigate the alarming sound. Richard Pudsey was no longer in the top field, but there on his knees in a lather of sweat.

The mare has come to her time! He told the two concerned observers. I came past and heard her, crying out for help she was.

Will moved swiftly to his fathers’ side. Here, let me give you a hand, father. And you peg, can go indoors and brew up some tea. We shall be in need of it. For this could be a long job.

Peg felt a tinge of fear, mixed with excitement rising inside of her. Then we shall have a foal before long? Her earlier mishaps were momentarily blotted from her memory.

We’ll see, lass. Richard tried to hide the concern in his voice. He waited until Peg was out of earshot, before relaying his fears to Will. There could be problems he said quietly. One foot is twisted Will did not have to ask any questions, he was used to dealing with these matters on his father’s farm, it never got any easier when problems of this kind cropped up. Quite apart from the financial loss, he could never distance himself totally from caring for the more intelligent of their beasts. Peg brought out a steaming pitcher of tea and two muggen pots, she approached the stable door, just as Richard was telling Will. If we can’t turn it, we will have to send for Bob Higgins the vet. She closed her eyes and bit hard on her lip, she had yet to tell them about the eggs.

Taking a deep breath, Peg entered the stable and began to impart her tale. Both men listened, holding back any comment until she had finished her account of everything that had happened.

Far from losing his temper with her, for her carelessness, as she thought he would, her father was most sympathetic. Are you recovered from your fall, child? he asked, for although Peg was a young woman of nineteen years, both men would still treat her as the baby of the family.

Oh, yes, I am fine! she lied, for every bone in her body was now beginning to ache, and the muscles were stiff and sore. She was certain that a nasty, blue bruise would appear before too long, though she would have to wait to inspect it, until she was in the privacy of her own little back room. A special concession, her being the only female in the cottage.

Did you not know the culprit who knocked you to the ground? Richards voice bore an angry tone. I’ll whip him! Tell me Peg, who was he?

I didn’t recognise him, but I did hear some people there talk about him being the Squire’s son.

Will became agitated. He pierced his lips and sucked in a deep breath. It makes no difference to me, whoever he is… And him in particular, for I have had dealings with him before today. A deep furrow creased his brow.

The Pudsey family were tenant farmers, but Will’s pride was a match for any fellow of high standing.

Now That will do son! I shall deal with Master Jonathan Wright, leave the matter to me. Do you understand!

With that warning, the mare began to struggle to her feet, they tried to calm her, but the sudden action must have dislodged one of the foal’s limbs, as it fought to make an entrance into the world. The other was manoeuvred into a more natural position, then the birth was completed safely.

All is well Will shouted out with relief. We have the makings of a good cob for the future. He looked around for a piece of rough sacking in the hay, he gently wiped the new arrival dry.

The mare was tired after her ordeal, yet with her tongue, she tried so desperately to clean her offspring of the gossamer threads of birth. She did not protest when Will administered help. They all stood in awe, as the tiny, chestnut brown animal struggled, uncertainly to his feet, under the watchful eye of his mother.

Might I stay and watch him feed for a while? Peg pleaded, her hand stroked the now frisky, young form as it nuzzled her hand, in search of milk. You shall not find sustenance there! She told the foal, guiding his head in the direction of his mother. Who was waiting for the first nudge, eager and ready to bond with her new son.

Richard picked up the pitcher, the tea had gone cold long ago, there had been no time to stop and drink. Peg with a twinge of guilt promised her father. I shall come inside and finish sewing the pair of curtains for Mrs Todd shortly. She pushed the long, loose strand of golden hair back from her face, her large, blue eyes stood out against her fair skin and her cheeks glowed pink with excitement.

Richard tipped a wink at his son, Oh, I think that as we are spared the expense of the vet, we could spare you, for a little while! But don’t linger too long, for I am hungry enough to eat a horse! his jest was not lost on the young brother and sister, and their laughter rang through the stable. The mare watched, unaware of the quip.

The two men left Peg to it, as they walked across to the pump and scrubbed their hands under the ice-cold water.

Do you think it was Jonathan, that rode her to the ground? asked Will, as he inspected his fingernails for any remaining muck.

Aye! It sounds like it, the description certainly fits the young rogue.

The arrogant swine! He should be taught a lesson.

"I agree with you, but if there is to be any punishment, it shall not be you, nor I,