Look, girl, snarled the old woman, if you bring a lad home youll be tossed out on the doorstep. We cant afford any more shame. It was the way Auntie Margaret had always warned young Emily, the way the cold wind of the Yorkshire moors seemed to carry her words.
From childhood Emily had heard the whispered gossip that her mother, Margaret, had been a reckless flapper. We lived five years with Tom, had no children, then she whisked herself off to the seaside and came back with a bundle of trouble, the old matriarch would say, no filter, no softening. No amount of pleadingTom left three years before you were born, and he wasnt alone; he was with my sister Nora, your auntcould quiet the accusation that Emily was a wayward child.
Father looked at mother as though she were a wolf, and what could he do when every day the house echoed with the old womans tirades about how Emilys fate was sealed? The big farmhouse, inherited after his fathers death, expected the eldest son to care for his parents, yet Margaret despised her daughterinlaw, snapping at her every step. Shes no match for you. Get her out. I cant stand the way she moves, the way she sits. Shes a mistake. The son stubbornly clung to his love for his wife, and the bitterness seeped into the next generation.
Emilys own granddaughter, little Evelyn, was a bright, pretty thing, a sweetheart that the whole village adored. She fluttered in, calling the old woman Gran, while Margaret stared at her with a cold, fierce glare, as if she were a stranger. Love, would you like some cucumbers? she asked. No, theyre bitter, pouted Evelyn. Fine, Margaret replied, bitter enough for a lazy, cursed slacker like you. Mary, Mary, youll starve the child if you dont feed her. She shoved a plate of hard rolls and a slice of buttered scone at the girl. These are as hard as stones, Evelyn complained, but the grandmother only huffed, Your rolls are stonehard, just like your mothers stubbornness.
Emily will have a home, a place for you, my only grandchild, Margaret muttered, or shall I leave you a beggars bloodstained coat? Let your parents sort it, or youll have to fend for yourself.
And so Emily lived, until the day she decided to go to London to study, spurred on by her grandmothers parting words. She excelled at collegebright, eager, full of life. The city dazzled her: women in elegant dresses, men in sharp suits, the hum of traffic, the promise of a better future. She wanted to show her mother the worlds beauty, but how could she get her out of the house? The old woman and her father clutched their grip like a serpent, refusing to let her go.
In the university dormitory she befriended the matron, Anna Anderson, who had a grown son up north and two mischievous grandchildren. Your mothers been summoned to the parentteacher meeting, Anna whispered, so you can bring her to the city. They did just that; Father growled, Margaret sneered, accusing Emily of flirting with boys instead of studying. Yet teachers praised the girl, and her mothers eyes shone with rare pride.
One night, after tea, the women of the dorm gathered. Martha, youre not alone, said one, pouring a cup for Mary. Ive spent my whole life as a servant; Emily is the only child Ive ever had. My husband and I are old, but we still need someone. Mary, whod always been top of her class, confessed her longing to live in the city, to work in the library. Thank you, dear, Anna said, for showing me the world beyond the village.
Are you really a proper lady, Mary? another asked. Of course, she laughed, I studied accounting, worked the numbers for years. I wanted more, so I came here. Come, move, urged Anna. Stay, and youll have a future.
Back home, Marthas mother-inlaw kept a watchful eye, her husband snarling like a wolf, once even slapping his own cheek in fury. She hurried to work, covering bruises, her thoughts drifting far from the kitchen. The next month she returned to the meeting, where old Margaret hissed, That girl isnt studying; shes out chasing men, just like Tom, wholl bring a lad into the house. She spat, And Mary, youve found a lover too, and Ill watch you both crumble.
Tom, a brutish farmhand, beat Martha badly that night, frightening even the old woman. She ran to the constable with a sack of bloodstained linen and a slab of pork, begging for help. The abuse continued, and Martha, fed up, gathered a few belongings, wrote a resignation, and walked out of the farmhouse that had held her for a quarter of a century. She left with bruises, a trembling voice, Mother, is that you? Im weak, my child, but Ill survive, she whispered, as Anna promised aid.
Martha found work at a textile mill as an accountant, earned a small room in the dorm, and began to bloom again. She and Emily would stroll through the towns lanternlit streets, their laughter echoing in the night. Rumours spread: Tom, angry, stormed the house, shouting, Martha, Im coming for you. I wont go with you, she snapped, Ive had enough. Tom snarled, teeth grinding, but Martha stood unflinching, a new fire in her eyes.
Dont be foolish, Mary, Tom hissed, or the police will be called. The police? he scoffed. We were cheated a month agono letter, no warning. Im sorry, Tom, I love you, she pleaded. Youre a wolf that loved a sheep, thats why youre doomed. He growled, Leave. She answered, Ill go, but youll never return. He fell silent, tears slipping down his cheeks.
Later, Tom returned a storm of rage, drunk, stumbling through the house, shouting, Mother! Whats the matter, Tom? Did you get my letter? His eyes darted, lips trembling. He spent a week drinking, then brought home a young woman named Catherine, a city girl with fire in her veins. She took over the household, pushing the old women aside, demanding respect. The oncegentle Evelyn, now a beautiful teen, was left to fend for herself as Catherines cruelty grew.
The village whispered, Mary lives in the city, married a scoundrel, and now shes a monster. Yet Evelyn, the bright granddaughter, was left with nothing, forced to leave with her brother to the city, hoping for a better life. The old woman, Margaret, never invited her to weddings, the family now tangled in the citys coldness.
In the end, the farmhouse stood empty, its walls echoing the cries of generations. Martha, now a respectable accountant, sent a letter to Evelyn, hoping the old woman would forgive her. The story lingered like a thin mist over the moorslove, betrayal, and the relentless fight of a woman yearning for freedom in a world that tried to keep her bound.
