The Hanging of Margaret Dickson Read Online Free PDF Page B

It would please me so, Patrick.’
    â€˜Very well.’
    A nauseous longing stirs inside of her. How she longs to feel his lips on her own again and so she kisses him for the longest time till there is no breath left in her. After a while she drags him to the dry purple heather below, hitching her petticoats higher and higher to inflame his desire. The art of love comes as natural to her as the air she breathes. With her head thrown to the side she pulls him on top of her, the sounds of his groans and heavy breathing tickling her ear. A wave of pleasure washes over her as he fiddles with his undergarments.
    â€˜What’s wrong?’ she cries as he rolls off her and jumps to his feet.
    â€˜A noise, did you hear it? Pull down your skirts, Maggie.’ He pushes her petticoats over her knees and forces himself into his undergarments.
    â€˜There’s no one here,’ she replies, continuing to caress his inner thigh. Her hands travel higher and higher until they settle near his groin.
    Patrick slaps her hands away. ‘Stop it, Maggie.’ He pulls her to her feet. ‘See,’ he nods in the direction of two poachers.
    A couple of poachers pass by covered head to foot in mud. Each of them holds a dead bird in one hand, a pistol in the other. A hunting dog yaps at their heels, sniffing the ground.
    â€˜We have to go,’ Patrick mutters, his face red and breathing laboured.
    â€˜Can’t we stay a moment longer? They’ll be gone in a moment.’
    â€˜Nae,’ Patrick snaps. ‘We must go. If we stay here one moment longer you’re in trouble.’
    An awkward silence descends upon them as they wait for the poachers to be out of sight. As the sky darkens above Maggie sulks and will not meet his eyes. How dare he reject me , she thinks. Her tiny hands make a fist and her fingernails make crescent shapes upon her palms. Before they reach the cottage, they shelter beneath a rowan tree, its clustered branches dipping into a muddy stream.
    â€˜Maggie, I have to go away for a wee while, on the keels. I’m taking oysters on coble boats to Newcastle upon Tyne, and after that I’m bringing glass bottles to Leith. It’s well paid work and we need the money mind to rent a cottage. But rest assured, when I return we shall be wed.’
    â€˜But, Patrick. I don’t want you to go.’
    â€˜If we are to have a roof over our head I must.’
    They walk back to the cottage in silence with Maggie moping the whole way home. At the cottage Patrick stoops to kiss her, but at the last moment Maggie turns away and runs off to her dwelling before slamming the door.

    ***

    So begins a volatile relationship, and one that will bring Patrick Spence to his knees. Nevertheless, as is the custom, he arranges to meet with Maggie’s father to ask him for his daughter’s hand in marriage. But this proves difficult indeed, as Maggie’s father is invariably gallivanting or inebriated from the effects of ale. And therefore, Maggie’s brother, James takes the place of Duncan and gives the fishermen permission to marry his sister.
    On a beautiful day in May, Maggie Dickson and Patrick Spence give their names to be proclaimed in order to be married in the old kirk of St Michaels in Inveresk. Their date of marriage set for 3 June, 1715.

    ***

    Inside the Musselburgh Arms, near the tolbooth, patrons drink a toast to the betrothed couple. It’s gaming night and so the wedding party huddles around an old beer-stained table, shouting to one another to be heard above the din. A serving wench brings a full tray of ale and points to a handsome man propped up against the bar. Duncan winks in their direction and raises a jar of frothy beer.
    Patrick’s father, George Spence shouts above the rumpus. ‘Has the lassie got a dowry by any chance?’
    â€˜Aye, I have.’
    James shushes her as though she’s incapable of answering him. ‘Allow me to speak for you,