#robert langley

Finally, in the middle of spring 1841, the village school opened its doors, bringing a new sense of change to the community. Wilhelmina accompanied Thomas and Robert to school, even though they already knew the way. The school had been built in the heart of the village, not far

When they arrived, Wilhelmina noticed there weren’t many children gathered outside. Most of the students were boys, as it was still customary for girls to stay at home and help with household chores, just as Rosemary and Winifred had done.

The teachers greeted them warmly. They had volunteered to educate the children, knowing they wouldn’t receive much pay, yet their dedication was clear. Wilhelmina admired their commitment, though Robert was less sure. He clung to his mother’s side, reluctant to let go. Unlike his brother, Robert wasn’t excited by the prospect of school. He much preferred the simplicity of life on the farm, where he could run freely and help with the animals and crops.

For Thomas, however, this first day at school was an eye-opener. He had expected to enjoy it simply because he would see his friends more often, but as the day progressed, he discovered that he might actually enjoy learning too. The lessons sparked something within him, a curiosity he hadn’t realised was there.

Robert, on the other hand, remained disengaged for most of the day. He wasn’t slow, but school held no charm for him. The unfamiliar faces and routines felt strange, and his thoughts drifted back to the fields and animals he adored. He couldn’t understand why he had to be here when he already had a place and purpose on the farm. To him, working alongside his father was far more fulfilling than sitting in a classroom, surrounded by children he barely knew.

It was another day at school. The children were out on their break, most of them were outside, laughing and running, their voices filling the air with the carefree energy of youth. Some had stayed inside, taking the chance to rest, while others quietly passed the time playing, like Thomas, who was deep in conversation with a friend. Meanwhile, Robert sat at his desk, lost in thought. He often felt more comfortable in his own world than trying to fit

As he sat there, one of the girls from his class entered the room, looking a little unsure of herself. She was a delicate and quiet girl. Like Robert, she often seemed to be on her own, not quite fitting in with the other girls, who were usually busy with their own little groups. Most of the boys didn’t really mix with the girls either, so she often found herself on the sidelines, much

She approached Robert’s desk hesitantly, fidgeting with her fingers as she drew nearer. When Robert noticed her standing there, he looked up, surprised. She gave him a shy smile, and for a moment, they just stared at one another.

“Hello” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Robert, still a bit nervous, smiled back but said nothing at first

“My name’s Margaret” she continued, her smile growing a little as she introduced herself “And you?”

“Robert” he replied, his voice just as quiet as hers.

“Why aren’t you outside with the others?” Margaret asked, glancing toward the window where the other children played. Robert shrugged slightly, shaking his head. He didn’t feel the need to explain, and Margaret didn’t press him for an answer. She simply nodded in understanding.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” she asked after a moment, her eyes hopeful yet hesitant, as if unsure what his response might be.

Robert hesitated, not because he didn’t want her to, but because he wasn’t used to anyone wanting to sit with him. After a brief pause, he nodded, motioning to the empty seat beside him. Margaret smiled gratefully and sat quietly down next to him.

With the arrival of spring and the welcome return of warmer weather, Edwin set about preparing the fields for planting, with Thomas eagerly assisting him. The winter had been particularly harsh, with biting cold and heavy snow, so when the temperatures finally began to rise, it felt like a breath of fresh air for everyone.

Wilhelmina, now well along in her pregnancy, didn’t hesitate for a moment to take advantage of the milder weather. She found a comfortable spot in the garden to rest, her hands gently cradling her growing belly, while she kept Edwin company as he worked.

Meanwhile, Rosemary had grown into a responsible young girl, old enough to start helping her mother around the house, especially now that Wilhelmina was expecting. The added responsibilities had come naturally to her, and she took pride in being a useful helper. Most of the time, it was Rosemary who took on the task of keeping Winifred and Robert entertained, particularly when Wilhelmina needed to rest or tend to chores that were still beyond Rosemary’s abilities.

As she sat by the garden table, Wilhelmina watched with a contented smile as Rosemary played with the twins, their joyous laughter filling the air. The children ran around, their energy boundless, and their voices carried across the farm, reaching all the way to the other side of the river. It was a scene full of life and warmth, a testament to the simple pleasures that defined their days.

Edwin paused in his work for a moment, leaning on his spade as he took in the sight before him. His gaze rested on his wife and children, a scene that filled his heart with quiet pride and happiness.

Since that moment between her and Edwin, Wilhelmina had gradually begun to recover her spirits. The weight of her grief still clung to her, and the melancholy lingered like a shadow, but she had begun to take steps toward normality. The memory of George was always with her, a constant ache in her heart, but now, she could manage it. She had started coming out of the bedroom, taking care of herself properly again, and slowly, the house was beginning to feel a little more like it used to.

On that particular day, Wilhelmina had decided to give the bedroom a thorough cleaning. It had been weeks since she had done more than the bare minimum, and the neglect weighed on her, another reminder of how far she had retreated into herself. She dusted the surfaces meticulously, scrubbed the floor until it gleamed, and now she was making the bed. The sheets and duvet had been freshly laundered, and their crispness gave her a small, fleeting sense of satisfaction.

As she tucked the sheets beneath the mattress, she took care to smooth out every wrinkle. Her hands moved with the precision of habit, though her mind was elsewhere, drifting through memories both bitter and sweet.

She plumped the pillows, restoring their shape with a few firm squeezes, and then spread the duvet with careful attention, ensuring it lay perfectly across the bed.

While she was absorbed in her task, Robert quietly entered the room. He hesitated at the door, surprised to see his mother looking so put-together. She had dressed in a simple but neat outfit, her hair clean and styled just as she used to before George’s passing, tied back with soft curls resting on her shoulder. She was tidying the room with a focus that he hadn’t seen in her for what felt like a very long time.

Robert stood there for a while, watching her in silence. He wanted to speak to her, to ask her something, but he wasn’t sure how to approach her. His mother hadn’t noticed him yet, lost in her thoughts as she finished making the bed. When Wilhelmina finally looked up and saw him, she offered a warm smile tinged with guilt. She had been so consumed by her own sorrow since George’s death that she had unintentionally distanced herself from her other children, leaving them to fend for themselves emotionally.

Even now, as she made an effort to return to her old self, she found it difficult to reach out to them. The shame of neglecting them weighed heavily on her, making every interaction feel fraught with unspoken apologies.

Robert smiled back, but it was a hesitant, uncertain smile. Wilhelmina noticed the nervousness in his expression and, after brushing off her skirt, she approached him. She crouched down to his level, bringing herself face to face with her son. Robert had always been a quiet and introverted child, much like his brother Thomas. He had always been close to her, following her around the house, seeking her comfort and reassurance. Unlike Thomas, who had grown more confident and outgoing as he aged, Robert had remained shy and reserved, clinging to the safety of his mother’s presence.

Wilhelmina’s heart ached as she looked into his sad eyes. In the weeks she had shut herself away, she knew her children must have felt abandoned, especially Robert, who relied so much on her. The thought that he might have believed she no longer cared for them was almost too much to bear.

She gently reached out and caressed his cheek, her fingers brushing against his soft skin with a tenderness that conveyed all the love she had been unable to express. Then she squeezed his arm gently, hoping to bridge the gap that had grown between them. “Will you forgive Mummy?” she asked softly, her voice carrying the weight of her remorse. Robert’s lower lip trembled, and his expression crumpled into one of sorrow. “Oh, my dear...” Wilhelmina continued, her voice now barely more than a whisper, thick with emotion.

Tears welled up in Robert’s eyes, and he quickly brought his hands to his face, rubbing at them furiously as if trying to push the tears away. His hair stuck to his damp cheeks, and his small body shook with the force of his sobs. He had missed her so much, the warmth and comfort of his mother that had been absent for too long.

Without hesitation, Wilhelmina opened her arms wide, and Robert rushed into them, burying his face in her shoulder as he cried. She held him tightly, one hand gently stroking his hair, the other wrapped securely around his back. “My litle boy...” she whispered soothingly, her own eyes filling with tears as she tried to comfort him. The feel of his small, trembling body against hers was both heart-wrenching and healing, a reminder of how much she had to live for, how much she needed to be present for her children.

As she rocked him gently, feeling the warmth of his tears soaking into her blouse, Wilhelmina made a silent vow to herself. She would do better by them. She would find a way to move forward, to be the mother they needed, despite the pain that lingered in her heart. They had already lost so much; she couldn’t bear the thought of them losing her too, even if it was only emotionally.

Edwin shouldered the heavy burden of arranging everything for the funeral. It was he who gently woke the children early that morning, his voice laden with sorrow as he explained what had happened and asked them to dress in mourning. The children, still half-asleep, struggled to grasp the finality of his words, but the sombre tone in their father's voice made it clear that something terrible had occurred.

Wilhelmina, overwhelmed by grief and exhaustion, found herself unable to dress on her own. She sat motionless on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling as she tried to fasten her dress. Seeing her distress, Edwin quietly stepped forward to help. He carefully brushed her hair, tucking loose strands behind her ears, and buttoned her dress.

When she still seemed lost in her sorrow, Edwin wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding her tightly, offering the only comfort he could in their shared silence.

Once everyone was dressed and ready, they embarked on the solemn journey to the village cemetery.

The day was unusually warm for the time of year, with the first hints of summer in the air, though the sky remained overcast and a light drizzle persisted. Edwin had purchased a small plot not far from where Winifred and her husband were buried, a place where George would rest close to family.

At the graveside, George’s small body was gently placed in a tiny coffin that Edwin had lovingly carved with his own hands. The coffin was simple, yet crafted with immense care and love, a final gift from a father to his son. As Wilhelmina gazed at the headstone bearing her son’s name, her legs buckled, and her body shook with sobs as she clung to Edwin for support. The children, who had been trying so hard to be brave and hold back their tears, could no longer bear to see their mother in such pain. Robert, his face streaked with tears, hugged Winifred tightly, while Rosemary, struggling to keep her composure, gently rubbed Thomas’s back in an effort to comfort him.

Autumn was drawing to a close, and the first chill of the winter winds was already making itself felt. The days had been exhausting as they gathered the last of the harvest, but now, as the sun set, they could finally rest. All the children had helped: Thomas, Rosemary, Robert, and Winifred, and now they were all relaxing in the sitting room.

Rosemary was seated at the piano, her fingers tentatively pressing the keys. She had been practising with the little her mother had managed to teach her, though Wilhelmina was not particularly skilled. The piano was a family heirloom, but it had fallen out of regular use over the years.

Thomas was warming himself by the crackling fire, his hands outstretched towards the flames, while Robert had fallen asleep on the sofa, exhausted from the day's work. He had barely made it inside before collapsing into sleep, utterly worn out by the harvest.

Meanwhile, Winifred was absorbed in an art book she had found lying around. She had recently developed an interest in drawing and had even asked Edwin to build her an easel so she could try her hand at painting.

In the kitchen, Wilhelmina had spent hours preparing preserves from the disappointing harvest. Though the crops had been a disaster, she salvaged what she could, pickling the vegetables that were worth preserving to last through the winter. She placed the glass jars in boiling water to seal them, and then sighed, weary from the day’s work.

She stepped away from the heat of the stove, removed her apron, and laid it on the kitchen table. As she left the kitchen, she found Edwin sitting at his desk.

Since their last argument, things had been tense between them. They hadn’t stopped speaking, but there was a distance between them that hadn’t been there before. Wilhelmina had been cold towards Edwin, avoiding his affections, and whenever he joined her in bed with intentions beyond simply sleeping, she rejected him with the excuse that she was tired.

Edwin, for his part, had begun to realise that perhaps Wilhelmina had been right about some of the things she’d said, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit it. The past few weeks had been the sort that wear a person down to the bone. Edwin wasn’t the type of man who angered easily, and it was rare for him to raise his voice to Wilhelmina. But the stress had built up, and he had let it out in ways he now regretted.

Wilhelmina watched him from the doorway, adjusting her clothes after the long afternoon in the kitchen. She couldn’t see her husband’s face, as he was turned away from her, but she knew he was stressed. She sighed softly and approached him, placing a hand gently on the desk as she looked at the papers scattered in front of him.

Edwin looked up at her. His face was gaunt, marked by the stress that had been eating away at him for weeks. This year had been more than just a bad harvest, the rains and pests had driven up the prices of the few decent foods available at the market. They earned their wages by managing the Abernathy farm, but their expenses were rising, and Edwin was struggling to balance the books.

Wilhelmina met his gaze, and though her eyes weren’t cold, they lacked the warmth they usually held. Edwin knew he had let her down recently, but he felt trapped, overwhelmed by the weight of everything that was going wrong.

“The preserves are ready, but I don’t know if we have enough to last the winter” Wilhelmina finally broke the silence “In fact, I doubt we do.” Her words hung in the air, and Edwin nodded sadly, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “What will we do if things don’t improve by spring?” she asked, her tone gentle but edged with the frustration of someone who is upset.

Though she spoke quietly, Edwin knew her too well. There was a hint of reproach in her voice. “Things will get better” he insisted, though even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow. Wilhelmina leaned slightly against the desk, her face showing a trace of the irritation she felt.

Edwin sighed, the tension between them reaching its peak. “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a bit? How long have you been like this? Three weeks?” He was referring to her coldness towards him, the silent treatment she had been giving him since their argument.

Wilhelmina looked at him incredulously, narrowing her eyes. She sighed and looked away briefly before turning back to him. “Don’t you think I have a right to be upset? After the way you spoke to me?” she dared to say.

Edwin lowered his gaze, unable to meet her eyes. “Edwin, I see you working every day, working yourself to the bone. You come home exhausted from working all day, not even knowing if your efforts will bear fruit” she continued firmly “And the results speak for themselves” she added, nodding towards the window from which the recently harvested fields were visible.

Edwin was at a loss for words, tired and beginning to realise that Wilhelmina had been right about the children’s education. But it pained him to think that all his hard work might not be enough for her.

“I’m working myself to death for you, for the children, and for you” he said, his voice lacking the energy to argue.

“Do you think I don’t appreciate it? We have what we have because of you, and I would choose this life again if I could, because you are in it” Wilhelmina affirmed. Edwin pressed his lips together, struggling with his emotions. “But giving our children an education would mean they’d have a way to support themselves if the land fails us. Edwin…”

Wilhelmina’s expression softened as she saw the weariness in her husband’s eyes. “I wouldn’t trade farm life for anything, but our children… they deserve the chance to do more. Please, think about it. They can still help you when they return from school.”

Finally, Edwin’s pride gave way. There was no point in continuing to deny the truth just because he didn’t want to admit that Wilhelmina was right. He fiddled with his fingers as she spoke, realising how sensible it was to prepare their children for a future beyond the farm. He looked at Wilhelmina and nodded, acknowledging her point. “You’re right… I know you’re right…”

Wilhelmina’s eyes widened in surprise. “I… I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry” Edwin stammered, his voice heavy with regret. “It’s this damned helplessness… I feel like nothing’s going right. The farm is slipping through my fingers, and look at this pathetic harvest we’ve had.”

Wilhelmina swallowed hard, her heart aching for her husband. “You said yourself that things would get better, and they will. We’ll see better days, but while the land has its ups and downs, our children can learn the basics, enough to make a living another way if they have no other choice.”

Edwin nodded again, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. With a sigh, he stood up, prompting Wilhelmina to straighten up as well. Edwin moved around the chair and took her hands, holding them gently. “We’ll enrol them, but they’ll still have to help on the farm. There’s too much to do” he said, his voice softer now. Wilhelmina nodded, and Edwin buried his face in the crook of her neck, seeking the comfort he had missed for so long.

“I think I deserve an apology, don’t you?” Wilhelmina teased, though she welcomed Edwin’s closeness. He nodded against her shoulder before whispering “Forgive me, I won’t speak to you like that again. I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

Wilhelmina smiled and shook her head. “You’d better keep your word” she said playfully before leaning in to kiss him, a kiss of reconciliation. Edwin, who had longed for her touch for weeks, returned the kiss with fervour.

As Edwin had feared, summer arrived almost unnoticed, with temperatures barely rising and the relentless rain showing no sign of stopping. The crops, already stunted by the unseasonably cold spring, were now struggling to grow at all. The summer harvest was a disaster, and Edwin, who had already endured so much, was beginning to lose hope.

The loss of their youngest son had cast a long shadow over the family, and now the farm, their livelihood, was faltering as well.

Robert and Winifred, now of an age where they could shoulder some responsibility, joined in with the household tasks. Thomas and Robert spent long hours working in the fields alongside Edwin, trying desperately to salvage what they could of the crops. The boys, who had once looked up to their father with awe, now saw the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. They worked silently, knowing that every grain they saved was crucial, yet feeling the futility of their efforts as the rain continued to fall.

Meanwhile, Rosemary and Winifred took over many of the chores at home. They managed the cooking, cleaning, and washing, tasks that once seemed routine but now felt overwhelming in the absence of their mother’s guiding hand.

Since George's death, Wilhelmina had not been the same. The vibrant woman who had once filled their home with warmth and love had withdrawn into herself, becoming a mere shadow of her former self. She spent nearly all day in bed, rising only to do the tasks her daughters couldn't yet manage and to attend to her own basic needs.

The household, once kept in perfect order by her diligent hands, now showed signs of neglect. Dust began to gather on the furniture, the floors went unswept, and the once-vibrant garden wilted under the unrelenting rain. The children, who had always known their mother to be strong and capable, now found themselves tiptoeing around her, unsure of how to reach out to her in her grief.

Finally, in the last days of summer, with the cool touch of autumn 1839 just around the corner, Wilhelmina went into labour.

Edwin sat anxiously in the parlour, nervously picking at the skin around his fingers as the cries of his wife echoed through the house. Upstairs, Wilhelmina was enduring the agonies of childbirth, her screams reverberating through every corner, making the reality of the moment painfully clear.

The children had been sent out to the garden, where Thomas and Rosemary did their best to keep the twins occupied, shielding them from the distressing sounds emanating from their mother’s bedroom. The air was thick with tension, each passing moment stretching into what felt like an eternity.

In the bedroom, Wilhelmina was surrounded by the comforting presence of Mary Elizabeth and a midwife they had carefully chosen for this critical moment. Despite their experience, the labour was proving to be difficult and filled with pain. Wilhelmina hadn’t given birth for several years, and though she was no stranger to the process, she hadn’t anticipated how challenging this particular birth would be. The memories of her previous labours seemed distant, overshadowed by the intense struggle she now faced.

The hours dragged on slowly as the labour progressed, with each contraction taking a toll on Wilhelmina’s strength. Mary Elizabeth and the midwife worked tirelessly, offering her encouragement and doing everything in their power to ease the process.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the cry of a newborn filled the room, breaking the tension and bringing with it a wave of relief. George Langley had arrived into the world. He was a small, slender baby, not as robust as some of his siblings had been at birth, but he was healthy and safe, and that was all that mattered. The long hours of pain and uncertainty faded away in the face of the joy that now filled the room.