by Susan Albert
“I am not a stray,” said Max, bristling. “I am merely a cat in search of employment. I do have one condition, however. I should like to be free at the weekend to visit the ferret who lives in Wilfin Bank. He is my dearest friend.”
“Well, whatever you like, you shall have,” said the major, casting another delighted look at the mice. “I say, old chap, you have made a most admirable beginning. I shall follow your progress with the keenest interest. And you may have employment here as long as you like.” He stood aside so that Max could come in. “Now, how about a saucer of milk and a bit of liver to go along with those mice?”
“Thank you,” said Max warmly, and followed the major inside.
A few days later, Miss Potter walked through Far Sawrey on her way to catch the ferry. She was returning across the lake to Helm Farm and her parents, and in a few weeks they would all take the train back to London. (And in case you are wondering, yes. Yes, the Potters did hire a special train car for their horses and carriage.)
Leaving made her feel sad and regretful. Her heart belonged in the Land Between the Lakes, with the farm and, yes, in spite of all her reservations, with Mr. Heelis. She had seen him only once since they exchanged those impulsive pledges, on the night of the Great Applebeck Fire. But once was enough for him to reiterate his promise, remind her of hers, and claim that missed first kiss. (I’m sorry we weren’t there to see it, but we can’t be everywhere, can we? And it is good, after all, for our Beatrix and her Will to have a little privacy. Heaven only knows how long they will have to wait before they can be alone together again.)
Miss Potter was passing Teapot Cottage when she heard a sharp Meow! She looked up to see Max the Manx, sitting under Major Ragsdale’s dahlias, his front paws folded under his black bib.
“Why, Max!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here in Far Sawrey? Quite a distance from home, aren’t you?”
“I am home,” purred Max, quite comfortably. “I now hold the position of chief cat here at Teapot.”
“Why, hello, Miss Potter,” said Major Ragsdale, coming toward her, rake in hand. “Fully recovered from that accident, have we?”
“Fully,” Miss Potter assured him. She gestured at Max. “I see that you have a new cat.”
“Splendid fellow, splendid,” barked the major proudly. He bent over to stroke Max’s ears. “I must say, I’m rather keen on the chap. Since he’s been here, the mice have all but disappeared.”
“They’ve moved to the Sawrey Hotel,” Max explained, sotto voce. He gave Miss Potter a conspiratorial smile. “I keep a few around for entertainment, and for show. Don’t want the major to think he doesn’t need a cat, you know.” And with that, he got up and began to wrap himself around the major’s ankles.
“I am very glad to hear that,” Miss Potter said. “There’s nothing more comfortable around the house than a good mouser.”
The major’s voice softened. “Y’ know, I’ve always wanted a Manx, ever since I was a lad,” he said reflectively. “Always seemed to me to be distinctive. A different sort of cat. Out of the ordinary.”
“Oh, I’m different, all right,” Max agreed happily. “And very out of the ordinary.” He arched his back, purring loudly. “Extraordinary, I’d say.”
Miss Potter sighed. “Well, I must be on my way. I mustn’t miss the ferry. My parents are expecting me to tea.”
“With luck, you’ll get there tomorrow,” the major said, and saluted with his rake. “Remember, that’s not a ferry; that’s a conundrum. Farewell, Miss Potter.”
“Goodbye, Miss Potter,” meowed Max, as she turned to leave.
“Goodbye,” Miss Potter said. “Until the next time.”
HISTORICAL NOTE
1910
Nineteen-ten was another busy year in Beatrix Potter’s life. Early in the year, she was involved for the first (and last) time in her life in national politics, for free trade was on the political agenda, and it was something she cared about very much. If this issue sounds familiar, there’s a reason, for Britain had done away with important tariffs in an effort to “globalize” its trading arena, and the arguments for and against free trade were just like those we hear today.
Beatrix took a personal view of the matter. A nationalist and protectionist, she had hoped to have her Peter Rabbit dolls made by a British dollmaker, but the Germans offered the cheapest bid, so her dolls—much to her distress—were being produced in Germany. At the rate things were going, she feared, Warne might even find it cheaper to have her books printed in the United States and shipped to England! Beatrix did her bit against the cause of free trade by contributing some sixty hand-drawn, hand-colored posters, including one that portrayed a Peter Rabbit doll with a costly price tag, displaying the legend “Made in Germany” and a note that German warships were being built on the profits of Germany’s trade with England.
The Liberals carried the day, though. Free trade marched on, and Beatrix returned to drawing “pigs and mice,” as she wrote to Harold Warne. She spent the spring putting the finishing touches on The Tale of Mrs. Tittlemouse, which was scheduled for October publication, and managing (from a distance) both Hill Top Farm and her 1909 purchase, Castle Farm. In this story, Applebeck Orchard is my own invention; there is no such property in the area of the Sawreys, Near and Far, and the only orchard that Beatrix cared about was the little orchard she planted at Hill Top. “There are quantities of apples, very few pears, & plums,” she wrote to Millie Warne during her visit there in August 1910, and added that she had picked three bunches of grapes from her vines.
Beatrix’s visits to Hill Top, though, were few and fleeting in this year, for her parents claimed almost all her attention and most of her energy. They spent their summer holiday at Helm Farm, in Bowness, an unlikely place for them, but all they could find at the last moment, the arrangements having been delayed (as Beatrix tells Will in this book) because of her father’s health. She was less active creatively at this time, and the time she could spare for herself was focused on her farms. As Linda Lear remarks, in Beatrix Potter: A Life in Nature, by 1910, “the balance of [her] creative energy had shifted,” and she was more interested in her real animals at her farm in the Lakes than the fictional creatures in the “little books.” From now on, she would write and draw less for her own creative pleasure and more to earn money to support Hill Top and Castle farms.
Other Lakeland issues—such as footpaths and flying boats—interested her, too. While I have invented the footpath incident for the plot of this book, Beatrix was a longtime advocate of open footpaths, like her friend Canon Rawnsley, one of the founders of the National Trust. In 1912, she was elected to a Sawrey footpath committee, a testimony to her acceptance as a farmer and countrywoman who understood issues of boundaries and rights of way. The hydroplane factory mentioned by Will Heelis, however, is a real one; only hinted at in this book, it will be a major part of the next book in this series.
Nineteen-ten may also have been a time of romance, as well. It is not clear from the existing records (chiefly Beatrix’s letters) exactly when she and Will Heelis first acknowledged their love for each other. It seems that there was no official engagement until 1912, although in 1913, she wrote to her friend Fanny Cooper, “He has waited six years already.” Whatever the chronology of their relationship, it was a friendship that evolved into love over time, in the context of Beatrix’s continuing loyalty to Norman’s memory. Linda Lear writes:Beatrix had fallen in love with William Heelis in much the same way as she had with Norman Warne: slowly and companionably. . . . In the same way she had come to love Norman, Beatrix discovered the satisfaction and security that came from William’s knowledge of the Lake District and its customs, and she relied on his advice about her properties in the same way as she had trusted Norman’s expertise in publishing. . . . Beatrix had loved Norman for his imagination and his humour, and she similarly delighted in William’s love of nature, his knowledge of the countryside and his zest for being out in it, whether he was fishing,
shooting, golfing, bowling, boating or country dancing.
And so I think it is appropriate for their engagement (albeit a secret one) to begin in this book, even though the time frame isn’t quite consistent with the few known facts we have about their relationship.
I hope you think so, too.
Susan Wittig Albert
Bertram, Texas, September 2009
Resources
Beeton, Isabella. Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management, 1861. Facsimile edition. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York, 1969.
Denyer, Susan. At Home with Beatrix Potter. Harry N. Abrams, Inc., New York, 2000.
Lear, Linda. Beatrix Potter: A Life in Nature. Allen Lane (Penguin UK), London, and St. Martin’s Press, New York, 2007.
Potter, Beatrix. Beatrix Potter’s Letters. Selected and edited by Judy Taylor. Frederick Warne, London, 1989.
Potter, Beatrix. The Journal of Beatrix Potter, 1881-1897. New edition. Transcribed by Leslie Linder. Frederick Warne, London, 1966.
Rollinson, William. The Cumbrian Dictionary of Dialect, Tradition and Folklore. Smith Settle Ltd, West Yorkshire, UK, 1997.
Taylor, Judy. Beatrix Potter: Artist, Storyteller and Countrywoman. Revised edition. Frederick Warne, London, 1996.
Recipes from the Land Between the Lakes
Mrs. Beetonʹs Best Soda Bread (from Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management, 1861)
To every 2 pounds of flour allow 1 teaspoonful of tartaric acid, 1 teaspoonful of salt, 1 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, 2 breakfast-cupfuls of cold milk. Let the tartaric acid and salt be reduced to the finest possible powder; then mix them well with the flour. Dissolve the soda in the milk, and pour it several times from one basin to another, before adding it to the flour. Work the whole quickly into a light dough, divide it into 2 loaves, put them into a well-heated oven immediately, and bake for an hour. Sour milk or buttermilk may be used, but then a little less acid will be needed.
Dimity Woodcockʹs Bramble Jelly
In her journal, Beatrix describes the blackberry as “a kindly berry, it ripens in the rain.” After she and Will Heelis were married in 1913, they lived at Castle Cottage. In her book A Tale of Beatrix Potter, Margaret Lane describes their dining room table, where “a law book and papers and deed-boxes” occupied one end, and “bramble jelly and toasted teacakes” the other. Perhaps the bramble jelly Miss Lane mentions was made from Dimity Woodcock’s recipe. Bramble jelly is also used as a glaze for cheesecakes, pies, and flans, and as an accompaniment to mutton, pork, ham, duck, and goose.
2½ quarts blackberries
¾ cup water
3 cups sugar
TO PREPARE JUICE
Sort and wash the berries; remove any stems or caps. Put in a pan with the water, cover, and simmer gently for about 20-25 minutes, until soft. Place in a jelly bag and hang over a large bowl to strain out the juice.
TO MAKE JELLY
Measure 4 cups juice into a kettle. Add sugar and stir well. Boil over high heat to 110°C (220°F), or until mixture sheets from a spoon and jelly has reached the setting point. Remove from heat; skim off foam. Pour jelly immediately into hot containers and seal. Makes about 5 six-ounce glasses.
The Professorʹs Grandmotherʹs Ginger Beer Recipe (an old recipe)
Ginger beer was brewed in England from the 1700s on. Its predecessor was mead, which dates back to Anglo-Saxon times. A honey beverage, it was naturally carbonated and yeast-fermented, often including ginger, cloves, and mace. In ginger beer, which was popular through the early 1900s, sugar replaced honey, and fresh Jamaican ginger root, with lemon, became the dominant flavor.
2¼ pounds sugar
1½ ounces cream of tartar
1½ ounces gingerroot
2 lemons
2 tablespoons fresh brewer’s yeast
3 gallons water
Bruise the ginger, and put into a large earthenware pan, with the sugar and cream of tartar; peel the lemons, squeeze out the juice, strain it, and add, with the peel, to the other ingredients; then pour over the water boiling hot. When it has stood until it is only just warm, add the yeast, stir the contents of the pan, cover with a cloth, and let it remain near the fire for 12 hours. Then skim off the yeast and pour the liquor off into another vessel, taking care not to shake it, so as to leave the sediment; bottle it immediately, cork it tightly; in 3 or 4 days, it will be fit for use.
Parsleyʹs Ginger-and-Treacle Pudding
Treacle is the word used in Britain for syrup made in the process of refining sugarcane. It can range from very light to very dark. The lighter syrup (produced from the first boiling of the sugarcane juice) is called light treacle or golden syrup. The second boiling produces a much darker syrup, which British cooks call treacle (or dark treacle) and Americans call molasses (or dark molasses). The third boiling produces what both British and Americans call blackstrap molasses, which is very dark, with a slightly bitter edge.
In this recipe, Parsley uses dark treacle (molasses). She also uses the shredded suet that is traditional for sweet and savory puddings and mincemeat. Suet has a high melting point that results in a light and smoothly textured pastry, whether baked or steamed. If you can’t find this British specialty, freeze 4 ounces of butter and grate it.
¾ cup flour
pinch of salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 heaping teaspoons ground ginger
1cups fresh breadcrumbs
4 ounces shredded suet or grated frozen butter
2 tablespoons dark treacle
¼ cup milk
¼ cup chopped crystallized ginger
Sift the flour, salt, baking soda, and ginger into a mixing bowl. Stir in the breadcrumbs and suet (or butter). In a small saucepan, warm the treacle until it liquefies, then add the milk. Pour into the dry ingredients, mixing well. Add the chopped ginger and mix again, adding a little more milk if necessary. Turn into a greased 1-quart pudding basin and cover with foil. Steam for 2-2½ hours, or until well risen and firm. Serve hot with custard or cream.
Mrs. Barrowʹs Cumberland Sausage, with Apple-Onion Sauce
Traditional Cumberland sausages are heavily flavored with pepper, nutmeg, and mace. Each butcher had his own recipe, but all were made in continuous coils up to four feet long. Sausage is most easily made with a meat grinder (hand or electric) with a sausage stuffer attachment. Cumberland sausage, served to this day at the Tower Bank Arms in Near Sawrey, may be accompanied by an onion and apple sauce.
SAUSAGE
½ cup hot water
¼ cup stale breadcrumbs
1 pound pork shoulder, boned and ground
6 ounces fat pork, ground
4 strips bacon, ground
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper
½ teaspoon nutmeg
½ teaspoon mace
sausage casings (ask your butcher or purchase
online)
Add the hot water to the breadcrumbs and set aside. Mix the ground meats, salt, pepper, and spices. Add the bread-crumb /water mixture and mix very well, using your hands. Fry a spoonful of the sausage and taste to adjust the seasoning. Rinse the salt from the sausage casing. Using the sausage stuffer, fill the sausage casings, prick in several places, and refrigerate overnight. Bake in a greased baking dish at 350°F. Turn after 20 minutes, and raise the heat to 375°F. Serve with warm Onion-Apple Sauce.
ONION-APPLE SAUCE
½ onion, chopped fine
Clove garlic, crushed
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 pound apples (Granny Smith or another tart apple)
2 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
Bay leaf
Salt, pepper to taste
Sauté the onion and garlic in the oil until golden brown. Peel, core, and chop apples. Add to the onion. Add water, vinegar, and bay leaf and simmer for 15-20 minutes, until soft. Remove the bay leaf and puree the sauce in a blender. Add salt and pepper to taste.
&n
bsp; Glossary
Some of the words included in this glossary are dialect forms; others are sufficiently uncommon that a definition may be helpful. My main source for dialect is William Rollinson’s The Cumbrian Dictionary of Dialect, Tradition and Folklore. For other definitions, I have consulted the Oxford English Dictionary (second edition, Oxford University Press, London, 1989).
Along of. On account of, because of, owing to. “Along of the Applebeck ghost.”
Auld. Old.
Awt. Something, anything.
Beck. A small stream.
Betimes. Sometimes.
Bodder, bodderment, boddering. Trouble.
Chapel. One who attends worship in a non-Anglican church.
Character. Letter of recommendation.
Dusta. Doest thou, do you?
Goosy. Foolish.
How. Hill, as in “Holly How,” the hill where Badger lives.
Mappen. Maybe, perhaps.
Nae. No.
Nawt. Nothing.
Off-comer. A stranger, someone who comes from far away.
Pattens. Farm shoes with wooden soles and leather uppers.
Pinny. Pinafore.
Reet. Right.
Sae. So.
Sartin, sartinly. Certain, certainly.
Seed wigs. Small, oblong cakes, like tea cakes, flavored with caraway seeds.
Sumbody. Somebody, someone.
Summat. Somewhat, something.
Trice. Very quickly, all at once, “in a trice.”
Trippers, day-trippers. Tourists, visitors who come for the day.
Tup. Ram.
Verra or varra. Very.
