by Evie Grace
‘The projected figures are all too good to be true. Never trust a man who refuses to drink with you. Your Mr Brooke has too high an opinion of himself,’ Uncle Edward went on. ‘From what I’ve gathered of his character here, and the enquiries I’ve made, I wouldn’t recommend going into business with him.’
‘What have you found out?’ Pa said.
‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing, except that he travels two or three times a year between France and Dover on the mail packet, and does a little buying and selling of various fine wines. He isn’t the bigwig that he makes himself out to be.’
‘Is that all? You’d warn me off because you’ve found nothing against him? He says himself that he’s a straight talker. I find him candid and sincere.’
‘I don’t take to him and I can’t put my finger on why that is. Maybe it’s his manners, or his vulgar dress. I’ve always been of the opinion that a gentleman should dress carefully to avoid attracting attention, yet he doesn’t seem to care.’
‘He lives in France where they have a different style of fashion. Edward, he’s a good man with youth on his side. He has access to great wines, premier cru from the best chateaux in the South of France, and I have no doubt that with our investment and contacts this business will succeed. In fact, it will do more than that – it will make our fortune.’
‘Or make you lose even the shirt off your back,’ Uncle Edward said tersely.
‘You have decided then – you are definitely out.’
‘I will have nothing to do with greasing his palms. He has dangled a carrot in front of you, a rotten one at that, and like an ass you have gone trotting after it. But that’s enough of Mr Brooke. We have more important fish to fry.’
Violet’s heart was almost leaping out of her chest at the revelations as Uncle Edward continued, ‘The importers of the cargo that went down with the Dover Belle are sure to instruct their lawyers to put in a claim for compensation for the full amount of the loss. There will be claims from the families of the crew and passengers and, as I own half of the Dover Belle, I expect you to make sure I’m not out of pocket. Don’t scowl at me like that – if you’d fulfilled your obligation of dealing with the insurance, we wouldn’t be in this position.
‘I’ve lost all confidence in your judgement, Sidney, and I’m sorry beyond measure that our friendship has had to end like this. I will ask my lawyer to prepare a document stating my intention to dissolve our partnership forthwith.’
Violet heard movement, and realising she was about to be discovered, she elbowed the door wide open and entered the study.
‘Your coffee,’ she said brightly, noting that Uncle Edward was on his feet and Pa was sitting at his desk, tugging nervously on his moustache.
‘No thank you, Violet,’ Uncle Edward said. ‘I’m leaving.’
‘Shall I see you at the office?’ Pa asked meekly.
‘We have no reason to meet again,’ Uncle Edward said. ‘I’ll see myself out. Good day.’
Violet could hardly believe her ears – did this mean that their friendship had permanently broken down, or was it a temporary state of affairs?
‘I’m sorry about the Dover Belle,’ she began when their visitor had gone.
‘Leave the coffee here,’ her father said sharply. ‘Tell your mother that I’ll be back too late for dinner – I have business to attend to.’
‘Yes, Pa.’ She put the tray down on the red leather which protected the top of the desk.
‘And send Wilson to me.’
‘Of course.’ She fetched the butler before running up to the schoolroom to find her sisters. Ottilie and Eleanor looked up from their books and Miss Whiteway stalked towards her.
‘What time do you call this?’
‘I’m sorry for being late. I took coffee to my father and Uncle Edward.’
‘Why? You are not a maid.’ Violet didn’t answer, and Miss Whiteway went on, ‘Never mind. I’ll let it go on this occasion. Now, sit down. We are studying The Knight’s Tale by Chaucer.’
‘I have news,’ Violet whispered to Ottilie as she took her place at the table. ‘Uncle Edward has fallen out with Pa over the fate of the Dover Belle. It’s the end of their association. I don’t think we’ll be seeing the Chittendens here at Camden Crescent again.’
Ottilie gasped. ‘That isn’t possible.’
‘Please share, Miss Tattletale,’ Miss Whiteway interrupted, and Violet repeated herself aloud this time.
‘How dreadful,’ their governess said.
‘Are you sure that you heard right?’ Ottilie asked. ‘Uncle Edward and our father have been partners and friends since before I can remember.’
‘I know what I heard.’
‘Whatever the truth of it, I fear that there’s trouble ahead,’ Miss Whiteway said, as the door swung open and Mama entered the schoolroom.
‘I’ve taken the liberty of searching your room,’ she said, addressing their governess.
‘That’s most irregular – it’s private.’
‘I didn’t think it would be a problem, assuming you had nothing to hide, but look!’ Mama spread some papers across the table. ‘What are these? Explain yourself.’
‘That’s my personal correspondence and a pamphlet on the subject of the enfranchisement of women.’ Miss Whiteway collected the papers up one by one and tucked them under her arm. ‘Why do you speak to me like this? I’ve committed no crime.’
‘You will pack your bags and leave our home tomorrow morning. I’ll make your wages up to date, but I won’t write you a reference – my conscience will not allow it when your character has been found wanting. You aren’t to be trusted with a young lady’s education and moral development.’
‘Mama, you can’t do this,’ Violet said, outraged.
‘As mistress of this house, I can do anything I wish,’ Mama retorted.
‘What will we do without Miss Whiteway to guide us?’ Violet went on.
‘You should know better than to question your elders and betters. Go to your room!’
Violet hesitated.
‘Obey your mother,’ Miss Whiteway said softly, and Violet hitched up her skirts and fled to hide the tears that were welling up in her eyes. Everything was going wrong and there didn’t seem to be anything she could say or do to stop it. Filled with despair, she retreated to her room and sat on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands.
‘Violet?’ The mattress sank. She looked up to find Ottilie beside her, her expression one of abject misery.
‘We’re both very upset about Miss Whiteway and the fate of the Dover Belle,’ Violet said. ‘It’s the worst day of our lives.’
‘I’m crying because of John.’
‘What’s he got to do with any of this?’
‘I’m never going to see him again.’
‘Of course you will. We all will, when we’re out and about in Dover, and in the company of mutual friends. I don’t understand why you’re making such a fuss—’
‘We are engaged,’ Ottilie interrupted.
‘I beg your pardon—’
‘The letters – they were from John.’
‘Well, I knew that.’
‘We’ve been making plans for our future and now they are in complete disarray.’
‘Does Pa know?’ As Violet asked the question, she already knew the answer. ‘I don’t know why you kept this secret – I mean, I can’t see why Mama and Pa wouldn’t have approved wholeheartedly …’
‘We were waiting for the right time, and it’s passed. We’ve left it too late. This is a catastrophe! I will die if I can’t marry him.’
‘We can speak to Pa about this.’
‘And tell him we are secretly engaged when he has dismissed Mr Chittenden from our acquaintance? I can’t possibly do that. It will send him over the edge, and I don’t know what he’ll do.’
‘I don’t think Pa has anything against John personally. Perhaps John could speak with him.’ Could Pa’s permission be given retrospectively, Violet wondered
, and what would Uncle Edward’s views be on the matter?
‘I don’t think he’ll be very receptive, not when he’s broken every link between the Chittendens and the Rayfields. I’m being disloyal, but I believe our father has used Uncle Edward very badly.’
‘He’ll pay everyone back,’ Violet said. ‘He’s an honourable man.’
‘He’ll do it because of his fear of losing face,’ Ottilie said, her voice faltering as she twisted the corner of her handkerchief into a knot. Violet couldn’t imagine the pain she was going through.
‘My poor sister,’ she whispered.
‘Will you help us?’
‘I’ll do my best, although I’m not sure what I can do.’
‘Promise me then that you’ll keep your silence for now.’ Violet nodded, recalling the joy on their faces whenever Ottilie and John were reunited. They were meant for each other and her heart broke to think of them being forced apart by circumstance. ‘And tell Mama I will not come down for dinner later – I am indisposed.’
As it was, Violet arranged for supper to be brought up to them, while their mother dined downstairs with Eleanor. May collected the tray later.
‘I’m sorry for your family’s troubles. Poor Miss Whiteway – she’s distraught,’ May said. ‘She said to give you ’er warmest wishes, in case she isn’t allowed to see you tomorrow.’
‘Thank you,’ Violet said. ‘Please let her know she’s in our thoughts.’
The maid left, and Eleanor dropped by as dusk was falling.
‘Aren’t you going to stay for a while?’ Violet asked, thinking that her company might restore their spirits.
‘Mama has been complaining all evening: the chicken was tough, the vegetables cold. I’m worn out.’ She closed the door behind her, leaving Violet and Ottilie to talk quietly until Mama came up to wish them goodnight.
‘What do you think you’re doing with candles lit at this late hour?’ she said. ‘If you must have light at bedtime, you must use the tallow candles like the servants, not the beeswax. Your father isn’t made of money.’
‘What was that about Pa?’ Ottilie whispered when their mother had gone. ‘Are things really that bad that we have to endure the stink of tallow on top of everything else?’
‘If it’s bad for our family, think of Miss Whiteway who has lost her place, and even more of the Nobles and how they must be suffering,’ Violet said softly as her sister started to cry. ‘I’m sorry, you are suffering too.’
In the space of a single day and night, it felt as if the Rayfields’ comfortable life had hit the rocks and was foundering like a stricken ship.
Chapter Five
Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining
Violet gazed out of the schoolroom window – there was no military band playing on the lawn today, just a raggedy old gentleman hobbling along with a black dog at his side. According to May, the regiment had moved on, leaving the women of Dover broken-hearted. She heard the hoot of a steam engine and shouting from a group of navvies on the street.
‘What are we going to do without Miss Whiteway to entertain us?’ she said, glancing at the clock. They had been upstairs for half an hour and she was already bored. Without their governess and her nagging tongue, she had little motivation to do anything. What was the purpose of painting when there was nobody to pick holes in it? How could they learn any more history without someone to teach them?
‘It’s a relief that she’s going – I can entertain myself,’ Eleanor said.
‘That’s a selfish way of thinking,’ Ottilie said sharply. ‘You know her situation – she’s dependent on others for her living.’
‘She will find another place,’ Violet said.
‘Only if Mama has given in and provided her with a decent reference as to the quality of her character.’ Ottilie’s eyes were red. Violet guessed that she had cried all night.
‘I’ll find out,’ Violet offered. ‘I should hate to see her wronged because she spoke up for her beliefs.’
‘Even though they are completely misplaced. I wish you luck in changing Mama’s mind.’
‘I don’t think I’d bother her with it today,’ Eleanor said as Violet walked towards the door, her skirts rustling across the floorboards.
‘This can’t wait,’ Violet said firmly, and she ran downstairs and stormed into her mother’s room. ‘I need to talk to you. Oh!’ She looked down at the rug. The cat has been sick – I have ruined my slippers, was on the tip of her tongue, but she fell silent when she saw that Mama was still abed.
‘Hush. I have a terrible headache,’ she groaned, as she rearranged a flannel compress across her forehead.
‘Shall I call for Mrs Garling? Or send word to our aunt?’
‘There’s no need for alarm – I’m not at death’s door, but I’d very much appreciate it, if you’d send May up with a little weak tea and dry toast. And if you would kindly ask Miss Whiteway to take you and your sisters to the apothecary to buy something for the pain …’
‘I can’t do that because you have told Miss Whiteway to leave.’
‘Have I? Oh yes, I remember now. In that case, you and your sisters will have to go.’
‘Please, for the sake of our education, let me ask her to stay.’
‘Since when have you been concerned about your education?’ Mama began to chuckle, then gasped. ‘Don’t argue – I haven’t the strength.’
‘But poor Miss Whiteway …’
‘The decision is made. She will leave the house by noon.’
Violet didn’t see how she could continue with her attempt to persuade Mama to change her mind. She was in no fit state.
‘What about a doctor?’
‘No doctors! I’ll be back to my usual self tomorrow.’
‘Do you think it might be down to the wallpaper? It seems too much of a coincidence that both you and Dickens are unwell.’
‘Dickens is fine – it’s just a hairball. As for me, I blame the damp in here. Mr Jones had his men wipe away the mould before they started hanging the paper, but it will have come back behind it. I’ve been telling your father that it’s time we moved.’
Violet pulled the drapes and dragged the window open to air the room.
‘No, that’s no good – the light hurts my eyes,’ Mama complained, so she closed the drapes again. ‘Run along and leave me in peace.’
Violet did as she was told, but before she returned to the schoolroom, she made her way into her father’s study where she took the key from beneath the brass inkwell and unlocked the top drawer in his desk. She withdrew a piece of his headed paper and sat down quickly to write.
To whomsoever it may concern.
Miss Whiteway has been in our employment for six years. It is only with the deepest regret that I have had to let her go, not through any fault of her own, but because I no longer require her services as a governess. She has shown great dedication to the task of educating my daughters, paying attention to etiquette, conversation, drawing and watercolour, and music.
Violet tried to scratch out a blot of ink.
Yours faithfully,
Mrs P. Rayfield, Dover.
Would it do? she wondered. She hoped that Miss Whiteway’s future employer would take the testimonial at its word and not come calling on their mother to ask awkward questions. She folded the paper, put it into an envelope and took it upstairs, where she slid it underneath Miss Whiteway’s door. As she hesitated, she thought she heard her crying. Resisting her instinct to go in and comfort her, she rejoined her sisters in the schoolroom.
Did she feel guilty? She was surprised to find that she didn’t. She’d done the right thing by Miss Whiteway and her conscience was clear.
‘You didn’t succeed in persuading Mama to change her mind?’ Ottilie said.
Violet shook her head. ‘She has asked us to go and buy medicines for her – the three of us, without a chaperone.’
‘That’s a turn-up for the books,’ Eleanor said from the window seat.
‘Give me
ten minutes – I have a letter to finish and send to Jane,’ Ottilie said.
‘Wilson will post it for you,’ Eleanor said.
‘I’ll do it myself – we’ll be passing the post office anyway.’
It wasn’t long before they were waiting at the back of a line of elderly gentlemen – some chewing on tobacco, some leaning on their sticks – queuing for their sailors’ pensions, as the post office cat wound around their bowed legs, begging for attention. Violet diverted Eleanor to look at the letter-writing accessories that were on sale: envelopes decorated with flowers and ships; paper knives made from carved wood; colourful enamelled stamp boxes. She glanced towards her older sister, wondering if she dared buy one, but decided it was more than her life was worth, if she spent the money that Mama had given them on a trinket.
The queue gradually disappeared until Ottilie reached the front and began talking to the postmaster. Behind him was a notice to the public: ‘Adhesive stamps must be placed in the right-hand corner at the top of the envelope.’
After Ottilie had sent her letter, they set out for Mr Archer’s shop. The outside was painted a deep green with lettering picked out in gold, and the bay window was filled with glass bottles containing a veritable rainbow of potions. As they approached, who should emerge but Mr Noble, his eyes downcast and a brown paper bag in his hand.
He glanced up, and at first, Violet wondered if he was going to push straight past them. She wouldn’t have blamed him for slighting them after what had happened with the Dover Belle, but he stopped.
‘The Misses Rayfield. Greetings,’ he said stiffly.
‘Mr Noble – I mean, William,’ Violet said. ‘Please accept our condolences and convey our sympathies to your mother.’
‘Thank you. Mrs Noble sent me out for sleeping drops, but’ – he shrugged – ‘there is no medicine to cure grief, only time, I believe, and even then … Well, I don’t think my mother will ever recover from it.’ His voice cracked. ‘I’ve never seen her laid so low.’
