A Thimbleful of Hope

by Evie Grace

  Violet didn’t know what else to say. She turned to her sisters, but they were like the shrunken head in the curiosity cabinet at home, uncharacteristically silent as if their mouths had been sewn shut.

  ‘I wish there was something we could do,’ Violet said.

  He forced a small smile. ‘It is enough to know that my mother and I have your sympathy. Now, I must go – she will be wondering where I am. Goodbye, ladies.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ Violet echoed before rounding on her sisters when he had gone. ‘Why didn’t you speak?’

  ‘Because you said everything that needed to be said,’ Ottilie replied slyly. ‘We assumed you would be keen to console him.’

  ‘We should go inside,’ Eleanor said.

  Violet pushed the door open. The bell jangled, bringing a grey-haired gentleman to the counter, on which stood a cast-iron set of scales, a pestle and mortar, and a book.

  ‘Good morning, ladies. How may I help you?’ He cocked his head, reminding her of a beady-eyed pigeon.

  ‘It’s our mother,’ Violet said. ‘She is indisposed with a headache.’

  ‘Ah, then tell me what is the nature of the headache … is it to one side? Does it wax and wane? Is it mild or crippling?’

  ‘I’m afraid she didn’t say. It’s very painful, and her complexion is quite pale.’

  ‘Then I have some patent medicine that will suit her very well.’

  ‘You are familiar with all kinds of illnesses, sir,’ Violet said. ‘Pray, can you tell me if our mother’s troubles could be down to arsenic?’

  ‘Oh no, there’s no likelihood of that – we sell Dr MacKenzie’s Harmless Arsenic Skin Wafers and toilet soap to whiten the hands, neck and face. It’s very popular – in Dover and London. Please be reassured that your mother will have come to no harm from the presence of arsenic.’ He turned and pulled a small brown bottle out of one of the drawers behind the counter and placed it in a paper bag. ‘Your mother will take this according to the instructions on the bottle, three times a day until her symptoms abate.’

  Thanking him, Violet took the bag. Ottilie paid him from her purse, and they made their way back home.

  ‘Quickly,’ Violet said, spotting Mrs Pryor, their neighbour, emerging from her house, but it was too late. She came trotting over to them, still quite nimble for a woman in her sixties, the ribbons on her bonnet flying loose and a shopping bag on her arm.

  ‘Anyone would think she’d been lying in wait,’ Eleanor said.

  ‘Ah, the Misses Rayfield. Fancy seeing you out and about without your governess. It’s most unusual.’

  Violet didn’t know what to say, leaving Mrs Pryor ready to pounce.

  ‘I thought as much – your housekeeper has been talking to one of our maids. Mrs Rayfield has terminated her employment, but for what reason? Do tell. We are all friends around here.’

  ‘There’s no reason except that Mama considers Eleanor too old to need a governess.’ Violet knew it was a lie and Mrs Pryor knew it was a lie, but she wished to protect her family. The neighbours didn’t need to know their business.

  ‘I’ve heard a rumour that your father has broken with Mr Chittenden over the sinking of the Dover Belle,’ Mrs Pryor said, undeterred.

  ‘Our father doesn’t discuss business with us,’ Violet said sweetly as she tried not to stare at Mrs Pryor’s double misfortune: white whiskers on her chin and a wart on her nose. ‘You will have to ask him directly. Now we wish you good day, Mrs Pryor.’

  ‘Oh yes. Thank you. A good day to you too,’ she said.

  The sisters turned away, rang the bell and Wilson opened the door.

  ‘The Misses Rayfield return.’ He smiled. ‘I knew you would, but the other servants have been fretting about you getting lost.’

  They left their bonnets and shawls, and went upstairs to give Mama her medicine. She seemed almost back to normal, Violet concluded, and they spent the day with her, talking, embroidering and playing charades and twenty questions.

  However, Mama’s health went downhill again over the following days and nights, and one morning – four days after they’d heard about the fate of the Dover Belle – she took the medicine and remained in bed, refusing to get up, even when Mr Brooke called to see Pa.

  On hearing voices in the hall, Violet – who had been on her way downstairs – stopped and hid in the shadows behind the balustrade on the landing above. She could just see Mr Brooke dressed in his blue coat, dark green trousers and pointed shoes.

  ‘Good day, Sidney,’ he said effusively, his voice booming like a ship’s horn.

  ‘Ah, welcome, Arvin.’ Pa stepped forwards and shook his hand. Violet assumed that the two men would retreat to her father’s study, but they remained where they were.

  ‘Did you attend the inquest at the Maison Dieu?’ Mr Brooke said.

  ‘Of course – as joint owner of the Dover Belle, I was obliged to turn up. It was a straightforward hearing – the coroner stated from the evidence of the wreckage found where the ship was last seen, that all on board had perished from drowning. Little was said about the general condition of the ship, or the reputation of the master, although Mr Chittenden brought evidence of her recent overhaul and the crew’s certificates.’

  ‘And everything, naturally, was in order?’

  ‘The coroner was satisfied that the ship was seaworthy, and the master and crew were competent. Mr Chittenden and I were cleared of any blame.’

  ‘As I expected, but I hear through the grapevine that you and Mr Chittenden have had a falling out. I have no wish to interfere in your affairs – I mean, why would I when I have my own business that’s making profits of many thousands of pounds a year? However, I wondered if it would help if I acted as mediator between the two of you.’

  ‘No, it’s too late. I refuse to have anything to do with him.’ Pa’s tone brightened. ‘Every cloud has a silver lining, though – this means I can give my full attention to our new venture.’

  ‘That’s true. However, I’ve also heard that you’re liable to pay compensation for the loss of the Dover Belle from your own pocket.’ Mr Brooke raised one eyebrow. ‘Will that be a problem?’

  ‘It’s an inconvenience to me, not an issue for us jointly,’ Pa reassured him. ‘Is there anything else?’

  ‘There is, and it’s a rather delicate matter – William Noble is doing his utmost to blacken your name. We really don’t need any scandal, so out of kindness to the young man and to create goodwill, I think it’s important for him to be able to complete his apprenticeship while looking after his mother.’

  ‘You’re a philanthropist as well as an astute businessman, Mr Brooke,’ Pa said. ‘You’re right – I’ll settle the amount in full, out of respect for the families who have lost their loved ones.’

  ‘Society admires private acts of benevolence more than those carried out in the public gaze. You should invite Mr Noble here to give him what he is due, then we can arrange for the details to slip out afterwards.’

  ‘You speak wisely,’ Pa said.

  ‘And what about Mr Chittenden? Are you liable for his half of the ship?’

  ‘I accept my responsibility in this and I will pay him back every penny.’

  ‘You are a generous man. Forgive me if I give offence, but it would give me great pleasure to assist you if you are strapped for—’

  ‘No, Arvin.’ Pa raised his hand. ‘It isn’t necessary. We English find it vulgar to talk of money, but suffice to say, I have no difficulty in helping these people – it is a drop in the ocean, after all.’ He smiled, but from where Violet was standing, she didn’t get the impression that his smile reached his eyes. ‘Although my dear wife has spent a fortune on furniture at Flashman’s, she has failed to bankrupt me so far. Her father bought gold, a wise investment that remains secured in a London bank – I could buy all the vineyards in France, no trouble. No trouble at all.’

  ‘Then you have reassured me, Sidney,’ Mr Brooke said. ‘I’m sorry for calling on you at this early hour.�
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  ‘Why don’t you come with me to the office this morning? I can find you a desk and a clerk, whatever you require.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, thank you.’

  ‘I’ll have the contract for our partnership drawn up as soon as possible.’

  ‘Brooke and Rayfield – I like the sound of it. Together we will be formidable!’ Mr Brooke pumped her father’s hand until he grimaced with the pain. It was all arranged, Violet realised. Pa had quickly replaced Mr Chittenden with Mr Brooke. Was that how business worked? Did he have no sense of obligation or loyalty?

  ‘We’ll celebrate – how about dining with the family this evening?’ Pa suggested.

  ‘How is Mrs Rayfield, though? Has she fully recovered from her headache the other night?’

  ‘She still isn’t herself.’

  ‘Give her my kind regards then. Out of respect for the lady of the house, I regret I must decline your offer of dinner. Please convey my apologies to the young ladies. I know they’ll be terribly disappointed – Miss Rayfield, especially.’

  In spite of everything, Violet suppressed a giggle. Mr Brooke was deluded if he imagined Ottilie had any interest in him. Whatever had given him that impression?

  ‘I hope that on another occasion, you will allow me to be seated beside Miss Rayfield so I may encourage her progress in French conversation.’

  ‘Certainly …’

  Violet heard the men’s voices fade as they left the house. She had seen Mr Brooke in a new light. He wasn’t merely an acquaintance with no sense of fashion or rhythm, but a thoughtful and well-intentioned gentleman offering her father financial help and showing concern for her mother. Pa was a good man too, she thought, the best father anyone could have, even though his fallibility had taken her by surprise.

  Chapter Six

  Mock Turtle Soup

  A few days later, Violet was in the kitchen with May and Cook, Mama having decided that without a governess to entertain them, her daughters should take turns learning how to prepare a few dishes, so they could talk knowledgeably of the ingredients and costs, in anticipation of them leaving home to run their own households. Would she be baking cherry cakes or gooseberry pies, like Ottilie and Eleanor had?

  ‘Today, we’re makin’ mock turtle soup,’ Cook said, and her heart sank. ‘The mistress says you’re to get your ’ands dirty, and me and May thought you’d like to have a go at cutting up the ’ead.’ She nodded towards the calf’s head that was steaming on the marble slab beside the sink. ‘Di’n’t we, May?’

  ‘Did we?’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Hey, you agreed we’d lead ’er on for a bit.’

  Cook sounded annoyed, but May winked at Violet and said, ‘It doesn’t seem right asking one of the Misses Rayfield to slice her own meat.’

  ‘In that case, she can chop the onions – two of them large ones over there in the rack. There’s an apron on the ’ook – you can ’ave that one. What are you waitin’ for, miss?’

  Violet cried while she sliced the onions, but she wasn’t unhappy. While she was here in the kitchen, she could put the Rayfields’ troubles aside.

  ‘It’s easier than breakin’ into a green turtle, which is what goes into the genuine article.’ Cook handed her a cloth. ‘’Ere, wipe your eyes.’

  Violet went on to prepare some lemon peel while May sliced the meat from the calf’s head and Cook prepared a mutton broth, adding sherry, chopped brain and oysters, mace and thyme. Violet hardboiled some eggs and May added the meat to the mixture.

  ‘Oi, that should be on a light simmer,’ Cook complained. ‘That’s bubblin’ on a full boil – it’ll ruin the flavour. Mind you, if our guest don’t like it, he can lump it. I’ve told the mistress, I’m not cookin’ anythin’ fancy to make ’im feel at ’ome.’

  ‘You mean, the strange Mr Brooke?’ May said.

  ‘I suspect that ’e’s considered to be a bit of an oddity both ’ere and abroad, but we mustn’t speak ill of ’im in front of the young ladies.’ Cook took a whole chicken out of the pantry and put it on the marble slab. ‘May, I need you to start on the taters, else this feast isn’t goin’ to be ready in time, and the mistress and Mrs Garling will ’ave it in for me. Thank you, miss. You’re done ’ere.’

  ‘Perhaps I could help with the vegetables,’ Violet ventured.

  ‘That won’t be necessary. You go and dress in your finery,’ Cook said. ‘I can’t do with people under my feet. I’ll ’ave to ’ave a word with the mistress – I’m not trained to learn young ladies, not like Miss Whiteway was.’

  Violet decided that it was futile to argue, and she left the kitchen, arriving in the hall as the doorbell rang. Had she learned anything? Only that she would never ask her servants to make mock turtle soup – the sight of the calf’s brain had turned her stomach. Remembering that it was Wilson’s day off, she opened the front door to find an older gentleman on the step, holding his stovepipe hat in one hand and a leather bag in the other.

  ‘Good day. I’m Doctor Hawkes, here to see Mrs Rayfield.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Please take me to your mistress.’

  ‘Oh, I’m one of her daughters,’ Violet said, glancing down at her old brown day dress. She had forgotten to take off the apron.

  ‘I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,’ the doctor said. ‘May I ask you to act as chaperone?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Come this way.’ She showed him to the parlour where Mama was sitting with Eleanor. ‘It’s the doctor for you.’

  Mama looked up. ‘Doctor Hawke, I’m very grateful that you called. I’m sure it’s nothing, but my husband and daughters have insisted that I call upon your services.’

  ‘What are your symptoms?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, I have a headache now and again, and—’

  ‘Sometimes she is drowsy and confused,’ Eleanor cut in.

  ‘I’m perfectly able to answer for myself,’ Mama said. ‘I’m sure my daughters will ask if I could be suffering from the effects of arsenic …’

  ‘There are reports of poisoning, but in my considered opinion, they are more likely to be cases of hysteria fuelled by publicity. Allow me to examine you and I will see if I can identify the cause of your poor health.’

  Mama allowed the doctor to look into her eyes and study her hands, but, out of modesty, she refused him permission to listen to her heart with his stethoscope, or inspect her ankles for swelling.

  ‘You are a little pale, Mrs Rayfield. I can’t comment on the reason for your malaise, but I recommend weekly seawater baths until the end of the summer, plenty of rest and nutritious broth. If you’re no better in a month, send for me again, and I’ll review your situation. If pushed for a diagnosis, I would suggest that you are merely suffering from women’s problems which are perfectly normal and nothing to worry about.’

  ‘I’ve been taking laudanum for the pain.’

  ‘Extract of willow bark would be preferable, Mrs Rayfield. Opium has the effect of dulling the senses. I hope I have put your minds at ease, ladies.’ The doctor packed his bag and wished them good day, saying he would send his bill. Violet saw him out, relieved that he didn’t have any real concerns for Mama’s health. If he’d said that she’d been laid low by the redecoration, then Violet would have insisted on removing the green wallpaper herself.

  By the evening, Mama felt well enough to dress for dinner, and the four Rayfield ladies assembled in the drawing room to await the arrival of Pa and Mr Brooke. It was Pa who arrived first, dressed in his evening wear.

  ‘Good evening, my dears,’ he said. ‘Ottilie, I’d like you to accompany me to my study. I have business with Mr Noble and Mr Brooke.’

  ‘Before dinner?’ Mama said.

  ‘I made the appointment at Mr Noble’s convenience.’

  ‘You have no need for my presence,’ Ottilie said.

  ‘I’ll join you.’ Violet was curious to find out what the meeting was about and keen to see William again. Why should Ottilie be invited just because she was the eldest?
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  ‘I’m not sure that I approve of you dragging our daughters into this,’ Mama said. ‘Surely, this is gentlemen’s business.’

  ‘Come with me, Violet.’ Her father dismissed his wife’s concern with a wave of his hand.

  She followed Pa into his study and took a seat to one side of the desk, before he welcomed Mr Noble and Mr Brooke into the room.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Violet,’ Mr Brooke said with a bow. ‘How marvellously marvellous to meet you again.’

  She glanced towards Mr Noble whose steely expression softened slightly. He was in mourning, a crape band around the hat in his hand.

  ‘You have met my daughter, Miss Violet Rayfield,’ Pa said.

  Mr Noble nodded. ‘Good evening,’ he said, but his fist was clenching at his side. He was angry, and understandably so, and now she realised why her father had wanted a calming feminine presence, and witnesses.

  ‘Do take a seat, William,’ Pa said.

  ‘No thank you, and it’s Mr Noble to you, sir.’

  Violet was surprised at his courage in standing up to her father.

  ‘Mr Noble, I’ve already expressed my sincere regret,’ Pa said. ‘Nothing I can do or say will ever compensate you and your mother for your loss, but I have put aside the funds to support you in caring for her while you complete your apprenticeship. After that, I will assist you in securing permanent employment – if you will allow me.’

  William nodded.

  ‘Then I will arrange a banker’s draft.’

  ‘My mother doesn’t hold with banking, sir.’

  ‘I doubt the wisdom of that approach when there are large sums of money involved, but never mind, that is her decision.’ Pa went on, ‘There are conditions.’

  ‘What do you mean? This is your debt to my family.’ William paused. A pulse began to tap at Violet’s temple, as his expression grew dark with barely suppressed fury. ‘Oh, I see … you wish to bind me to silence so I don’t blacken the name of Rayfield?’

  ‘I have a document here for you to sign.’ Pa took some papers out of one of the drawers in his desk.

  ‘No, sir, I won’t sign anything. I won’t be blackmailed. If this money isn’t given freely from your conscience, then I will not take it.’