A Thimbleful of Hope

by Evie Grace

  The White Cliffs would have been a landmark for Victorian travellers too, and this inspired me to choose Dover as the setting for Violet’s story. The town supported many different trades from shoemaking to shipbuilding, and there was quite a demand for embroidery for uniforms, gowns and household linens.

  Influenced by the beautifully embroidered antimacassars and tablecloths that my grandmothers kept around their homes, and an exhibition of samplers that I saw last summer, I decided to include an embroidery theme, hoping that Violet would be able to stitch her life back together after it fell apart.

  I hope you enjoyed reading Violet’s story and came to love her as much as I did.

  A FATAL FASHION

  I loved researching how Violet and her family would have lived in mid-nineteenth century Dover. It really helped me set the scene and describe their home and how they would have decorated accurately.

  As I delved deeper into their world, I was intrigued by a snippet of information I found about the dangers of the colour green in Victorian times. As I investigated further, I discovered quite a story behind how industry put its interests before public health.

  The Victorians were keen on using arsenic for various purposes – medicine, beauty, dyes for clothing and interior decoration, not to mention rat poison. It was also a handy agent for murder; a fatal dose of white arsenic – also known as the inheritor’s powder – was almost impossible to detect in food and drink, and the symptoms were easily mistaken for those of common diseases.

  Ladies pursued the ideal of feminine beauty of the time, which was described as the ‘consumptive look’ – that of a pale complexion. To this end, they ate wafers made from white arsenic mixed with chalk and vinegar. They received a double dose of arsenic if they chose to wear brilliant green dresses, and a triple whammy if they had their homes decorated with fashionable Scheele’s green, which was first used in wallpapers back in 1778. The gentlemen were not immune to excesses of arsenic either – there are reports of men being poisoned by their green socks!

  Arsenic is a horrible poison; its effects dependent on the dose and how long the person is exposed for. Over a short period, it can cause headaches, vomiting and diarrhoea, and at a high dose: convulsions, coma and death. If the person is exposed over longer periods of time, the signs can include Mees’ lines – white lines across the fingernails – along with garlic breath and what is known as glove and stocking distribution of tingling and numbness. Eventually, it causes brain damage, heart disease and death.

  Although physicians suspected a link between green wallpaper and illness, it wasn’t easy to prove despite there being plenty of circumstantial evidence. For example, a dignitary visiting Buckingham Palace in 1879 complained of being unwell and suggested that it might be caused by arsenic in his room. Having left his quarters for a while, his symptoms improved, and Queen Victoria had all the green wallpaper removed, setting an example to her subjects.

  Backed by physicians and the public, the National Board of Health raised the issue in Parliament in the 1880s, calling for a ban on products containing arsenic, but no action was taken. Industrialists, such as William Morris, renowned designer of patterned wallpapers – many of them green – refused to acknowledge that there was a problem, accusing the physicians of hysteria. There was speculation that this was because he had shares in his family’s mining company, which coincidentally produced arsenic. There were others who also put commerce above the medical profession’s concern for public health and thus, the poisoning continued.

  In the late nineteenth century though, it was discovered that not only did people accidentally take in flakes of arsenic by mouth, they also inhaled them, as green wallpaper released a toxic arsenical gas. The public, now convinced of the dangers, started buying ‘arsenic-free’ products, and green dyes manufactured from pigments were developed.

  Having found out about this story, I decided that Violet’s family would have wanted to show off their wealth and status by going along with the fashion for Scheele’s green, although I did feel a little mean inflicting the consequences of this on some of the poor long-suffering characters in A Thimbleful of Hope!

  If you enjoyed A Thimbleful of Hope and you’re looking for a new book to read, why not try my Maids of Kent trilogy?

  Turn the page to read an extract from Half a Sixpence, the first book in the series …

  Overshill, East Kent 1837

  ‘Matty told me something terrible,’ Catherine said, unable to keep her secret from her friend. She lowered her voice. ‘I thought it was a dirty lie, but it’s true. Promise me you won’t say anything.’

  ‘You know me – I’m no tell-tale,’ Emily said quietly.

  ‘Ma and Pa are not my true mother and father.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘You don’t seem surprised.’

  ‘There’s always bin rumours, but nobody takes any notice of them. Don’t fret. It will all come out in the wash.’ Emily smiled. ‘Whatever that means.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Reassured that Matty hadn’t told anyone else and thereby made her the talk of the village, Catherine caught his eye. He nodded, an unspoken understanding passing between them. She walked back in the direction of the farm and he followed, keeping a few paces behind until they reached the crossroads when he caught up with her.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to see that. I don’t know what’s got into my brother. He’s usually the calmest, most gentle person in the world.’

  ‘He thought you were bothering me. He was only trying to do the right thing.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Matty tried to smile.

  ‘You look terrible.’

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down at the front of his shirt. When he spoke his voice was thick with blood.

  ‘I look like I’ve killed a pig.’

  ‘Come back to the farm – you can wash your face and borrow one of John’s shirts. If your ma sees you like this it will make her ill. You can wait in the granary so no one sees you.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ He hesitated. ‘I thought you hated me.’

  ‘I did at first after what you said.’ She softened. She had wronged Matty with her scorn. She had made him cry. ‘I’m truly sorry for how I treated you. I hope you can forgive me.’

  ‘It was my fault. I upset you. There’s nothing to forgive,’ he said. ‘I should have kept my mouth shut.’

  ‘In a way it’s a relief to find out because it explains so many things that I’ve wondered about. Now I know why I’m the odd one out, why I have dark hair not blonde, like Young Thomas, John and Ivy.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. You are beautiful,’ he said quietly as they entered the farmyard.

  She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. What did he mean? What was he trying to say?

  ‘Go and hide yourself. I’ll fetch a shirt.’

  It was dark inside the house, since everyone had retired to bed ready for another early start in the hop garden the next morning. She slipped in through the back and filled a dish with lukewarm water from the copper kettle. She sneaked out through the hall and up the stairs, avoiding the fifth step which would creak and give her away if she placed her foot on it. In the spare room, she opened the linen cupboard where she found a piece of soft muslin. She listened on the landing to check that she hadn’t been discovered, but all she could hear was Ma snoring.

  On her way out, she took one of John’s crumpled but clean shirts from the scullery.

  Matty was waiting for her in the granary, sitting in the heap of straw that had been left from when the men had laid down their flails to harvest the hops.

  Catherine sat down beside him with the shirt and muslin over her arm and the bowl in her lap. She dabbed the end of the cloth in the water.

  ‘This might hurt,’ she said softly, turning to face him, her heart aflutter.

  ‘It’s all right. You make me brave.’

  She touched the damp cloth to his lips. Slowly, she dabbed at the blood and wiped it away. She r
insed the cloth, squeezed it out and started again, cleaning the smears from his cheeks. She could hear his breathing quicken as she took his hands and dipped his fingers into the bowl, entangling them with hers as she washed the blood away. She wrung out the cloth again and dried his hands as best she could.

  ‘There,’ she said. ‘Now you must change your shirt. You can leave yours here and I’ll have a go at getting those stains out.’

  ‘I don’t want to get you into any kind of trouble.’

  He was smiling. She could tell just from the tone of his voice.

  She watched him unfasten the two buttons that held his shirt together.

  ‘I’ll mend that at the same time,’ she said, pointing towards a rip in the sleeve.

  Her breath caught in her throat as his hand rose and trapped hers. She could feel his roughened skin against her fingers and smell his musky scent.

  ‘I haven’t anything, any way of thanking you, apart from this,’ he whispered. He leaned in close and planted the briefest of kisses on her lips. Trembling, she gazed into his eyes.

  ‘Is that all?’ she whispered. ‘I reckon you owe me one more at least.’

  ‘Really?’ He pressed his mouth to hers. The contact sent her head spinning with joy and desire. She giggled. She’d never felt such happiness.

  Eventually, he pulled away.

  ‘Would you do me the honour of walking out with me?’ He blundered on. ‘If you aren’t already spoken for. And Mr and Mrs Rook don’t object.’

  She held her fingers up to her lips.

  ‘Hush, Matty. I’m not spoken for. Stephen has no claim on me. I’m sure Ma will have her say, but Pa favours your father so I don’t think he’ll have any objection.’

  ‘You mustn’t feel obliged. I don’t want to ruin your life.’

  ‘Why on earth would you do that?’

  ‘I don’t know. Sometimes when things are bad, I get this feeling of dread. I get this sense that I’m doomed.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. There’s no reason why anything terrible should happen.’

  ‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘So you will walk out with me?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ She’d been caught off guard when Matty had asked her the day before, but with all the drama and tangled feelings since, she had realised how she needed him, and how the strength of her feelings weren’t only friendship. She kissed him again. ‘I have to go indoors now before anyone misses me. John sometimes wanders and it’s my duty to send him back to bed. The last thing I need is for Ma to discover that I’m not in my room.’

  ‘I could sit up all night with you.’

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said firmly, standing up and straightening her skirts. She picked up the dish, cloth and shirt.

  ‘Thank you for everything. Remember that I would do anything for you in return.’

  ‘You can show that by leaving when I ask,’ she teased. She waved him away as he began to put on John’s shirt, shooing him like she did with the hens, but he looked so sorrowful that she walked up to him, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

  ‘Be careful,’ he said, ‘more of that and I won’t be able to tear myself away. When shall we meet again?’

  ‘Tomorrow, but we must keep it from Ma and Pa for now.’

  ‘I think that’s very wise.’ He grinned. ‘Goodnight, Catherine.’

  She wondered how long they would be able to keep their courtship secret and, when it did come out, whether Ma and Pa would approve. Did it matter? she thought as she retired to bed. Why was she worried about their opinion? They didn’t have any right to say whom she could or couldn’t walk out with when she wasn’t their daughter, but she was still dependent on them and she had a conscience. It riled her that they’d kept the truth from her, but they had brought her up when they could have given her away. She had that, and more, to thank them for.

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Epub ISBN: 9781473562622

  Version 1.0

  Published by Arrow Books 2019

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  Copyright © Cathy Woodman 2019

  Cover image by Larry Rostant

  Cathy Woodman has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Arrow Books

  Arrow Books

  The Penguin Random House Group Limited

  20 Vauxhall Bridge Road, London, SW1V 2SA

  www.penguin.co.uk

  Arrow Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781787461659