Daughters of England

by Philippa Carr

“I shall be eleven in June.”

  She smiled at me rather wanly. “Still young, Kate. But you are grown up for your years.”

  “I do understand what happened, Maggie.”

  “Well, it has created this unusual situation. If your mother had lived…” Her voice quivered and she was unable to go on for a moment or so, but she quickly recovered her calmness and resumed. “It would have been a different matter then. But she is no longer with us. There is only myself.”

  I went to her and put my arms about her.

  “Oh, Maggie, dearest Maggie, do not say only. While I have you I shall be all right…and I have Christobel too.”

  “My dear child, life does not stand still. I am getting old and more feeble every week. That brings me to what I have to say. Lord Rosslyn, your father, wants to take you into his care.”

  I stared at her in amazement. “Leave here!” I said. “Oh, Maggie!” And I clung to her.

  “He will not snatch you away against your will. Do not be afraid. He knows what we mean to each other. He will not come here and carry you off forcibly. He would want you to go to him willingly.”

  “But how? When?”

  “We have to think about this, Kate. We have to be sensible. You know how I care for you.”

  “Oh, Maggie, dear Maggie, and I for you.”

  “I know that, my dear. But look at me.” She held out her hand. The fingers were enlarged and misshapen. “We cannot defy time, dear child. You see, it is catching up with me. I shall not be here forever.”

  I was staring at her in horror. What did she mean? I had just lost my mother. Was she going to die too? A feeling of intense loneliness came over me.

  She went on: “There would be a home for you. It would be different from this. You know how careful we have been, and you have seen how quickly life can change. It is doing that all the time. This is your home. It always has been and it is dear to you. You are young to have to face such reality, but it is there nonetheless. We do not know from one day to another what will happen. Your father cares for you. He is a rich man and can do a great deal for you. He is willing to do this. But he does not want to force you to leave here if you do not wish it.”

  I hugged her. “Maggie, dearest Maggie, I am going to stay here with you. I shall look after you. I will care for you.”

  “Dear child, that would not please me at all. What I want more than anything—what your mother would have wanted—is to see you settled, your future secure. Your father can do far more for you than any of us here could ever have done. He understands how you feel about this, your home, but you must think of what he offers. He will take you away from here. Oh, it does not mean that we shall never see each other again. He will bring you on visits to London and then you will come to see me. You will live a different sort of life—a life which is more suited to his daughter. It will be better for you. Far, far better than anything you could know here.”

  “To leave you and Christobel?”

  “No, not Christobel. Christobel would go with you. She would remain your governess and companion.”

  “But, Maggie, I could not leave you.”

  “Dear child, I am getting old, you know.”

  “That is all the more reason why I should not leave you.”

  “It is what your mother would have wanted for you.”

  “She would never have left you.”

  “Before your mother came here with Kitty I was alone, Kate.”

  “You cannot be alone now.”

  “Your father does not ask you to decide immediately. He wants you to think about it. He knows that you are sensible; he also knows that you are affectionate. But he wants you to look at this clearly. He wants you to have something of the life you would have as his daughter.”

  “But it is not quite the same, is it? Not like being his real daughter.”

  “You are his daughter, whichever way it is considered,” said Maggie. “He is fully aware of that and he is fond of you. You might decide not to go to him now, but in the future I am sure you would come to regret that.”

  “Why did he not see me? Why did he go away like that?”

  “He wanted you to make the decision yourself. He wants you to go to him freely.”

  “Perhaps he is hoping I will not and he will then be released from the responsibility.”

  “Kate! You say you will be eleven in June. You talk like a cynical woman of twenty-five.”

  “But if he wanted me badly he would have told me himself. He would have persuaded me.”

  “He may do that. But what he very much wants is for you to go to him of your own accord.”

  “He forgets that that means leaving you.”

  “He does not forget it at all. That is why he wants you to decide.”

  “I never thought of this. I thought…”

  Maggie took my hand and looked into my eyes.

  She said: “Listen, Kate. I am old. I grow older with every month. I shall not be here forever. You have lost your mother. She was not old, but she has left us now. Life changes all the time.”

  “Maggie, you don’t want me to go?”

  “Oh, my love, you know how much you mean to me. But what I want most is what is best for you. I think of the life that will be yours here when I am gone, and I think of what might be yours if you go to your father.”

  “Maggie, Maggie,” I cried. “I cannot leave you.”

  She stroked my hair.

  “We will think about it, Kate. There is no need for a hasty decision.”

  Christobel talked of it. I thought about it a great deal. Part of me wanted to go to my father. The prospect excited me. He had attracted me from the first time I was aware of him, when he had saved me from being trampled to death. He had seemed so noble and all-powerful then; and he made me feel that I was important to him. I could not explain why I had felt so excited, but there was no denying I was. I knew that my mother had not been very pleased, but I put that down to the fact that she had been so worried because I had nearly had a very bad accident.

  Then, of course, there had been those visits to his lodgings.

  Christobel had said: “I want to take you to see someone who is eager to meet you.”

  I had been excited, of course.

  She had gone on: “It is rather secret. It’s hard to explain. I’ll tell you about it later.”

  Then we went into that house which was called his lodgings. It was much grander than our house and there I met the man who had saved me from the surging crowd.

  It was like a fairy story. I could not believe that it was true. I did not know he was my father then. I learned that later. He talked to me a great deal, and I suppose I was flattered by his attention. Then when we left Christobel said it was a secret visit really. She thought I would like to see the man who had rescued me. But it would be better if I said nothing to my mother or to Maggie, or, for that matter, to anyone at home.

  I was puzzled. I said my mother would be very grateful to my rescuer. She would be pleased that we had met again. She herself would want to say thank you to him.

  Christobel said there were some things people of my age did not understand, and she would know when the time was right to tell my mother, but would I trust her when she said it was not yet that time.

  I was very mystified, but I knew that Christobel was very clever, so I supposed she was right. In any case, it seemed to add something to the excitement of those visits that they must remain secret.

  Now I understand. I have read my mother’s notebooks. It was something very bad that he did to her. But I believed that he was very sorry for it and we are taught that we must forgive those who trespass against us when they are truly contrite. And I knew my father was that.

  Christobel talked to me about my going to my father.

  She said: “You have this big decision to make, Kate. It would not be wise to miss such an opportunity.”

  “What of Maggie?” I said. “How could I leave her now? She was so fond of my moth
er, and she has now lost her. If we went too, she would have no one.”

  “Martha and Jane will look after her.”

  “But she would be so lonely.”

  Christobel looked at me sadly. “You are very young, Kate,” she said.

  “I could not leave Maggie now.”

  So I stayed on, but even Maggie said I should go.

  My eleventh birthday came and went.

  Christobel said: “Do you know, Maggie worries a great deal? I think she would be happier if she knew you were to have a life suitable for your father’s daughter.”

  “I am chiefly my mother’s daughter,” I said, “and this was her home.”

  My father visited the house.

  He said: “Kate, when are you coming to me?”

  “I cannot leave Maggie,” I said.

  He smiled at me rather sadly. “You are a good child,” he said. “And I rejoice in that. But this is no place for you. It was different when your mother was alive.”

  “But there is still Maggie.”

  “She is anxious about you. I think she would be happier if you came to me.”

  I stared at him in amazed horror.

  He said: “She would miss you, of course. But she is worrying about you all the time. If you came to me, you could visit her. I come to London. I would bring you to see her. She would know that your future was assured and that you were living in a manner suitable for my daughter. Christobel would come with you. Talk to Maggie about it. You will see that I am right.”

  I did talk to Maggie. I said: “My father and Christobel are saying that you are anxious about me. Maggie, I will not leave you unless you do not want me to stay.”

  “Dear Kate,” she said, “indeed I want you to stay. But you see how it is with me. I find it more and more difficult to get about. Martha is so good to me. But as the days pass I grow more and more feeble. It would be a relief to know that you are in a good home.”

  “This is my home,” I said.

  “And always will be. Your father says that if you go to him, when he comes to London he will bring you here and your old room will be ready for you.”

  “Is that what you want, Maggie?”

  “Yes. Because it is what is best for us all.”

  “But we have always been together, you and I.”

  “And I shall always be there. You can always come to me. But sometimes in life we have to make decisions and, when it is an important one, it is very necessary to make the right one. Think about it.”

  I did think about it. Every day Christobel warned me of what I was missing. She had educated me beyond most girls of my age, but I needed to be in different surroundings. “Background,” she called it. It was very necessary to a girl’s upbringing. I was undecided. I wavered continually. The prospect of going to entirely new surroundings excited me. There were days when I said to myself: I will go. It is what they all think is best, even Maggie. But is that more for my sake than hers? They all thought I should go. Even Martha. She said to me: “You know, Mistress Maggie frets about you. She’d miss you something terrible, but in her heart she’d be relieved. Jane and me, we’ll see she’s all right, and you could get word to her how you’re getting on.”

  Then I would think of Maggie, alone, sitting in her chair, thinking of that Kitty of whom I had heard so much, and Mother…both gone. And now I, too, was thinking of leaving her.

  There was a great deal of talk at that time. It appeared that one August day, when the King was walking in St. James’s Park with his spaniels and a few companions, a man named Christopher Kirby presented him with a paper stating that a Popish plot was afoot. The Jesuits were offering ten thousand pounds to anyone who would kill the King. His assassination was to be followed by a massacre of Protestants so that Catholic rule could be reestablished in England.

  The King might shrug this aside, but within a few weeks the Popish Plot was being discussed everywhere and the names of Titus Oates and Israel Tonge, who claimed to have discovered this plot, were on everyone’s lips.

  There was a great fuss about all this. People stood about in the streets, but I was too concerned with my own affair to pay much attention to it.

  Autumn would soon be with us. The days were growing shorter. The streets were full of protesters against the Papists, and, as Martha said, there were many villainous people about, taking advantage of the unrest generated by the Popish Plot.

  Maggie said to me one day at the end of September. “Kate, I think it would be best if you delayed no longer your going to your father.”

  “Maggie, is that what you really want?”

  “You know I love to have you here, but I am anxious about you. Your father deceived your mother, but I think he wishes to make up for what he did. We all make mistakes in life. I think he is fond of you, Kate. He can look after you as I cannot. He can do so much more for you.”

  “I can look after myself and you, Maggie.”

  “I know, my dear child, and I shall never forget how you have clung to me since…since we lost your mother. But it is an anxiety to me, Kate. I think I should be happier knowing that you were having the sort of life that is due to you.”

  I was silent.

  I tried to suppress a certain exultation which insisted on rising within me. Maggie was helping me to convince myself that I must go.

  And I knew it was what I wanted.

  And so I came to the Rosslyn Dower House.

  Christobel could not conceal her pleasure as we traveled westwards on our way to Somerset. It was, after all, her home. This was what she had always thought would be right for me.

  I had been very sad to leave Maggie, and the house where I had lived all my life. But it was now full of sad memories and, as Christobel said, I had to grow away from that. I must not go on grieving forever. It was the last thing my mother would have wanted.

  My father had sent a coach in which we were to make the journey. It was drawn by four horses and there was the driver and another whose place was at the back of the coach. There was an outrider too, who rode on ahead, to make sure that the road was adequate for the coach and to spot any lurking highwaymen. The outrider carried a blunderbuss and sword. These men were not only our protectors but our servants. We stayed at inns every night and they made sure that there was cheese and cake, wine and beer in the coach, in case we should have some mishap and be unable to reach an inn by nightfall.

  It took us more than a week to reach our destination, a week of new adventures and excitement for me. It stopped my brooding constantly on having left Maggie, which I would otherwise have done. It was my first experience of the hazards and adventures of traveling.

  In due course we arrived at the Dower House. It was some hundred years old—a red brick building with creeper-covered walls. It was close to the gate leading to the Rosslyn estate, of which the Dower House was only a very small part, but to my eyes it was very grand.

  Stiff and fatigued after long hours in the coach, we alighted.

  The door was opened by a plump lady dressed in a blue and white wool gown.

  “Welcome, welcome to Rosslyn Dower,” she said. “I am Isabel Longton. I look after everything in the Dower House. We have been expecting you for the last two days. Ah, these journeys…I trust that yours was not too exhausting. And no need to ask if it was a safe journey, for here you are. So, you are Kate and, of a surety, I know Christobel. Come along in. I have ordered mulled wine to be sent down for you when you arrived. First of all you will need a warming drink…and something to eat, I’ll swear. The others will be down to greet you as soon as they hear you have arrived. Bring in the baggage, Jim. You must be chilled…they will have something for you in the kitchens.”

  She went on: “Christobel, I have put you in the room next to Kate’s since you will be staying here and you two will be working together.”

  “Thank you, Mistress Longton,” said Christobel. “That will be very pleasant.”

  “I dare say you will be wanting to ride over to
Featherston to see your family very soon.”

  “I thought of going tomorrow.”

  “Oh, yes. They will be expecting you soon, as they know you are on your way. You will want to introduce Kate to them, I dare swear.”

  “I think that would be a good idea. Do you not, Kate?”

  “Oh yes, indeed,” I said. “I am longing to meet them.”

  At that moment two men came into the room—one about seventeen, the other I imagined in his mid-thirties.

  “Ah,” said Mistress Longton, “here are Luke and Master Roger Camden. Master Camden is Luke’s tutor. They are the best of friends, are you not, you two? And this is Mistress Kate Standish, who is coming to live here. You know Christobel, of course.”

  They bowed and regarded me with interest—as I expect I did them. I thought I should have asked Christobel more questions about this household, for she seemed to know them all very well, as I suppose she would, having lived so close.

  I had expected to be greeted by my father. Where was he, I wondered? This was not even the house where he lived. It seemed that it was the Dower House which was to be my home.

  The promised mulled wine arrived.

  “I thought,” said Mistress Longton, “that you would want to go to your rooms as soon as you arrived and I would have something sent up for you to eat there as it is rather late. Then you could have a good rest and we could introduce you to the house and everything tomorrow. I know what these journeys are. You long for nothing but your bed.”

  The young man Luke said to me: “I shall be your guide.”

  “Thank you,” I replied. “It is very kind of you.”

  “Indeed, it will be a pleasure,” was his comment.

  “Christobel and Kate are already good friends of long standing,” said Mistress Longton. “Christobel has been acting as Kate’s governess in London.”

  “I am sure that was a very satisfactory arrangement,” said the tutor.

  Christobel yawned.

  “Oh dear,” said Mistress Longton. “You are tired. Would you like another glass of wine? No? Well, I am going to take you off to your rooms now. I know you gentlemen are very disappointed, but the hour is late and the young ladies are very, very tired. You both know what a jolting poor travelers have to suffer, especially on these country roads. Come, then. You will have a great deal of time after tonight to get acquainted with each other.”