A Country of Our Own

by Karleen Bradford

  One thing I did not know was that we would be docking in Québec City! When we got there, it was so hard to be so close to my family but not able to see them! With all the planning for this trip, it must not have occurred to the Bradleys that I would have wanted to. I suppose I can’t blame them — they had a lot more on their minds than the wishes of an unimportant maidservant, but even though we weren’t there for too long, I would have had time. I could see the monument erected to the memory of Wolfe and Montcalm and I knew that our house was not far behind it. What were Mam and Da doing right at that moment? What were the young ones doing? What would they have thought if they’d known I was so close?

  I could hardly bear it when the boat started up again and we drew away from the pier.

  When we arrived in Cacouna, watching the captain dock the boat was so breathtaking that it took my mind off my own misery somewhat. It was almost as exciting as going through the rapids. He came in at full speed to within about two boat lengths of the wharf, and then, just when I thought he was going to dash the boat right into the dock, he rang a bell to stop, whipped the wheel around to reverse, and laid the boat close alongside as neatly as a skiff coming in.

  Mister Bradley and James saw to the unloading of all the baggage — enough to do us for a good year, I should think, although we’ll only be here for a few weeks. Then we were taken by pony cart to the hotel where we will be staying. It’s called Saint Lawrence Hall, and a very fine hotel it is. I even have my own room! Just a tiny dressing room off Missus Bradley’s bedroom, but it is my own space and it is here that I am writing this in peace and comfort.

  What I have seen of Cacouna looks delightful. There’s a beach and there was a beautiful sunset over the river tonight. I never saw a lovelier sight. I can’t wait to go exploring!

  That is all that I can write tonight, though. Even though we have gas lamps here, I don’t want to be using up too much. I wouldn’t want to be scolded for it.

  I wonder if the gas would run out if I kept it on for too long. Don’t imagine so, as the lamps in the hotel seem to be on far into the night.

  Monday, July 30th, 1866

  It’s like a holiday for me here, it is. And me who has never had a holiday in my life! I tend to Missus Bradley’s needs in the morning and fetch and carry for her, but I don’t have to do any of the cooking or cleaning. We go down to breakfast and Mister and Missus Bradley eat in the dining room, of course. James and I eat in the kitchen. I am not expected to work there, as the cook has two kitchen maids who help her, but I lend a hand whenever possible. James, of course, does not. He sits with the other manservants and is quite happy to be waited on. I ignore him. Mister Bradley will be leaving to go back to Ottawa soon and I will not have to deal with James after that.

  August 1866

  Thursday, August 2nd, 1866

  Mister Bradley and James have gone back to Ottawa and we have settled into a routine. After breakfast, if the day is fine, which it has been so far, we go down to the beach. This involves a lot of packing and carrying of chairs, sunshades, magazines, papers, hampers with foodstuffs and drinks, and I don’t know what all. We are up above the river here and the beach is down below us, so everything has to be carted down a path and stairs that go down the riverbank to the beach below. We set everything up and are established there for the morning. I settle myself beside Missus Bradley and have a grand time watching the bathers and all the boats. Missus Bradley does not bathe, of course. She is beginning to show just a little. I do her laces up more and more loosely every day. I imagine when we go back to Ottawa she will have to confine herself to the house.

  Oh, how I would love to bathe! But of course I have no bathing costume, so I content myself with hoisting up my skirts and paddling at the edge. How grand to feel the sand in between my bare toes. I was a little reluctant at first, and wouldn’t go near the water. I felt I should stay with Missus Bradley, but she was having none of it. “Off you go,” she said. “Enjoy yourself.”

  So enjoy myself I do.

  I saw the girl who was on the boat with us. The family she works for sets up a little farther down the beach. She has a bathing costume and was right in the water, splashing with some children and having no end of a good time, by the looks of it. She’s a pretty girl with masses of curls the colour of honey. I wonder if she’s friendly. It would be nice to make a friend.

  In the afternoons, Missus Bradley has her lie-down and I am free to roam around the town and explore to my heart’s content. Missus Bradley doesn’t seem to worry about me here.

  I’ve found a general store nearby that’s owned by a Monsieur Henri-Joseph Sirois. It is a fascinating place. It has all manner of spices and exotic-looking items. I summoned up the courage to ask and Monsieur Sirois was kind enough to show me the huge barrels his merchandise comes in, shipped by boats, called goélettes, from Québec City. Cook would be over the moon if she could shop there.

  Even here the talk of Confederation goes on. It is the main subject on everyone’s lips. I am amazed to hear some people argue vehemently against it. It sounds as if it will go through, though, like it or lump it.

  Monday, August 6th, 1866

  Church yesterday and then a day of rest and quiet. Missus Bradley goes to St. James the Apostle church, and I went to Mass at Saint Georges de Cacouna. A lovely little church it is. So peaceful and pretty.

  Wednesday, August 8th, 1866

  I met the girl I saw on the boat and on the beach! Her family is staying at another hotel, the Dufferin House, and there is a general store on the ground floor. Our hotel cook asked me if I would nip over and get some eggs there for her, and when I did I almost ran into that very girl. She is just as friendly as I had hoped, although perhaps a bit over-pleased with herself. Her name is Bessie and she was quick to tell me that the family she works for is one of the most important families in Ottawa. When I mentioned that the Bradleys live on King Street in Upper Town, her nose tilted just a trifle and she informed me very loftily that the family she works for lives on Daly Street in the very fashionable district of Sandy Hill, just a block away from the fine stone house of the Queen’s Printer, Monsieur George-Édouard Desbarats. I know I’ve written that correctly, as she was quick to spell it out for me, although I must admit I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her that I could spell names very well myself, thank you very much. I was the best speller in my class.

  Besides, truth be told, I might not have been able to figure that one out.

  We agreed to meet tomorrow afternoon. She has offered to lend me a bathing costume — she has two — and I will have a chance to bathe!

  Thursday, August 9th, 1866

  What a glorious day! Bessie lent me her bathing costume and I bathed in the river for ages this afternoon. At first I was very shy about appearing in public in such a scanty outfit — you could easily see my ankles — but all the other ladies and girls were doing it, and Missus Bradley insisted I try, so I took courage and plunged in. The water was cold, but the weather was sunny and hot, and it was grand. I like Bessie, even though she is bossy — everything must be done to her liking. Still, she is generous to a fault.

  Friday, August 10th, 1866

  Now I’m fuming. I happened to mention something about Briney to Bossy Bessie this afternoon and her nose tilted up again in that annoying way that she has.

  “Oh, that Irish boy who delivers your water,” she said.

  “Sure, you may not have noticed,” I said to her with as much dignity as I could muster, letting my Irish speech come through a little thicker than usual, “’tis Irish I am too, and well proud of it.”

  At that she got all flustered and tight-lipped English and we parted on unfriendly terms.

  Monday, August 13th, 1866

  A lovely day today. I do believe this fresh air is doing Missus Bradley a world of good. She has colour in her cheeks and a bounce to her step. After breakfast she asked me if I would like to go for a walk with her, and of course I agreed. We set out in the b
right sunshine, with a cool breeze coming off the river to keep us comfortable. We walked so far! I was worried that she would not be able to make it back to the hotel, but she insisted.

  We went all the way to the Indian village that sits on the riverside where the land slopes more gradually to the water. It’s a pretty village. There’s one road that runs through the middle of it, with neat little cabins on either side. The road is little more than a grassy track, with a path running along one side of it. At the top we looked down to the wee houses with their red and blue-grey roofs. A rambling fence ran alongside the road to separate it from the fields surrounding the houses, but I didn’t see any cattle. There were beaver and muskrat skins drying in some of the backyards, and some small kitchen gardens and patches of oats and wheat in the fields as well, but Missus Bradley told me the Indians — Maliseet, she said they were called — relied mostly on fishing and hunting for their food.

  I was a mite concerned that we would not be welcome there, but that was pure foolishness. As soon as we got well into the village, a small horde of children surrounded us, chattering and laughing as they caught at our hands and tried to lead us to one cabin or another. Missus Bradley knew where to go, however, as our hotel keeper had given her the name of one particular woman. Missus Bradley asked for her and even though the children laughed at the way she pronounced the name, they led us to a cabin right at the river’s edge.

  A woman came out to greet us. I had expected that she would be in buckskins, but she was clothed in an ordinary blouse and long skirt. She was right welcoming and invited us to sit in the sun by her door. She brought out tea for both of us, then she brought out baskets that she had made out of split ash and sweet grass. They smelled so wonderful! Missus Bradley bought a lovely big one, then, to my surprise, she turned to me and said, “Pick one out for yourself, Rosie. Something to keep your treasures in.”

  Well, I don’t have that many treasures, but there was one little box that this journal would fit in perfectly. I was afraid it might cost too much, but Missus Bradley just waved away my fears and bought it as well. The lid is decorated with porcupine quills and a tuft of moose hair. I think it quite grand. It is sitting here beside me now and I will tuck my journal away in it when I am done writing. The lovely smell of the sweet grass has filled up my entire bed nook.

  But that wasn’t the end of it. On the way home, as I had feared, Missus Bradley tired. I offered to run back and have the hotel send the pony trap for her, but she wasn’t having any of that. She just sat down on a rock to rest and told me to sit beside her for a spell. I did and then she said to me, “Rosie, I just wanted you to know how pleased I am with your work. And so is Mister Bradley. You’ve been a great help ever since you arrived.”

  Then she added, her cheeks flaming bright red. “I think you may have suspected … We are going to have an addition to the family in November. Of course we will hire a nurse, but I know that you will be invaluable as well. Mary Margaret told me how good you were with the little ones at home.”

  And then she hugged me! I was that stunned. I could only stammer in reply and she must have thought me a right idiot.

  Invaluable, she called me. Glowing, I am now. And I’m feeling all warm and happy inside to think that my big sister Mary Margaret spoke so highly of me. Still, she would have had to, wouldn’t she? After all, wasn’t it herself who persuaded Missus Bradley to take me on in the first place?

  Tuesday, August 14th, 1866

  Bossy Bessie and I are friends again. She came by for me this afternoon and asked me to go bathing with her. She started going on about Briney, and how she thought he was unsuitable as a friend, but before I could assure her that he was no friend of mine, she caught herself and changed the subject.

  Now I am feeling guilty about being so quick to tell her that Briney wasn’t a friend. I didn’t actually say the words — she didn’t give me time — but I thought them and I was going to. Briney has been so helpful, it seems ungrateful of me.

  We had a grand time bathing and I even managed to swim a few strokes before sinking down and choking. I’ll still not go out of my depth, though. It’s reassuring to know I can put my feet down on the bottom whenever I want.

  I suppose I should not be calling her “Bossy Bessie” anymore.

  Wednesday, August 15th, 1866

  The sunsets over the river are something wondrous. Missus Bradley and Bessie’s mistress have become good friends as well and they spent the evening sketching the sun going down over the river. I thought Missus Bradley’s sketch the finest; Bessie thought her Missus Forrester’s far better. She would. I did not dare argue, however, as our friendship is still as fragile as a new shoot in the garden.

  But Missus Forrester put far too much red in hers, she really did.

  Wednesday, August 22nd, 1866

  Mister Bradley and James have returned. We leave to go back to Ottawa tomorrow. I’m so sad! It’s been grand here. Bessie and I have promised to see each other whenever we can. It will be nice to have a friend in Ottawa.

  Friday, August 24th, 1866

  I’m curled up in my berth on the steamer. No Missus Tubbs on this trip. In fact, I have my berth and the one next to it all to myself.

  What a grand thing I have to write about tonight. I was in a state when we got near Québec City, knowing that I would be so close to my family again with no way to see them. I didn’t say a word to Missus Bradley, of course, but she knew I was upset. She didn’t seem too concerned about it, though, and I wondered at that. Lately she has been so kind.

  When we arrived at the wharf I saw why. I had decided to stay below deck and not even look out, but Missus Bradley sent James down to ask me to come up. Of course I couldn’t refuse, but it made me feel so bad that I was almost in tears. I found Missus Bradley at the rail and she was smiling.

  “Look on shore, Rosie,” she said to me. “Look who’s waiting for you.”

  I looked, and there was my whole family! Mam and Da, Eileen, Bridget, Paddy, Mary Margaret and even Donny. I was that amazed I couldn’t say a word. When the gangplank was let down I fairly flew into their arms. We all started talking at once, and Bridget was hanging onto my hand so tightly I thought it would be bruised. It wasn’t until I had recovered my senses that I realized that Mam is expecting another babe too. At that, I felt a huge wave of guilt and worry sweep over me.

  “Oh, Mam,” I said. “How will you ever manage without me now?”

  Then Eileen spoke up and said she would help Mam. I was about to retort that she wasn’t more than a babe herself, but when I took a good look at her I suddenly saw that she’s grown up in the months I’ve been away. She put her arm around Mam and I could see Mam lean into her the way she used to lean into me.

  At first I felt nothing but relief, then the jealousy cut in. My stomach gave a sick kind of lurch. Was I so easily replaced? But Mam moved forward to give me a hug, and I saw the tears in her eyes, and I knew I wasn’t. Then Paddy leaned over the edge of the dock so far that Mary Margaret had to pull him back, with a stern scolding, and we were all laughing again.

  As we were going home, she took me aside. “Are you doing all right, Rosie?” she asked, and I was quick to answer that I was fine. Seeing her so happy, what else could I say?

  I cannot begin to describe how I am feeling, everything is so mixed up between happy and sad, but it was grand to see them all.

  Mister Bradley arranged it, can you believe that? He sent a note to Da telling him when we would be arriving at Québec City.

  I think the Bradleys realized how devastated I was when we stopped on the way up. They might have felt sorry that they hadn’t thought to let me off to see my family then, and wanted to make it up to me. In any case, it was nice of them to do that. Makes me think I am more appreciated now. More important.

  Going back up the river, the steamer did take the canal past the rapids. I’m sure many of the passengers were pleased about that, but I wasn’t.

  Seeing my family was the best
part of the trip this time, but I don’t know whether seeing them all again has made things easier or harder.

  Monday, August 27th, 1866

  We’re back in Ottawa, and what a lovely surprise was waiting for Missus Bradley. Mister Bradley had arranged for her pianoforte to be shipped up from Québec and it was waiting for her when we arrived. Hardly enough room for it in the parlour, but she was so delighted, she didn’t care. She sat down at it straightaway, took out her music, and began to play. She’s been playing every moment she can ever since and this wee house is just filled with music. It’s glorious, it is.

  It will be grand for her now because she is beginning to show and soon will not be able to go out in society. It will give her something to do until the babe makes its appearance.

  Tuesday, August 28th, 1866

  Music is the only beautiful thing in this wretched house. It seemed so small and smelly after the hotel and fresh air of Cacouna and then, to make matters worse, we discovered that while we were away the drains got blocked and backed up. Cook was in a right state. We had to have men in to dig them up and clear them today. What a disgusting mess! It is horrible down in the cellar anyway. There’s nothing but raised wooden slats for flooring and rats scurry around underneath them. I hear them squeaking and skritching around all the time and I will never go down there, but when the men dug up the drains the beasts just poured out all over the place.

  Horrible horrible horrible!

  At least I have this little room to myself. I have put my sweet grass box on a little table beside my bed. It is something pretty to look at, and the smell of the sweet grass is still strong. It helps.

  Thursday, August 30th, 1866

  Bessie made good her promise to come and see me and I’m almost wishing she hadn’t. Didn’t she just turn up her nose the moment I opened the door and greeted her. I was so happy to see her and, seeing as how Missus Bradley was napping and Cook was out shopping, I took her to the kitchen for a cup of tea. She looked around with her nose still up in the air and twitching as if something smelled bad (which, truth to tell, it does).