by Evie Grace
‘Yes, of course, when the time is right. She’s open to my suggestion that we look after Rose and the twins. It is no hardship, Aunt Marjorie. It is only what Ma and Pa did for me.’
‘That is very considerate of you, and quite a sacrifice on Tabby’s behalf. However, I was hoping that your aunt and uncle would step in and offer their support.’ Aunt Marjorie gazed at the Kingsleys in turn.
‘Mr Kingsley and I will play our part in honouring my brother’s memory,’ Aunt Temperance said. ‘Thanks to him, I am now the legal owner of Willow Place and the family business.’
‘It was an error on his part,’ Aunt Marjorie muttered.
‘Who knows what his motives were? We will never find out,’ Mr Kingsley said. ‘Suffice to say that we will keep to the letter of the law and continue to run the tannery, maximising the profits with Arthur and Donald’s assistance. Arthur will take over his father’s role as the gaffer while Donald will work in the yard, and continue to learn how the business works.’
‘That is reassuring at least,’ Aunt Marjorie said.
‘We are good and reasonable people,’ he said. ‘It isn’t right that the children should be left with nothing, thanks to the omissions of their parents. It’s bad enough that they are orphans, but now we find out that the twins are bastards too.’
‘Oh Mr Kingsley, that is too much,’ Aunt Marjorie exclaimed as Rose turned her head towards the door on hearing a slight rattle of the handle. She must have been mistaken, she thought.
‘It is only to be expected,’ Aunt Temperance said. ‘Agnes came to Canterbury under a false name and in disgrace.’
‘You have always disliked her. I don’t understand why when she made your brother so happy.’
‘When she first came here as a young girl with you, she was a hoity-toity little thing, all dressed in white and hiding behind your skirts. I had no time for her. She charmed my grandfather – he said it wasn’t her fault that she was how she was because she’d been brought up with expectations. When she turned up again later like a bad penny, she was expecting an illegitimate child, created through sin.’
‘Temperance, your holier-than-thou attitude is uncalled for.’
‘Well, if I’d had expectations of more money than I could ever spend, a grand house and a rich husband, I wouldn’t have thrown them all away. Agnes made her bed, and in my opinion, she should have laid down in it, not inveigled her way between my brother’s bedsheets.’
Aunt Marjorie flashed Rose a glance and Rose kept her mouth shut, even though her head hurt at Aunt Temperance’s insults to her mother’s character.
‘I agree that Agnes had her faults – everyone does – but she turned into a loving mother who acted on her compassion for the poor. We must put our memories aside for now because there are decisions to be made about the living. Is it possible that the children can stay here at Willow Place under the care of Mrs Dunn and Jane until they are old enough to make their own way in the world?’
‘Oh no, Mr Kingsley and I are intending to move in here.’
Somebody gasped – Arthur perhaps. Rose’s fists clenched tight. It hadn’t occurred to her that they would have to live with the Kingsleys.
‘It’s quite a commitment, but one I’m prepared to make. There has been little love lost between us over the years, Marjorie, but it’s time to bury the hatchet and move on,’ Aunt Temperance said. ‘I am going to put my heart and soul into bringing up these children as my brother would have wanted. I have never been blessed with a child of my own and this is my chance to be a mother.’
‘It’s selfless of you, but do you have any concept of what that entails?’
‘Mr Kingsley and I have had many discussions in the past on how we would have fed and disciplined them in a different way. We would have sent Donald off to school as soon as he turned eight, for example. Agnes has paraded her children in front of me for many years. Do you know how painful that is when the doctors have confirmed that you are barren?’
Aunt Marjorie nodded. ‘I do have some idea.’
‘Of course you do. You are not married.’
‘There is no need to rub it in.’
‘When you are a wife, the first thing everyone asks you is how many children you have. When you say none, they are dumbfounded. Either they slope away as if you are suffering from some contagious affliction, or they tell you all about their perfect sons and daughters, until you can’t bear it any longer.’
‘This is the first time you’ve ever confided in me, cousin. I’m glad we are united in our desire to do what’s best for the four of them.’
‘I have been advised that the best way forward is for Mr Kingsley and I to adopt Rose, Donald and Minnie. It will hide their illegitimacy and give them respectability.’
‘Then that is settled at least, but what about Oliver’s will? Won’t you reconsider?’
‘Our minds are unchanged on that matter,’ Aunt Temperance said, her voice hardening.
‘What about the school? You will secure its future for the sake of the street children as Oliver and Agnes would have wished?’
‘Mr Kingsley is going to look at the ledgers to see if it is possible to keep it going. He suspects that the expenditure on the school outweighs the income from the paying pupils, and some changes will need to be made.’
‘It sounds as if you have put plenty of thought into this. I’m very grateful that I can return to my dear charges, knowing that all will be well at Willow Place.’
The door handle juddered and twisted and the door opened, banging against the panelled wall behind it.
‘How can all be well with this plan of yours? I heard you scheming behind mine and Minnie’s backs.’ Rose stared at her younger brother who stood in the doorway, his hands gripping tight to the frame, his muscles flexing and the sinews in his neck taut with fury.
‘I’m sorry, Donald,’ Aunt Marjorie said calmly. ‘You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.’
‘I’m glad I did! When were you going to mention this to us?’ He glared at Aunt Marjorie. ‘Why do you all treat me like a child? I’m nearly thirteen.’
‘Come with me, Donald,’ Arthur said, walking across to him. ‘Let’s go out and have a game of cricket.’
‘I’ve told you, I don’t play any more.’ A tear rolled down Donald’s cheek and he turned abruptly, walking away with Arthur’s hand on his shoulder.
‘That one is trouble,’ Aunt Temperance said. ‘Things will have to change.’
‘I’m sure he’ll settle down,’ Aunt Marjorie said hopefully, making Rose’s heart sink to the pit of her stomach at the thought that desperation had brought her sensible aunt to this. She was in cloud cuckoo land if she thought that the Cheeverses and the Kingsleys could live together in harmony. How on earth did she think it would work?
Later the same day, Aunt Marjorie suggested that Rose walk into town with her for a change of scene. On their way, they crossed King’s Bridge, passing the half-timbered Weavers’ House where they could hear the handlooms working inside making Canterbury silk and Chamberry muslin. Rose eyed the wooden ducking stool which jutted out from the wall above the river.
‘If Aunt Temperance was ducked, I am certain she would not drown,’ she said, still desperately unhappy about the arrangements for their future with the Kingsleys.
‘Don’t let her hear you say that,’ Aunt Marjorie said. ‘I’m glad you didn’t go against her today. She is enjoying her new notoriety at the moment. I should let her puff herself up for now – she will soon get over it.’
‘I can’t bear to hear her speak badly of Ma.’
‘Nor I, but the fortunes of you and your siblings depend on her generosity of spirit.’
‘If she has any,’ Rose interrupted.
‘You must treat her with respect and politeness. She knows how much your parents loved you. She won’t dishonour her brother’s memory or risk ruining her reputation by neglecting your welfare. When they adopt you as their own, they are bound to make provision for
you in their wills, which means that the tannery will stay in the family and continue to be passed down through your brothers’ children and their children’s children after that.’
Rose winced. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to call them Mother and Father.’
‘That’s fair enough. You can’t contemplate it now, but when you’ve had time to get used to the idea, I think you’ll find that it isn’t impossible. Rose, promise me you won’t be difficult about this. The Kingsleys are your best hope. Do not alienate them.’ They walked on past the Hospital of St Thomas the Martyr. ‘I wish I could do something – I have a little money saved up for my retirement, but it won’t go very far …’
‘I couldn’t let you do that. You have done more than enough for us already,’ Rose said. ‘What about Arthur and Tabby? Couldn’t they look after the rest of us?’
‘I think your aunt is determined to live at Willow Place – there wouldn’t be room for all of you along with a newly married couple.’
‘They are going to live in one of the workers’ cottages.’
‘You would soon hate the sight of each other. You are used to a certain standard of living.’
‘I’m sure Arthur wouldn’t mind,’ Rose said.
‘Tabby might, though. She’ll want to start her own family with her new husband, not have to run around cooking and cleaning after his brother and sisters.’ Aunt Marjorie gave her a hard stare, and added, ‘No matter how helpful they might be. No, Rose, that isn’t the answer, I’m afraid.
‘There is one other person who might be prevailed upon to help you, but I feel uneasy about approaching her. I should explain why. In fact, this is a good opportunity for me to reveal some of the secrets of the past. Remember, though, that anything I say from here on is between you, me and the bedpost.’
Rose nodded.
‘You are wearing the half a sixpence?’ Aunt Marjorie said.
‘It is an odd memento.’ Rose pulled it out from beneath her chemise to show her. ‘I remember Ma wearing it when the twins were small.’
‘It isn’t much, I know, but it has a story behind it. I expect Agnes spoke of it many times.’
‘She said it was a trinket, that’s all. Ma never was one for jewellery – she said it drew unwanted attention to one’s person.’
‘It is true that the half a sixpence is a love token with little value apart from the strength of the sentiment behind it, but there was a time when Agnes wore the most beautiful and expensive jewels,’ Aunt Marjorie said.
‘When she was a girl?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And her father employed a French cook and hired a pineapple to impress his friends and neighbours.’
Aunt Marjorie smiled. ‘It was to celebrate his son’s christening. I will never forget that day. The Monsieur was found drunk in the cellar at Windmarsh Court, the food was a disaster, and the pineapple … well, it was an interesting botanical specimen, but too precious to be cut into and tasted. There was another party – when your mother turned nineteen, the Berry-Clays, her adoptive parents, decided to celebrate. Agnes wore a scarlet gown and a heavy gold chain with a pendant at her throat. She looked radiant, the most beautiful and elegant young lady I have ever seen.’
‘What happened? How did she end up at Willow Place with Pa?’
‘Maybe it is a good time to reveal the truth in its entirety. Agnes has gone and she has more than made up for any failings in her character with her love and devotion to my cousin and her children.’
‘Failings? My mother was perfect. I will not hear anything said against her.’
‘She was a strong, resourceful and intelligent woman, and better than any of us, considering the life she had.’
‘Then tell me,’ Rose said.
‘Your mother was born an innocent child in the Union at Faversham.’
‘The poorhouse?’ The hairs on the back of Rose’s neck stood on end as her aunt nodded.
‘She was eight months old when I first met her. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, tearing an infant from its loving mother’s arms, and I will never forget it.’
‘Why did you do it?’
‘The Berry-Clays had employed me as their nanny. It was done out of the purest of motives, to raise Agnes from poverty and ill health, and give her the love of two doting parents, education and the prospect of a brilliant marriage. Consider this, Rose. Which is worse, to grow up without your mother’s love, or suffer the consequences of living what is often a very short and disagreeable life in the poorhouse?’
Rose thought for a moment. ‘I couldn’t say.’ She hadn’t been able to imagine living without her mother, yet here she was at sixteen, without her.
‘I cared for Agnes as though she was my own daughter until she reached the age of nineteen, when, through an unfortunate turn of events, she was compelled to leave Windmarsh Court. Mr Berry-Clay died the day after her birthday, and for various reasons, it was decided that she should be betrothed to the young man she knew as her cousin.
‘She didn’t love him and he didn’t want the responsibility of a wife at that time, his mind being occupied with how he could overcome his father’s objections towards his ambition to study medicine. Agnes couldn’t bring herself to marry for financial security and not love. She insisted on freeing both of them from their obligations, enlisting me to help her in her plot to leave Windmarsh and obtain a position as a governess under the name Agnes Linnet.’
Rose couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
‘We did it so she could make use of her education, accomplishments and good manners to teach other young ladies in return for board and a small honorarium. Without it, she would have been out on the streets, vulnerable and scared, because she knew little of life beyond the marsh.’
‘How then did she end up on the streets of Canterbury?’ Rose asked, remembering what Arthur had told her.
‘Do you remember your father’s lectures on how to tell if a man is a gentleman?’
She did, she thought with a small smile.
‘Agnes was convinced she had met one, the son of the household for whom she worked. Mr Felix Faraday paid her attention, as well he might considering her character and happy disposition. She was naive, though, and flattered when he approached her. As she revealed to me much later, she felt that having been raised in a wealthy household with certain expectations, she was as entitled as any other young lady to welcome his affection for her. He seemed genuine. He offered marriage and made out that his mother approved of the match, or so she was given to understand …’
Rose bit her lip. ‘He was my father, wasn’t he, the gentleman of whom you speak?’
‘Who was most definitely not a gentleman, but merely the son of a baronet,’ Aunt Marjorie said firmly. ‘Your mother left the Faradays’ household when she was carrying you in her belly, and then she found lodgings with Mrs Hamilton in Canterbury.’
Which was why the old woman had taken an interest in their family, Rose thought.
‘Agnes worked as a screever, writing letters and fakements. The couple who employed her were on the make and when they were found out – Agnes provided proof of their trickery – they left Canterbury. Agnes had no money to pay her rent, and Mrs Hamilton, being the hard-nosed businesswoman that she is, put her out on the street.
‘Oliver found her and took her in when she was at her lowest ebb. In fact, she told me she’d been ready to die when they found her at the foot of the Westgate Towers. In turn, she and Oliver offered Arthur a home, and not long after that you were born. You know the rest. You see, your mother had a strange life, and a tragic end, although I console myself – as you do, I hope – with the thought that she is in the arms of her love.’
Rose nodded as her aunt continued, ‘When Agnes left Windmarsh, I regretted that I’d concentrated on preparing her for the rigours of the drawing room, but not the skills for everyday living.’
‘Are you lecturing me?’ Rose said, half smiling.
‘If you�
�re ever in a situation – like now, I suppose – when you have to stand on your own two feet, you’ll be thankful that your ma made you study the basics of finance and the value of money. And I will give you this tip to reinforce what your pa has told you – not everyone in the world is of good character. There are those who will think nothing of stealing your money, or tricking you out of it. Be careful whom you trust.’
Give me some credit, Rose thought. Sometimes she felt that her aunt treated her like one of her young charges.
‘The half a sixpence. You still haven’t told me about that?’
‘Oh? So I haven’t. I’m getting old, Rose. My memory isn’t what it once was. Let me see. From what I’ve gathered, your grandfather gave the half a sixpence to your grandmother, his sweetheart. Under what circumstances, I don’t know exactly.
‘When Agnes was eighteen, I received some correspondence from Mrs Carter, asking if I could arrange a meeting with her daughter. I knew we would be in terrible trouble if we were found out and I struggled with my conscience over her request for many weeks because she had agreed that she would never contact her daughter again. Mr Berry-Clay had told Agnes that her true mother was dead and I had given him my word that I wouldn’t reveal the truth to my charge. Don’t look at me like that, Rose. He didn’t want to disturb dear Agnes’s peace of mind – he had taken her in out of the goodness of his heart.’
Rose felt sorry for her aunt, torn between loyalty to her former employer and her love for Agnes.
‘There were a few people who knew about Agnes being born in the Union to an unmarried mother. Mr Berry-Clay trusted them not to reveal her humble origins to all and sundry. Even though he had brought her up to be a respectable young lady, the fact she was illegitimate, if it became widely known, would have tainted her reputation and affected her chance of making a good marriage. I know it’s unfair, but that’s how it is. Society frowns on the children born out of wedlock.’
‘You broke your word. You risked your place at Windmarsh Court,’ Rose said.
‘Mr Berry-Clay allowed us to accompany him to Faversham. Mrs Berry-Clay wanted Agnes to call on the dressmaker to order new gowns for her birthday. While her father was attending to his business at the brewery, Agnes and I went for a walk down to the creek where I introduced her to her mother who was waiting for us. That was when Mrs Carter gave the half a sixpence to your mother.’ She sighed. ‘Oh dear. I’d never seen Agnes like that.’
