by Jane Jackson
Pulling her cloak more closely around her Susanna walked on. Though her teeth chattered and her gloveless hands were frozen she was glowing inside.
At last Edward had begun to see her in a new light. If, as her parents claimed, marriage was the only permitted ambition for a woman then Edward was the only man she could even consider marrying. For if he were to accept her – not just into his life but into his work as well – then maybe she would find the fulfilment she craved.
But Edward was a Catholic. And for her to marry a non-Quaker meant she would be disowned by the Society of Friends. Her father was an Elder, a position of respect and seniority within the church. Her mother sat on numerous committees and was actively involved in every charity supported by Friends.
Her disownment would affect their standing among their peers. And though she found the constraints of their lifestyle suffocating she loved them dearly. Having been taught to obey them in all things the enormity of what she was considering filled her with agonising guilt.
Chapter Three
Her hands composed on her lap, Susanna kept her face carefully impassive. Like her mother Maria and older sister Frances sitting either side of her she wore a simple white bonnet and beneath her drab cloak a plain grey dress.
How she envied them their tranquillity and patience. As the silence dragged Susanna took a folded handkerchief from her pocket. Hands hidden by her cloak she uncovered the pink jade medallion and ran her fingertips over its carved surface.
She ought to have given it to Edward to return to the Portuguese. After all, it had not been given to her, but to the person his fever-racked mind believed she was. But it was unusual and beautiful and she had never owned any jewellery or pretty trinkets. Perhaps she could look after it for a few days. Then she would give it back.
Edward lived in a home bursting with colour yet what he did for his fellow human beings required more courage, dedication, and sheer hard work than any activity undertaken by Friends. He was unlike any other man of her acquaintance. And from what he had said yesterday, he thought the same of her.
She imagined Edward cupping her face in those wonderful healing hands. Then his arms enfolding her, drawing her close against his body as he lowered his head and his lips – Frances’s elbow in her ribs made her gasp. She bent her head hoping her bonnet would hide the betraying flush.
The cold bare room had remained hushed for almost half an hour. Yet in a manner that seemed totally spontaneous, awareness that the period of silent worship had ended spread through the assembly in the space of a breath. Susanna was sure the Elders had some prearranged signal.
Maria turned to her daughters, her round face calm and serene. ‘Come, girls.’
As they started towards the door Susanna saw John Tregelles place a restraining hand on her father’s sleeve and murmur in his ear. Her father’s reproachful gaze left her in no doubt that she was the subject of the whispered remarks. Who had she offended now?
‘Richard will be joining us for dinner,’ Frances said importantly, falling into step beside her.
Susanna glanced quickly round. ‘I didn’t see him.’
‘He didn’t come. His mother is poorly.’
‘Again? I’m sorry to hear that. She seems to be suffering rather a lot of ill-health.’
‘She worries about being a burden to Richard. But who else can she turn to?’
‘Her husband?’ Susanna suggested mildly.
‘Mr Webber’s weakness makes him unreliable.’
Privately Susanna thought that living with Mrs Webber’s endless demands and complaints would drive the strongest man to drink.
‘You will try to be pleasant, won’t you?’
‘He doesn’t make it easy.’
‘What do you mean?’ Though short and rounded like their mother, Frances had sharp elbows and a sharp tongue. Even her features were pointed.
‘He’s always so critical. Haven’t you noticed?’
‘No.’ Genuine surprise widened Frances’s eyes. ‘I’ve never found him so.’
Susanna smiled wryly. ‘Well, you wouldn’t. How could he find fault with someone who exemplifies all the best qualities of Quaker womanhood?’
Uncertainty drew Frances’s heavy brows together. ‘Are you teasing me?’
‘No, of course not. Fran, why do you find it so difficult to accept a compliment?’
Wriggling uncomfortably beneath her dreary grey-brown cloak Frances sniffed. ‘Compliments encourage vanity.’
Susanna felt a surge of pity for her serious dutiful sister. ‘No they don’t. Being good at something doesn’t mean you’re vain. It just proves you are using the talents God gave you. I think that’s far more useful than sitting in silence for hours.’
‘Susanna!’ Frances looked round quickly to make sure no one else had overheard. ‘No wonder Richard thinks you dangerous.’
Dangerous? She opened her mouth to make a crushing retort but thought better of it. Frances was not responsible for Richard. ‘I would enjoy Richard’s company more if he did not concern himself quite so much with my affairs.’
‘Your behaviour is his concern, or will be very soon.’ They followed Hester Trethown and her mother out onto the cobbled street.
The wind funnelling up Quay Hill from the harbour swirled around their ankles and lifted the hem of Hester’s dress. Quickly she grasped a handful of the billowing skirt. A swift shake and it was once again in place, decorously brushing the tops of her shoes.
‘Did you see that?’ Frances was scandalised.
‘Yes,’ Susanna smiled, ‘I saw. Fran, what did you mean about Richard? Why should what I do –?’
‘Red stockings! ‘Hester was wearing red stockings!’
‘Shh. There’s no need to tell everyone.’ Susanna watched Hester with new respect and a pang of envy. ‘It’s no-one else’s business anyway.’
‘She’ll go to hell,’ Frances announced with utter conviction.
Susanna looked at her in bewilderment. At twenty-three Frances had the outlook and attitudes of her mother’s generation. Yet was that so surprising? When Susanna recalled her childhood it was Frances she remembered bathing her knees when she fell down, Frances who told her bedtime stories and taught her prayers.
William’s birth had been difficult and during Maria’s long recuperation both parents relied heavily on their eldest daughter. As soon as her strength returned Maria took over once more. But by then duty and responsibility had become Frances’s security and her prison.
‘Hester go to hell?’ Susanna mocked gently, ‘for wanting a little colour in her life?’
‘Don’t you care about your immortal soul?’
‘Of course I do. I just happen to believe God has more important things to worry about than the colour of Hester Trethown’s stockings.’
‘Oh!’ Frances squeaked. ‘I believe you say these things quite deliberately to shock me.’
Seeing her sister’s eyes full of tears Susanna swallowed her exasperation. ‘Fran, what you said about Richard. What did you mean?’
Two splotches of pink appeared high on Frances’s cheeks. With sudden childlike excitement, the more endearing for being so rare, she confided, ‘We are to be married before Christmas after all.’
‘Before Christmas?’
Frances stiffened. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t mean –’
‘I don’t think you care about my happiness.’
‘Of course I do,’ Susanna clasped her sister’s cold hand. ‘Fran, I wish you all the joy in the world. It’s just –’ She stopped herself. What possible objection could she make? It would not be fair to allow her dislike of him to spoil her sister’s happiness.
‘It’s just what?’ Frances asked suspiciously.
‘Nothing. Nothing at all. For your sake I will try to think of Richard as part of our family.’
‘Thank you. You see, as your brother-in-law and … my husband,’ Frances’s colour deepened, ‘Richard is bound
to take an interest in your welfare. I know he is concerned about the amount of time you spend at the Seamen’s Home and Infirmary.’
A lightning flash of anger lanced through Susanna. But the arrival of her brother stopped her making the comment she would have instantly regretted.
‘Fran, Mother wants you. Something to do with the Infants’ school.’ He caught Susanna’s hand. ‘Come on, I’ll race you home. You might even win. My feet are so cold I can hardly feel them.’
‘I’m not running. Your legs are twice as long as mine.’ She tucked her arm through his and they set off along the narrow pavement past closed shops with thick wooden shutters over their windows to prevent them being smashed by the drunken seamen for which this end of the town was notorious.
Though two years younger William had always been her closest friend and ally. In his eyes she could do no wrong. As the rest of the family frequently took the opposite view his unquestioning loyalty and approval had always been an enormous comfort.
‘Did you know that the wedding had been brought forward?’ she enquired as they turned into Swanpool Street.
‘Whose wedding?’ He shortened his loping stride, as the hill grew steeper. In the last two years he had shot up and still seemed not quite used to his new height. The bitter wind tousled his fair hair and whipped colour into his cheeks.
‘Frances and Richard’s, of course.’
‘Oh yes. There’s no reason to wait now.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know they were looking for a house to rent?’
‘Have they found somewhere then?’
William pulled a face. ‘In a manner of speaking. ‘Richard and his mother have decided that it would be foolish for him to go to such expense when the Webber house is quite big enough for them all. Poor Fran.’
‘It might not be charitable to say so but I think it’s a very bad idea. If she isn’t careful she’ll find herself looking after the whole family.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
Susanna looked quickly at her brother. ‘What did you mean then, poor Fran?’
‘Marrying Richard. He’s such a stuffed shirt. Still,’ he shrugged, ‘Fran’s the same. In fact, when you think about it, it is a perfect match. If Fran can cope with Richard’s mother they’ll probably be very happy together. And Fran will have a whole regiment of baby stuffed shirts.’
Susanna thumped his arm. ‘Will, that’s awful.’
‘No, it’s not, it’s true. But I’m glad for them, really. After all neither of them has been besieged by suitors. Richard might be Fran’s only chance.’
‘For goodness’ sake, she’s not that old.’
‘Yes she is. I’m not talking in years. Some people are born old, like Fran. She never climbed trees with me like you did, or fished for tadpoles. And she hates horses.’
‘You have to understand about Fran,’ Susanna began.
‘I do,’ William said. ‘She’s a good person. She works terrifically hard and never looks for praise like so many of the women. In fact it seems to make her uncomfortable. Fran’s trouble is she doesn’t know how to have fun.’ He shrugged. ‘I think that’s sad.’
William had voiced her thoughts.
He nudged her. ‘Want to go for a ride later?’
‘On a Sunday?’ Susanna dragged air into her heaving lungs. ‘We’d never get away with it.’
Crossing Woodlane they arrived at Wodehouse Place. The elegantly proportioned house was set at an angle to the road. Tall trees and shrubs enclosed the front garden and gave privacy from neighbouring properties.
Susanna glanced at the few remaining flowers and the cloud of plume-like seeds on the white clematis as she followed William up the steps to the porch. Soon even those would be gone.
Samuel Elliot stood at the head of the table carving a large joint of beef. Susanna and William sat on his right, Richard and Frances on his left. Maria was at the far end opposite her husband.
Richard tucked the starched napkin into the top of his waistcoat. ‘Teaching children to read and write is not enough. Bible study is vital. Only through religion will they be led away from crime and dependence upon the charity of others.’ His mouse-brown hair was receding at the temples and so thin on top his pink scalp showed through.
‘Well said,’ Samuel nodded as he transferred slices of beef, crisp and brown on the outside and succulent pink in the middle, onto plain white plates.
Susanna’s gaze flickered from Richard’s fleshy features to Frances. Though her eyes were fixed on her fiancé her expression gave nothing away.
What did she feel? Susanna wondered. Was there a kinder, gentler side to Richard that only Frances knew? She hoped so. Frances often spoke of beliefs she shared with Richard, but she had never mentioned love.
‘Children must be taught what joy is to be found in hard work and thriftiness,’ Richard declared. ‘It is our responsibility to set a proper example to the lower classes.’
‘Indeed,’ Samuel murmured.
Susanna caught William’s eye. He gave his head an almost imperceptible shake. She read the warning but wisdom was drowned by anger.
‘Richard, do you know Gutheridge’s Yard, Sedgmond’s Court, and Rose Cottages?’
His lips pursed. ‘Pretty names, but not, I’m afraid, familiar.’
Irony twisted Susanna’s mouth. ‘I did not really expect them to be. They are slums on the north side of Well Lane. They are filthy, dark and overcrowded. Disease is rife because there is no proper water supply or sewage disposal. But the children who live there know all about hard work and thriftiness. If they live to reach the age of six they are sent out earn a few coppers by sweeping chimneys or packing fish. They dodge horses’ hooves and the wheels of heavy carts to run errands. And if, as so often happens, they are injured and cannot work they look after their smaller brothers and sisters. How much joy do you suppose they know?’
‘Susanna!’ Frances gasped.
Drawing himself up Richard gazed down his pudgy nose. ‘It is not for us to question God’s purpose.’
Flinching as William kicked her ankle Susanna bit her tongue hard, remaining silent as her mother smoothly turned the conversation to Richard’s prospects for advancement.
The uniformed maid bustled to and fro from the trolley with dishes of roast potatoes, braised leeks, mashed parsnip and swede, placing them in a row down the centre of the plain white cloth.
After setting a pot of horseradish sauce and two jugs of rich steaming gravy on the table, she pushed the trolley back against the wall and returned to the kitchen.
Though he was one of the town’s most successful ship-owners and cargo brokers, Samuel’s Quaker conscience required that everything in his house should be plain and functional. His only means of proclaiming his status while not offending his conscience or his peers was to ensure that his furniture, while devoid of decoration or ornament, was of the very best quality.
The dining table, matching chairs and long sideboard were solid oak. The cutlery was silver and the napkins finest Irish linen. But the cream-painted walls were bare. There were no rich carpets on the polished wood floors and the windows were curtained with plain beige linen rep.
Susanna felt no spiritual uplift in this monochrome austerity and with each passing day her sense of separateness and emotional starvation grew harder to bear.
When plates had been passed down the table and everyone was served, Samuel said grace and the meal began.
Chapter Four
‘Susanna?’
She looked up with a start. Everyone was staring at her. Normally she was able to follow her own train of thought while still keeping one ear tuned to the general conversation. Today she had lost track. Someone had spoken to her. But who? A sideways flicker of William’s eyes was all she needed to warn her. She might have guessed.
‘Would you mind repeating that, Richard?’ She flashed him her sweetest smile and was delighted to see him momentarily disconcerted.
Dabbing his mouth with his napkin he stretched his chin forward and cleared his throat. ‘Susanna, I wish you to understand that my only reason for speaking out is because of the esteem in which I hold your family. A family which, on marriage to my dear Frances, I will embrace as my own.’
‘Indeed, Richard, I understand your motives perfectly.’
He blinked then continued, ‘Then you will know I have only your welfare at heart when I tell you that the amount of time you are spending with Doctor Arundell at the Seamen’s Home and Infirmary is causing much comment.’
Skilfully disguised as concern his words were as deliberate and lethal as a dagger-thrust. Susanna flushed as shock and anger tingled through her. But she forced herself to remain calm. ‘I would be surprised if Doctor Arundell’s work was not arousing interest. His experiments with antisepsis are saving lives which would otherwise almost certainly have been lost.’
‘I think you are deliberately misunderstanding me.’ His small eyes glittered with malevolence. ‘I have no interest in Doctor Arundell, though I would have expected a professional man to conduct himself with far more prudence and circumspection. As for his experiments, I know Doctor Tuffery considers them a complete waste of time. My concern is for the reputation of this family. When a man who should know better permits a young unmarried woman to –’
‘The patients care nothing for my age or marital status, Richard,’ Susanna broke in as fury at his impertinence overrode good manners. ‘They are too occupied with trying not to die.’
‘Susanna!’ A frown marred Maria’s normally serene countenance. But Susanna knew her mother’s censure was directed less at her blunt words than at her second lapse of etiquette in arguing with a guest at the dinner table.
‘I apologise, Mama.’ Susanna set her knife and fork neatly on her plate. Placing her crumpled napkin beside her water glass she started to rise. ‘May I be excused?’
‘No.’ Samuel intervened and gestured for her to resume her seat.
