Nina In Utopia

by Miranda Miller

  My terror was stronger than the stuff Charles had made me drink. I could not, would not, sleep but drowned in my horror of the place to which they were taking me. The angry pounding of the horses’ hooves galloped in my heart. The hands grasping my arms dragged me down into the screaming inferno I was condemned to. I wanted this horrible journey to last for ever, because in this dark carriage I still recognized myself. In Bedlam I knew I would dissolve into the floodtide of madness and would not have the strength to separate myself from the howling chaos around me. I struggled to stay awake and keep the flickering candle flame of Nina alive. To sleep would be to die and lose myself and never find her again.

  HENRIETTA’S

  JOURNAL

  WEDNESDAY

  As the carriage disappeared around the corner Tommy’s sobs became quite hysterical. I fear he has inherited his mother’s tendency to give in to his passions. He screamed and sobbed and flung himself down on to the nursery rug, thumping his legs on the floor like a demented rabbit. The floor, like the rest of your house, is not clean. Because of my sister’s domestic republicanism you might write your name in the dust tracks on every piece of furniture.

  Before I turn my attention to improving your house I must take your son in hand. I sat with my back to the window and watched my nephew indulge his wild and undisciplined spirits. Sobs shook him like a summer storm in the boughs of an apple tree; he quivered and gasped for breath and could not speak. Exhausted, he lay on the floor and looked at me through his dark curls, which have grown too long again. He looks so like his dear sister, but he was always the less brilliant child. His little face was red and swollen, slimy wet, as he regained his breath and wailed for his mama.

  I took him in my arms. I used to watch Nina do this to her children and wondered how it would feel to hold another human being tight against my heart. The child struggled at first, but then he became still, and I cried a little for my poor sister who has lost so much. Then I said firmly, ‘It is time for bed now, Tommy.’

  ‘But where is Mama? Will she come back and kiss me and tell me a story?’

  ‘She has gone to … a hospital.’

  ‘When will she come back?’

  ‘She is very sick.’

  ‘Is she going to die, like Bella?’

  ‘I fear it is all too likely.’

  I had agreed with you that we should prepare him, for he will not see his mother again. Even if Dr Hood accomplishes a cure of Nina’s delusions you naturally fear her influence upon Tommy. My sister has fallen out of the ranks of honest women and can never again be regarded as a wife or mother.

  At this Tommy had another fit of histrionics. I saw, too late, that I should have waited before telling him of his mother’s social, if not actual, death. I have always believed it is better to face the truth than be swaddled in the folds of silken falsehood. I sat and patiently waited until the child was capable of rational discourse.

  His nurse, Emmie, knocked and entered. Nina has the strangest taste in servants. Emmie was our own nurse and to this day treats me with inappropriate familiarity as if I were still five years old. She glared at me like I was the source of all the uproar in your house, enfolded Tommy in her plump arms and cooed and rocked him, kissing him all over. I turned my head away, for it was painful to watch them. When tears appeared on her coarse cheeks I wondered if she had been drinking. She fussed over the child and persuaded him to take some bread and milk. Then she put him to bed, which I was glad of, for I would not know what to do.

  When he had settled I dismissed the nurse and entered the night nursery. Tommy lay in a little white bed, a candle beside him. He looked very small and so like his sister, who died in that very bed. I remembered how I had come to help Bella to have a good death and how Nina had spurned me. I took Tommy home to Newington Green and tried to give him spiritual strength, although he was very wicked and ungrateful.

  Now I am no longer a visiting poor relation but mistress of the house. I stared down at his angry little face, screwed up against me like a gargoyle on the white pillow, and tried to think of him as your son rather than as Nina’s child.

  ‘Mama used to read me stories at bedtime. Before her beastly illness,’ he whispered,

  ‘Then I shall read you a story,’

  His voice brightened. ‘Can I have Mutiny of the Bounty?’

  ‘I think you have had quite enough sensation for one day.’ I took the candle and searched his bookshelf for the books I had given him at Christmas from the Hofland Library for the Instruction and Amusement of Youth.

  ‘Here we are! Alicia and Her Aunt or Think Before You Speak. Is not that an appropriate title?’

  ‘What’s proprit?’

  ‘Suitable. Tomorrow we shall begin your education and prepare you for school where you will learn to be a little man.’

  ‘I’d rather be a little girl like Bella. Mama and Papa loved her more than they loved me.’

  ‘That is a very selfish and unwholesome thing to say.’

  ‘I don’t know why they did. She was spiteful.’

  ‘Bella was a good little girl, and now she is better than she has ever been, for she is in Heaven. She is an angel. Soon your mother will be an angel, too. You must please Bella and your mama for they will be watching you always.’

  ‘Where are they? I don’t want them watching me. Tell them to go away.’ The petulant tears came again. ‘I don’t want angels. I want someone to play with me. I don’t want to go to school and be a little man. I want to stay here.’

  ‘Now, shall I read to you or not?’ I had to shout to make myself heard above the wild tempest of his weeping.

  ‘No! Go away! I want Emmie! I hate you!’

  ‘Dear Tommy, we must try to love each other.’ Silence. If I had gone to Africa as a missionary I could not have found a more savage heart. But I determined to tame him. When his effeminate wailing had subsided I looked down and tried to feel affection for him. Gently I said, ‘You must always remember, Tommy, that you are very fortunate to be alive. How easily might Jesus have chosen you instead of Bella to be his little companion.’

  A sulky silence, punctuated by sobs. The beautiful words of Letitia E. Landon came into my mind. I spoke them aloud, hoping to inspire him with the finer feelings he so woefully lacks.

  ‘His shroud was damp, his face was white,

  He said, I cannot sleep,

  Your tears have made my shroud so wet,

  Oh, mother, do not weep!’

  I could hear him breathing beside me long quivering gasps. For a moment I thought Miss Landon’s exquisite sentiments had conquered his pride. ‘You’re not my mother anyway,’ he said at last in a sullen voice.

  ‘Dear Tommy, you will not see your mother again. You must think of me as your mother now, and I will do my best to do my duty by you.’

  At this he unleashed such a hurricane of weeping and screaming that even my patience was exhausted, and I fled. I passed Emmie on the stairs. She rushed into the night nursery and went to Tommy. I heard the two of them whispering and giggling like lovebirds. I do not think it good for the child to be so intimate with a servant.

  I stood alone on the dark stairs, conscious that your mansion is now to be my home. I can let go of my rooms in Newington Green and preserve a tiny financial independence. I shall offer you my modest income, for you have told me of your financial worries. I wish only to be your help-meet, as Nina never was.

  I sat alone in the drawing-room, waiting for your return. How strange to sit in your green velvet chair, where I have sat opposite you and watched you as a visitor a thousand times, my eyes unable to leave your handsome face. I do not think you noticed, for your eyes were always fixed upon Nina.

  I longed to hear your deep musical voice confide in me the horrors my sister has made you suffer. Each carriage that passed in the street below made my pulse beat faster for thinking that you might be inside.

  Hours passed, and you did not come. I fell to thinking of ways in which I may be of use
. The demons in my sister’s heart had made it impossible to hold family prayers that day, but I resolved that our little parish should not be disrupted again. I appointed myself the guardian of both your spiritual and domestic welfare. You shall not go without your comforts while I am under your roof.

  Remembering that the dreadful scenes caused by my sister’s intransigence had deprived you of both tea and dinner, I determined that you should return to a hearty meal. Bread and cheese will suffice for me, but you need regular well-cooked meals. I went down to the kitchen to give orders to Cook and found she had gone to bed, although it was barely ten o’clock. The kitchen was in disorder, and I noticed that a large bowl of dripping had been neatly wrapped. I daresay Cook sells it on. Pots and pans were stacked in the pantry all unwashed, and I almost slipped in the thick grease on the floor. A paradise for mice, and indeed I heard an ominous squeaking as I entered. I am well versed in domestic knowledge, the true science of a lady, and was outraged by the slovenly state of your kitchen.

  So I marched up to the attics and roused the servants. Lucy and Rachel are not bad girls, but they are lazy and need to be constantly supervised. When I pulled them out of bed they rubbed their eyes and stared at me in bewilderment. They were both wearing my old nightgowns, for I always pass on my old clothes to my servant girls. As for Cook, I observed a strong smell of cooking sherry in her attic when I forced my way in. I have noticed the slatternly creature snoring during our family prayers, and at luncheon the gooseberry tart was burnt.

  ‘How dare you go to bed before your master has eaten?’

  ‘But I always goes to bed at half past nine, ma’am. I’m up again at five and must have my rest.’

  She glared back at me with brazen insolence, and my temper rose.

  ‘Your rest? Dr Sanderson is a hard-working professional gentleman. There is little enough rest or comfort in his life. You are paid to provide him with regular, sustaining meals -’

  ‘But I’m not paid, ma’am.’

  I looked at Lucy and Rachel in surprise.

  ‘It is true, Miss Henrietta. We’ve none of us been paid since Christmas,’ Lucy said, and I know she is a truthful girl.

  ‘I will speak to my brother-in-law,’ I said. ‘But you must put on your apron now and come down to the kitchen. The principle -’

  Cook had been tying on her apron with a very bad grace, but she suddenly turned on me, took it off again and flung it at me with a vile obscenity. Were it not for my philanthropic work I would not have known that such words existed.

  ‘So I’m to eat — principles now, am I? You — old maids are all the same. Mrs S. had a few screws loose, but at least she had a sweet smile. As for you! Never had a good —, so you take it out on the servants. I’m not even a servant, might as well be a — slave in this house. Well, I’ve had enough. I’m off to my sister in Bethnal Green, and — you for a sour-faced old spinster, not that any man would want to. Now get out of my room while I pack.’

  I was so shocked that I could not speak. Lucy and Rachel, who know how sensitive I am behind my brave façade, helped me out into the dark corridor. My candle had gone out, extinguished by the torrent of abuse, but I lit it again and saw that Lucy and Rachel were shaking, dumbfounded by the harridan. When the two girls had stopped quivering and were able to speak again, I asked them in a whisper if my sister had really been unaware of the chaos in her household.

  ‘Missis never knew nothing about anything,’ Lucy said.

  We were almost knocked off our feet when Cook burst out of her room with her bags. It occurred to me that I ought to search them for stolen goods, but I was glad to see the back of the dreadful creature.

  How unfortunate that it was just at that moment that you and James at last returned. Cook descended towards you, muttering and cursing, and the two girls and I trailed behind her. Tommy had woken up and could be heard caterwauling in the night nursery with Emmie’s voice trying to calm him down.

  The seamy side of domesticity should not bother men, for they are the Lords of Creation. This was not the sanctuary I wanted to create for you. Your face, illumined by the lantern James carried in, was pale and tight with a misery I longed to share. The cook pushed rudely past you and disappeared from our lives. I ran down the remaining flight of stairs and felt a powerful urge to embrace you.

  But I could not. It was as if a wall like the one that separated Pyramus and Thisbe stood between us, invisible but very solid. You took a step back and said abruptly, ‘I will talk to you tomorrow, Henrietta’, before rushing up to your study and locking the door.

  I told Rachel and Lucy to go back to bed and promised them that they would be paid in the morning. Naturally I did not mention that their wages would come out of my own savings. Then I went down to the kitchen and prepared a meagre tray with some bread and cheese, cold gooseberry pie and a glass of wine. I knocked on the door of your study, but you did not reply, so I called out that I was leaving refreshments for you and went at last to bed.

  It was after midnight, and I was very tired. As I undressed I compared the day that had just passed with my empty days at Newington Green. Enough events in a few hours to fill a year of my previous existence. And I found that I was happy as I have never been before, happy to be living beneath your roof, to be a part of your life at last, to help and serve you in humble little ways.

  When I kneeled to say my prayers, words of gratitude sprang straight from my heart to GOD. There was no wall between myself and Him. He saw that I was doing His work. I prayed for all of us, for Tommy to learn self-discipline and prudence and for my sister’s wickedness to be forgiven. Nina is not fully responsible for her actions. I think she is incapable of accepting Bella’s death in the proper spirit of submission to GOD. But she must learn to submit. I gave thanks that He has forgiven me for my evil speculation in railway shares. I understand now that their failure was divine punishment.

  MONDAY

  This has become my household. I get up at five each morning to supervise the servants and follow them from room to room, making sure that they clean properly and ambush all the spiders. Then I go down to the kitchen to plan meals around leftovers and give out stores from the locked storeroom. My sister’s management was appallingly wasteful. She hardly kept accounts at all and seems to have delighted in buying coal and food out of season. The first law of good housekeeping is ‘never throw anything away’, and I observe this rigorously. Lucy tells me that Nina gave perfectly good sheets to the poor instead of turning them into dustsheets or bandages. She also threw away wastepaper, which I always make good use of in the WC or twist and use as spills to light the fires. I am keeping meticulous accounts, and one day you shall see how much money I have already saved you.

  When I first arrived, a month ago, these rooms were untidy and littery, meals took place at any hour and in any fashion and all was noise, confusion and irregularity. Order is Heaven’s first love, and I have imposed the most beautiful order on your house. I do not expect gratitude; I am content to take my assiette. It is not as full as Nina’s once was. I have chosen my text for my sermon for this evening’s family prayers:

  But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? Bid her therefore that she help me … Mary had chosen the good part, which shall not be taken away from her.

  I wonder if you will realize that I am talking about myself and Nina: who did choose the good part and who took it away from herself and has now lost it for ever. I fear it is unlikely that you will be moved by my sermon. You usually come late, if at all, and I am not deaf to your snoring. You should, of course, be shepherd of our little household flock, but you have delegated your spiritual responsibility to me. As you said last night when I handed you the family Bible in the hope that you would find some beautiful thoughts to share with us, ‘That’s really your territory, old thing.’

  I hope you appreciate the improvements I have already made. The new cook, Mary,
comes from the Society for the Encouragement of Faithful Servants in Hatton Garden, so we may be sure that she is of excellent character. I have spoken to her about the importance of using more seasoning, although I thought your remark about the vegetable soup tasting like ditchwater was gratuitously rude. Her food is plain and wholesome, and so is she. I have now paid all the servants until November, and you have assured me that your finances will be in order by then. I know that you and Dr Porter are working together now, and I am sure that you are making our world a better place. I am touched by your humility, for when I ask about your work with Dr Porter you lower your gaze, and I want to say, ‘Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works.’ There is so much I want to say to you, but there is a new shyness between us. Do you feel it, too? Oh, Charles, I wonder if you will ever read these words.

  How sweet it is to spend my days putting your house in order. I have taught Lucy to sew and get up fine linen. We can dispense with Madame B—, whose extortionate dressmaking bills I found stuffed in Nina’s wardrobe. We can also save money on the servants’ food, for anything will do for them.

  Nina gave them far too much time off. I met Lucy on the stairs yesterday, dressed above her place in a blue silk gown and a twelve-shilling parasol. When I asked where she had got hold of such an elegant dress (thinking she had been pilfering Nina’s clothes) she told me she had bought it herself, and it was the Queen’s Choice in Swan and Edgar! Then she told me she always had Wednesday afternoon off, but I assured her that under my regime she would only be allowed one day out every month.

  I shall have to watch that girl. Her waist is expanding at a scandalous rate, and Rachel says she found Lucy’s sweetheart, a very burglarious looking fellow, hiding in the coal cellar. I shall try to keep her on until Tommy goes to school, for he is fond of her, knowing no better. But I can see the day approaching when I shall have to dismiss her without a character and with a baby.