by Betty Annand
Mr Grimsby arrived one morning with the primroses in the back of a little cart pulled by an old horse that reminded Gladys of the one the fellow called Sandy owned when he took her to pick up Ellie and Pinky. And judging by the kind tone of Mr Grimsby’s voice when he talked to the old mare, he was just as fond of her.
When Mr Grimsby saw the sorry state of Gladys’s front garden, he shook his head and remarked, “Thee shall need more than a few primroses to make a show of this plot. Has thee any tools for digging?” Gladys had no idea, but when they went around to the back of the house, they found some in a little shed beside the outhouse, that, according to Mr Grimsby, would do the job.
“Now, miss, er, I mean, missus, I—” Gladys interrupted him by requesting that he call her Gladys. “Very well, Gladys it shall be then,” he replied smiling. “Now if thee will fetch a pail of water, we shall dig a little bed for these primroses and give them a drink before they die of thirst.”
After the primroses were planted, Mr Grimsby dug around amongst the weeds finding plants that had been neglected for years. “Now if thee rids thyself of these nasty intruders and put some manure on the good plants, thee will be surprised at how quickly they will grow and bloom with gratitude. Look here, see these shoots,” he said as he pulled back the weeds. “These are irises, and here are some gladioli. Oh ho, and what have we here? Glory be! ’Tis a delphinium and the poor thing is even showing a few blooms in spite of being squashed by those blighters.” He shook his head and added, “Tis a sad thing when such a pretty plant is being choked to death, is it not?” Gladys wondered if he expected her to cry when she agreed. She was dumbfounded to hear someone talk about plants as though they were human beings.
Before Mr Grimsby left, he did his best to show her the difference between weeds and flowering plants. He also gave her some explicit instructions, “Now thee must be sure to get the roots when thee pulls out a weed. Some shall have to be dug out, but others thee may be able to take out by using the same method the birds use when they pull worms out of the ground. Use gentle, little tugs like this,” he said, giving her a demonstration.
Gladys really enjoyed gardening, and once she had room for more plants, Mr Grimsby kept her supplied. Then when she visited him, he showed her the colourful assortment of flowers he grew in the beds that bordered the cemetery. It was such a new and wonderful experience for her that she almost forgave her mother, thinking that if she hadn’t had to murder old Gaylord, she would never have known there was so much beauty in the world.
Gladys also spent time helping and learning to sew with Millie and soon became almost as adept with a needle as her teacher. Millie also encouraged her to read, and she soon realized why, after trying to follow the directions on a dress pattern. But in spite of all her gardening, sewing, and housekeeping, Gladys found she still had time on her hands. For years, she was accustomed to working from sunrise until bedtime, and now she found idleness boring.
__________
After the debacle that happened at Eloise Dundas’s tea, Gladys was surprised when she received more invitations and even more surprised that they included Millie. She had no idea why they wanted to entertain her or Millie, but it only took a few afternoon teas for her to determine it was because their difference was fodder for gossip. No matter how lovely Millie said Gladys looked, she always felt awkward and ugly when she was among aristocrats, and she said as much to Millie one night on their way home from a dinner party.
“I think they’ve never even talked to people like us except to order us around. It’s as though they had no idea we are capable of having feelings, let alone having ideas of our own, or even preferences. Haven’t you noticed the look of surprise on their faces when we say something intelligent? You would think we came from another country.”
“Are you sure you are not letting your imagination run away with you, dear? I know Eloise was sincere when she said she wanted us to come to dinner soon,” Millie replied.
“Eloise, and maybe one or two of the other ladies are different, Millie, but you must admit most of them will never consider us as equals.”
“Nor are we.”
“Of course we are. Maybe we don’t have as much money as they do, but you just wait and see. When Tom leaves the army and inherits his father’s fortune, they will all treat me as though I am one of them. Now, am I right?”
“Yes, I suppose that will be the case.”
“Well, I shall still be the same person then as I am now. How silly is that?”
“That is how it is, Gladys, and we are obliged to live with it.”
“Well, I am not going to any more of their teas. I might have Eloise and a few more of the nicer ladies to my place one afternoon—that is if you help me entertain them.”
Millie readily agreed, but she was sorry when Gladys said she wouldn’t accept any more invitations. Although her background was not as sordid as Gladys’s, she had never been in such luxurious homes before, nor had she partaken of such rich food and beverages. Being waited on by servants while listening to all the latest gossip had been a lovely change from the dull routine of her daily life. She was thinking of this when she realized that Gladys was still venting and had to apologize for not paying attention.
“I was just saying, Millie, how odd it is that I wanted to be one of them ever since I came to town, and now I can’t imagine why. I don’t envy their fancy homes or their money. As far as I can see, they are no freer than their servants. They have to abide by as many rules and dare not do anything that’s not considered ladylike. My heavens, I would love to have a good, loud belch in their company just to see the look on their faces.” She started laughing and added, “Just imagine what they would do if one were to pass a little wind while having tea. I bet it would shock the pantaloons off them.”
Millie didn’t laugh. Instead she said, “If you start talking like that, you will never have to worry about ever becoming a lady.”
Gladys knew how hard Millie had worked to help her improve her manners and felt ashamed. “I am sorry, Millie. I really do appreciate all you have taught me, and I suppose I want to be respected.” Then she grinned and added, “Especially if it means I can learn to ride and have a horse of my own.”
Gladys often thought about riding and the next time Tom came home, she mentioned it to him. He said he would be happy to teach her, but insisted she have Millie make her a riding habit. The outfit Millie made, with Gladys’s help, was cut from a rich rust-coloured brown material. The skirt was fashioned in an A-line style but was about three inches shorter than usual and had plenty of fullness at the bottom to allow her freedom of movement.
The sleeves, collar, and cuffs of the jacket were made of the same material as the skirt, but the rest of the jacket was made of emerald green velvet and cut to enhance the shape of Gladys’s small waist and generous bosom. Tom also insisted she wear a hat, so although she would have preferred to ride bare headed, she took some of the leftover material from her habit to a milliner who made her a smart looking chapeau decorated with green ribbon and three pheasant feathers. It fit neatly to one side of her head and was held firmly there with a shiny gold hat pin. Tom was more than pleased with the results.
Learning to sit side-saddle on a horse was nothing like sitting in the sway of Old Knicker’s back, but Gladys soon adapted to it. Of course, Tom had no idea she had been around horses before and was not only amazed by how quickly she learned to ride, but how adept she was at handling Tig, the horse he had chosen for her. After a time, both he and the blacksmith, who boarded the Pickwick horses, began referring to Tig as Gladys’s gelding. Although her side-saddle was of the latest design, with a second lower pommel allowing her to ride at a gallop, Gladys couldn’t keep up with Tom and Keith if they chose to race, and this continued to irk her.
One day Keith was already mounted and waiting for them at the stable when she and Tom arrived. In their rush to saddle up, Tom
wasn’t paying any attention to the saddle boy who was supposed to be looking after Gladys’s horse. He was outside and mounted when Gladys came out seated on a man’s saddle. Under her skirt that she left in the barn, she had worn a pair of men’s britches she had found in a second-hand store. She was hatless and her hair was tied back with a bright red scarf. Keith was the first to see her. “I say!” he exclaimed in a complimentary tone of voice.
Tom’s reaction wasn’t so generous, “What on earth do you think you are doing?” he demanded.
“I am going to beat you both to the fork!” she yelled as she gave Tig a slap across his rump and left them behind with their mouths hanging open. If she had beaten them, Tom would surely have been far angrier, but when the two men came to the fork and reined to a stop, Keith said, “My God, did you see her when we went past? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“No, and you shan’t again.”
“Come on, Old Sport, you have to admit, she looked smashing in those britches, and she was handling her horse almost as well as a man. Look, here she comes now. We only beat her by a couple of minutes.” Gladys reined in, then dismounted and gave her horse a kiss on his nose.
“Good boy, Tig! We shall beat them next time.”
“Well, you will have to do it on foot then,” Tom retorted.
“Oh, ho, someone’s being a poor sport,” Gladys replied.
“Get on your horse now! You’re going straight back to the stables. If we are lucky, no one will see you.”
It wasn’t Tom’s angry words that upset Gladys, it was the look of disdain that went with them—it made her feel ugly and stupid. This was a side of Tom’s character that she had never seen before. One of the reasons she fell in love with him was because she thought he was impetuous, fearless, and most importantly, rebellious. As she mounted and began riding back to the stable, she wondered if she really knew her husband.
Keith did all he could do not to interfere, and waited until she was out of earshot to voice his disapproval.
“I know it’s none of my business, but you were quite hard on her, you know.”
“You are right; it is none of your business. However, seeing as you insist on butting in, what in the devil did you expect me to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Precisely. Can you imagine what the gossips would have to say if they saw her dressed like that—straddling her horse like a man? My God! She’s no longer a barmaid, Keith; she’s my bloody wife now.”
Keith couldn’t help but laugh, “But, by heavens, Tom, no man ever looked that good in a pair of tight britches.” Then, after receiving a warning glower, he added, “You know, she’s not the first lady to ride that way. Catherine the Great did and even wore a man’s uniform when she rode. And then there was Marie Antoinette. I bet no one criticized her.”
“They not only criticized her,” Tom snapped back, “they cut off her head.”
By the time they arrived at the stable, Tom’s anger had faded, and he even offered to look after Gladys’s horse while she donned her hat and pulled her skirt over her britches. After they arrived home, Gladys, almost in tears, was in a hurry to change her clothes, but Tom caught her hand and pulled her to him. He ran his other hand up under her skirt and over one of her thighs, “There’s no need to change yet,” he whispered in her ear.
Gladys broke from his embrace, “I don’t understand,” she said, “I thought you were disgusted with me?”
“Disgusted? Never! I was just worried that someone would see you and start gossiping. Actually, you look rather wicked—so wicked that I wouldn’t complain if you decided to spend the rest of the evening in britches.”
Gladys smiled, relieved. This was more like the Tom she loved. She posed provocatively with one hand on a hip, her head tilted, and in a husky voice, said, “Well, now, why don’t you follow me upstairs, and then we shall see how long you want me to keep my britches on.” Later, when they were having dinner, Gladys voiced her opinion.
“It’s just so unfair, Tom. You men can wear britches and ride the way a person should ride, but because we are women, we have to wear stupid dresses and sit sideways on a horse. If men were forced to ride that way, the rules would be changed in a day. You know, I think I’ll have Millie design a dress for me—one that’s split up the middle. What do you think?”
“How about doing what Lady Godiva did instead?”
“What did she do?”
“Well, my love, Lady Godiva is supposed to have ridden her horse through the city of Coventry, naked.”
“Why?”
“Well it all took place long ago, during the reign of King Edward the first in the County of Coventry. Godiva, a passionate lady and a devout Christian, thought that her husband, Leofric, was burdening the people with too many taxes so she pleaded with him to remove them. Evidently, Leofric, who was somewhat a prankster, became so tired of Godiva’s nagging that he devised a plan that he was sure would put an end to her pleas. Certain she would refuse, he said that if Godiva were to ride through the town naked, he would do away with taxes on everything except horses. To his surprise, she called his bluff and did it.”
“Did Leofric remove the taxes?”
“As a man of honour he had no choice. Of course, there are other versions. Perhaps because she was a devout Christian, some stories have her nakedness hidden by her long hair, and some stories say that before she rode, the townspeople agreed to stay in their homes with their curtains pulled while she rode through the town. One story even has it that there was one chap who couldn’t resist a peek and was instantly struck blind. His name was Tom, hence, the expression ‘Peeping Tom.’”
“I think I would have liked Lady Godiva! Did she ride side-saddle?”
“No, and according to most history books, she even rode the horse bareback.”
Gladys thought for a minute then said, “Mm, I can just imagine how delightful that would feel—riding naked with nothing between me and the horse’s back.” She closed her eyes and smiled.
“I am just beginning to realize what a wicked, wicked woman you are,” Tom said before he kissed her.
Chapter Sixteen
Gladys knew she was pregnant two months after the wedding, but didn’t tell Tom until a month later, thinking he might be overly protective and exclude her from their outdoor activities. When she finally told him, they had just visited Willard Sawyer, a good friend of Tom’s. Willard was starting the world’s first Velocipede Works in Dover, and when they arrived, he was busy working on one of his inventions: a new and unique model of a velocipede. Other inventors had tried to make similar machines with poor results, but Willard had been working on his for over two years and was confident he would succeed. Tom had suffered more than a few scrapes and bruises, volunteering to take the invention out for trial runs. He admired Willard greatly and wanted Gladys to meet him.
When they were introduced, Willard merely gave Gladys a quick nod and began talking excitedly about the new changes he had made to his invention. As a gentleman, he did his best to direct his words to both his guests, but they were wasted on Gladys, who had no idea what he meant when he talked about switching something called a crank axle to the front wheels and using a rope and pulley system to the rear ones. Tom, on the other hand, was as enthused over the changes as Willard and couldn’t wait to try it out again.
Willard held the machine steady while Tom climbed up on the seat and put his feet on the pedals. When he got it going, Willard ran down the road with him, holding on to the bike and shouting, “Pedal like hell, Tommie, pedal!” until Tom was going fast enough to balance himself. Gladys was afraid he would topple over and break some bones, but he didn’t fall and even managed to turn it around and pedal back to where Willard was waiting to stop him.
“I say, that’s much better, Willard. By Jove, I think you’ve done it!” Tom said as he slapped the man on the back.
>
“Yes, I thought that might be the answer, but there’s a lot more alterations to make, and I have to work out a way for the rider to stop. Can’t have someone waiting to grab hold of the machine every time they need to get off. I’ve heard Prince Albert is planning to have his Great Exhibition in six years, and I intend to have a variety of my velocipedes in it. I wager they shall be the first successful velocipedes in the world,” he said with pride in his voice. He looked at Gladys and added, “Perhaps you, ah, it’s Gladys, right?” Gladys nodded. “Perhaps you would like to try it?”
“Gladys will try anything that doesn’t have a side saddle,” Tom joked.
“Thank you, Mr Sawyer, but I think I shall decline. Maybe another time though,” she said, surprising Tom.
Later, when they were walking home, Tom, thinking Gladys hadn’t shown enough interest in Willard’s invention, said, “Someday Willard is going to be famous, and his velocipedes will be ridden all over the world, mark my word.”
“Then you can tell your grandchildren all about the bruises you suffered helping him invent it.”
“And you, my girl, will have to admit that you were too timid to ride one. You really surprised me, Gladdy. I never thought there was anything you wouldn’t try.”
Gladys put her hand on her stomach and replied, “Well, I don’t know about the rest of our children, but I’m sure this one will be thankful I refused.” She continued walking, leaving Tom standing with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.
“Hold on there!” he called, running to catch up. “What do you mean ‘this one?’” Gladys just smiled and continued walking, so he grabbed hold of her arm and spun her around. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve been sure for two months now,” she answered.
“Two months! Why on earth didn’t you tell me?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Who else knows? Have you told everyone but me? If you have known for all that time, why didn’t you tell me? My God, Gladys, why would you do something like that?” Suddenly Gladys realized how silly and irresponsible she had been. Instead of being overjoyed with the news, Tom felt betrayed.
