Her Mother's Daughter

by Evie Grace

  ‘It seems a rather unpleasant occupation,’ she offered.

  ‘Ah, but my family have done well out of it, thanks to old Boney picking a fight. There were thousands of troops stationed here and they all needed boots. Even now the war’s over, we make more than enough profit to support our family and allow my grandfather to engage in good works.’ A small boy in a torn shirt and trousers who was darting around the cart with the hides caught his eye. ‘Ah, there’s Bert.’

  At the mention of his name, the boy paused from where he was cutting off snippets of meat left on the hides with a knife, and dropping them into a metal bucket. Oliver led Agnes back across the yard to where Nanny was waiting, and Agnes reluctantly relinquished his arm.

  ‘Over here, lad,’ Oliver called.

  The boy dropped his knife in the bucket and sauntered over.

  ‘Good afternoon, Master Cheevers.’ He grinned.

  ‘This is Miss Berry-Clay,’ Oliver said. ‘She is my Aunt Marjorie’s charge.’

  ‘Good afternoon.’ The boy removed his cap to reveal a shock of grubby blond hair and a pair of hazel eyes. His clothes, his face and hands were filthy, smeared with blood and grime. His jacket was stiff with dirt, and looked as if it would stand up on its own if he took it off. His boots were patched and the sole tied on with an extra knotted lace.

  Agnes shifted from one foot to the other as he stared at her.

  ‘Why, miss, you look very fine,’ he mumbled.

  What should she do? In polite society, one was supposed to pay a compliment in return, but she couldn’t think of one. And besides, she was here as a punishment for lying, and Oliver was hovering at her side as though expecting her to speak. Flustered, she said the first thing that came into her head, which happened to be the truth.

  ‘While you are disgusting and dirty.’ The words spilled from her mouth. ‘You could have at least had a wash.’

  ‘That is a cruel thing to say,’ Oliver said gruffly.

  ‘But you are very fine,’ the boy repeated.

  ‘She looks that way,’ Oliver said, ‘but her temper leaves a lot to be desired.’

  She burned with fury at herself for being so insensitive and at Oliver for his censure, even though it was perfectly justified. She turned to Nanny for moral support, but she was frowning.

  ‘I’m sorry. This young lady had the benefit of a good education, but has as yet learned nothing of the world beyond the schoolroom and the marshes. It is regrettable – because she was a sweet child in the beginning – that her temperament has been moulded by her class. I have tried to instil a softness and generosity of spirit within her, but she has disappointed me today.’

  Agnes’s heart plunged at the thought that she had let her governess down. She was deeply hurt to discover Nanny’s true feelings.

  ‘I fear that it is impossible to break this sense of superiority that she has. Her father sent her here to meet you in the hope that it would set her on the path of making charitable endeavours, but I think that her attitude is too entrenched. She has been spoiled with rich food, fine clothes and gifts. He panders to her every whim.’

  ‘It is a pity when you have told us that he is a renowned philanthropist himself,’ Oliver said.

  ‘He can afford to be,’ Nanny said with a hint of bitterness.

  Agnes had hurt the boy’s feelings, but her upbringing prevented her from apologising. Part of her felt that she should, but her sense of superiority overruled it. Why should she apologise to such an inhuman creature? Mama wouldn’t. She wanted to make it up to Nanny, though, who seemed embarrassed. And for some reason she was unsure about, she wanted to make it up to Oliver, to show him that she had more than half a heart.

  ‘Young Bert here works all day from when he’s woken by the knocker upper until six or whenever it gets dark in the winter. He has no spare clothes. Tell the ladies what you do with the meat that you take from the hides,’ Oliver said.

  ‘I sell it for wittles.’

  ‘Nothing is wasted. These people can’t afford to throw anything away, no matter how small and insignificant. Tell the young lady where you live.’

  The boy flushed hot and angry.

  ‘I shan’t. I shan’t say where or how we live,’ he said rudely. ‘I ’ave my pride. That’s what Ma says – even when we have nothing left, we will always ’ave our pride and nobody can take that away from us. Can I go now, sir? She needs me back to help her deliver the laundry.’

  ‘Of course,’ Oliver said, and the boy picked up his bucket and knife and walked away as fast as his legs could carry him.

  ‘My purse,’ Agnes said quickly, turning to Nanny. ‘I have a purse of coins from my father.’

  As her governess handed her the silver reticule, it slipped from her fingers and fell with a splat in the muck by her feet. Oliver bent down, picked it up and gave it back to her. Agnes grimaced as she opened the clasp, her beautiful white gloves becoming smeared with a greenish-brown liquor. She wanted to cry. She did cry. A tear rolled down her cheek and she couldn’t dash it away because she would have dirtied her face. Keeping her eyes down, she tipped the coins into Oliver’s outstretched palm.

  ‘I thank you on Bert’s behalf,’ Oliver said. ‘I’ll use the money to buy him a new pair of boots and supply his mother with a parcel of food. It isn’t wise for a small boy to carry coins on his person – there are muggers and pickpockets about.’

  Agnes felt upset, embarrassed and naive all in good measure. Oliver was a man of the world. She was a rich young lady, insulated from ordinary life by her privileged upbringing. She wished she hadn’t offended Bert. So much for not having any feelings, she thought. She felt the boy’s distress at being singled out all too much.

  Oliver walked Agnes and Nanny back to Willow Place, where he excused himself and returned to his business at the tannery. When the carriage arrived to take them back to Windmarsh, Samuel and Temperance bade them farewell and wished them a safe journey.

  ‘What did you think of our day in Canterbury?’ Nanny said as they travelled at breakneck speed, the horses impatient to get home.

  ‘Your uncle and cousins were most hospitable, but I didn’t like the tannery.’ She had folded her gloves in half and dropped them accidentally on purpose into the gutter as they had climbed into the carriage. She didn’t want them now that they were soiled. ‘When I see how Henry will grow up surrounded with everything he needs and more, I can’t help thinking how unfair it is on someone like Bert.’

  ‘The world isn’t fair,’ Nanny said. ‘We are all born to our respective places in society and we have to learn to live with it. Men like your father and my uncle are committed to helping the poor. They do what they can, but it’s a drop in the ocean.’

  ‘Don’t you think that it’s demeaning for those who receive such charity?’ Agnes asked. ‘Shouldn’t donations be given anonymously?’

  ‘I think people should be given the chance to express their gratitude to their benefactors,’ Nanny said. ‘Where are all these questions coming from?’

  ‘I have one more.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘Do you really think I’m spoiled?’

  ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have expressed my opinion in such strong language in front of my uncle.’

  ‘So it’s true? You spoke your mind.’

  ‘Don’t let it trouble you.’

  ‘But it does trouble me. How can I improve myself?’

  Nanny considered for a moment.

  ‘I think you have learned a valuable lesson today – that all people from high to low have feelings.’ She shut her eyes. ‘I think I have eaten too much brawn.’ Agnes knew what she meant. The conversation was closed.

  Back at Windmarsh, she bathed and changed her dress before meeting with her parents in the drawing room. Mrs Pargeter was present as well, walking up and down with Henry in her arms. She was rocking him back and forth rather too violently for Agnes’s liking.

  ‘Oh, Papa, I should have liked to have helped all the
poor people of Canterbury. I wish I could invite the boy to Windmarsh Court so he can taste hot chocolate and wash with rose-scented soap.’

  ‘It would not be a good idea to introduce the poor to our kind of life,’ Mama said. ‘It would encourage envy and discontent.’

  ‘I think it’s quite the opposite,’ Papa said. ‘It would give them something to aspire to. It would ignite the flame of ambition in those poor souls’ breasts, making them work harder to raise themselves from poverty.’

  ‘So may Bert pay us a visit?’ Agnes said.

  Her father seemed to reconsider. ‘I don’t think so. It wouldn’t be fair on the others in his situation – his mother, for example.’

  ‘They can all come,’ she said. ‘We have plenty of room.’

  ‘I’m sorry, we must think of Mama’s nerves.’

  Agnes couldn’t help thinking that Papa was deferring far too much to her mother’s state of health. Surely that poor boy’s future was more precarious.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what else I can do, and I’ve decided that I should like to give up the globe and my jewellery to the poor.’

  ‘You must leave it to men like me and Mr Cheevers, and the politicians. The way forward is to give these people help to enable them to work and support themselves and their families. If you provide them with everything they need, they will become lazy and dependent on donations,’ Papa said. ‘Now, let me speak with Mrs Pargeter. How has my son been today? Has he smiled? And fed? Is he growing?’

  Agnes sat back in silence. Windmarsh Court felt oddly cold and empty compared with Willow Place. She thought of Oliver and his grandfather and for the first time in her life she felt a little disappointed in Papa – the Cheeverses weren’t the kind of men who would feel the need to rent a pineapple to impress their acquaintances.

  1857

  Chapter Five

  While the Cat’s Away, the Mice Will Play

  Agnes stood at the schoolroom window, watching a flock of seabirds rise, wheel away and settle again on the marsh. It was late October, a few weeks away from her nineteenth birthday, and she couldn’t help wondering if the occasion would cause a stir of any kind at Windmarsh Court. She doubted it. Very little had recently disturbed the tranquillity of the house. The monsieur had been dismissed and Mrs Nidget re-employed on a higher salary soon after she and Nanny had returned from Canterbury the first time. Mrs Pargeter had left when Henry was two, and Nanny had taken over his care, meaning that Agnes had had fewer lessons and more time to pursue her own activities.

  She wrote poetry, painted pictures, and read books. Sometimes she thought she would die of boredom.

  Henry clambered up and knelt on the window seat. She reached out to stroke his soft copper curls. He was four years old.

  ‘Agnes, that tickles,’ he chuckled.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She smiled.

  Her cousins came to disturb the peace of Windmarsh every few months. She looked forward to talking to Philip. He brought a welcome breath of fresh air with his conversation about school and the boys with whom he associated.

  Agnes accompanied Nanny to Willow Place twice more before Papa, perhaps alarmed by her reformed character and evangelical desire to help the poor, forbade any further expeditions to Canterbury. Her experiences there had changed her. They had made her appreciate what she had.

  After that, Nanny brought news of the Cheeverses two or three times a year. She said that Mr Cheevers, Oliver and Temperance always asked after her and recalled her fondly. It was polite of them to say so, Agnes thought, when she had been unkind to the boy on the first occasion of meeting them. She had tried to make up for her behaviour, but she still felt that she hadn’t done enough to deserve their high regard.

  ‘Look,’ Henry exclaimed, bringing her back to the present.

  ‘What is it? What can you see?’ she said.

  ‘A boat.’

  ‘I wonder where it’s going. Come on, the clock has struck nine. It’s time for lessons.’

  ‘I don’t want to learn my letters,’ he grumbled. Even frowning, he managed to look angelic, dressed in his wool knickerbockers, nansook shirt and belted tunic which had brass buttons down the front. One of them had come off when he had put it in his mouth, a habit that Nanny was trying hard to break.

  ‘It’s essential for a gentleman to be able to read and write, if he is to be a success.’ Agnes smiled to herself, wondering when she had begun to sound like her governess. She turned and pulled Henry’s chair up to the desk, scraping the legs across the floorboards.

  ‘Oh, please keep the noise down.’ Nanny winced. ‘I have the most terrible head.’ She was sitting beside the fire, sipping hot water. She had been suffering from a headache since one of the footmen had delivered a letter for her to the nursery the day before. Whatever its contents, they had unsettled her.

  ‘You may go to your room,’ Agnes said. ‘I can look after Henry.’

  ‘That is a kind offer but it would be most improper. I cannot abandon my responsibilities just like that.’

  ‘I am eighteen, more than capable.’

  Nanny thought for a moment. ‘I suppose there would be no harm in it for an hour or two.’

  ‘I shan’t say anything to Mama.’

  ‘I’m not entirely comfortable with that proposal.’

  ‘You aren’t well,’ Agnes argued.

  ‘You are right. I am about to faint with the pain.’ Nanny struggled up from her chair, pressing her hand against her temple. Agnes pitied her for having to spend her life looking after people, without having someone to look after her. ‘Make sure Henry does his lessons and wake me when the clock strikes twelve – I shall leave the door open in case of emergency.’

  ‘Of course.’ Agnes’s heart leapt. She couldn’t wait for Nanny to leave the schoolroom so she could be free to be herself for two joyous hours. She had an idea to occupy her brother. ‘Henry, I need your help.’

  Together, they turned the table upside down.

  ‘Stay there. Don’t move or make a sound. I’ll be back.’ Agnes ran downstairs to the linen cupboard, opened the door and pulled out a bedsheet. It was neatly folded and ironed, but bore the faint scent of damp. She picked up a newspaper from the hall table and returned to the schoolroom, where she set up a sail, tying the sheet between two of the table legs.

  ‘Go and fetch the cushions from Nanny’s chair, Henry,’ she said as she began to open up the newspaper and turn it into a hat. He picked up the cushions and dropped them into the upturned table. ‘Who is going to be captain of this ship?’

  ‘Me,’ he said with a giggle.

  Agnes dropped the hat on to his head.

  ‘Thanking you kindly,’ he said with a bow. She laughed.

  ‘We will sail across the water to Italy. You are obliged to help me aboard because I am a lady.’

  He took her hand and helped her on to the cushions before he set sail, looking out for trouble while shading his eyes from the reflection of the sun on the sea. There were adventures: pirates, sharks, a shipwreck and treasure on the way, and they had only just reached the shores of Italy when the clock chimed the agreed hour and she had to go and wake Nanny.

  ‘We must pack up,’ she said.

  ‘No.’ Henry’s face crumpled.

  ‘Don’t be a crybaby,’ she said short-temperedly. She was tired of playing now. She couldn’t understand how Nanny coped with looking after him all day every day. It was exhausting. She gave him a consoling hug before she began to clear the evidence of their adventures, but it was too late.

  Nanny had woken by herself.

  ‘What has been going on here?’ she said severely. ‘It appears to me that you have disobeyed my orders and been playing games.’

  ‘Henry has been learning at the same time,’ Agnes said. ‘We have been studying geography.’

  ‘Is that a bedsheet?’ Miss Treen said.

  ‘It came from the linen cupboard. I’ll put it straight back.’

  ‘No, don’t. It will b
e covered with dust.’ Her eyes focused on Henry’s hat. ‘Is that your father’s newspaper?’ Nanny pulled it off his head and started to unfold it so she could read the date. ‘This is today’s. He won’t have read it yet. Oh dear … He will have our guts for garters when he finds out.’

  ‘I’ll put it back together again,’ Agnes said.

  ‘You can try – I’m not sure that you will have any success.’ Nanny sighed. ‘I suppose this is what happens when the cat’s away.’

  ‘What is that, Nanny?’ Henry asked.

  ‘The mice will play. Never mind. I’ll thank you for not mentioning this to your parents this evening. Would you oblige me by tidying up here, Agnes, and looking after Henry for a little while longer? I wish to have a private conversation with the mistress.’

  Agnes felt her forehead tighten.

  ‘It’s all right. It’s nothing serious, just an idea that I’ve had.’ Nanny bustled away, returning about ten minutes later.

  ‘Were you well received?’ Agnes dared to ask.

  Nanny nodded carefully. ‘I think so. Mama requests the pleasure of your company – both of you – in the drawing room at six o’clock as usual. She has something to tell you.’

  ‘What can that be?’

  ‘Patience, Agnes.’

  If Papa noticed the extra creases in his newspaper later that day, he didn’t say so.

  Henry sat beside Mama on the chaise. Agnes perched on the chair opposite Papa’s. Nanny had retired to her room.

  ‘She will be nineteen in December. It won’t be long before we have to turn our thoughts to her marriage,’ Mama said. ‘Miss Treen is right. How is she to make a good match if she never meets any eligible young men? Or old ones for that matter?’

  Marriage? Agnes sat up straight.

  ‘Sometimes I wonder if we have sheltered her a little too well,’ Mama went on. ‘She has had little opportunity to put her accomplishments to the test. What do you think of holding a party here at Windmarsh to celebrate her birthday?’

  ‘I think that is a wonderful idea,’ Papa said. ‘What do you think, Agnes?’