Her Mother's Daughter

by Evie Grace

  ‘If you insist on following this course of action, at least let me see what I can do to set you up with some means of bringing in an income. The banns haven’t been read yet. That gives us at least three weeks, if not more. They will not try to subvert the church – you know how they like to keep up appearances.’

  ‘Nanny, it is you who is being subversive,’ Agnes exclaimed. ‘This isn’t like you.’

  ‘You will have to work for your living. If you run away, your mother won’t send anyone to bring you back. She won’t tell you that all is forgiven and you don’t have to marry Philip after all. She will disown you, I’m certain of it.’

  ‘I cannot possibly work. I’m not accustomed to it.’

  ‘Then you will starve to death,’ Nanny said sharply.

  ‘What can I do?’ She thought of Miriam laying the fires and emptying the piss pots, and shuddered. ‘I couldn’t be a maid.’

  ‘There aren’t that many opportunities for a woman to make her own way in the world. There’s marriage where one loses one’s autonomy. Or there’s working as a domestic servant, or nannying. Or, being frank, there’s the option of selling one’s body like the poor woman we saw on the wharf.’

  ‘No!’ She was shocked to the core.

  ‘I am sorry if that idea offends your sensibilities, but I am trying to jolt you out of complacency. Running away isn’t necessarily the best answer. If you leave, you will have to stand on your own two feet. No one will help you.’ Her voice softened. ‘It’s what I’ve had to do.’

  ‘You’ve done well enough, haven’t you?’

  ‘I have very little, my dear. I have no children, no husband. I have a little money tucked away, but no establishment that I can call my own. I shall be condemned to work into my old age, unless I can acquire enough savings to retire.’

  There must be something she could do, Agnes thought.

  She was clever and accomplished – Papa had said so. But after all the lessons she had both enjoyed and endured, depending on the subject, she wondered if she was qualified for any job in particular. She could sing and play the piano, but not well enough to make her living from music. She had made a thorough study of geography, but what good was that? She could read and write, and add up. Did that qualify her to apply for a position as a clerk like the ones who worked for the brewery? She wasn’t sure if gentlewomen were accepted for that kind of work.

  She was proficient at needlework, but she remembered the dressmaker’s shop and the girls working in the back room, straining their eyes and sewing non-stop to make dresses as quickly as possible to meet the demands of the wealthy women who had ordered them.

  She suddenly realised the enormity of her decision and its consequences.

  ‘I could be a governess, couldn’t I?’ Agnes said, hope returning to her breast. ‘Do you think I could pass myself off as a nanny?’

  ‘I’m not sure. You are well qualified to teach young ladies, but you are not worldly wise. There are perils.’

  Agnes almost laughed. ‘What threats lie await to catch a governess?’

  ‘Ah, you may mock, but I have been in what I can only describe as situations before. In my first place, I was pursued relentlessly by the father of my charges. It was unpleasant and awkward. I had to repel his advances in a polite manner that would not invoke his wrath. Eventually, he grew bored with my rejections and persuaded the mistress to employ another governess in my place. He didn’t give her the real reason, of course, just that he would prefer someone of a prettier countenance and a more even temperament about the house.’ Nanny smiled wryly, then took Agnes’s hand in her own and continued earnestly, ‘You have been like a loving daughter to me and I would do anything for you. I wish to help you, but you must promise to keep it to yourself.’

  Agnes nodded.

  ‘We need to find some excuse to get you away from Windmarsh, a visit to Canterbury, perhaps. I doubt your mother will be as protective as your dear papa. In the meantime, you must wash your face, brush your hair, put on your dress and come down and act like a young lady who is sweet on her cousin.’

  Agnes thanked her. She wasn’t sure what she was most afraid of – marrying Philip or casting herself adrift from the security of Windmarsh Court.

  Chapter Ten

  Desperate Measures

  ‘You seem in better spirits than when we had luncheon with your uncle,’ Mama commented at dinner the next day. ‘I’m glad to see you have come to your senses. I shall call for Mrs Roache to bring samples of dresses for the wedding. None of yours are suitable. We should put on some kind of a show.’ This was the first time she had seen Mama smiling since Papa’s passing, she thought, but the smile soon vanished from her face as she wondered aloud about who would give Agnes away.

  ‘I will ask your uncle for advice,’ she decided.

  Agnes was concerned that her mother was seeking the opinions of Uncle Rufus in lieu of her father’s.

  ‘I think Henry would look rather sweet dressed in a suit,’ Mama continued.

  ‘Thank you, Mama.’ Agnes supposed that she would have to go through with the pretence for as long as possible. ‘I wonder if I could go to Canterbury for a day – I should like to buy some new gloves for the wedding. Nanny will chaperone me.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Mama sighed. ‘Oh, why not? I don’t see that it can do any harm. A trip out might put some colour in your cheeks – mourning dress does drain the colour from one’s complexion. Arrange it with Nanny. Miriam can look after Henry.’

  She began to pick at a loose thread on her cuff, her wrists slender and delicate. ‘There are things you should know about your wedding night.’

  ‘No … I do not wish to know.’

  ‘It is better to be prepared. The sight of a naked man is quite shocking.’

  ‘Mama, stop!’

  ‘Oh, Agnes, just do as your husband says and all will be well. It is nothing to worry about and is over quickly.’

  Agnes prayed that she would not have to endure it, but it seemed more than likely that the wedding would go ahead.

  She and Nanny spent time together in the schoolroom – Nanny allowed her to plan and teach Henry’s lessons to prepare her for the role of governess. It seemed far-fetched, she thought, but, having reviewed all the possibilities several times, it was the only work she was qualified to do.

  ‘You must be firm with him,’ Nanny chuckled when Henry refused to concentrate on his letters one morning.

  ‘I don’t want to write today.’ Henry folded his arms and swung his legs, kicking against the desk. ‘It’s the dullest thing ever.’

  ‘You have to do it,’ Agnes said, trying to sound stern. ‘A gentleman has to learn his letters, or he will not be able to carry out his business.’

  ‘I don’t want to do business.’ Henry scowled.

  ‘It is your duty.’ She felt a little two-faced talking about duty when she was the one trying to run out on hers. ‘One day, you will run the brewery.’

  ‘I don’t want to. I’m going to be a sailor.’

  ‘Mama wouldn’t like that, and neither would you in reality. All you would have to eat and drink is ships’ biscuits, and rum and lime. There would be no cherry cake.’

  His eyes widened. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really,’ she said calmly, although inside, her heart was racing at the way her brother was testing her authority. If she couldn’t teach, what could she do? There was precious little else left, apart from marry Philip. ‘Now, pick up your pencil and write. The sooner you are finished, the sooner we can go out and watch the boats.’

  ‘Very good,’ Nanny said. ‘Now, while Henry’s completing the task you’ve set him, we must continue with your education, Agnes.’

  She knew what she meant. They were being careful to talk in riddles so that Henry couldn’t report back to Mama.

  She was unconvinced that Nanny’s plan would work when it depended on a series of circumstances that had to be in place within a few weeks, the date of the wedding having been
set for the middle of May. The servants weren’t happy about it. It was too soon to make the preparations, and May was an inauspicious month for a wedding. Miriam quoted the rhyme, ‘Marry in the month of May, and you’ll surely rue the day.’ She said that September would be better. ‘Marry in September’s shrine and you’ll have a living that’s rich and fine.’

  ‘Agnes, are you listening?’ Nanny clicked her fingers.

  ‘No, I’m sorry. I was distracted.’

  Nanny sighed. ‘I’m not surprised. These are tense times. Now, show what you have written.’

  Agnes took a piece of paper from the cupboard and handed it to her. She reread her words over Nanny’s shoulder.

  GOVERNESS – A young lady wishes for a situation as resident governess. She is competent to teach English, French, geography, painting and pianoforte (without master). She can give the most satisfactory references. She has no objection to the country. Address, post paid, at Mr S. Cheevers of Canterbury.

  ‘This is excellent,’ Nanny opined. ‘We will take it to Canterbury with us, place it in the local newspapers and apply to any suitable responses.’

  ‘What about the references, though? I haven’t got any.’

  ‘I’ll copy out my own character and sign it with another name. It’s a daring plan, but desperate times mean desperate measures.’

  ‘What are you two whispering about?’ Henry asked.

  ‘Nothing that concerns you, dear Henry,’ Nanny said cheerfully. ‘How are you getting on with those letters?’

  ‘Very well, Nanny,’ he said with a sigh.

  ‘Of course you are, my little angel,’ she said, bustling over to him. Agnes smiled to herself. Her brother was turning out to be a very spoiled young gentleman who could wrap Nanny and Mama around his little finger. He was growing quite tubby on Cook’s treats, and looked more like Papa every day.

  One morning later that week, Agnes and Nanny embarked on a trip to Canterbury, leaving Henry behind. Mama gave Agnes some sovereigns with which to make her purchases.

  ‘Choose wisely,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll try, Mama,’ Agnes said, feigning obedience. ‘Should I ask for black? We are in mourning, are we not?’

  Mama frowned. She had taken to wearing black wool gloves, considering that kid was too shiny to be suitable.

  ‘You will not marry in black. Your papa wouldn’t have liked that. It would be in poor taste. Oh, I wish that I felt well enough to accompany you, but my nerves … I can’t risk disturbing them further before your wedding day. I’m already overcome with weakness whenever I talk to Mrs Catchpole and Cook about the menu for the wedding breakfast, but it will be worth it – for all of us. I look forward to welcoming Philip to Windmarsh Court as my son-in-law. There is one thing, though.’

  ‘What is that?’ Agnes sighed.

  ‘The house will not be ready – your uncle sent word yesterday. I didn’t want to disturb your peace of mind by mentioning it before, but I have to warn you that you will be obliged to stay at your uncle’s house for the first weeks of your married life. It will be no trial, I think, no trial at all.’

  ‘I was hoping that I would have my own establishment right from the start,’ Agnes said, trying to look upset at the news.

  ‘I know. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you will look forward to it even more.’

  ‘Yes, Mama.’

  ‘Run along then. I expect Nanny is waiting for you. No doubt she will call upon her uncle today.’

  ‘He has written to her to say that he’s unwell,’ Agnes said, preparing the ground to enable them to put their plan into action.

  ‘I hope he is better soon,’ Mama said – generously for her, Agnes thought. ‘Have a lovely day.’

  Agnes travelled with Nanny in the carriage, where they were able to discuss their plans in depth without danger of being overheard.

  ‘I feel I ought to write to Philip to warn him that I’m going to break the engagement,’ she said. What if he’d grown used to the idea of their marriage? She didn’t like the idea that he’d be disappointed.

  ‘I understand why you wish to do so. I can’t stop you, but I’d advise you strongly against it. The more people who know about our plot, the more likely it is that it will be exposed, and a stop put to it.’

  Agnes chewed her lip. Her governess had a point.

  ‘We will order the gloves first,’ Nanny said. ‘Then we will place the advertisement at the newspaper’s office before we go to my uncle’s house. It will give you time to make sure you are certain about this course of action that we’re taking. Be under no illusion. You are casting yourself off.’

  ‘I realise that.’ Agnes watched the cathedral coming into view.

  ‘I don’t think that you can understand it until you’ve been there. You will have to earn your living, manage your money and live within your means. You will be at the beck and call of your pupils from dawn till dusk.’

  ‘I will live frugally.’

  ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word, my dear.’ Nanny patted her arm.

  ‘Maybe I will save up and buy a house in the future so I can run a school for young ladies.’

  Nanny smiled. ‘That is a dream too far. You may be able to put aside enough money to retire and take up other interests in the future, but the riches and rewards of being a governess come from the pride one has in one’s pupils’ achievements, not in guineas. Now, we are almost there.’

  Shortly afterwards, the coachman pulled the coach up on the bridge over the Stour. The stable boy opened the door and helped Agnes and then Nanny out on to the street.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Noakes,’ Nanny called. ‘We will meet you outside Willow Place as arranged.’

  ‘I’ll be there, don’t you worry, Miss Treen,’ he called back.

  The stable boy slammed the door shut and sprang up beside the coachman, who whipped the horses back into a lazy trot.

  ‘Well,’ said Nanny, ‘we have made it this far.’

  ‘Which way is it to the glovers?’ Agnes asked.

  ‘My uncle has given me the address of a shop in St Peter’s. He knows the currier who supplies the leather.’

  They walked to the shop where a gloveress greeted them and measured Agnes’s hands.

  ‘We can make them from kid or calf, or suede,’ she said.

  ‘What do you think, Agnes?’ Nanny said.

  It didn’t matter – she didn’t need them. She had four pairs of kid gloves still in her glove box at home. Not home, she reminded herself. It wouldn’t be home for much longer.

  ‘I think the calf leather would be suitable,’ she said. ‘I like the blue.’

  ‘That’s an excellent choice, madam,’ the gloveress said.

  ‘Miss Berry-Clay will be wearing them for her wedding – she is still in mourning, but she can’t wear black for the ceremony. Yes, the blue is perfect,’ Nanny agreed.

  ‘I’d recommend a four-button style that covers the wrist and reaches a couple of inches up the forearm.’

  Agnes nodded. She would agree to anything. She wished to hurry on and place her advertisement before she changed her mind. Every so often a wave of panic would wash through her, making her doubt her ability to change her life. Occasionally, she would wonder if marrying Philip was the better option, but she couldn’t go through with it. It wouldn’t be fair on either of them.

  ‘We can have them sewn with the highest quality silk thread, and finished within two weeks. You may collect or we can deliver.’

  Agnes cast Nanny an enquiring glance.

  ‘I shall collect them,’ Nanny said. ‘We should take four pairs, I think. Send the bill to …’ She gave Mama’s name and address. Nothing was to be left to chance. Nothing must raise suspicion.

  They went to the local newspaper’s office to place the advertisement, then walked to Willow Place where Nanny rang the bell at the gate. As before, Mrs Hill opened the gate for them. She showed them up the drive to the house, and directed them to the study. Nanny knocked on the doo
r.

  Oliver answered it. He smiled broadly in welcome.

  ‘Come in,’ he said. ‘My grandfather is expecting you.’

  ‘Agnes, wait out here for a moment,’ Nanny said. ‘There are things my uncle and I need to discuss in private.’

  ‘I shall wait with you,’ Oliver said, letting Nanny through and pushing the door closed behind her. ‘How are you, Agnes? Are you well? Oh no, I’m sorry. You’re in mourning. Marjorie brought word of—’ He broke off as she bit back a tear. ‘I wish I knew what to say to comfort you.’

  ‘There is nothing,’ she muttered, noticing that the study door had swung ajar.

  ‘Let me ask Mrs Hill to make us some tea,’ he said softly, and he disappeared off into the depths of the house.

  Agnes overheard snatches of the conversation between Nanny and Samuel.

  ‘It is a kind deed that you do for your charge,’ he said, ‘but I do not condone it. There is already too much dishonesty in the world. I’m on a mission to improve society’s moral standards, to which end I’m setting up an organisation to rid the streets of the thieves and pickpockets, and the screevers who set up their offices to write false words to cheat and embezzle well-meaning people out of their money.’

  ‘The problem is that I can’t stand by and let it happen,’ Nanny countered. ‘My heart fails me when I think of it, the poor girl being forced into a marriage with a young man for whom she has little affection.’

  ‘What about him, though? What does he think of the matter?’

  ‘I believe that he’s equally unenthusiastic. He has ambitions to go to medical school, but his father wants him to marry and go into business at the brewery. He did what he could to try to save Mr Berry-Clay’s life, something he has no need to be ashamed of, considering that the doctor in attendance couldn’t save him either. Uncle, which is worse? To bind two people together in holy matrimony and break their spirits, or free them both from this contract?’