by Evie Grace
Agnes’s heart sank again as she thought of the future. Why, she would rather marry Oliver than Philip. It was impossible, of course. They were from very different backgrounds, and he was no baronet with a large estate and an income of twenty thousand a year. He was fairly handsome and kindly, but, as the heir to the tannery, the stench of curing hides would always cling to his skin and clothing.
‘You make a good case, but how do you intend to pursue this aim of yours?’ Samuel said as Oliver returned along the hallway, carrying a rattling tray of teacups, saucers and a teapot.
Agnes pushed the door open for him.
‘Thanking you kindly,’ he said. ‘Grandpa, we have tea.’
‘Then bring it in,’ Samuel said cheerfully.
The four of them sat and talked for a while before Samuel suggested that Agnes and Oliver should go to see Bert.
Agnes hesitated, unsure that she wanted to return to the tannery.
‘He would like to see you again,’ Samuel said. ‘He often talks about the time the young lady came and he had new boots.’
‘He has grown considerably,’ Oliver commented. ‘Come with me.’
Agnes made her mind up and walked across to the tannery with him.
‘I regret taking up your time,’ she said, as the stench began to take her by the throat. It was a little easier to deal with this time. She managed to maintain her dignity by not retching in front of her host.
‘No, don’t. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Marjorie has called on us many times since we last saw you, and each time we hoped you’d come with her. My grandfather looks forward to having visitors – he isn’t always well, and the company of others cheers him up. He suffers terribly from gout and the rheumatics.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I hope he will feel better when summer comes.’
‘How is your sister?’ Agnes asked.
‘Temperance is married – did Marjorie not mention it to you?’
Agnes shook her head. It had probably slipped her mind.
‘I am delighted for her. Who is the lucky young man?’
‘He is a few years older than her. He is pleasant enough, I think, but they are struggling to settle to married life. He married my sister thinking she was young enough that he could change her, and make her such a wife as he chose. Unfortunately she felt the same of him – that she could wreak some alteration of his character.’ He paused. ‘Forgive me if I am overstepping the mark, but I have the impression that there is something going on. Marjorie is good at keeping secrets, but I overheard her speaking to my uncle. There is some problem? I am willing to help you if I can.’
‘I’d prefer not to discuss it,’ she said rather sharply. ‘I’m sorry. I cannot say anything. It is a delicate situation, but thank you for offering.’ She felt embarrassed by his kindness. ‘Where will we find Bert?’
‘I’ll show you. You will hardly recognise him. He’s fourteen years old and working full-time at the tannery. His younger brother, Arthur, who is six, works here too.’
Agnes felt chastened as she thought of Henry’s life of ease. It didn’t seem right or fair.
‘Their mother is still taking in laundry to make ends meet,’ Oliver went on. ‘In fact, my uncle sends our laundry to her, but it often comes back dirtier than when it left the house.’
They moved along the yard where two men were lifting a hide from one of the tan-pits. They let the initial rush of water drain across the cobbles, then carried it to the next pit where they submerged it into the black liquor.
‘Bert, can you come over here for a moment?’ Oliver called.
One of the two men turned and smiled.
‘Afternoon, sir,’ he said, doffing his cap as he walked across to them.
He had changed out of all recognition, Agnes thought. He had been a boy when she’d last seen him, and now he was a young man.
‘This is Miss Berry-Clay, whom you met many years ago,’ Oliver said.
Bert gazed at her, his eyes wide with curiosity. ‘You’ve altered a bit, miss.’
‘I hope that I have.’ Even though she had seen him since, she blushed at the memory of being unkind to him when she had first met him, carrying the purse of coins from her papa.
‘Are you still a stuck-up—’
‘That’s enough,’ Oliver interrupted.
‘That’s what you called her in the past,’ Bert said.
‘Really, Bert. I might have expressed that sentiment, but I didn’t use those words.’
‘I’m sorry, sir. I take them back. It is a pleasure to see you again, miss.’
‘You may go,’ Oliver said. ‘Oh, one more thing. Is your brother here?’
‘He was here.’ Bert looked around the yard. ‘I ’aven’t sin him recently. Arthur!’ he shouted. ‘Arthur, show yourself.’ He cursed aloud. ‘Oh, where are you? My ma will kill me. I’m supposed to be minding him.’
‘We’ve had this discussion before,’ Oliver said, his voice scolding. ‘How many times have I told you that it isn’t safe? You can’t concentrate on tanning hides and mind your brother at the same time.’
‘It would help if he wasn’t such a varmint, disappearing off and hiding himself.’ Bert was almost in tears.
‘Calm down,’ Oliver said, although from his tone he sounded anything but calm, Agnes thought. A six-year-old boy could easily come to harm in the tan-yard.
‘Hey, over here!’ There were shouts coming from the gap in the wall leading down to the river. ‘There’s a body in the water!’
Oliver and Bert set off at a run. Agnes followed, holding up her skirts from the flood of liquor that was washing across the cobbles. Her heart was pounding. Her breath was short. She waded through the mud to the edge of the river. Further downriver towards the mill and the bridge, she spotted a small dark mass floating on the surface. Bert was wading towards it, the water up to his waist. Oliver was ahead of him, up to his neck.
‘Stop there, Bert! You can’t swim,’ he yelled back. ‘Let me go.’
Bert was screaming out his brother’s name.
‘Oliver, take care!’ Agnes joined in as she watched him dive into the murky, fast-flowing water.
‘They’ll both be drownded.’
She glanced to one side to find one of the other tannery workers with her.
‘Oliver can swim?’ she asked, feeling frantic.
‘He can, but there’s currents out there, and silt to catch a man unawares. I don’t know how many times I’ve told young Arthur to stay away from the water, but will he listen?’
Agnes’s feet began to hurt. It was early April and cold for the time of year. The water was freezing. If they survived the drowning, they’d die from exposure, she thought. As Oliver tried to reach the boy, she turned and ran back to the house. She flew up the drive and hammered at the door. Mrs Hill opened it.
‘Where is Mr Cheevers?’ she gasped.
The housekeeper pointed to the study. Agnes left her boots on and pushed past her. Nanny and Samuel looked up as she burst into the room.
‘Oliver and Arthur are in the river,’ she said quickly. ‘We need hot water and towels. Hurry, or we will be too late.’
Samuel grasped his stick, stood up and hastened across the room. He bellowed instructions to Mrs Hill, slipped his feet into his boots, leaving the laces untied, and strode across to the tannery and down to the river with Agnes. Nanny caught up with them.
Oliver was wading out of the shallows with the limp body of a small boy in his arms. Bert was at his side, begging his brother to wake up.
‘Arthur,’ he kept saying, ‘Arthur. Stop playing silly beggars. Wake up!’
‘I’ll take him,’ Samuel said, dropping his stick.
Oliver handed him over as Mrs Hill appeared with an armful of towels and a kettle of hot water.
‘Let’s go into the office,’ Oliver said, his teeth chattering. ‘The fire is lit.’
They piled into a small room. Agnes and Nanny pushed the heavy mahogany desk and chairs back to give more space in front of the fire. Agnes m
oved the fire-screen, and Mrs Hill placed a towel around Oliver’s shoulders while Samuel laid the boy on the rug.
‘He is dead,’ Bert sobbed. ‘It’s all my fault.’
‘No, wait,’ Samuel said.
Oliver stepped in, lifted the boy by his ankles and shook him. All of a sudden, he coughed and water poured from his lungs.
‘Yes!’ Bert exclaimed as Oliver lowered him back on to the rug. ‘You saved ’is life, sir. Listen, everyone, the gaffer saved ’is life.’ He fell to his knees and embraced his little brother, who opened his eyes. His skin was blue and his teeth were chattering.
‘Mrs Hill, strip him down and wrap him in the towels. Rub his arms and legs to invigorate his circulation,’ Oliver said.
‘What about you?’ Agnes said. ‘Are you in need of medical attention?’
‘I will be fine,’ he said with a smile. With trembling fingers, he unfastened the buttons on his shirt and took it off, revealing his muscular torso. Agnes turned away, shocked by the sight of his nakedness. When she looked back, he had pulled a towel over his shoulders.
‘Mrs Hill, make some hot sugary tea, please,’ Nanny said. ‘And find some brandy.’
‘There’s a bottle in the desk,’ Samuel said. ‘I keep one there for emergencies.’
Gradually, the party regained their spirits, warmed by the tea and an excellent brandy.
When Arthur was recovered enough to try to get up, Oliver picked him up and sat him on one of the office chairs. Bert stood over his brother, stroking his face.
‘Why didn’t you do as you was told and stay away from the water?’ he muttered. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Arthur said weakly. ‘I should ’ave listened. I’ll never do it again, I promise.’
At three, Agnes and Nanny took their leave as Mr Noakes had brought the carriage round for them.
‘Oliver was a hero,’ Nanny said when they were heading away from Canterbury. ‘If Arthur had remained in the water for even another minute, I think the outcome would have been very different. We will keep this little episode from your mother, though. It wouldn’t be good for her nerves. We have made great progress today.’
We have set the scene, Agnes thought. She and Nanny had created good reasons to return to Canterbury: to collect the gloves and to call on the Cheeverses to enquire about Samuel’s health. All she had to hope for now was that someone would respond to her advertisement. What were the chances of that?
For someone used to certainty in all things – the appearance of hot chocolate in a fine bone china cup whenever she wished, freshly laundered sheets on a Wednesday and the daily hour spent with Mama in the drawing room – the unpredictability of the future scared and invigorated her at the same time.
Oliver’s bravery was an inspiration. If he was willing to risk his life for another, she could find the strength to break away from her old life and make her own way in the world.
Chapter Eleven
All that Glisters is not Gold
The vicar was due to read the banns for the first time on Sunday. Agnes dressed dutifully in her mourning clothes to accompany Nanny to the church in Windmarsh. Naturally, Mama declined to attend, but the other servants of the house went along as was their custom.
Agnes and Nanny left separately from the others. Turner closed the front door behind them, and they trudged down the drive to the road. They continued alongside the ditch towards Windmarsh, and the cedar-shingled spirelet of the bell tower came into view. The marsh harriers wheeled and tumbled across the clear blue sky and the reed warblers sang their churring song. The spring breeze tugged at the ribbons of Agnes’s dark satin bonnet as they passed the cottages and two houses to reach the church.
Nanny placed her arm through hers and guided her up the pathway, past the gravestones and overhanging yews.
‘Come on, Agnes. You must be brave, my dear.’
‘I will do my best,’ she said.
‘I know you will,’ Nanny said. ‘I’m sorry you have to do this, but you must show your face if we are to convince everyone of your willingness to marry your cousin.’
‘It’s all right.’ Agnes wanted to be absolutely sure that her instincts were correct.
The vicar welcomed them at the steps leading up to the church door.
‘Good morning, Miss Berry-Clay. I’m delighted that you are willing to join our congregation in celebrating the reading of the banns for your imminent marriage. I told your mother how honoured I was to be asked to officiate at your wedding.’
He seemed quite touched, Agnes thought, but she knew very well why Mama and her uncle had chosen the church at Windmarsh above the grander St Mary of Charity Church in Faversham. The marriage was to be conducted quickly and discreetly, thanks to the revelations of her origins.
‘Do go inside,’ he said, and they entered the church. Agnes was thrown into confusion because the Berry-Clays’ lack of regular attendance meant that they didn’t have a defined place.
‘This way,’ Nanny said, ushering her along the aisle towards the front, where cousin Philip stood and raised his hand, gesturing her towards the seat beside him. She wasn’t sure how to react to his smile of pleasure at seeing her. He was friendly, but she thought she detected a touch of resignation in the way he greeted her.
‘Cousin, we meet again,’ he said, not ‘my love’, or ‘my dear’. He was wearing a dark brown suit and a starched cravat tied in a horizontal bow. His shirt collar was so high it looked as if it might strangle him, she thought.
‘Thank you for saving me a seat,’ she whispered as she sat down. ‘It’s most kind of you.’
‘It’s the least he can do, considering you are soon to be his wife.’
Agnes looked past Philip to find his father staring at her with a mocking expression on his face.
‘Good morning, uncle,’ she said stiffly. ‘How are my aunt and cousin Edward?’
‘Your aunt has sent her apologies – she has been forced to remain at home with Edward, who has had an attack of the faints. She is looking forward to being present at your nuptials. She wouldn’t miss that for the world.’
Agnes didn’t believe him. Perhaps Aunt Sarah had stayed away as a tacit expression of her disapproval of their union.
The vicar seemed to consider that slow and ponderous repetition would reinforce the message of his sermon, but at last the service ended and the congregation left the church. Agnes walked slowly along the path between the graves, hanging back to speak to Philip, who was rubbing his back as if to iron out his stoop.
‘Ah, let the young lovebirds spend a moment together, Miss Treen,’ Uncle Rufus said with a lecherous expression on his face. Nanny gave Agnes a knowing smile.
‘Agnes, I want you to know that I have always been fond of you,’ Philip said. ‘I’ve thought this through – in fact, I’ve thought of little else since my father spoke to me about our marriage.’
This wasn’t what she had been expecting. Was Philip saying that he wanted to marry her, in spite of knowing where she came from?
‘I’m willing to abandon all hope of entering the medical profession to make you happy.’ He gazed down at the ground. ‘I think we can be happy in time.’
‘In time,’ she echoed. She wanted to tell him of her plan which would mean they wouldn’t have to marry at all, freeing him to pursue his ambition, but she knew that she had to remain silent. As Nanny had said, the fewer people who knew of it, the better. At least now she was convinced that she was doing the right thing. ‘Good day, cousin,’ she said.
‘Until next Sunday,’ he said, looking up again.
‘Yes, of course.’ She forced a smile. She didn’t expect to see him again. Next week and the Sunday after, she would feign a headache.
Nanny went back to Canterbury on her half-day the following week to visit her uncle, who was still ailing – at least, that was the case that she set before Mama. She stayed for three days.
The wedding dress was ready, safely delivered to the hous
e, and the wedding breakfast had been arranged. Surely there was not enough time, Agnes thought when she saw the carriage returning with her governess.
She ran downstairs to the kitchen to greet her with Henry at her heels.
‘We’ve missed you,’ she said. ‘What news? How is your uncle?’
‘I had to stay longer than I first intended, but there is progress, Agnes – more of that later. My uncle is improving too, thank you. The doctor says he is on the mend.’
‘Sit down and rest your feet for a while, Miss Treen,’ Cook said. ‘The kettle’s just boiled.’
‘It is very kind of you.’ Nanny turned to Henry. ‘What have you learned today?’
‘Lots,’ he said, grinning.
Agnes smiled. He had been an excellent pupil. They had played hide and seek in the house and grounds, composed songs and laughed together.
‘’Ave a sultana cake, Master Henry,’ Cook said.
‘I would prefer a cherry one,’ he said.
‘Henry, you should be grateful for what you have,’ Agnes said repressively.
‘Oh, let him ’ave what he wants,’ Cook said. ‘I’ll see if there are any cherry ones left in the pantry.’ She scurried away and returned with a tin. ‘I’ll ’ave to make some more tomorrow. In the meantime, there’s a sponge here with jam through the middle and sugar on the top. I’m sure I can find some cream to go with it.’
By the time she had finished spoiling him, he was feeling quite sick, and Agnes couldn’t help thinking that it served him right. She wondered at the change in her attitude. She had been a spoiled child and had spoken forthrightly about her wishes, yet here she was feeling critical of Henry’s demanding tone of voice. It didn’t mean she didn’t love him. She adored him. He was like a miniature of Papa with his copper curls, quick eyes and beautiful smile. How could she possibly think of leaving him?
She met with Nanny in her room after Henry had been put to bed.
‘I have a letter for you. It is only one, I’m afraid. I’m awaiting two other replies. I hope you don’t mind, but I wrote on your behalf – I am a fair copy of your handwriting.’
Agnes smiled ruefully at her governess’s cunning.
