Her Mother's Daughter

by Evie Grace

  She took a look around the house, searching for resources she could use for her teaching. She walked along the landing to the master’s study and knocked gently on the door. There was no answer so she turned the handle, but the door was locked. She moved along to the next room, the library. The door was ajar so she pushed it open and looked inside. It was empty and the curtains were drawn to protect the books’ leather spines from the sunlight. There were shelves along two walls, full length from floor to ceiling, and innumerable volumes set out in numerical and alphabetical order. She found it a little strange that Miss Elizabeth was not at all bookish when there were this many books in the house, and that Charlotte was only to be found reading novels, not more serious tomes. It was the finest library she had ever seen.

  She walked across to the nearest shelf and took down a volume. She blew off the dust, opened it and started to read. Physical Geography: A Treatise. This was what she was looking for: maps and engravings to stimulate the young ladies’ interest. She took a second volume down and carried them back to the schoolroom, along with three illustrated books on botany. All she needed now was a globe.

  She returned downstairs to find Pell or Mrs Cox, and Cook.

  Cook was not impressed with her request but softened when Agnes explained that it was for the young ladies’ benefit.

  ‘Have Evie bring it up to my room with breakfast in the morning,’ she said.

  ‘Haven’t I already got enough to do? The pork griskins aren’t ready, and the aspic hasn’t set.’ Cook tut-tutted and shook her head, but she agreed to carry out the task as long as she had some red cabbage or beetroot available.

  ‘Shall I go and ask the gardener?’ Agnes asked, determined not to be defeated.

  ‘No, that won’t be necessary. I expect there’s something suitable in the scullery. Miss Linnet, may I ask what you are planning?’

  ‘I’ll let the young ladies show you themselves the day after tomorrow.’ She smiled. ‘I’m very grateful for your trouble.’

  Pell was in his room, polishing the silver salvers for the dinner table.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ she said.

  He looked up, frowning.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I have come to ask if you can help me – I want to expand the young ladies’ experience of geography, and wondered if there is a globe anywhere in the house?’

  ‘A globe?’

  ‘A map of the world,’ she explained.

  ‘Oh?’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Let me think. I may have seen one in the attic. You can tell one of the footmen that I’ve said they are to assist you in your search. Take a lantern and be careful how you go.’

  ‘I shall go by myself.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  She dug around in the dark and dingy attic room at the end of the house above the west wing, brushing cobwebs and dust from her clothes as she made her way between the pieces of furniture and belongings that the Faradays had discarded there. There was an old clock on its side, its carcase open and its insides tipped out. There were some boxes of china and several framed paintings leaning against a wardrobe, and – she suppressed a cry of joy – a small globe on a table.

  She picked it up and carried it to the landing into the light. It wasn’t the finest, and some of the writing on it had been scuffed, but the outlines of the countries were intact. It would do, she thought.

  She took it downstairs to the schoolroom, cleaned it up and oiled the workings so it would spin freely on its axis. Tomorrow, she thought, they would study Italy, and with the dye from the kitchen and their botanical specimens, practise a kind of alchemy.

  In the morning, she met the young ladies in the schoolroom.

  ‘You are late again. This will not do.’ She noticed how Elizabeth smirked and it riled her, but she would not be angry. She reined in her emotions and took a deep breath. ‘You will stay an extra twenty minutes this afternoon.’

  ‘Mama will not allow it,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘You will have to apologise to her and explain why you are delayed meeting her in the parlour.’

  Elizabeth bit her lip.

  ‘Now, push your tables together and sit down.’ Agnes turned away and picked up the globe under its muslin cover and placed it in front of the sisters. Aware that they were watching her with some consternation, she took the corner of the muslin and swept it off with a flourish.

  ‘Oh!’ Charlotte exclaimed. ‘It is a map of the earth.’

  ‘What do we want with that, Miss Linnet?’ Elizabeth said.

  Agnes ignored her, sensing that the more she paid attention to her, the more she played upon it.

  ‘Which of you can find Italy?’

  ‘I’ll look,’ Charlotte said quickly, snatching the globe away. She peered at it closely. ‘There it is,’ she said in triumph.

  ‘Where?’ Elizabeth asked.

  Charlotte showed her.

  ‘I could have found that, if I’d had a chance.’

  ‘Show me,’ Agnes said. ‘Let me spin the globe and then you can find Italy.’

  It took Elizabeth longer than her sister to find it.

  ‘Now show me Sicily, Elizabeth,’ Agnes said.

  ‘I don’t know where that is.’ Her cheeks began to turn pink. Agnes recognised the signs of frustration building inside her pupil, like a volcano about to erupt.

  ‘Let me give you a clue – the toe of Italy has kicked Sicily into the Mediterranean Sea.’

  ‘I cannot see it.’ Elizabeth gazed at the globe. ‘Ah, yes, I can. There it is.’

  ‘Well done. Now I’m going to show you the map in the book – we can draw it out together and add the capital of Italy, and the floating city, and the site of the Ponte Vecchio.’ Agnes recalled the thrill of Nanny’s teaching, and it must have shown in her voice because the young ladies applied themselves to the task with great enthusiasm, and by the end of the day they were planning their Grand Tour of Europe and plotting how they would persuade their father to fund it.

  ‘Can we stop now?’ Elizabeth said when Agnes had checked their work. ‘We can take Sunny for a walk.’

  ‘We will take a diversion through the garden on our return from our daily constitutional as we need to prepare for tomorrow morning’s lesson in botany,’ Agnes said.

  ‘Can’t we do more geography?’ Charlotte said.

  ‘We can’t study the same subject all day every day,’ Agnes said lightly. ‘Make haste and prepare for our outing. The sun is shining.’

  ‘I should like to go into Canterbury today,’ Elizabeth said. ‘We could turn it into a nature walk if we went via Rough Common.’

  ‘Since when have you been so interested in nature and long walks?’ Agnes asked.

  ‘She wishes to study the nature of officers in more detail,’ Charlotte interrupted.

  ‘I beg your pardon. What did you say?’ Agnes was taken aback.

  ‘It’s true,’ Charlotte said. ‘When we’re in town with Mama, my sister can barely walk for swooning at their uniforms.’

  ‘Oh, you do exaggerate,’ Elizabeth exclaimed crossly.

  Agnes gathered that Charlotte’s revelation might have some truth in it, in which case she was determined to avoid the town like the plague. She had to confess that she’d been nervous when she’d discovered how close Roper House was to Canterbury. It worried her that the occupants of the house had business there with tradespeople and family, but she reassured herself that it was unlikely that anyone would be in contact with the Cheeverses at the tannery. It would be too much of a coincidence. However, she still preferred to remain in the environs of Upper Harbledown and Chartham Hatch nearby for safety.

  ‘It’s too far for what remains of this afternoon – at least a two-hour round trip. We will walk around the grounds and pick some flowers.’ Agnes had her eye on some carnations she had spotted in among the beds in the kitchen garden. The gardener had started them in the glasshouse and planted them out when all risk of frost had passed.

  T
hey walked through the village, past the white cottages, the oasts and the inn and through the orchards and back via the woods along the sunken footpath before diverting to the garden.

  ‘I should like you both to pick three white carnations,’ Agnes said. ‘Let’s see who finds them first.’

  ‘Which are they?’ Elizabeth looked at her to glean clues as to their whereabouts.

  ‘It is up to you to find them.’

  ‘I don’t know what they look like,’ Charlotte muttered.

  ‘If you both paid attention to your surroundings, you would know. I’m not going to help you.’ Agnes took a seat in the arbour beside the pond in the middle of the garden and watched the fish while she waited. There was a net across the top – the heron had taken the last shoal for his dinner. Every now and again, she stood up to check on her charges who were wandering desultorily around the flower beds. ‘Have you found them yet?’ she called.

  ‘We have found all kinds of white blooms, but can’t tell which is which,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘So you have narrowed it down. That’s a start. How will you identify the carnation? Without asking anyone,’ she said with a smile. ‘Have you ever heard of a library?’

  ‘Of course. We have one in the house. Everyone has one,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Oh, we could look in a book. Miss Linnet, I’m too exhausted to return indoors and come back out here again. I’ll have to send one of the maids. Besides, I’m not ranging about in the mud – I’ll get my dress dirty.’

  Agnes’s heart began to sink again. She’d thought they had been making progress. It would have been easier to give in to the younger sister’s tantrum, but she remained firm.

  ‘The sooner you apply yourself, the sooner it will be done,’ she said.

  ‘Come on, Elizabeth,’ Charlotte sighed. ‘We’ll do this together.’

  ‘I shall wait for you here, I think,’ Agnes said, enjoying the sunshine on her face. Mama and Nanny had never allowed her to expose her skin to the sun’s rays for fear of ruining her complexion.

  ‘You aren’t going to keep your beady eyes on us?’ Elizabeth said, surprised.

  ‘I’m trusting you to do as you’ve been asked. You are not children any more.’

  ‘You aren’t like our previous nanny – she made us do embroidery every day until our eyes hurt.’

  ‘Go on then.’ Agnes waved them away and took advantage of a few precious moments of quiet. She breathed in the scent of stocks and watched the bees, laden with pollen, clambering on the roses.

  If only she could win the young ladies over, then she could lead a relatively comfortable existence – the food was more than adequate, and although the wages were poor and her room was intolerably small and badly furnished, she had escaped an unwanted marriage. The trouble was that she still yearned to be the spoiled young woman who didn’t have to think about what she would teach the next day, and constantly worry about being recognised or hounded out as an impostor. She wished for peace of mind.

  She glanced up at the windows that overlooked the garden – she thought she caught sight of Lady Faraday, her figure drifting across the parlour window. She would never know what it was to earn her living. She was married – happily, Agnes thought from the way she had seen her with her husband at dinner. Sir Richard was a baronet and landowner – he spent most of his time away from the house, shooting and carrying out his daily business on the estate. His wife had plenty to occupy her with running the house, but she had a goodly team of servants to carry out her orders. She adored her daughters and her future was certain.

  Agnes envied her.

  She was soon distracted from her thoughts by the sound of the young ladies’ voices.

  ‘We have discovered them, Miss Linnet,’ Elizabeth called. ‘How many did you say you wished us to collect?’

  ‘Three each,’ Agnes said, standing up from the bench as the dog came trotting over, wagging his tail. She followed him to where the sisters were working out how to pick the carnations without stepping on the earth and dirtying their dresses. Charlotte found a board leaning against the wall behind the gardener’s wheelbarrow. She laid it on the flower bed and Elizabeth stepped on to it and reached down for the white carnations, choosing six stems.

  ‘I should have preferred the yellow ones,’ she said. ‘They are far more cheerful, don’t you think?’

  ‘They have to be white,’ Agnes said. ‘We are going to carry out a scientific experiment. It will take but five minutes of our time.’

  Back in the schoolroom, they put the carnations into the red cabbage juice that Cook had provided that morning.

  ‘I wonder if you can use that to put a blush on your cheeks,’ Elizabeth said, dipping her finger into the cup and applying it to her face. ‘What do you think, Charlotte?’

  ‘It makes you look ridiculous,’ she said, grimacing as Elizabeth ran out of the room.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Agnes called after her.

  ‘To find a mirror,’ she laughed. Eventually, she returned, rubbing her face with a handkerchief. ‘Look, it has a remarkable effect.’

  ‘It is the rubbing, not the juice,’ Charlotte pointed out. She wrinkled her nose. ‘It makes you smell of cabbages.’

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ll try that again,’ Agnes said, suppressing a smile. It served her right for wanting to preen herself. ‘We are finished here.’

  ‘Is that it?’ Charlotte said.

  ‘We are late for Mama,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Where has the time gone?’

  ‘Yes, that is all. You may go now. We will look at the flowers in the morning. Make sure you are here on time.’

  She returned to her quarters before taking her evening meal there. Despite Pell’s observation on the day of her arrival that she would generally be dining with the family, this was not strictly followed in practice. The food was good, basic fare of bread and mutton dripping, hash and hot vegetables, bread, butter, cake and gooseberry jam. She was favoured with a supply of tea and sugar as governess, but the other servants didn’t have such luxuries because of the cost. She shouldn’t complain about her lot, she thought, but she did miss her hot chocolate.

  The next morning when Agnes saw how the blooms had turned pink, a symbol of a mother’s undying love, a tear sprang to her eye as she thought not of Mama Berry-Clay, but her true mother who had missed her all those years after giving her up. She wished she hadn’t dismissed her with such upset and anger. She wished she had asked her more questions. She wished she’d had a mother like Lady Faraday who loved her daughters.

  ‘You have played a trick on us, Miss Linnet,’ Charlotte said when she and her sister turned up in the schoolroom.

  ‘There is no trick.’

  ‘They are very pretty now,’ Elizabeth said, her eyes wide with wonder. ‘How do you explain this miracle?’

  ‘I’m going to ask you to explain it from what you read yesterday,’ Agnes said, knowing full well that neither girl had studied the lesson. Charlotte had been reading her novel again, and Elizabeth had been gazing out of the window. ‘Perhaps you would like to have another look at it this morning to remind you. The answer to the mystery of the colour change is in the pages that I’ve marked.’

  ‘Yes, that’s a good idea,’ Charlotte said quickly.

  ‘I thought we would take them out of the water and dry the stems to show your mama later. I think she will appreciate a gift of a small posy of pink carnations, especially when you tell her how they started off.’

  Elizabeth smiled and took her seat. When she opened the book at the bookmark and began to read, Agnes hoped that she’d taken a step in the right direction.

  When they had both finished the required passage, she asked them to explain to each other the process of how the dye had made its way into the blooms, and then write it up with drawings of the flowers. It was a most successful lesson, and Agnes followed it up with a brief spell of algebra and a walk in the park.

  She
sat back later and breathed a sigh of relief. If only they could be like this every day. It had been hard work, though, and she wasn’t in the most receptive mood when she received a request from Lady Faraday to meet her in the parlour that evening before taking dinner in her room.

  ‘I thank you for what you have taught my daughters today.’ Lady Faraday was wearing the latest fashion, a blue bodice and wide skirt, along with sleeves that flared out like funnels from her elbows, requiring her to wear white undersleeves. ‘Charlotte is much more talkative and Elizabeth has produced some proficient drawings. The carnations were a sweet idea too, although I’m not sure how their creation can be described as educational.’

  ‘It was an experiment to demonstrate an aspect of botany.’

  ‘I see.’ Lady Faraday shrugged as if she couldn’t see at all. ‘Anyway, I’m delighted to see that they are progressing at last, thanks to you. It seems that I was right to have taken a risk in taking you on as their teacher.’

  ‘I am very pleased with how they have applied themselves to their studies.’ Agnes beamed with pleasure at her employer’s praise.

  ‘I would appreciate it if you would fill up your spare time when you aren’t teaching by making yourself generally useful,’ Lady Faraday said.

  ‘I believe I do that already,’ Agnes said.

  ‘There is always sewing to be done.’

  ‘I’ve done the needlework that you asked for.’

  ‘It wasn’t very neat,’ Lady Faraday sighed. ‘In fact, I had to give it to one of the maids to unpick and do again. I was disappointed.’

  ‘I don’t know why you’re surprised. I’m a governess, not a seamstress. I’m better acquainted with the theory of sewing than the practice.’

  Lady Faraday frowned. ‘You must own that as I pay you a fair wage with meals and accommodation, I expect a fair day’s work in return. I note that you have many hours when you are unoccupied. I merely wish to have my money’s worth.’

  Agnes had an answer. She wasn’t lazy. Far from it. She had become used to work, but she found the other chores she had been given distracting, which made her temper short.

  ‘I’m afraid that whatever draws me from training your daughters is a loss to them. I should be teaching all day by word and example. Lady Faraday, if you wish to employ a seamstress, then do so. I have a proper sense of the importance of my calling and I wish that you had a better appreciation of my position. I can’t achieve your aims for your daughters if I’m caught up in sewing when I’m supposed to be planning their lessons. I have made progress. It would be a sorrow to me if you should permit me to fail now.’