by Anna Jacobs
In fact, she admitted to herself it was Tom’s visits that kept her sane, because Charlie had his limitations as a companion, kind and well-meaning though he was. She could not help wondering sometimes what life would have been like with a normal husband, with someone like Matt, for instance.
16
June to July 1838
One Sunday after chapel Miss Collett beckoned Annie over and began to catechise her about her married life.
“And how are you managing, Annie? I’ve been worried about you since I gather that your husband is a little – er …”
“Slow,” Annie finished for her. “My husband is a little slow, Miss Collett – but that doesn’t prevent him from being a good man and a hard worker.”
Pauline Collett was impervious both to sarcasm and offended pride. “Good. And your home? I hope you’re keeping it clean. So many of the women from the Rows are, unfortunately, very slovenly in their habits.”
“Well, I’m not slovenly!” Annie didn’t know what had got into her lately. She only knew that she had had enough of charity and condescension. And her condition was definitely affecting her temper. Some days she was even sharp with Charlie, who never contradicted her in any way and always tried to please her. “You may call any time and check, Miss Collett. You won’t find my house dirty.”
Pauline drew herself up and stared at Annie. Few people ever dared to argue with her, and certainly she had never been spoken to like that before by an ex-maidservant. “That’s a rash invitation,” she said dryly. “What if I took you up on it?”
“Come any time,” repeated Annie recklessly. “Come to tea!”
Pauline’s eyes began to gleam wickedly. “Very well. Tea it is. Will Tuesday suit you?”
“Perfectly.”
Miss Collett inclined her head. “Until Tuesday, then.” She didn’t know whether to be amused or offended at such impudence, but she intended to keep that appointment and set the girl in her place. Come to tea, indeed!
When Annie got home, she sat there aghast at what she had done. What had got into her? Fancy daring to invite Miss Collett to tea! Tom was of the opinion that she should send a note of apology, but this only made Annie more stubborn. “I won’t!” she declared. “She had no right to talk to me like that!”
“But what are you going to do about her?”
“What I said. Give her tea. If she comes.”
By Tuesday, the house was scrubbed and polished, scones were made and fine white bread purchased, as well as good tea from the grocer who served the gentry. He seemed to have no objection to Annie’s custom and money, and she gained a little confidence about going into his shop. Maybe she would come and buy a few things here again. Just every now and then. For a treat.
By the afternoon, Annie was so apprehensive that she could not sit still, but had to keep going over to peer out of the window. One moment she was sure Miss Collett would not come and the next that she would, if only out of spite.
In fact the visit hung in the balance in Pauline’s mind until noon that day and only a chance remark by Mrs Marsh to the effect that her mistress could not possibly go and take tea in the Rows tipped the balance.
“Nonsense! Of course I’m going. As a minister’s wife, I shall have to learn to move among people of humble birth. Order the carriage for half past two.”
When she saw Miss Collett coming along the street, Annie’s knees turned to water and she rushed to stand in the back room, hands clasped at her breast. When there was a knock on the door, she moved to open it like an automaton. However, the challenging expression on her visitor’s face and the greeting, “Well, here I am!” stiffened her resolve and gave her the courage to say quietly, “Won’t you come in, Miss Collett?”
Pauline was, if truth be told, feeling rather ill-at-ease herself. What if the house were dirty? What if she were offered some unpalatable mess to eat and drink?
She looked round in relief. Small, but immaculately clean.
“Please take a seat,” said her hostess graciously. “The rocking-chair is the most comfortable.” There were, in fact, only three proper chairs, but each shone with polish.
“Thank you.”
Annie sat down, and began to make conversation, as she had seen Mrs Lewis do. “A lovely day, is it not?”
“Beautiful.”
Annie had thought out in advance what she could talk about safely without giving offence. They started with the weather and then went on to the coronation of the new girl queen, which was to take place on the twenty-eighth of the month.
Pauline began, albeit reluctantly, to admire the girl. She had certainly learnt a few tricks while she was in service. She told Annie how two hundred thousand pounds had been voted by Parliament to cover the expenses of the coronation, and how bands were to play festive music in the parks of London.
“I wish I could see it,” said Annie wistfully. “I loved my stay in London. One feels so cut off here, sometimes – especially in the Rows.” The last admission escaped before she had realised it.
“Well, even in Bilsden, the mill-owners are to let their employees off work an hour or two earlier on that day,” said Pauline.
Penny-pinchers! thought Annie. They might have given people a whole day off, or at least a half-day. “I wonder if you’ll just excuse me for a minute or two while I brew the tea?”
“Certainly.” Pauline waved a hand in gracious dismissal.
In the kitchen Annie leaned for a moment against the table and closed her eyes. How long could she keep this up? She gritted her teeth. As long as necessary. She moved towards the fire and seized the kettle.
She carried the tray into the front room and set it down upon a stool. “Please excuse the china. My husband delights in pretty cups and saucers, but people rarely throw out ones that match.” She gave her visitor a defiant toss of the head as she said this, daring her to take umbrage.
Pauline looked at the tray, made by Charlie, who had a small gift for wood-carving. An immaculate little cloth covered it, sewn by Annie, presumably. The unmatched crockery was indeed pretty and the scones looked appetising. “It looks delicious,” she said generously. “Did you embroider that cloth yourself?”
Annie had made it for herself and Matt. It was exquisite. Tears came to her eyes, for all that she bit her lip and dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand. “Yes.” She saw that Miss Collett was frowning at her and added harshly, “It was part of my bottom drawer.”
“For the other man?”
Annie nodded, still trying to control the tears.
“He must be a fool!” said Pauline. “And you’re very brave, Annie. I was wrong to patronise you like that. Will you forgive me?”
“I should be asking you that, Miss Collett. I was in a bad mood the other day. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I get – well, funny sometimes. Sharp. Too ready to take offence. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I’m glad I came today. Now, may I have one of those delicious-looking scones? And you must tell me about your husband’s business …”
The rest of the visit was a great success. When Pauline relaxed she could be a very entertaining companion. And once she grew to like someone, she was doggedly loyal. For all the differences between them, she had begun to like Annie Ashworth.
The best times for Annie during that first year were when Ellie had her Sundays off and appeared at chapel. The two young women would then spend the whole afternoon chatting and drinking cups of the good tea, which Annie now thought of as Miss Collett’s tea.
The first time Ellie visited her after her marriage seemed a special enough occasion to warrant its use and afterwards it became a symbol of celebration.
Charlie stayed with the two young women for a few minutes, then said he had things to do in the yard.
“Oh, Annie, how are things really going?” asked Ellie at once. “It’s so awful to think of you married to …”
“To a very kind man,” said Annie firmly. She gave Ellie another hug. “I�
�m happier than I’d ever expected to be, really I am! Charlie’s a nice man, easy to live with. And so kind! You couldn’t ask for a kinder husband. And it’s good to have my own home. I didn’t realise how much I’d enjoy that.”
After that, Ellie spent most of her free Sundays round at Annie’s house, to her mother’s fury.
“You know, you’ve certainly got this place nice,” Ellie said, looking round on her next visit. “There’s something new every time I come. I like the curtains and these are good solid chairs.”
“They weren’t when Charlie found them. But he’s good with his hands.”
“He seems – er – very pleasant.” Ellie had still not come to terms with the marriage, and she was still not speaking to her brother Matt.
Annie looked round and smiled proudly. “It’s a start. You wait a year or two. I’m going into business on my own account. See!” Annie held up the brown material she was sewing. “This’ll make a good skirt. When I’ve got more things made up, I’ll start selling them at the market.”
“Doesn’t Charlie make enough money for you to live on, then?”
“He’s made enough to live on every single week.” Annie’s voice was proud. “And we’ve saved something every week, too – even if it’s only a few pence.”
“You’re very brave about everything, Annie.”
“No, I’m not brave; I’m a coward. I’m afraid of a lot of things, Ellie, but most of all, I’m afraid of having no money behind me. I’m never going to be charity-poor again! Never!” She laughed shakily. “Listen to me going on after the way folk have been kind to me! Let’s not talk about me any more. Tell me what’s been happening at Park House instead.”
Even Ellie was not told about the box of money, which had proved to hold over two hundred guineas. Annie worried about keeping it in the house, though, at the same time, she loved to count the shining coins and think how long she could live on that money if she had to.
Ellie didn’t need much prompting to launch into a flood of news. “Well, Cora and Mabel are still not speaking to each other, except in the course of duty. It’s a bit of a laugh, really. Mabel’s grown as sour as vinegar lately.”
“She always has been. Go on!”
“Cora’s not a bad sort. She just laughs at Mabel and calls her Old Speckle, because she says Mabel looks just like a cow her uncle used to have called that. Mind, it’s not as nice as sharing a room with you, love, but Cora’s all right. She’s teaching me some new ways of doing my hair and trimming up a bonnet.”
“And the doctor? How’s he going on?”
“We hardly see anything of him in the house these days, except when we have visitors. He spends most of his time shut up in the surgery, even in the evenings. He’s had a big box of books delivered and when he isn’t seeing patients, he’s reading or writing. And every now and then he goes away for a night or two to meet other doctors in Manchester or even London. Mrs Cosden says he’ll wear his brain out and ruin his eyes with all that reading, but Dad says the doctor’s interested in the problems of women having children and he wants to make things easier for them. Just fancy a man being interested in something like that! It doesn’t seem decent somehow. Oh, sorry, Annie, love, I forgot you were – well, you’re not very big yet, are you?”
Annie managed to smile, though Ellie had touched on one of her fears. What if she were like her mother? “That’s all right. I’m used to the idea of the baby now. Go on! You were telling me about Dr Lewis.”
“Well, the doctor doesn’t even eat with Mrs Lewis most of the time. Funny way of being married, if you ask me! They hardly ever see each other at all. And she doesn’t seem to mind at all. It’s only when she has her parties that they really spend time together. What do you think of that, then?”
Annie made a non-committal sort of noise, which Ellie took as a sign to continue. “This will be my last visit for a while, love, because we’re going down to Brighton in September. I’m that excited about it, I could burst! I’ve made myself a new dress, not as nice as you would have made, but Cora helped me to fit the sleeves. Look, I’ve brought a snip of the material to show you.”
Annie felt the material and nodded approval. “I expect Miss Marianne is excited about the trip, too?”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Excited! She jumps up and down every time she talks about it. Mrs Lewis said she’d have to learn to behave better than that. I think the mistress has changed her mind about taking Miss Marianne with her – she doesn’t spend much time with her, you know – but the poor little love’s been ill so the doctor just put his foot down, for once. I heard him say that the child needed some good sea air and either she went with her mother, or her mother could stay in Bilsden to look after her. Mrs Lewis was spitting fury for days about it.”
“Yes, she’s got a mean temper.”
“Anyway, Miss Marianne’s dying to see the sea and so am I. Tell me again what the beach is like.”
Ellie’s visits did Annie a world of good. For a few hours she relaxed, and felt young and carefree again. It was a bitter-sweet pleasure, however, because it showed her how much she had changed. She felt years older than Ellie nowadays.
The next day Charlie came down with a cold. It didn’t seem much at first, but then he started groaning and holding his head. By Tuesday he was rocking about in pain and had produced a bottle of gin. She tried to stop him drinking it, but he clung to it obstinately. “It’s the only thing that stops the pain. Only thing, Annie, love. Jus’ – leave me alone. I’ll go to my bedroom an’ drink it there.”
Annie remembered the times he’d had his funny turns when she was a child and the way he’d talked and sung and shouted for hours on end. She didn’t want to face that, and wondered if something could not be done about it. After all, doctors knew a lot more nowadays.
When the mill came out, she slipped along to ask Tom to fetch the doctor. While she was waiting for him, she tidied up her kitchen and picked up a piece of sewing, but she couldn’t seem to settle to it. She could hear Charlie upstairs, moaning and shouting incoherently. It was a relief when someone knocked on the door. She opened it to find Tom standing at one side and Dr Lewis at the other.
“Here he is!” said Tom, with his usual impudent grin. “I’ll be round at our house if you want me, Annie.”
“Thanks, Tom. Er – won’t you come in, doctor?”
Jeremy Lewis brought with him the smell of soap and the cologne he always used. She’d forgotten how clean and fresh he always smelled. Whatever you did to keep clean here, you couldn’t prevent the other people in the Rows from smelling sour.
“How are you, Annie?” he asked gently, seeing that she was tongue-tied.
“Oh, I’m fine, thank you.”
“You look well. How’s the morning sickness?”
“Gone, just like you said it would.” She felt strange to be entertaining her ex-employer after all that had happened. She was having difficulty in thinking what to say and do, and that was unlike Annie.
If she’d only known it, he was feeling awkward too. He’d meant to have kept his eye on her when Annabelle dismissed her, but she’d found others to help and he’d not been needed. He’d asked Ellie a couple of times how Annie was getting on and it had seemed that she was managing all right. He was glad of that. Annie was as nice as she was pretty. Unlike his own wife, who grew more elegant by the year, but who had the soul of an iceberg and a tongue dipped in acid.
He’d hardly spoken to Annabelle since the day she’d dismissed Annie, and wondered sometimes if he were being a coward, avoiding her like that. He was glad that she was going down to Brighton again, though he suspected that she had only suggested taking Marianne with her out of spite. But the child was happy and excited about the proposed visit, so he’d said nothing. And now that Marianne was run down after her illness, she really needed the change and the bracing sea air. He wasn’t going to let Annabelle make a habit of taking Marianne away on these trips, though. She wasn’t a good influence on the child
.
“What can I do for you, Annie?”
“It’s my husband, doctor. He has these funny turns – I don’t know what to call them. His head hurts and he goes – well – funny. He was badly injured years ago. I think it’s a result of that.” They heard a moaning sound above them and Annie winced. “He’s been drinking gin. He says it’s the only thing that helps. Normally he doesn’t drink at all.”
Upstairs, Charlie started to shout incoherently.
“May I go up and see him?” Jeremy was as polite to the poorest of his patients as to the richest.
“Yes. Mind how you go. The stairs are rather steep.” She led the way up the dark narrow stairs and knocked on Charlie’s door.
“Go ’way!”
“It’s the doctor, Charlie. Dr Lewis.” She pushed the door open. “He’s come to help you.”
Charlie was sitting on the bed, rocking to and fro, and clutching the gin bottle. Annie would have gone across to him, but Jeremy held her back.
“Wait for me downstairs,” he whispered, and after a doubtful glance she left him.
Jeremy was shocked when he recognised the man on the bed. Barmy Charlie was a well-known figure in the town. He hadn’t associated the old man with the name Charlie Ashworth. How had Annie come to marry such a person? He’d assumed that she was marrying someone of her own age. This man was old enough to be her father!
As he sat on the bed and talked to Charlie, Jeremy realised that the poor chap had suffered some brain damage, and he was filled with horror and pity for Annie. That lovely young girl married to a wreck like this! What had made her do it? Surely there were others willing to marry her? Any man would be proud of a wife like her. Or a mistress. The thought rose unbidden and he banished it immediately. Annie was not that sort of girl.
