Bitter Herbs

by Amandine Moxon

Edmund demurred. “I think Miss Aurelia Ashfield will have her way, you know. She seems a strong-willed but good hearted lady.”

  Proof of this arrived the next morning in a politely worded note from Lady Ashfield. Miss Ashfield had added her own, warmer, encouragement in her own hand, taking the blame for the delay and the matter was therefore settled satisfactorily in Mrs Bredwardine’s eyes. “But we may look a little shabby,” she fretted to herself. “I must look out our gowns for the occasion, though I daresay the old lace is as fine as any the Ashfields can muster,” she said aloud to her son and bustled away, while he went back to his study in order ostensibly to start composing his sermon for next Sunday’s service. However he was soon lost instead in admiring with his hand lens a new beetle he had acquired the previous week.

  Across town, preparations were in hand for the Michaelmas Fair, due to take place in a little over a week, on the Saint’s day itself. Most of the town would attend, for it was a holiday for servants, either with the permission of their current employers or because they had finished their terms and were seeking fresh work with new masters. Farmers should have garnered in the last of the sheaves, or were frantically doing so even now, and the geese that would provide the Michaelmas feast were still fattening on the grain left in the stubble in the fields. The Rector, the Rev. Enoch Moore, would be making one of his infrequent visits to the parish to reap his tithes, one of the few parish tasks that he never neglected, and Edmund too would receive small tithes. With the money saved from the household purse by the produce that would come to him, augmented by some winnings at cards in the local taverns, he hoped to be able to buy his womenfolk some fripperies such as new evening gloves, so that they might not feel too shabby at the coming dinner at the squire’s. The town’s officials were marking out the spaces for the booths and tents of the traders that would follow the hiring fair in the market place and the general celebration of the harvest. Once those had been settled to their satisfaction, they would move to Westwood Common, south of the town, to look at the setting up of some athletic races for young men on the oval shaped race course. The son (and apprentice) of one of the two local doctors, young William Penny Brookes (*4), who was about to travel to London to extend his own medical training at the end of the month, had suggested setting up such races for the young men of the town during the Michaelmas Fair as a wholesome display of athleticism. He hoped also that it might keep the less godly out of the taverns for a spell, at least. The Reverend Moore had objected; he had little regard for the welfare of the labouring masses and thought these races an indulgence, one that would give the men ideas above their station. However most of the town’s authorities approved of the scheme: it was likely to form a spectacle that would attract people from round about, drawing in more trade and custom for the fair and so swelling the coffers, and would provide entertainment for all. They therefore persuaded the Rector out of his objection, which had finally been defeated when Edmund remarked that Miss Ashfield had been so good as to contribute a purse and furthermore that her sister-in-law had condescended to agree to award the prizes.

  Chapter 5

  The day of the Michaelmas Fair dawned dry, clear and bright, albeit with some cloud. The very last of the swallows were on the wing, with parent birds encouraging the tardy youngsters to fly on. The flags on the booths, sprung up overnight like field mushrooms, fluttered in the light breeze, lending an air of gaiety.

  The townsfolk turned out in number, all those at leisure dressed in their finery, while those servants seeking work were dressed in their best smocks and pinafores, bearing the tools of their trade or skill. For those not hiring themselves out, the feeling of holiday after the hard work of harvest was palpable everywhere. Edmund found it very pleasant to wander about at ease, having undertaken some parish visits earlier in the morning and completed his sermon the previous evening. He was accompanied by his family who were likewise released from home and parish cares for a brief space. His aunt took his arm, while his sister and mother followed, likewise linked, bowing to all their acquaintance and receiving many bows and salutations in return from the parishioners. They stopped to exchange greetings with the Mason family party, the bride radiant on her husband’s arm, her brother holding his little girl by the hand and the Fretwoods loitering behind, Letty amusing her husband with many witty asides on the quaintness of the rustics. Dr Peplow had swept off his hat as soon as he saw Harriet, and begged leave to introduce Grace to them all. Grace was soon enveloped in the kindliness of Miss Morrall and Mrs Bredwardine, while Edmund chatted to the newly-weds. John remarked on the fine day to Harriet, who, after a first blush, entered into a quiet conversation on the hopes for the day. Letty tilted her chin up at this, as someone on her mettle, and tapped her husband on the arm with her parasol, motioning with her head towards the innocent pair, so that she and Alfred manoeuvred smartly to come around them, one on each side. Mr Fretwood bowed to Harriet and asked her how she did; using her very courtesy against her, Letty exploited the opportunity of a break in Harriet’s attention to John to slip her arm through her cousin’s and to lead him slightly away, at which he frowned, looking back with reluctance to where Alfred was now treating Harriet to a somewhat pompous exposition of the view which she had known all her life and with which he had only recently become acquainted.

  “What delightful people, “ Letty began, smiling slyly up at her cousin’s grave countenance. “Dear Miss Bredwardine. Such a good soul, I believe.”

  John could not object to this, however much he might object to the separation. “No one could doubt it,” he said with warmth, keen to defend Harriet against Letty’s patronising and belittling tone, which grated on his ear. Letty was not his favourite amongst his cousins.

  “So quiet and obedient to her mother, and full of good works, Carrie tells me. A pity she is so faded.” John frowned and bristled at this. “Come now Letty,” he interjected, “that is hardly fair. Miss Bredwardine has very fine features.”

  “Oh, true, true,” Letty concurred readily, tightening her grip on his arm to prevent his escape. “Pray do not take offence, my dear cousin. Few can admire that dear old maid more than I. However I do so enjoy all things new, be it fashions or carriages, or even fresh faces, especially the young and pretty ones. Now is that such a sin?” She gave John her most winning smile as she teased him thus.

  “It is a very natural enjoyment,” he remarked drily. Letty only smiled in reply and pressed on further, steering him towards a young woman and her mother, who seemed to be waiting for them.

  * * *

  Mr Fretwood had excused himself from Harriet’s company and followed his wife as soon as he could without seeming discourteous. Harriet was not reluctant to see him go, even though she gazed somewhat wistfully after the retreating backs of Dr Peplow and his cousins. She turned back to her own party and saw Grace looking in the same direction with a similar regret on her face. Her father was so often away and here they were on holiday together but still they were parted by the needs of others. Harriet immediately resolved to try to cheer her and smiled at the child.

  “We are all so pleased that you are to join us for tea today, my dear.” Grace had turned twelve just last month. She had a serious demeanour for one so young. She looked up and regarded the lady solemnly. The latter was not smartly dressed; indeed, she surmised that cousin Letty would have had much to say on a general shabbiness of attire shared by all the family, but her smile was kind and her expression sincere. Harriet’s eyes told her she need have no fear of being judged and found wanting in some vexing and mysterious way that so often seemed the case with Letty and her smart friends. She could remember just enough of her Mama to recall that she had kind eyes too. Her Papa was naturally quiet and grave in his demeanour and she felt more comfortable with him and others like him. She smiled back at Harriet.

  “It was very kind of you to invite me, Miss Bredwardine,” she said politely. “I know my father is looking forward to it too. He so likes talking to Mr Bredwardine,
about his coley.., his coleo.., his beetles, “ she said, giving up the uneven struggle with the word. “He says he is a very clever man. My Papa is very clever too, you know.” Grace was anxious that Harriet should understand this.

  “Yes indeed, my dear, that is why they enjoy each other’s company so well. What about you, Grace? Are you clever too? Your father says you progress well in your lessons.”

  “Oh, does he?” The child exclaimed delightedly, caught off guard. Her father had been careful not to turn her head with too much praise. “I do try very hard. I would like to be like him when I grow up, you know. He has so many books and he has a microscope. People always want him as their doctor, after he has treated anyone in their family just once.”

  “That is because of his kind manner, as well as his skill, I imagine.”

  “Oh yes. Papa is always kind.” Grace’s love for her father rang through every word of that simple sentence. Just then Edmund approached them, smiling. “Would you care for some gingerbread, Grace? It will be a long time until luncheon and longer still until tea.”

  “Yes, please, sir.” The girl replied eagerly. The family moved towards the best stall and Edmund treated Grace to a gingerbread man. He bought another and slipped the second to his aunt, who had a sweet tooth and whom he had observed looking wistfully at the treats of childhood on display. Miss Morrall broke up the gingerbread figure in her reticule and sucked each piece discreetly, partly so as not to attract the notice of her sister who would have disapproved, albeit mildly, but also because her teeth were untrustworthy these days. As they all moved on from the stall, Grace slipped her free hand into Harriet’s without thinking, a gesture which pleased her very much, and resumed their interrupted conversation.

  “Miss Bredwardine? May I ask you a question? It’s a secret thing.” She looked around to see if they were overheard but the other adults of the party were all absorbed in their own conversations.

  “Yes, Grace, of course.”

  “I would like to be a very clever woman when I am old, like Papa. Was there ever a woman who became a doctor?”

  “Alas, not in these days, Grace. I believe there may have been a lady in ancient times, but she was unusual. Women are not allowed into Universities to get degrees to become doctors, lawyers and the like.”

  “Why not?”

  Harriet paused, and held the child’s hand between both of her own. She was puzzled how best to answer. Exasperated thoughts about the place of women in the world were not foreign to her and she remembered her own indignation at the unfairness of the world which left her at home when Edmund was sent to Oxford, although her own father had taken great pains with her education himself, for which she would be always grateful. Nonetheless, she had sometimes resented making do with crumbs when she saw the feast prepared for and yet spoiled or wasted by some of Edmund’s less thoughtful contemporaries.

  “It seems that the world is so ordered that men have the ruling of it all except the domestic hearth, my dear.” Her answer was not bitter, but rather resigned. “We must be grateful when the men in question are people like your father and my dear brother. It is not always so, alas.”

  Grace frowned and looked woefully puzzled. It was clear she did not relish the reply.

  “I know that Papa and Mr Bredwardine are good and kind. Could they not persuade other men to change things?”

  “They would need unlimited wealth even to try, my dear, and there are so many men who do not want things changed. They are too comfortable as they are.”

  Grace waxed indignant. She felt like stamping her foot at the injustice of it, for it confirmed what she had already observed within her own limited experience, but she did not want to appear too childish in Harriet’s eyes. “But doesn’t it make you angry, Miss Bredwardine? It makes me feel so very cross.”

  “Well, Grace, I am so much older than you that I have had time to get used to it, I suppose. I have not your lofty ambition.” She smiled at the little girl. “Women make excellent nurses though, you know, and some of us make ourselves useful in that way. I do have some medical knowledge. I can help heal some ailments by the use of some herbs and simples and set broken bones. I am content.” She walked on again, wondering inwardly if that last statement was altogether true. The little girl remained silent at her side but still hand-clasped.

  Truth to tell, Grace was disappointed with this resignation and endurance. She was inflamed with the sense of injustice in her secret heart. However, callow as she yet was, she possessed enough sensitivity to realise that Harriet might be hurt if she showed her disappointment too openly. She remembered too that Miss Bredwardine had not scolded her and reminded her oppressively of her duty to marry, as her grandmother would do, or laughed at her as Letty and her friends were likely to do, were she ever to reveal her ambition to them, but had rather discussed it seriously with her, respecting her views. She took confidence again.

  “Someone has to start, though, do you not agree, Miss Bredwardine? It is the same as… , as taking the first piece of bread and butter at tea or, ..or going onto the dance floor first at a party. If someone isn’t the first then no one will start. Perhaps I will be the first lady doctor.” Grace looked up into Harriet’s face and held her breath. There was no laughter there but sympathy and approval.

  “Perhaps you will at that, my dear. I should like to see you win your wish.”

  * * *

  The Bredwardine party stopped again to greet the Morgan family. Daniel was due to enter one of the races set up that afternoon. Like Edmund he was accompanied by an admiring entourage of women, though Daniel had greater luck in that he had been able to woo and win the woman who pleased his fancy. Edmund would have given much to have been so blessed but the bright and kindly girl whose image was lodged in his heart was in love with another man and had no inkling of his pain.

  “Well, Daniel, how do you think you might fare?” asked Edmund. The young man was modest but hopeful. “Well, sir, I shall do my best. I shall strive for the prize in both my races, but Frank Marsh is well fancied. He has more power than me in a fast finish.”

  “Dan has been practising hard, sir; whenever he has to go anywhere, he will usually run.” Daniel’s mother spoke with fond pride.

  “Yes, sir, we think he stands a good chance.” Daniel’s sister smiled at her employer.

  “A man can only do his best. I am sure you will make your family proud, Morgan.” Mrs Bredwardine was approving, if condescending.

  “Thank you, ma’am”. Daniel tipped his cap.

  “We will be cheering you on, Daniel. Good luck!” Edmund led his party away in search of luncheon in the refreshment tent.

  * * *

  “Nellie, my dear, what a delight to see you. I am so glad that you could come.” Letty kissed the air near both cheeks of the pretty young woman, who was very fashionably dressed and attracting many admiring glances. Miss Ashfield, passing by, gave her a friendly smile and nod. Letty shook hands with the girl’s mother, a staid matron, dressed soberly but well.

  “John, dear, here is one of those fresh faces that I enjoy so much. This is Mrs Dixon and her daughter, my dear friend Miss Ellen Dixon. I have so longed to introduce you to each other!”

  The new acquaintance bowed and curtseyed accordingly. Miss Dixon flushed. Letty had not exaggerated about the pleasant looks of her cousin, though she could have wished he were a little younger. Mrs Dixon too approved. ‘Clearly a gentleman in his manners,’ she thought, ‘but perhaps a little too old and grave for Nellie. Still they might complement each other: she might rouse his spirits and he might steady her giddiness.’ Her thoughts flew somewhat precipitately to china dinner plates and wedding favours. The Dixons were wealthy as the late Mr Dixon had made money from tanning leather, but they had not found their money sufficient to allow them to escape the taint of trade, or the entrée into the level of society that Mrs Dixon craved. A doctor would be a good match. The ever-obedient Alfred now offered his arm to Mrs Dixon, who was pleased with the at
tention, and since Letty did not relinquish her place just yet, John was obliged to offer his free arm to Miss Dixon rather than leave her neglected. She was nothing loth and she raised her pretty parasol in the most becoming fashion so that, as Letty thought with the greatest satisfaction, the handsome trio resembled a fine fashion plate as they walked on. Harriet and Grace caught sight of them ahead in the crowds but each kept her thoughts to herself.

  Chapter 6

  Letty and her compliant husband managed to detain John with them all through luncheon, much against his own wishes, even turning his growing anxiety about his daughter to advantage by dwelling on Grace’s charms and virtues to Miss Dixon, who declared herself ‘quite wild’ to meet the ‘dear little thing’, adding a soft and winning glance at the doctor from dark eyes. John had to admit to himself that Miss Dixon was indeed very lovely to look upon, but he rather doubted the strength of her understanding. Pleasant though it was to walk with such youthful charm and beauty on his arm, nonetheless he chafed to find himself obliged to act with genteel politeness towards strangers with whom he had little in common and found himself instead longing for the ready sympathy and intelligence of Miss Bredwardine’s conversation. At last a reasonable chance arose for him to leave the Dixons and Fretwoods comfortably ensconced near the start and finish of the races and he firmly excused himself in order to go and lift the burden of looking after his daughter from the Bredwardines.

  All the groups interested in the races were now heading for the course in a steady stream. Edmund had been able to secure good places for his family to see the finishing line, as his parishioners were only too pleased to make some room for them. Dr Peplow was welcomed back warmly into the fold and Grace and he were delighted to be reunited, but Harriet had already gone home with Gwen to oversee the setting out of the tea to which the Peplows were invited and John repressed a sigh at the lost opportunity of a longer talk with her than had been vouchsafed him.