I slept until eleven and then ventured forth with one of Papa’s leatherbound books on which I was lent a shilling. I managed to buy bread and milk and three eggs and made myself an omelette which I ate ravenously. How I wish I could have shared it with Poppet, but I still have no knowledge of his whereabouts. I watched for him constantly all the way home and made enquiries from all that we met but to no avail. The house is very quiet without him but I have sworn not to complain about anything. God has brought me back to my beloved city and I must be content.
August 29th
Bedtime and I am weary to my bones but the house is sparkling. Like a new pin, as Aunt Nell would have said. I have scrubbed and polished from top to bottom. Every cushion and blanket has been aired in the yard and every carpet has been thoroughly beaten. I am beginning to appreciate how hard Maggie worked. If she survives and returns to us I shall persuade Papa to increase her wages.
August 31st
In truth I am the luckiest person in the world. I answered a knock at the door to find a stranger with a basket over his arm. He was a friend of Uncle John’s, come into the city to attend briefly to some urgent business (he is a wool merchant). He would not venture inside the house tho’ I assured him ’twas safe.
He handed over the basket and was at once gone on his way. There was a jar of honey, some fresh churned butter and a goat’s cheese. Also a leg of mutton and six beetroots. Tears of gratitude filled my eyes and I swear I shall never again say a harsh word against them nor shall any other. I daresay Uncle John has no knowledge of my attempt to enter Woolwich. Tomorrow I shall feast on meat and beetroot.
September 1st
Friday. Even knowing which day it is a pleasure. When I look back on the confusions of my week away I can hardly believe I have survived. I think about Marcus Wainwright and wonder if he stayed in Eltham or moved southward into Kent. And the poor creature they called a witch – what of her? And my dear little dog. I make myself believe that some kindly soul has taken pity on him and cares for him. At least he is safe from the dog-catcher. I saw the wretch pass the house this morning and was tempted to empty the slops on to him.
September 2nd
I am counting the days until Papa is released. Then I shall wait outside for him lest he assumes me gone out of the city and makes for Woolwich.
September 4th
Papa is home again. I feel a peal of joyful bells should be rung. I waited outside the pesthouse and brought him home with me. He could scarcely walk he is so weak. ’Twill be long before he is restored to his former self. I did not know how to break the news of Aunt Nell’s death but as soon as he asked after her I fell to weeping and he at once knew the truth. We comforted each other as best we could but ’tis sad to have no gravestone where we may lay flowers for her. No doubt when this is all over we could find where her body lies but ’tis a mass grave and I cannot face the thought of it.
September 6th
Wednesday, two o’clock – Papa has slept most of the morning. I made some soup with vegetables and barley which he found most welcome. He is still tormented by memories of the pesthouse of which he cannot or will not speak. The news of Aunt Nell’s death has also mightily depressed his spirits and he speaks little except to answer my questions. I keep as cheerful as I can.
When I ventured out in search of milk and eggs I overheard two men discussing the Weekly Mortality Bills. It seems that this week nearly 7,000 people died of the plague which I find scarcely credible. Will there be anyone left? I did not tell Papa for fear of lowering his spirits further.
9 o’clock – Will called round to see if there was anybody in the house. I dared not ask him in but talked to him through the parlour window. Maggie has almost despaired of seeing me, believing that I was gone to Woolwich. I shall have so much to tell her. It seems they have received some poor relief but the money is spent and she is keen to have employment again. Her sister is recovered and being fourteen years old can manage alone. Will is as perky as ever he was. He offered to cheer up my father with some jokes but Papa refused to see him. Will left promising to send Maggie to us tomorrow.
“And will you stay out of prison?” I begged him. “I cannot work a miracle every time they lock you up.”
He grinned his perky smile. “I swear I’ll do my best,” he told me, hand on heart. “But I can promise nothing.”
Sadly, he is a born rogue but a charming one.
Papa gave me some money and I retrieved the articles I had left with the moneylender. Papa will not accept that I am in any way to blame for Aunt Nell’s death (which is a great comfort) and is full of praise for the way I cared for her.
September 11th
At last I have the strength to write in my diary again. I have been confined to bed since the day after Maggie returned. The doctor tells me ’tis the accumulated strain of the past few months which have overtaxed my body. The lack of food while I travelled to and from Woolwich made matters worse. Thank Heavens for Maggie who has been a tower of strength since I collapsed. I was chopping onions for a stew when I fainted clear away. I woke to find Maggie hauling me up the stairs to my bed.
By this time Papa had recovered a little and was up and about and sent Maggie straightway for the doctor. So now I am the invalid, but around me life is slowly returning to normal. Papa has ventured back to his office where work is haphazard as must be expected. Without Aunt Nell to talk to, Papa sits with me and tells me of his work which interests me greatly. Now that I am mistress in the house he treats me less like a child which is gratifying. In a strange way the plague has brought us closer together.
London is still in the grip of the plague, tho’ the doctor insists it has reached its peak and must now slowly reduce in ferocity. He says that there are still many new cases but more folk are recovering from it. We must give thanks for small mercies.
September 17th
Lordsday – I am quite recovered and wish I could go to church. I want to kneel in our pew and give thanks in God’s own house but Papa will not yet allow it. Instead I pray beside my bed and thank Him for my safety and for Papa’s recovery. I do not speak to Him of my aunt for I do not wish to reproach Him. I still pine for my poor Poppet. I know now that I will never see him again and Papa has promised me another dog once the plague is at an end. I said “Yes” to this but no other dog will ever take Poppet’s place. He came to me as a present on the day I was nine and was my constant companion. Maggie says that when the plague ends there will be very few cats and dogs left alive which may make them costly.
I do not speak of my birthday which passed unnoticed. I doubt I shall ever have the pearls unless Papa remembers next year. Then I will be fifteen. Not old enough to be betrothed but wise enough to know when a suitable man comes along.
Papa sent Maggie up into the attic this morning where she found half a dozen pigeons roosting. Where they have come from I do not know but they seem quite at home. So tomorrow, if we can find a coal seller, we shall have a pigeon pie (I hope). I shall use Aunt Nell’s book of recipes as Papa chooses not to trust Maggie’s cooking. The days are still hot and I shall swelter with the heat from the fire but Papa feels we all need as much nourishment as possible. (Maggie says she feels like a goose being fattened for the Christmas table.) If only the weather would change. This has been such a hot and humid summer.
September 19th
God be praised. He has sent me back my little dog. I can scarce believe it but ’tis the truth. A knock came at the door around three o’clock this afternoon and I opened it to find Mistress Gratton on the doorstep. I stared at her as tho’ at a ghost but then saw that she held Poppet under her arm. His lead was fastened securely round her hand.
“I believe this little rascal belongs to you,” she said.
I was so taken aback I could not speak but took him into my arms and hugged him. There were tears in my eyes. He felt lighter and sadly neglected but was otherwise the same.
“I was returning from Dartford,” Mistress Gratton continued, “and saw him running loose with two other dogs. I recognized him instantly. Do you remember when I was accosted by that lewd ruffian? Sweet Poppet laid his head in my lap and looked at me with such affection as tho’ he tried to comfort me.”
I nodded, too busy smothering Poppet with kisses to answer her with words.
“I knew at once how you would grieve for him,” she went on, “so set about catching him.”
She would not come into the house but we talked at length. Her husband died of the plague in the pesthouse but, like me, she did not take it. So she had not been infected by the lewd wretch who kissed her. I stared at her and my heart leaped with relief. If she did not take the plague from that unwanted kiss, then the wretch was not infected. Therefore Aunt Nell could not have taken the contagion from contact with her or me. How she did take it is a mystery – unless ’twas during her journey to Southwark on the day her skirt was ruined. Poor Aunt Nell is still dead but I am not responsible for which I thank God most heartily.
I told Mistress Gratton of my attempt to reach Uncle John and the way in which I was forced home again. It seems she escaped London earlier – making her way to Dartford where her widowed sister – Mistress Bell – lives with her son, Edward, who is an apothecary. After much talk we parted company but are resolved to remain friends and to meet again when the city is itself again. How strange that she of all people should be the means by which I regained my sweet little dog. Had we not gone to her assistance, she would never have recognized Poppet and he would be lost to me forever.
September 21st
I forgot to say the pigeon pie was edible tho’ the crust was hard. (But I blame that on the times for there was little butter for the pastry.) Still, it filled our stomachs for which God be praised. So many at this time are starving, homeless or sick. We must thank God we are preserved thus far.
September 24th
Little new to report but the joy of having Poppet with me. I wonder if he is as pleased as I am? I think of him romping in the fields with other stray dogs and catching a rabbit here and there. No doubt for him, after the confines of this house, it was a time of wonderful freedom. But he was in a sad state – his fur was tangled and so full of burrs that I was forced to cut some of them out. Then I bathed him and brushed him. He hated it but now looks himself again.
September 27th
Who should pass by but Master Winn, who was our watchman for a time. I was delighted to see him still hale and hearty. He has very little money and earns what he can running errands for the neighbours. He brought hopeful news that the worst of the plague is past. The doctors promise a decreasing death toll. Master Winn hopes that before another month is out his master may return and go about his business once more.
“I hope to be his manservant again,” he told me. “When he abandoned me, I swore I would never return to him but he was a good enough master before he fled the city.”
“There are so many dead,” I said, seeking to cheer him. “Papa says there will be a great demand for servants and the like. You may be able to name your price.”
“The same thought has occurred to me.” He grinned and went on his way with my good wishes ringing in his ears.
November 21st
At last I have my diary to hand again. I have spent some weeks with Uncle John and the family and left this behind in its hiding place. As soon as the way was clear and the highways open Papa insisted that I should go to Woolwich to recuperate in the fresh air. I must confess I have enjoyed it better than I expected. Kate’s baby – a little girl named Lizbeth – is a sweet child. She has blue eyes and very dark hair. I held her and she made no fuss. I think I shall like being a mother.
Sadly Jem, the baby’s father, died of the plague (caught when their barge docked in the Thames). The child will be brought up by Aunt Mary as her own. Kate is full of melancholy but Aunt Mary says, “ ’Tis only a broken heart and ’twill mend.”
I found it strange to be among folk who have not lived through the plague and have no real understanding of it. They asked many questions about poor Aunt Nell’s death which I did not care to dwell upon. Poppet was happy to be back in the country but I did not once take my eyes from him lest he disappear again. In the main ’twas a restful time but I am mighty pleased to be back in London where I belong.
The doctors’ hopeful forecast was proved correct. The weekly death toll plummeted rapidly towards the end of October and has been falling ever since. ’Twill not be finally over until the cold weather puts an end to the contagion but already people are coming back to London.
December 1st
I have less and less time to write in my diary now that I must take Aunt Nell’s place in the household. Cooking, shopping, cleaning. . . Even with Maggie’s help ’tis amazing how the hours fly by. I fall into bed each night and sleep at once.
Only a few weeks and Christmas will be with us again. Life is slowly returning to normal. A few of the street-sellers are once again calling their wares in the street. Rain has finally washed the dirt away so that the city looks clean again. There are many, however, without employment and some of these are set to work to pull weeds from the cobbled streets. Others beg.
Mistress Capperly returned two days ago from Dorking and brought a black kitten with her in a basket. (Her ginger cat disappeared during the summer and is most likely caught by the dog-catcher tho’ we did not speak of this to her.) The kitten’s name is Sooty which made Papa laugh for the first time in months.
“How very original,” he said and laughed until the tears ran. He wiped his eyes but fell to laughing again and could not stop. Maggie and I exchanged looks for ’twas hardly that funny but we were pleased to see him happier than of late. He still grieves for Aunt Nell as I do. I am now moved into her bedchamber which is larger than my attic room (which meant finding a new hiding place for this diary). I have no likeness of her but I have hung her favourite bonnet on a hook above my mantelpiece and keep a small posy of rosemary below it by way of remembrance.
Luke called in to see me which made Maggie jealous tho’ why I know not since her Jon has survived. Luke is rehearsing his lines for a play to be produced at the Dukes Theatre in January. (Meanwhile he has bought a cart with the money he made during the plague and is available for hire as a carter while he waits to become famous on stage.) In fact he has only ten lines in the play but is very proud of the part. He recited all ten lines to us with suitable actions. Papa has promised that we can go to see him when the play opens in the New Year.
I wonder what 1666 will bring to us?
August 5th, 1666
Lordsday. To St Andrew’s. A long, long sermon. I have sadly neglected my diary in the excitement of meeting Edward Bell which I did some months ago. The day was January 9th and is imprinted on my heart forever. Quite by chance, I was walking with Maggie to the river to meet her Jon. We were meant to go straightway to the market but Maggie cannot bear to let a day pass without seeing him. At first I thought this romantic and then foolish but now I understand. I wish that Edward lived in London instead of Dartford.
(His latest letter ends with four kisses. It starts “My most sweet Alice” and ends “From your devoted Edward”. I cannot ask for more.)
As Maggie and Jon exchanged sly kisses and I waited idly beside the boat steps, who should I see but Mistress Gratton. She was alighting from a wherry and with her was a young man. Not tall but not short, yet sturdily built with fine dark curls and brown eyes. Edward, her nephew, is 21 years old and loves me to distraction as I do him. But on that first day I did not pay him much heed for he is not exactly handsome though he has a fine mouth and good teeth. Aunt Nell was wont to say “Handsome is as handsome does.” I never did know what she meant but to me ’tis the man I love and not his face. (In truth I am not exactly perfect myself.) But Edward has a sweet nature and makes me laugh.
We e
xchange letters and meet occasionally. Papa and I have supped with Mistress Gratton, Mistress Bell (Edward’s mother) and Edward and they have visited with us. Edward’s widowed mother has taken over her husband’s apothecary while Edward still studies. She impresses me greatly for she can add a column of figures as fast as any man. Nothing deters her. She buys in the medicaments from far and wide and deals with doctors and patients alike in a most businesslike way. For the present she employs an elderly assistant but one day Edward will work with her. He can already read and write in Latin and is studying herbs and other medicaments. I, too, have decided to learn what I can. (I learned the Latin verb “to love”. Amo, amas, amat . . . I tell him I do not need more.) I am also reading from some of Edward’s books and find them fascinating. If plague ever comes again I shall find it strange to stand on the other side of the apothecary’s counter.
Papa approves of Edward and knows how much I hope to marry him when I am old enough. He is eager for the match and anxious too that I should be worthy. For my birthday he gave me a year’s dancing lessons. I never did receive my promised pearls because the plague intervened to cause havoc with Papa’s employment. (For the weeks he was ill he received no payment.) But I am older and wiser and know that to be without pearls is scarcely a hardship when others in the world have so little.
The Great Plague Page 8
