by Clara Barley
Some days I wish I’d never inherited the Walker estate. The grief of losing both my parents at just nineteen was never worth this turmoil. I long for them to be back with me. I wish my father had advised my sister Elizabeth and me on what we should do, but he passed quickly and my mother shortly afterwards. Then we lost our dear brother too. To this day I still do not know the full length and breadth of the estate I inherited, although I know it must be large, given the way my family circles around me, all wanting a piece, all telling me that if I do not marry the estate will be broken up and lost – as if I should care what happens after I die!
My sister married but I detest her husband. He looks down upon me, as if I am always in the way. He knows that if I were to die then he would get the entire estate. Poor Elizabeth thought she had married well, but he soon showed his true colours. They barely spend any time together now and he gives her a meagre allowance from her own money, which she handed over to him when she took her vows. Why would I ever seek to do the same? I could not bear to hand over the freedom I now have to a man and be forever dependent on his charity and good favour. Like Elizabeth, I would be expected to produce children, the very thought of which horrifies me. I worry that my body would never cope with such pressures. Some days it hurts me just to stand as my back is so fragile, I feel so weak. I saw my cousin grow so big she could barely walk! I’ve heard the screams of childbirth and no descriptions of it as a miracle could encourage me to endure such pain. I’ve seen the exhausted faces of new mothers, seen them with screaming creatures in their arms who then grow to run around with no concern for their poor mother, who loses her figure, her health and her very self by enduring to produce them.
Yet just a short while past I agreed to do just that. I shall not think of him too much or I shall begin to weep. I am grateful to my aunt for making me leave the house with her to help take my mind off things. I shall think of Miss Lister instead and focus on contriving a way to meet her again without our families present. I will suggest a walk together.
A small part of me thinks perhaps I am playing with fire, but I have been burned before and survived.
Chapter Two
Summer, 1832: An interfering aunt
and secret kisses
Miss Lister
That damnable woman! How dare she interfere and suggest that I am inappropriate company for her niece? Miss Walker confides in me after she comes over alone and spends a pleasant morning with me and we take a walk in the woods that her aunt seems to have changed her mind about our new friendship. She has tired of us Listers already after just two visits and warns Miss Walker away. What a changeable character! Does she not know who I am? I am perfectly adequate company for her meek mannered and uneducated niece who blushes at the very sight of me. Lead her astray indeed! She cannot possibly know that we kissed. We were on a walk far from any prying eyes. Someone must have been watching us and reported back to that chitter-chatterer of a woman, who has nothing to do but interfere in her niece’s life in the hopes of some pittance of her inheritance, living off her while pretending to be her companion and protector. The sooner I can be rid of her meddling influence the better. Inappropriate company indeed! I wager this is the first time poor little Miss Walker has ever had a decent conversation in her life that did not revolve around the weather and dresses and children and pitiful society. These nouveaux riches seem to forget how lucky they are when they could easily have been born to poverty, where little Miss Walker would have been working in the mills from five years old.
I must find out if someone told on us and shoot them! Unless… unless it was Miss Walker herself. Could she be so foolish as to confide in her silly aunt? If that is the case, then we are doomed never to exchange more than pleasantries at church. Lead her astray, she said! I believe leading astray is exactly what Miss Walker needs. She certainly does not resist my kisses on our second walk.
I do not know how I have let this rile me so much. Normally such gossip and hearsay are water off a duck’s back to me. I’ve been the subject of gossip before – how I dress, how I manage my affairs, even how I walk. Protective mothers and aunts may warn their charges to not get too close to Miss Lister. Perhaps I really care this time? Care that Miss Walker might be snatched away from me before I get any further than a bit of kissing. I know well she liked it. She couldn’t stop herself. We could have kissed for hours until our faces were sore and we were too exhausted to continue. Of course, I left it at just a kiss again, kept my hands only on her arms and lower back and her gentle little neck. All very decent of me while growing hot down there and having to contain myself so that I may leave her wanting more. I asked her how she felt, and she seemed to think I was unlike any woman she had known. How unsurprised I was at that. She asked if what we were doing was wrong, so I reassured her greatly that we were just enjoying something pleasurable and two unattached ladies were more than permitted to enjoy a small amount of pleasure every now and then.
I know for sure now she is keen on me. It was she who arranged our second walk, knowing full well we would be alone. Despite her aunt’s warning, she showed no resistance at all when I held her hand and drew her close to me, but if she is going to question what is wrong at just a kiss, I wonder if this adventure may take a long time to progress to anything close to proper pleasure. Will she be worth it? I’m not sure. She certainly kisses well, passionately and deeply, and is not afraid to use her tongue and nip at my lips with her teeth. She presses hard into my neck and back with her delicate hands as if wanting us to merge into one. I believe I will eventually have my way with her. I believe she wants it too.
But now her scheming aunt warns her away from me. Miss Walker has ignored her, but the seeds of doubt may have been sown. I should invite them both over for a visit and be on my best and most charming behaviour with them, reassure them that I intend only friendship. Or I could ignore them both for a few weeks. Let them stew. If Miss Walker is intent on seeing me again and having me kiss her, then I shall leave it to her to do the chasing. Yes, I shall leave it to her to decide if she wishes to see me again. Although I am keen on her, she is not the only woman in Yorkshire left for me, though it would be most convenient if I could secure her company as she is very pleasing to look at. However, I cannot put all my wager on her, especially if she may be easily distracted from her course by a few words from a nosy aunt.
I am decided then. I shall carry on my business as usual and focus on the Hall and the running of the estate. While Miss Walker sits daintily by as others conduct her business, I have Shibden to manage which is a full-time occupation. There is work on the grounds to complete, inspections of our lands; I must oversee the coal mines, stone and timber reserves, ensure our finances are in order with incomes from our canal and road shares and visit our tenants in need of support.
I shall send the Walkers no invitation but contrive to make sure they hear of me visiting others in the area and being seen about town. I will visit our mutual friend Mrs Priestley again and she will then no doubt tell of my visit when she next sees the Walkers as she rarely keeps anything to herself. That will make her come running to me.
Miss Walker
I know I shouldn’t, but I lock myself in my bedroom and without even undressing, let my hand find its way up under my skirts and through my drawers and find my hot, damp hair. I gently part my lips and rub the moisture around them, close them with my fingers and slowly start to circle and circle, gently and steadily at first and then, as I gather speed, my other hand clutches at one of my breasts and squeezes it hard as my breath quickens and my heart pulses in my ears. I close my eyes to the world around me and focus in on that one small place and the rhythm of my hand as I feel my body tensing and a pleasure slowly growing behind my fingers, and it grows and grows as I rub harder and faster, my arm aching and my other hand now reaching down too, pushing my skirts up so it can grab hold of my thigh and grip hard, my nails biting into my skin as my hand circles and circl
es and then my breath catches and my whole body shudders with pleasure emanating out from that small spot, throughout my entire self, spreading out through my arms and legs and head like lighting has struck me, and I sink back into the waves of pleasure. I let go with both my hands and lie there, legs apart, eyes still closed.
After just a moment’s respite, I want more. My fingers find the spot again, and start to gently caress once more, and within a few moments the heat rises again, and another shock of pleasure emanates up through my body, almost as good as the first. I squeeze my thighs, my breasts, and let myself take deep gulping breaths of air. I cannot help but let out a moan of pleasure. I squirm on my sheets as the pleasure slowly subsides. I roll onto my side and fall into a luxurious slumber. And whom shall I dream of? The woman who has kissed me in the woods and has ignored me ever since. The woman whom I cannot stop thinking about. Waking to thoughts of her, I feel a new throbbing come from between my legs and allow myself to reach down once more. And this time as I circle my fingers to draw pleasure, I imagine it is Miss Lister’s fingers touching me, her face in front of me, and her lips on mine.
When I wake a short while later, I pray for forgiveness. I do not know what has come over me. How could I possibly have such thoughts – and over a woman? A woman my aunt has warned me against. A woman who seems to have lured and bewitched me. A woman I should never have had anything to do with. I shall not pleasure myself like that again. I have resisted it for so long and in just two weeks since meeting Miss Lister again I have become… of loose morals. I shall need to pray a great deal.
If only I had someone to talk to about such matters. My sister is too far away, and I fear her husband reads her letters. Even if I could speak to her, what would she say? Probably that I should pray for forgiveness for such thoughts and never see Miss Lister again.
After my aunt warned me about getting too close to Miss Lister, I asked Mrs Priestley, a long-standing friend of the Listers what she knew of her. She had only praise to offer and seems to think highly of her, although says she is an ‘odd fellow’. It didn’t reassure me. I wonder now if she’ll tell Miss Lister I was asking after her?
Lord, deliver me from this temptation. I do not deserve any pleasures of the flesh. I have wronged another and deserve no pleasure or comfort in life. I shall devote myself to study and prayer and reside here at Crow Nest with my aunt until my dying day. Who am I to deserve happiness? God will judge me for taking pleasure and my improper thoughts. I hope Miss Lister continues to ignore me, for it will make my task easier. I shall have nothing more to do with Miss Lister of Shibden Hall.
Miss Lister
It only took a week for me to receive a letter from her.
I had stored up all my willpower to ignore the little thing for at least a month, and she crumbles and writes to me after just seven days. I truly have her on a string. Her letter asks if we can meet again and explains that she will happily come accompanied by her aunt if I deem it appropriate. She leaves the choice of whether we are alone or not to me. That suggests she wishes us to be alone but does not want to presume. How sweet of her.
I wonder what thoughts are flying through her head now? I wonder if she can even imagine what is beyond kissing? She seems so innocent, I doubt her hand has ever even explored her own body, let alone another’s. Mrs Priestley tells me she has been proposed to over the years but never been seen with anyone. Poor thing, I would have assumed she had not even been kissed before, except that how she kisses me suggests otherwise. It seems that young Miss Walker has had more experience than she lets on. I imagine she prays for forgiveness after every impure thought!
As I think on her now and record her letter in my diary, as I record all I write and receive, I feel as though I have been rather mean in my estimation of her. Perhaps she isn’t half so unintelligent as I believed. She rises to my conversation and although she appears lacking in education, she does seem to have the capacity for it. I could suggest a few books to her and once she has read them, I could question her and see what she makes of them. That would give me a good measure of whether she has the capacity to learn in order for her to be suitable companion to me. I should hate for her to be interested only in gossip rather than history and philosophy.
I wonder too what her experience of relations is? She may well have secrets – I’ve hidden mine well. I wonder what Miss Walker has been up to in her time? She is attractive and must surely have the same urges as I do. As I write about her in my diary, I feel myself getting warm down below and know that tonight I shall take pleasure while thinking of her. I wonder if she would ever even dream of doing the same with thoughts of me?
I decide to make her wait. I write back to say I’d be happy to visit her and her aunt but am busy until next Tuesday. Five days for her to think about me or forget me. I shall meet with her and her aunt, and if she seems interested I shall offer to take her for a short walk.
I think I shall need to progress past kissing quite soon before my interest wanes. I am not as young as I was and do not wish to exhaust too much of my time working on her only for her to reject me at the final stage. I need to be sure quite soon that she is of the same mind as me, that she too has feelings only for the fairer sex, and, ideally, only for me.
Without meaning to, I allow myself to picture us here together at Shibden Hall. Half my daydreams allow pessimism to creep in and I imagine her annoying me with not wanting to walk or socialise and not standing up for herself, and I imagine us falling out and me sending her back to her home of Crow Nest. The other half of my thoughts see us in contentment, living side by side, going for walks, tending to the estate, drawing up plans for more renovations and improvements and retiring to our bedroom together where she allows me to pleasure her.
It dawns on me suddenly that Miss Walker is a very wealthy heiress with a considerable sum at her disposal, one which far overshadows my own income. If she would love me and live with me here at Shibden, I may be able to avail myself of some of her wealth.
It is a selfish, shallow thought, but once thought, I cannot unthink it. Suddenly wooing Miss Walker becomes more than just seeking pleasure and companionship. Wooing Miss Walker could also result in my financial benefit. I could finish my grand plans for the Hall. Moreover, what I have wanted to do for several years, but not had the means to do, is travel farther afield, beyond Paris, beyond Europe. Winning Miss Walker would mean I have the finances to travel and do it in more luxury than ever before.
I write to her again and say I am now suddenly free on Saturday to visit her at Crow Nest if it is not too soon and she is available. I wager she will be.
Miss Walker
Three different relatives have written to me now whom I’ve not heard from for months. Now suddenly they all appear, concerned for my welfare. News of my new friendship with Miss Lister has travelled fast; yet their warnings only add to my feelings that I wish to see her, and I care ever less for what anyone else thinks. I admire that Miss Lister seems so unabashed by what people say. I shall endeavour to be more like her. What reputation is it that I have to lose by my acquaintance with her? I do not believe I even have a reputation, so little have I been involved in the world. I should like to have more of a reputation; whether it be good or bad, at least I should have one. Let me be the talk of the family, the church, the town and all of Yorkshire!
I believe I am past my final opportunity of marriage to a man, so what damage can a friendship with an ‘odd fellow’ like Miss Lister do? I shall become an ‘odd fellow’ too.
No sooner do I have bold thoughts like these than my doubts come to the fore. Why must I always be in two minds? From what to wear and what to sew; from whom to see and what to write in letters. I believe I must have never been allowed to make a decision and consequently, when thrust to make them since my parents died, I doubt my own ability to decide even the smallest things. Perhaps I should start small. I should try and practise making decisions on
small matters. Perhaps assert my authority in the house more, rather than let my aunt do it. It is my house, after all.
I wonder how Miss Lister manages to run her own estate? She even collects the rents herself sometimes and all the tenants know her. I heard she negotiates herself over the coal mines on her land. I have coal mines on my estate, but they seem to be managed without my interference. Perhaps I should take an interest? I might pay a visit to one and see for myself. That would be a shock to the men – little me, turning up in my pink ribboned bonnet to say good morning. I see why Miss Lister dresses all in black. Although it must be striking for the men to see a woman amongst them, she does not stand out quite as much as I do. I look down at my dainty hands and my feet in embroidered slippers. Perhaps I am not made for coal mines, but I shall endeavour to find out more about my own estate. I shall ask for the finances to be brought to me. I probably will not be able to understand them, but it is high time I took an interest. As my family of money-seekers circle around me, it may be in my interest to know what is at stake.
Chapter Three
Summer, 1832: A ponderance of futures
as neighbouring heiresses
Miss Lister
This time all she talks about is marriage and family. We sit apart, despite our prior passionate kisses. It is as though her aunt or mine is watching us, even though we are alone. Marian returns from a visit and joins us, removing any chance of another kiss, and I find myself leaving them to their small talk as my mind wanders to more pleasurable things.
Marriage indeed. I thought better of her.
I believe Father always knew I would never marry a man; I find them repugnant. I am happy in the company of a few, such as my late uncle who allowed me to stay here at Shibden Hall when I was younger, and my beloved brother Samuel, who was so cruelly snatched from us. I can entertain an intelligent man, but most of them have wandering eyes and hands and are driven by just one thing, surrounded by their own self-worth, always looking down their nose at others, especially women. They believe women are to be impressed and conquered, whilst inside us all is the same mind and intelligence. Men, though, are governed by their bodies and what power they can attain over others through money and position. They claim women as their wives and preside over them and their unfortunate children, whilst they are unanswerable to anyone but themselves and God, who seems to allow them to act as they please.
