Workhouse Angel

by Holly Green

  ‘Please, ma’am, I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know? How long was your previous governess with you?’

  ‘Please, two years, I think …’

  ‘Two years? You seem to have learnt very little in that time.’ The governess delved in a bag she had brought in with her and took out a book. ‘Read the first paragraph of this.’

  It was a book she had never seen before and some of the words were unfamiliar. It took her some time to struggle through the paragraph.

  Miss Drake sighed deeply. ‘I see we have a long way to go – but I am not deterred. We shall make up for lost time.’ She looked at Angelina. ‘Sit up, girl! Have you never been taught not to slump?’ She moved round behind the chair and took hold of Angelina’s shoulders, pulling them back painfully. ‘There! That is correct posture, and correct posture is essential in a young lady. That is another thing which has obviously been sadly neglected.’ She set a pen and inkstand in front of Angelina and turned a page on the book. ‘Copy that, in your best handwriting.’

  Angelina began to write, but Miss Drake kept a grip on her shoulders, forcing her to sit bolt upright. The unnatural position made it difficult to control the pen and inevitably she made a blot. Miss Drake reached down and grabbed her hand. ‘That was careless! You will learn to be more careful, or this is what happens.’ She took hold of Angelina’s little finger and bent it back so that she yelped with pain. ‘Now, begin again, and take more care this time.’

  Angelina burst into tears and her tears created fresh blots. Miss Drake whisked away the paper and set a clean sheet in front of her. ‘Begin again. There will be no tea until you have achieved a clean copy.’

  It took four attempts, and, by the time she had finished and was allowed to have the milk and biscuits that had been brought up for her, Angelina’s hands were shaking.

  It was customary after tea for her to be taken down to the drawing room to spend half an hour with her mother and her father, when he returned from his business. She did not know what that ‘business’ was, except that it had something to do with tea. She was never sure what to expect at this time. Her mother had never played with her or made a fuss of her and lately she had become even more distant, but sometimes her father would sweep her up into his arms, if he was in a good mood, and tickle her or rub her face with his moustache to make her squirm and giggle. Occasionally he even allowed her to sit on his lap. He was the only person who showed her any affection and she tried hard to please him, but there were days when he came home grim-faced and irritable and she had learned then to do nothing to attract his attention.

  On this particular evening he seemed pleased to see her and picked her up in his arms.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘So how are you getting on with your new governess?’

  Angelina drooped her head. ‘I don’t like her. She’s not kind.’

  ‘Not kind, eh?’ He looked over her head at his wife.

  ‘Take no notice,’ she replied. ‘Angelina has been spoiled. Miss Garvey was much too lax with her. Now she is being made to buckle down and she doesn’t like it.’

  ‘Is that it?’ He set Angelina down. ‘Well, hard work never hurt anyone. You’ll get used to it. You’ll never grow up to be a credit to us if you don’t do as you are told.’

  Next day, Miss Drake set out the routine that Angelina was to follow from then on. The first hour of the morning would be devoted to arithmetic and practising her handwriting; the next hour would be divided between the study of history and geography, and the last would be devoted to ‘deportment’, a mysterious subject on which Miss Drake placed a great deal of emphasis. After luncheon Angelina would sew, while Miss Drake took her afternoon rest. Then, weather permitting, they would go for a walk, returning in time for tea. Angelina hoped that the walk might take them into Princes Park. She had happy memories of being taken there by her nursemaid, before the advent of Miss Garvey. Something had happened there, something she could not quite remember, but the park had suddenly been placed out of bounds and her walks had been confined to the local streets.

  Overnight, Angelina had made a resolution. She would try to do as Miss Drake asked. After all, she did want to be a credit to her parents. Perhaps, if she worked really hard, her mother would love her again.

  She tried hard to keep to it, but there was little encouragement. The governess barked mental arithmetic questions at her and rapped the table angrily if she was slow to answer. She was given long lists to learn by heart; the kings and queens of England; the capital cities of all the countries in Europe; verses from the Bible. She could remember them perfectly when she was alone, but under the basilisk stare of Miss Drake they vanished from her mind like a flock of birds scared by a cat. The constant refrain of ‘sit up, don’t slouch’ only served to make things worse. Very often Miss Drake came to stand behind her, pulling her shoulders back, making it harder than ever to concentrate. The lessons in deportment were even worse. She was made to walk around the room with a book balanced on her head while Miss Drake snapped instructions. ‘Chin up! Shoulders back! Pull your stomach in!’ If the book slipped she had to stand on a stool facing the corner of the room until her legs ached and she began to feel dizzy. Then, one morning, the governess came into the room carrying a leather strap.

  ‘You have got to get out of this bad habit of slouching. You do not seem to be able to correct it yourself so we shall have to resort to other methods. Stand up. Put your arms behind your back.’

  Trembling, Angelina obeyed. The governess seized hold of her upper arms and pulled them back until her elbows were almost touching. Then she passed the strap around them and fastened it tightly. Angelina cried out in pain and struggled to free herself, but her efforts only made it worse.

  ‘Be still!’ Miss Drake ordered. ‘If you learn to sit correctly it will not hurt. Now, sit down and we will begin our lessons.’

  ‘I can’t!’ Angelina protested. ‘I can’t breathe properly. It hurts!’

  ‘This position expands the chest. Of course you can breathe. Sit down and stop making a fuss.’

  ‘Please,’ Angelina begged, ‘when can I have it off?’

  ‘When we stop for luncheon. Then, if I judge you have worked to my satisfaction, you may have it off for the afternoon. But if you start to slump again, it will go back on.’

  Angelina endured the torment for four days, but when Miss Drake advanced on her with the strap on the fifth morning she pushed her away so violently that she staggered back and almost fell. In the moment it took for her to recover, Angelina ran out of the room and down the stairs. Her mother was in the hall, talking to another lady, and Angelina threw herself at her feet, clutching her skirts and sobbing.

  ‘Please, Mama, don’t let Miss Drake put the strap on my arms! Please! It hurts so much.’

  Her mother looked over her head at the governess, who had followed her down the stairs.

  ‘What is all this?’

  ‘It is merely a form of restraint recommended for correcting bad habits of posture. Angelina has been allowed to slouch, so she finds it uncomfortable, but it will have its effect eventually.’

  ‘Show me.’

  ‘No! No, please! Don’t let her do it!’ Angelina wept, but she was pulled to her feet, her arms were twisted behind her and the strap was fastened.

  ‘You see?’ Miss Drake said, turning her to face her mother. ‘You see how much her posture is improved? You know how important it is for a young lady to carry herself correctly.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ Marguerite responded. ‘Stop making a fuss, Angelina. It is for your own good.’

  As a punishment for this act of rebellion, she was forced to wear the strap for the rest of the day, with the threat that if there was any repeat she would be made to sleep in it at night as well.

  From that day on, Angelina’s only thought was of how to get rid of this tyrant who had been given charge over her.

  Her only respite was the hour after luncheon when Miss Drake took h
er afternoon nap and she was supposed to get on with some sewing. Miss Drake’s bedroom opened directly off the schoolroom, as did Angelina’s, and she always left the door ajar, so that she would hear if Angelina ‘got up to any mischief’. But Angelina soon realised that very quickly after retiring her governess began to snore softly. Before that happened, she always heard the clink of a glass and the sound of liquid being poured, and later, when Miss Drake bent over her to fasten her coat for their walk, she smelt an odour which was somehow familiar, although she could not at first think why. One evening her father came home looking weary, and, instead of going straight into the drawing room, he went to the dining room. When he came out she smelt the same odour that she had noticed on Miss Drake’s breath. After that Angelina made a habit of waiting to greet him in the hall when he arrived home, with a curtsy and a demure ‘Good evening, Papa.’ That seemed to please him. One day, when he came in looking tired, she followed him into the dining room and saw him go to the sideboard, on which stood two cut-glass decanters contained in a curious cage-like construction, which made it impossible to remove them. She watched as her father delved into a waistcoat pocket and produced a tiny key. This he inserted into a lock; there was a click, a bar swung back and he picked up one of the decanters and poured a measure of the liquid it contained into a glass.

  ‘Please, Papa,’ she ventured, ‘what is that you are drinking?’

  ‘This?’ He took a mouthful and swallowed and smacked his lips. ‘This is a very special medicine for grown-up gentlemen, to help them to relax after a hard day.’

  ‘A sort of tonic, like that medicine I had to drink?’

  ‘Perhaps, a bit like that.’

  ‘And what is that thing called?’ She pointed to the cage.

  ‘That is a tantalus. Do you know why?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘There is a very old story about a man called Tantalus who displeased the gods, so they condemned him to a terrible fate. He had to stand up to his neck in water, but if he tried to drink, the water flowed away from him. Over his head was a branch loaded with fruit, but if he tried to pick any of it the wind blew it out of reach. That is where we get our word “tantalize” from. It means that you can see something you want but you can never quite get hold of it.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ She thought about it. ‘Why did you say “gods”. There is only one God, isn’t there?’

  ‘We know that now, but in the old days people believed there were many. They were heathens, who had not been taught the truth.’

  ‘So what happened to Tantalus was like being sent to hell.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose that is one way of putting it.’

  Angelina considered, frowning. There was still something she did not understand. ‘But why do you keep your special medicine locked up? You are not like Tantalus, because you have the key so you can have it whenever you like.’

  ‘So I can. The point is other people can’t, unless I let them.’

  ‘Other people? Do you mean Mama?’

  ‘No, no. Your mama would never touch this. But sometimes servants might take a fancy to try it.’

  ‘But Jane and Betty are girls. You said it was only for grown-up gentlemen.’

  ‘Precisely. That is why they must not be tempted to try it.’

  ‘What would happen if they did?’

  ‘It would be a matter for instant dismissal. Now, come along. Let’s join your mama. She will wonder why I am such a long time in here.’

  When they entered the drawing room, Marguerite looked up crossly from her sewing. ‘There you are at last. How many have you had?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Maggie,’ he said, with an edge of annoyance, ‘a man’s entitled to a drink after a long day.’

  ‘Don’t call me Maggie!’

  Her father’s voice took on a satirical note. ‘Oh, pardon me, your highness! For a moment I thought I was addressing the simple Irish girl I wed ten years back. I forgot she’d metamorphosed into a great lady.’

  Angelina listened to this exchange with only half her mind. She was working something out. Miss Drake drank the same kind of medicine every afternoon, even though it was only supposed to be for gentlemen. She was tempted to tell her father that, but some instinct made her keep it to herself for the time being.

  In bed that night she turned the information over and over in her mind and by morning she had a plan.

  The following evening she waited until her father had had his usual drink and was settled in his armchair. She climbed onto his lap and begged, ‘Tickle me, Papa.’

  ‘Really, Angelina!’ her mother exclaimed. ‘Don’t bother your father when he’s tired after a long day.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ he said with a laugh. ‘It’s all a bit of fun, isn’t it, kitten?’

  ‘You spoil her. No good will come of it, mark my words.’

  He took no notice and began to tickle Angelina’s ribs. His fingers were too strong to tickle her properly, but she pretended to giggle and wriggle with pleasure and in the process managed to slip her fingers into the pocket of his waistcoat. The key was there. Carefully she extracted it and slipped it into the pocket of her pinafore.

  Next morning she endured the pain of having her arms strapped behind her without complaint. When luncheon was over she waited on tenterhooks for Miss Drake to take her usual drink and fall asleep. As soon as she could hear from her gentle snores that the governess was unconscious she crept into her bedroom.

  Her heart was thumping so hard that she felt the noise of it must wake her, but she did not stir.

  A little flask was on the floor beside her. With a hand that shook, Angelina picked it up and tiptoed out of the room. She undid the stopper and sniffed. If it was not exactly the same as the stuff her father drank, it was very similar.

  She crept to the door of the schoolroom, opened it and listened. The house was silent. She knew that at this time of day her mother would be visiting friends, and the servants would be eating their midday meal in the kitchen.

  On silent feet she padded down the stairs. The hall was deserted. Carefully, she opened the door of the dining room and looked in. It, too, was empty. She had to pull a chair up to the sideboard to reach. Then she took the tiny key from her pocket and inserted it in the lock, as she had seen her father do, and pushed aside the bar that lay across the top of the decanters. She took up the one her father had used. It was much heavier than she had expected and it nearly slipped through her fingers. She steadied herself and took the small flask from her other pocket and carefully poured the liquid from the decanter into it. It soon filled up, and when she looked at the decanter the level did not seem to have gone down perceptibly. That would not do! She looked round the room. A large evergreen plant stood on the windowsill. She climbed down off the chair, cradling the decanter, and poured a good measure of its contents into the pot. That was better. Her father was bound to notice the difference now.

  She climbed back onto the chair and replaced the decanter and locked the arm in position. Then for the first time it occurred to her to wonder what to do with the key. The chances of getting it back into her father’s pocket without him noticing were small. In the end, she dropped the key onto the floor in front of the sideboard. Then she replaced the chair, slipped out of the room and ran soft-footed back up the stairs. As she entered the schoolroom her heart was thudding so hard that it made her feel dizzy. If Miss Drake had wakened and found her gone she dreaded to think what her punishment might be; but the room was empty and the governess’s breathing was as regular as when she’d left. Holding her breath, she crept back into the room and replaced the flask where she had found it.

  When Miss Drake came into the schoolroom, Angelina was stitching industriously at her sampler.

  It was time for their walk. It was almost winter, and a cold wind was blowing up from the Mersey, but Miss Drake was not deterred. She marched Angelina briskly along the road and into Princes Park. Angelina had been pleased the first time she had taken her there. Sh
e remembered sunny afternoons playing with other children, while their nursemaids sat and gossiped. This was very different. In an unvarying routine, they circumnavigated the lake while Miss Drake drilled into her into the names of the various trees and shrubs they passed, her remarks interspersed with regular commands to stand up straight, pull her shoulders back and walk ‘like a lady’. If they encountered any other children with their nurses or governesses, polite greetings were exchanged, but then Angelina was hurried on without any chance to talk. Normally, she would have tried to prolong the walk, anything to be away from the schoolroom, but today she was eager to get home, afraid that they might not be there when her father returned.

  She need not have worried. There was time to change her dress and have her face washed and her hair brushed, so that she was ‘presentable’.

  In the drawing room her mother was sewing, as usual, and Angelina sat rigidly upright, answering her random questions about what she had learned that day, being careful not to fidget because that might result in being sent back upstairs. Her father was later than usual, but at last she heard his key in the lock and ran into the hall to greet him.

  Jane, the parlourmaid, was there, taking his hat and coat, and before Angelina could speak she said, ‘Beg pardon, sir, but I found this on the floor of the dining room when I went to set the table for dinner.’

  Angelina’s heart jumped in her chest as she saw the maid was holding out the key to the tantalus.

  ‘Good gracious!’ her father exclaimed, his hand going to his waistcoat pocket. ‘I must have dropped it last night. How careless of me. Thank you, Jane.’

  The maid bobbed a curtsy and retired, carrying his hat and coat. Angelina curtsied in her turn. ‘Good evening, Papa.’

  He patted her on the head. ‘Good evening, kitten.’ He yawned and turned towards the door to the drawing room. This was not part of the plan.

  Angelina said, ‘You look tired, Papa. Why don’t you have a glass of your special medicine?’

  He smiled at her. ‘Do you know, I think that is just what I need.’