by Steven Neil
Mama
Thirty-Four
Falling at the Last
Norfolk and London, England
La Celle-Saint-Cloud, France
1865
Bad weather in the English Channel through the early part of the year thwarts travel plans for Harriet and Mellie, but eventually they arrive in England at Tilbury. They travel first to London and stay overnight at Clarendon Place. Mellie goes in search of her mother; she has an address, but she has not heard from her for several months. Harriet continues her journey to Norfolk. However, instead of going straight to Norwich, she makes a detour to the north coast. She books a stay at the George Hotel in Cley-next-the-sea. It marks a nostalgic return to the home county of her childhood. She remembers summers on the beach at Brancaster and sometimes at Cromer. She remembers gazing in wonder at the sails of Mr Lee’s windmill, just by the hotel. By the time she reaches Cley, the light is fading and she opts for an early night, with the prospect of a dawn start in the morning. The next day, sleeping in longer than planned and after a leisurely breakfast, she crosses over onto the coastal path from the hotel, briefly follows the coast road west, then branches out across the marshes and along by the ruins of Blakeney Chapel. Turning left, she looks out towards Blakeney Point. A coastal breeze blows the clouds across the sky, casting rippling ribbons of shade across the sunlit green and brown strips of the marsh landscape.
In Blakeney, she stops on the quayside. There are some children with fishing lines set out to catch crabs in the creek. She sits on a bench and looks across the marshes, mesmerised by the changing colours as the sun moves higher. A marsh harrier glides above her, searching for prey. Her thoughts turn inevitably to the meeting with her parents. She imagines how it will be. She rehearses the things she will say, the apologies she will make. There will probably be tears. There may be some harsh words. That is understandable. Ultimately, though, her reconciliations will be complete. She will soon be at peace with herself and the people she loves most in the world: her parents, Martin and Jem. She will be happy. She hopes so. The shouts of the children jolt her from her thoughts. A bucket tips over and the tiny crabs make their bid for freedom.
She walks up the lane past the fishermen’s cottages and meets the coast road at the crossroads by St Nicholas church. She goes through the woodland beyond the churchyard and strides back across the fields at Wiveton. She walks over the green, past the vicarage and crosses the old Wiveton bridge. Soon, another wide green opens out in front of her and she walks up to Cley church, St Margaret’s. She recalls this was her mother’s favourite Norfolk church. She spends time here, wanders among the headstones and then she goes inside. She says a prayer. Beneath the east window of the south aisle, she finds two boards dated 1772, one of which displays the Ten Commandments. Memories flood back. This is where her mother explained them, along with a strict exhortation that she must obey them always. Harriet thinks she was probably about eight years old.
Further along the south aisle, she finds the medieval, stained-glass windows containing the images of eight female saints, all martyrs: Cecilia, Agatha, Sithe, Catherine, Petronilla, Barbara, Faith and Apollonia – each with their own story. As Harriet recalls, she asked endless questions, as children of a certain age will, about why the women were martyred, which stretched far beyond her mother’s ability to answer. Mama seemed to find no irony in the fate of the women, martyred, as it appeared to Harriet, for their devotion to the exact Christian principles she was endorsing. Needless to say, this apparent contradiction was not voiced, but it did rather shape the view in Harriet’s mind that the Ten Commandments might not be all they were cracked up to be – this last, a new phrase, picked up from the gypsy children, travelling with the fair at Cromer. These children, with whom Mama forbade her to mix, even though they seemed to have more fun than those with whom she could play, helped sow doubts in her mind. She thought, even then, that she might need a more pragmatic set of guidelines than the Commandments for the way she would live her life.
Now, she sits for a long time, lost in thought. Eventually, she wanders along the back lane through Cley, walks through the loke into the lane beside the hotel and runs up the stairs to her room.
In the evening, she takes another stroll, this time turning right past the windmill and down the lane to the shingle beach. Here, just as she remembers it, is the big, red Norfolk sky, hanging above the greying sea. She watches as a charm of goldfinches spirals across the shingle, tossed by the wind. A sparrowhawk comes out of nowhere and leaves a tiny puff of yellow feathers and a fine mist of blood. She is surprised to be so shaken. She understands the wild and the reality of nature. Sparrowhawks must eat, she tells herself. She hastens back to the hotel and cancels her supper. It is a long time before sleep overtakes her.
***
The next morning, Harriet makes her way from Cley to Norwich. The coach takes the coast road via Cromer, striking south through North Walsham and skirting the Broads into the town from the north. A bright, blue sky frames the majestic outline of Norwich Cathedral. She knows she must have been here as a child, but she can barely remember it. As she travels closer, she is awestruck by the vast size and scale of the building. Arriving at the Erpingham gate, she attaches herself to a group of schoolchildren being guided around the town and cathedral. The astonishing height of the spire, the extraordinary vaulted ceilings and the extreme length of the nave are all explained, but the detail is too much for her. She cannot take it in. Her thoughts are interrupted by last-minute changes to what she will say to her parents. She excuses herself and makes her own way. She lingers in the cloisters, losing count of the number of turns she takes. She goes over what she will say one more time. She knows she is delaying.
Finally, she walks out into the Close and onto Ferry Lane. She turns the corner and there is her parents’ house: a double-fronted, three-storey, flint and brick cottage, with large sash windows and tall mock-Tudor chimney stacks. It looks much as she imagined it from Strode’s description and from the little snippets she has gleaned from her mother’s letters. She takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. If anything, the cottage is larger than she expected. Strode has done well, she thinks. Inside, Harriet finds her mother surprisingly little changed. Greyer, definitely, and affecting a vague stoop, but facially youthful and alert. Harriet is effusive about her mother’s appearance and congratulates her on the beautiful home she maintains. If she was hoping for some reciprocal blandishments, however, she is disappointed.
‘I hardly recognise you,’ says her mother. ‘I thought you would never come.’
‘I thought so, too. I am sorry. There is so much to say…’
‘How is Martin?’
‘He is well. He has a promising future before him.’
‘I am pleased. He was delightful when he visited us.’
‘He very much enjoyed his trip here. He spends much of his time in England. I am sure he will visit you often. He has many friends in Newmarket.’
‘I hope so. We have missed your presence here. He is some compensation.’
‘Are you sure you will not join me in France? You would see Martin more often there. Would that not be compensation also?’
‘You have our answer on that.’
‘Will you reconsider?’
‘Please don’t mention it again. It upsets your poor dear father.’
‘Where is Papa?’
‘He is in the garden. He prefers it there.’
‘Will he come in or should we go to him?’
‘As you wish.’
They make their way into a neat courtyard garden. In the corner is a small bower, adorned with early pink clematis and underplanted with hellebores and anemones. Her father sits on a bench, squinting as if puzzled by something. He is a pale shadow of the father Harriet remembers, but the blue eyes still pierce when they focus on her. Harriet and Elizabeth sit beside him on
wooden chairs.
‘Papa, I have missed you.’
‘Hmmm.’
‘Will you not give your daughter a kiss?’
‘Hmmm.’
She turns to her mother. ‘Is he always like this?’
‘No, I am not always like this, if you must know,’ he says. ‘You ignore us for twenty years and then expect to be greeted like the long-lost favourite. It will not do. It just will not do.’
‘The fault is mine, I know. I am sorry. Will you forgive me?’
‘And salve your conscience?’
‘I hoped we could be reconciled. It is my one remaining wish.’
‘You have poor judgement. Even Carisbrooke School could not help you. We tried our best for you, but you always fought it.’
‘I was a trouble to you. I know that. I am here to apologise and to make amends.’
‘It is too late for that. You still surround yourself with scoundrels and vagabonds. I told your mother that no good would come of it.’
‘I have managed well enough. I am sorry you don’t approve of the way I live. It is my life now.’
‘Please don’t justify yourself with me. I won’t have it. Why have you come here?’
‘I am trying to make things right between us. I have neglected you, I know. Things have not been easy for me. I cannot tell you all that has happened. I have tried to look after you and Mama, and to bring up Martin as well as I could. I have not always done the right thing, but I have always tried to do the right thing.’
‘Is that so?’
‘I hope you live comfortably here. If you need anything else, please tell me.’
‘I see. You are here to make us grateful and have us beg if we wish for more.’
‘That is unkind.’
‘Unkind, you say. I will tell you what is unkind: abandoning your own parents to fend for themselves, living a life of debauchery among foreigners and letting your son grow up a bastard. That is unkind.’
‘What do you want me to say?’
‘I want you to say nothing. Why don’t you go? I wish never to see you again.’
Harriet sits back in her chair.
‘Mama, is that what you want, too?’
‘She will not say it,’ he says. ‘She was always too soft with you.’
‘Papa, you wrong me. I wanted to explain…’
‘I won’t hear it. Go back to France. Stay there with your fancy friends and their fancy manners. Cavort with rogues and ruffians, if you must. Leave us in peace. Let us die quietly in England, without being sullied by your influence.’
‘I only ever wanted the best for you.’
‘Did you ever ask us what we wanted?’
‘I am asking you now. Please don’t punish me.’
‘Yes, you ask us now, when it is all too late. You have been selfish. Harriet Howard is all you care about. You were so ashamed of us, you would not even keep the family name. How do you think we felt? Our daughter has disowned us. The neighbours laughed at us.’
‘I meant no harm by it. I took advice. It is a good name for an actress.’
‘It is a good name for a harlot.’
Harriet chokes back tears. Her mother leads her back into the cottage.
‘I am sorry. These thoughts have been festering for a long time,’ she says. ‘I had no idea they would come out as they have. He likes getting things off his chest. Perhaps he will be calmer now. I will talk to him.’
‘I must make arrangements for London. I will come again soon.’
***
When Harriet arrives in London, she begins to relate her experiences in Norfolk. She tells Mellie about the Ten Commandments, as she once promised she would, in Lyon. But it is clear that Mellie has more important news. Her visit has not gone well, either, but for different reasons. She finds that her mother is no longer at the given address. What she tells Harriet is not an unfamiliar story. Mellie’s father died in debt. Her mother made the best of things and encouraged her daughter to find her own way in life. Nathaniel Strode’s intervention was perfectly timed when he asked if Mellie would join Harriet as her travelling companion, on their trip to Nice, some ten years past. Mellie sent money home and her mother found a small income, working in a laundry. Pride kept her going and a string of letters with a largely fictional account of her life persuaded Mellie that all was well. The truth was very different. When she is found, Mrs Findon is in the workhouse. Worse still, she is seriously ill and not expected to live.
By the time Harriet arrives, any prospect of moving her to a hospital is judged pointless. Harriet and Mellie nurse their patient for forty-eight hours. The stench of disease is everywhere. Harriet thanks God she has been spared such a life. Mrs Beatrice Findon dies the next evening. The official cause of death appears on the certificate as pneumonia, but the haste with which the medical authorities insist on her burial leaves doubt. Only Harriet’s intervention saves her from a pauper’s grave. When the funeral is over, Harriet asks Mellie what she wants to do.
‘There is nothing for me here now,’ she says.
‘Nor I. Let us make speed for France.’
***
They find a ship leaving from Tilbury. The crossing is not particularly rough, but Harriet and Mellie are both sick almost immediately after embarkation. By the time the ship sails into Dieppe, their condition causes concern. The ship’s doctor prescribes potassium and advises them to drink plenty of water. The captain finds them the best coach and horses he can and sends them on their way. They both rally briefly during the journey, but by the time La Celle is reached the two women are in a wretched state. At Beauregard, Mellie improves for a good night’s sleep and manages to eat some thin soup. The colour comes back to her. Harriet worsens and becomes delirious. Dr Villeneuve is called. He makes a thorough examination.
‘I have seen the symptoms before,’ he says. ‘It is cholera.’
Thirty-Five
Something to Live For
Le Chesnay, France
Norfolk and London, England
1865
The Times, Monday 21st August 1865
COUNTESS DE BEAUREGARD DIES
The Countess de Beauregard, perhaps better known by the name Harriet Howard in England, died at her château in La Celle-Saint-Cloud, near Paris, on 19th August 1865, after a brave fight against illness. She leaves an only son, Martin Harryet, Count de Béchevêt. It is widely believed that he is the son of Emperor Napoleon III of France, although this has never been verified.
Born Elizabeth Anne Harryet on 10th August 1823, she adopted the stage name of Harriet Howard during a brief but successful career as an actress on the London stage.
She achieved fame and not a little notoriety as the consort of Louis Napoleon. Speculation that she would become Empress, when Louis Napoleon became Emperor Napoleon III of France, proved unfounded when the Emperor married the Spanish Countess of Teba.
In later years, she lived quietly at the Château de Beauregard and involved herself in local charities.
She will be remembered both for her great beauty and her vivacious charm. She was also very well regarded in hunting circles, as a fine rider across country. She married Captain Clarence Trelawney in 1856, but the marriage was dissolved earlier this year.
***
The newspaper also reports that President Andrew Johnson signs a proclamation, declaring that “Peace, Order, Tranquillity and Civil Authority Now Exists in and Throughout the Whole of the United States of America”. The American Civil War ends. Naturally enough, this dominates the news coverage and rather overshadows Harriet’s obituary. Nevertheless, when Lord Palmerston, fresh – if such can be said of a man in his seventy-ninth year – from his general election victory, meets Lord Cowley the same day, it is Harriet Howard he wants to talk about. Palmerston, who makes little
secret of the fact he would have preferred a Confederate victory in America, ignores Cowley’s attempt to engage him on the subject of the proclamation.
‘Damn the proclamation. They’ll be invading Canada next. Mark my words. Anyway, dear Miss Howard has left us. Did you see it?’
‘I did, indeed. She was a complicated person. I never quite got to grips with her, so to speak. Normanby was a great advocate of hers. I thought you were rather ambivalent about her.’
‘That I could never be. I never met a woman like her.’
Palmerston blows hard into a purple handkerchief.
‘Damn this cold,’ he says.
Yet Cowley can see it is not a cold that afflicts the old man. He is fighting back tears.
***
Harriet’s funeral takes place at Le Chesnay. Jem, who refuses to leave Harriet’s side during her illness, suffers from exhaustion and sickness and Dr Villeneuve gives strict instructions that he must be isolated and must not under any circumstances attend the funeral. Martin, a recovered Melliora Findon, Tom Olliver, Nathaniel Strode, Lavinia Lampard and Amédée Mocquard are the six principal mourners. There are, perhaps, another twenty people from the village who come to pay their respects. Rain overnight soaks into the ground and muddies the pathways. As the temperature drops, hail blows in and covers the graveyard. Everyone present is invited back to Beauregard for lunch. Tom and Martin’s attempt to lift the sombre mood is appreciated, but, almost inevitably, fails.
The next day, Nathaniel Strode reads out the will for an assembly of interested parties. The details are much as expected and reflect promises made and agreements reached in Harriet’s lifetime. The Château de Beauregard is left to Harriet’s parents, whereas the Italian estate, together with the Villa Danetti in Nice, is left to Martin.
***
In September, Nathaniel Strode goes to see Harriet’s parents. It is not something to which he looks forward, but he feels he owes it to Harriet to see it through himself. He doesn’t really know Joseph and Elizabeth Harryet. He visited the cottage once, before they took up residence. He follows in Harriet’s footsteps in Norwich and arrives in Ferry Lane around midday. A wisteria, not much more than a twig when he was first there, is now grown into an impressive structure, stretching over the left-hand windows and above the front door. He meets Elizabeth at the cottage and goes in. Her husband is still in bed and he shows no signs of emerging.