The Penmaker's Wife

by Steve Robinson

Winson Green, Birmingham

  1896

  It was the first time I had seen Angelica Chastain, and how I hoped it would not be the last. Something inside me yearned for her from the very moment our eyes met. A connection had been made, I was sure of it. Was it love, even then? If love can be defined simply by the desire, the need, to be with someone, then yes, with all my heart, it was love. I swear it was the happiest day of my life, and shall forever be. Her dark eyes enchanted me. Her lips invited me. Her pale, slender neck demanded my touch. I have led a privileged life. Until that day I had wanted for nothing. Only when I saw Angelica did I truly understand thirst and hunger. I had to have her in my life, and it was my profound hope that Georgina would find a way to keep her close to us.

  Imagine my delight when she did.

  Angelica had been offered the position of governess at Priory House, which she accepted with gratitude, and yet she was like no ordinary governess. She also became a good friend to Georgina, and she was treated as such. Gone, though, were her designs on fancy dresses for the time being – her beautiful princess-line dress never saw the light of day again. At least, I had not seen her wearing it. But who was she to mind? To all intents and purposes she and William were now living the new life she had sought for them, in a grand house far nicer than any she had known, with plentiful good food and invitations to afternoon tea.

  It was a wonderful summer, made all the better for having Angelica with us. There were dinner parties and picnics in the park, and even the occasional sojourn to the seaside, which Alexander and William naturally adored, but there was darkness on the horizon. The autumn of 1880 brought with it such tragedy that the summer was all too quickly forgotten.

  Birmingham

  1880

  It was a pleasant if cool afternoon in the middle of October. Georgina had kept up her practice of spending Wednesdays with her son, and so had accompanied Angelica and the two boys into the town centre. Georgina had wanted to visit the fashionable new emporium that had recently opened, and Angelica had been promised a new governess’s gown so that she no longer had to wear black, which she thought made her look too much like the housekeeper. She had come away from the emporium with a dress made of deep blue satin, which had a white collar that fell in a broad V to her waist. It was otherwise quite plain, as befitted her position, but it was nevertheless a step in the right direction as far as Angelica was concerned.

  Georgina had treated the boys to a hoop and stick each, which they were both understandably keen to play with. Because of the ongoing protest over their use in the busy areas of town, however – having been cited as a nuisance to others and especially to horses – they had been told they could only play with them in the park or in the grounds at home. Alexander and William were a few paces ahead, carrying their hoops in their hands, every now and then letting them roll along the ground through their fingers without letting go, as they progressed along Bull Street, with its many shopfronts and awnings.

  Although bright, it was chilly enough to warrant shawls. Georgina pulled hers tighter as they turned the corner at the Reece Brothers tobacconists on to the High Street and the wind got up. ‘Shall we take some refreshment before we head back?’ she said. ‘I know a nice little place not far from here, but do tell me if your feet are hurting and you’d rather not. I know you’ve been on them all day.’

  ‘I’m fine if you are,’ Angelica said, looking down at Georgina’s belly, thinking that she was now some months into her pregnancy and was barely showing. She was clearly still wearing her corset, and Angelica supposed that was why. Anyone who didn’t know Georgina well would have been hard pushed to know she was pregnant at all.

  ‘Splendid,’ Georgina said. She called ahead to the two boys, ‘Stay close and keep a tight hold on those hoops! It’s very busy here.’

  Angelica placed a hand on Georgina’s arm and their pace slowed. ‘I know I’ve said it before,’ she said, ‘but thank you for everything you’ve done for us.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Georgina said, smiling. ‘I have to confess that offering you the position of governess was in truth rather selfish of me.’

  ‘However do you mean?’

  ‘I mean I did so as much for my own sake, or rather for Alexander’s, as for yours. Alexander is so much happier when he’s with William. That by itself was reason enough to want you both in our lives, but you are evidently well educated, and French governesses are so desirable, being known to teach correct elocution. And who is better qualified when it comes to tutoring Alexander in your native language?’

  ‘I see,’ Angelica said, smiling back. ‘Then we are good for one another.’

  ‘Yes, we are. Just as our fine boys are good for one another, and shall continue to be. I’ve spoken to Stanley. He’s also become rather fond of you and William. We’re both in agreement that William will be taught alongside Alexander. He’ll receive the finest education.’

  ‘That’s too much to ask,’ Angelica said, her eyes back on Georgina’s, questioning whether it could really be true.

  ‘There’s nothing for you to ask,’ Georgina said. ‘The matter is already decided. You shall continue to tutor both boys in English and French, while the tutors currently teaching Alexander in other subjects will also teach William. When the boys are eight they will both be sent away to school together, as close as any brothers. When they are older still, Alexander will become a penmaker, like his father. There will be a role at the factory for William, too, both boys working side by side together as men. At least, that is my hope, if you will allow it.’

  Angelica didn’t know what to say. Such an education would cost a fortune and was far beyond her means, even with the generous allowance she was now receiving as governess along with her room and board at Priory House. And to be offered a position in the family business . . . Georgina seemed to have William’s life all mapped out for him.

  Several seconds passed before Georgina gave a small laugh and said, ‘Shall I take your silence as agreement in the matter?’

  ‘Yes,’ Angelica said without hesitation. ‘Thank you so very much.’

  They continued slowly along the High Street, taking in the shop windows – a hosiery and draper here, a greengrocer there – and Angelica became lost in her thoughts of the future.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Georgina asked.

  ‘I was just wondering,’ Angelica said. ‘What will happen when the boys are eight and Alexander no longer requires a governess?’

  ‘When the boys are eight, my dear Angelica, I shall have a new charge for you, and perhaps several more in time.’ Georgina ran a hand over her belly. ‘Until he or she is old enough, I shall of course employ a nursery maid, but it’s my sincere hope that, while you are under no obligation to do so, you shall stay on as governess. That is, unless you’ve found another husband by then, with an income sufficient to draw you away. Either way, William’s education is secure.’

  They caught up with the boys, who were still pretending to roll their ash hoops along the gutter. Every now and then Angelica would see William let go of his momentarily, just for a few seconds to watch it roll, his hand hovering above it, ready to catch it again. Then he would look back at his mother with a mischievous grin on his face.

  ‘Oh, look at that,’ Georgina said, drawing Angelica’s attention to one of the shops as they passed. It was a milliner’s colourful window, displaying hats on stands like cakes in a patisserie.

  Angelica turned to look, but as she did so, out of the corner of her eye, she saw William’s hoop begin to roll across the street. Everything that followed happened so fast that Angelica was powerless to prevent it. Perhaps out of friendship or plain chivalry, Alexander had dropped his hoop and was going after William’s. Angelica’s eyes flashed briefly over at the hansom cab coming the other way and then back at the hoop that was rolling directly towards it.

  ‘Alexander!’

  She caught hold of William as he went to follow after his friend, then she saw Georgina sudden
ly running into the street, a look of horror on her face as the hoop and Alexander drew closer to the oncoming horse. What Angelica saw next made her shield William’s eyes with her hand as she, too, was forced to look away. Another carriage had turned the corner out of Bull Street as they had. It had come up behind them just as Georgina ran out after Alexander. There were cries from the driver sitting up on his box as the horses began to whinny and rear up. When Angelica looked again, she saw that the carriage had not been able to stop in time, and Georgina was now lying lifeless in the street.

  Later that evening, Angelica was sitting in the drawing room at Priory House, gazing at the flames in the fireplace and quietly sobbing into her handkerchief, inconsolable. The two boys had by now been sent to their beds, tearful and confused, but she was not alone. Stanley Hampton was standing over by the grand piano, his shoulders slumped, his dark eyes gazing down at the empty stool as if he could still see his Georgina sitting there. Effie and Violet had come as soon as they heard the news, and were sitting either side of Angelica, wiping the tears from their eyes and shaking their heads from time to time, as though unable to make any sense of what had happened. Georgina Hampton was dead, and what sense was there to make of death?

  Everyone had been quiet for several minutes now, and the silence, punctuated only by the tick-tick-tick of the grandfather clock, was overbearing. The fire, though blazing a merry dance to ward off the autumn evening’s chill, could do nothing to combat the mournful mood that was reflected in every black window, where all the drapes had been left open, the servants who usually drew them for the night having been told not to enter the room unless called for.

  When at last someone spoke, it was Angelica. She stood up, turning towards Stanley as she rose, and with staring eyes said, ‘It was my fault! I killed your wife, and your unborn child.’

  Her words seemed to wake Stanley from his trance-like state. He looked at Angelica, and her words caught up with him. He rushed over to her and took her by the shoulders.

  ‘You must not blame yourself for this,’ he insisted. ‘You’ve explained what happened. Others who witnessed the accident have given the same account. It was no more your fault than it was young William’s for letting his hoop get away from him, or Alexander’s for that matter, for looking out for his friend and going after the blessed hoop in the first place. What could you have done to stay a mother’s instinct to protect her child?’

  ‘I should have seen the carriage sooner,’ Angelica said. ‘I should have warned poor Georgina in time to save her.’ She sat down again and continued to sob into her hands.

  Effie stroked her arm to soothe her and offered her a clean handkerchief to replace her own. ‘You cannot blame yourself for what you did not see,’ she said. ‘You were looking at Alexander, just as Georgina was when she ran out after him.’

  ‘Then I should have gone after Alexander myself. I was first to see the danger. I was selfish, concerned only that William was safe.’

  ‘Nonsense, nonsense,’ Stanley said. ‘You’re his mother. You did exactly what any child’s mother would have done.’ He fell quiet. ‘And so did Georgina, only she died doing so.’ He could barely finish the sentence. He turned sharply away and wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve. ‘Now, I’ll hear no more of it,’ he added as he retreated back to the piano with his thoughts.

  Angelica finished dabbing her eyes and held Effie’s handkerchief out to her. ‘Thank you,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘My own was quite soaked through.’

  ‘Keep it,’ Effie said. ‘In case you have further need of it. It must be terrible for you.’

  ‘I’m the lucky one, aren’t I?’ Angelica said, sniffing back her tears. She studied the handkerchief, reading Effie’s embroidered monogram on one of the crumpled corners. ‘A keepsake then. I don’t suppose I’ll see much of either of you now that Georgina’s gone.’

  ‘Why ever not?’ Violet asked, fussing distractedly with her own handkerchief, which she had been doing since she first sat down. ‘I should think Stanley all the more in need of a governess for young Master Alexander now that the poor boy is without his mother.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘I’m sure of it,’ Violet said. ‘Just give it time.’

  Effie nodded. ‘I expect Stanley would think it too hard entirely on Alexander to lose both his mother and his governess at the same time. I’m sure Alexander has become quite fond of you, and of William, of course.’

  ‘From what I’ve seen, those two boys are inseparable,’ Violet said. ‘To split them up now would be tantamount to the most heinous cruelty.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it would,’ Angelica said, wondering what life at Priory House would be like without Georgina. She would miss their conversations and their strolls in the park together on Wednesdays, and she supposed that if she were allowed to stay on as governess, then her role would have to be taken far more seriously. Mr Hampton would surely expect nothing less. Time would tell how the coming years would turn out, she supposed, as her eyes drifted over to the piano. What indeed would life at Priory House be like now that its master was, at least for the foreseeable future, left a widower?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Winson Green, Birmingham

  1896

  Looking back on these events fills me with such mixed emotions. Georgina was dead, and yet her death was the very catalyst that brought Angelica and I closer together. Or was our love always meant to be? Perhaps it would ultimately have prevailed whether Georgina had died that day or not. I have tried to convince myself of this many times, for it is painfully difficult to accept your own happiness at the expense of another, especially when that person was close to you. I have tried to believe this, but I cannot deny that it was from our shared grief that our love began to flourish.

  The seasons came and went, and with each passing year our friendship grew stronger. Perhaps Georgina’s death had left such a void in our hearts that we sought to fill it with one another’s companionship, and with the boys soon away at school there was little to distract us. We laughed together and we cried together. Angelica became as a sister to me, and we might have gone on living like that forever had I not yearned for more.

  It was in 1883, almost three years after Georgina died, that I realised I could not go on like this. Seeing Angelica as often as I did, yet never being able to hold her longer than befits a welcome embrace, or to kiss her anywhere other than on the cheek, as friends might, had become quite painful to me. We were friends, yes, but was it merely friendship that had flowered within us, or did Angelica return my deeper feelings?

  I had to know.

  It was also at this time that I learned the shocking truth of why Angelica had to flee from London. She told me what she had done for William’s sake, and what she had later done to rid them both of Tom Blanchard. She must have been terrified, but as I learned from Georgina’s death, there can be no greater source of courage than a mother’s fear for the life of her own child. As I have said before, under the circumstances I cannot condemn Angelica for her actions, however monstrous they may appear at face value. I can only hope that I would find such nerve in her situation.

  But I digress.

  How did Angelica feel about me? Was she ready to take our friendship further? I had to know what was in her heart – and soon, as it turned out, because there was upset on the horizon, forcing my hand, or perhaps guiding it. Either way, it quickly became clear that if I did not tell Angelica how I felt about her, I would risk losing her forever.

  Birmingham

  1883

  It was a fine midsummer’s morning. Stanley Hampton had invited Angelica and Effie on a tour of Hampton and Moore’s new and expanded pen factory in the Jewellery Quarter to mark its opening, and not having had the opportunity to visit Stanley’s place of business before, Angelica was keen to go. Violet had also been invited, but she was unable to attend due to a recent spate of ill health. As for Effie, she arrived early at Priory House with yet another new dress for
Angelica. Over the past year she had showered Angelica with so many gifts that she had lost count of all the gowns and undergarments she now owned, very few of which had required the attention of the seamstress’s needle, because Angelica and Effie were so similar in size.

  It had crossed Angelica’s mind once or twice that, after a suitable amount of time had passed, Stanley might let her have some of Georgina’s things. He had kept everything just as it was for some time, as if unsure what to do with it all, or perhaps because he was unable to part with it. But then, exactly one year after Georgina’s death, having drunk himself into a rare stupor, Stanley had ordered all Georgina’s clothing to be piled on the lawn, where he set such a blaze to it that the flames could likely be seen from Wales. Angelica could barely bring herself to watch as all those bright and pretty things quickly turned to ash, but she understood that Stanley did not wish to see any other woman wearing his late wife’s clothes. Angelica was, therefore, all the more grateful for Effie’s charity.

  Angelica was standing on a footstool in her room while one of the maids fussed with her bustle, which according to Effie was making something of a comeback. Effie had been sitting over by the window since she arrived, studying Angelica with great intensity, quietly smiling to herself as she watched the maid dress her, as if keen to see her old things brought to life again on Angelica’s curvaceous frame.

  ‘The dress is going to look wonderful on you, Angelica,’ Effie said, as Angelica stepped down from the stool.

  ‘We have such similar tastes that I don’t doubt it for a minute,’ Angelica said, poking at her frizzled fringe, which was another of Effie’s fashionable suggestions.

  The maid, a young girl who had not long been in service at Priory House, offered up the petticoat and began to help Angelica into it. ‘Thank you, Rose,’ she said, thinking that while it was not the first time a maid had helped her into such fine clothing, it was nonetheless extraordinary, given where she had come from.