Lord Percy stayed for a week and he and Cecilia were taken up with visiting friends and enjoying the hospitality of the Prince Regent. Most evenings they were all invited out and I became aware of what a different life Cecilia had led before marrying Farmer Elwood. I wondered that she was content to live so quietly when her brother was not there but after he left she very quickly dropped back into her role as a gentleman farmer’s wife. I had not taken supper with the family at all whilst he was staying but the night after he left Cecilia begged me to join them and discuss all the gossip she had enjoyed. I listened to her chatting and saw the sparkle in her eyes as she related a tale of intrigue at the Prince’s court in nearby Brighton.
‘You must miss your family so much Cecilia, how can you bear not to see them from one month to the next?’
She seemed surprised at my comment and said, ‘It was good to see my brother but I do not want that kind of life as a matter of course – I will tell you that in my mother’s household I had no time to myself, I was always to accompany her to this ball or that dinner with people who bored me. In marrying John I have my own household and I do not hanker for society. What I have here is everything I need to be happy. Another child would be a blessing and I hope that will occur in due course.
Oh, how she has matured I thought.
‘Why don’t we go and find the shrine to St Anne and see if she will intercede on your behalf? Mrs Makepiece was quite insistent that her church up on the hill is where the young women go to find a husband, and all that goes with that.’
‘Oh, yes let’s do that soon and we will also seek a husband for you Esther if that is her particular calling.’
‘Oh Cecilia I don’t think I’ll find a husband but I think we should go.’
‘Well, don’t tell John – he would be quite put out.’ We giggled conspiratorially.
We went into supper and enjoyed a pleasant evening together and I was glad that all had returned to normal.
Chapter Forty-Two
We made our visit to St Anne’s the following week and stood in awe at the majesty of the ancient church. I was surprised that such an important church stood outside the walls of the town but according to the old man who showed us around this was because St Anne’s was once a stopping point on the road to the old Cluniac Priory. I enquired about the anchoress reputed to be walled into the building, another of Mrs Makepiece’s tales, but he was not inclined to tell me much, other than that she had existed and was thought to be buried there. Try as I might I could find no indication of where she had dwelled within the church. The old man accepted a small coin from Cecilia and left us to our own devices; we tiptoed towards the shrine where there were small offerings in the form of candles, ribbons and posies and both of us were quite overcome with the feeling that surrounded us as we prayed for our cause. I offered my prayer in thanks for the safe deliverance of Beth to me and for the wellbeing of her true mother who was hopefully united with her God in Heaven. I also prayed for a child to be born safely to Cecilia and her husband John. I told St Anne, in my prayers, what good people they were and how a child would bless their union.
As Cecilia rose from her knees she left her own token – a dried white rose. I had nothing to give but my thoughts. I hoped they were enough.
Chapter Forty-Three
Vaccination or prevention of smallpox
Could all parents be persuaded to inoculate their children with vaccine matter soon after birth, the smallpox might soon be entirely eradicated. Indeed, vaccination has penetrated to the remotest corners of the globe; and wherever it has been introduced, the increasing experience of every year has served to confirm a confidence in its efficacy. In vaccinating children and other persons, the following circumstances are carefully to be attended to: 1) The matter should not be taken from the pustule later than the ninth day of the disease. 2) The matter should be perfectly transparent, as it is not to be depended upon, if it has become in the least degree opaque. 3) The matter, if not used immediately should be allowed to dry gradually and thoroughly before it is laid aside for future use. 4) The punctures are to be made in each arm, the point of the lancet being previously dipped in the vaccine matter. 5) The punctures cannot be made too superficial, and on no account should more than one be made in each arm. 6) After vaccination, it will be necessary to repress, as soon as possible, any excess of inflammation that may happen to arise. This will be done best by cold applications etc.
MacKenzie’s Five Thousand Receipts in All the Useful and Domestic Arts
I had been much frightened recently by Dr Grieve’s insistence that Beth should be treated with what is called an inoculation against smallpox. I, who have suffered with the pox and survived might have given her immunity if I were her natural mother but, as I wasn’t, Beth was in urgent need of this treatment as the disease was rife in the district. Some Lewes families from a very poor area had obstinately refused to go to the pest house and had consequently been imprisoned in their own homes with guards put at either end of their street to try to prevent the spread of the disease to the rest of us in the town.
I had recently seen notices in the local broadsheet advertising a visit from a physician who would undertake the treatment for a fee, a large one. But it was only when Cecilia told me that the Duchess of Devonshire – a friend of her brother and a confidant of the Prince Regent – was arranging for all her children to be treated that I decided to take Dr Grieve’s advice. However, it was with great nervousness that I called at his house for him to make the scratch on Beth’s tender little arm. I thought it risky to go to the man who advertised as he boasted about his 2,400 successes and did not mention the 49 or so who had died as a result.
We were admitted by the housekeeper, Mrs Jenkins, and as we sat and waited I was in two minds whether to run out and forget all about it. My heart fluttered with fear as I weighed up the balance of decision: death, or the scars of a terrible disease on my beautiful baby or the possibility of immunity or, again, death. At that time it didn’t seem to be much of a choice but it was one I made only after the heated persuasion of the good doctor. Poor Beth cried bitterly at his ministrations.
‘There there, little one, it’s not so bad is it?’ He offered her a tiny spoonful of strawberry jam to distract her before saying to me, ‘Keep this clean Esther and don’t fret if she has a slight fever: there is nothing to fear. It should be no worse than if she were teething.’
I mopped my own tears and clutched the hot and now sticky child to me.
‘Esther, would you like to join me for a cup of tea? I have seen to all my patients and I know Mrs Jenkins has made a cake.’
‘Oh,’ I said, surprised. ‘Yes, of course, I would like that.’
‘Good, I will go and inform Mrs Jenkins, please go through into the parlour and I will be with you in a few minutes.’
I had never been into the doctor’s private rooms and was very curious to see how he lived.
The room I entered overlooked a small garden that was being carefully attended by an elderly man. I looked for somewhere to sit and after moving a pile of papers to the desk I sat gingerly on a small spindly chair. The desk I faced was very untidy but after a few minutes I could see that the piles of papers were in some fashion quite organised and the pile I had just put on top did not belong. I leaned forward to move them before he came back and saw I had been interfering with his system.
Mrs Jenkins, the housekeeper arrived just in time to tell me to put them on the floor before asking, ‘Shall I take the little one with me into the garden?’
‘Thank you, yes, if it will not upset your gardener – he looks very busy.’
‘Don’t you worry about him none, that be my husband and he will enjoy seeing the child we have all heard so much about.’
I was quite taken aback when she said that but realised we had probably been the subject of discussion in most households in Lewes. Mrs Jenkins gathered Beth into her arms and left the room for the garden.
Dr Grieve reappeare
d a few minutes later rolling his shirtsleeves down and looking a little scrubbed.
‘Well, Esther, I am glad we have a few minutes alone, there is something I wanted to discuss with you.’
I waited, nervously. I had thought there must be a reason that he would ask me to stay for tea.
‘I have been very impressed with your manner, my dear. Clearly you have skills that would make you a sensible nurse. Would you like some cake?’
I was surprised by his words but I nodded to the offer of cake and balanced a tiny plate on my knee whilst a cup of tea wobbled precariously in my hand.
‘Is the tea to your taste? Personally, I prefer some sweetener – a little honey perhaps?’
‘No, no thank you. I like it without.’
‘Good. Well, as I was saying. Mr and Mrs Jenkins have been with me a long time and I feel it is time that I had someone about the house to help me with my work. My patients would benefit if I were to train up a nurse to help me with day-to-day practical medicine: dressings, and preparation of my creams and medicaments. Mrs Jenkins used to help when I needed an extra pair of hands but she is getting on and I would like to prepare for the future. I wonder, Esther, if you would like to be part of that future?’
His eyes were fixed on me and I felt rather unsure what he meant. His offer of employment was a solution to my predicament of eventually finding a home for Beth and me but talk of being part of a future did not seem entirely relating to employment.
I stuttered my thanks for his interest and decided to buy myself some time by eating the cake.
‘I can see, my dear, you are a little surprised by my offer, perhaps it would be a good idea to go back to South Farm and think it through. By all means discuss it with Cecilia and John. Let me just say that I would be very glad to welcome you and Beth into my home as a valued employee and friend.’
I breathed a sigh of relief at not having to make an immediate decision saying, ‘Yes, I do need time to think, so will do as you suggest. Thank you for the tea and for looking after Beth so kindly.’ I searched in my reticule for some payment for the treatment but it was waved away. I glanced out to the garden and saw Beth clutching at Mr Jenkins’ leg as he led her in faltering steps from one clump of flowers to another. ‘I am obliged for your confidence in me Dr Grieve, I just need a little time to absorb the implications.’
‘I would expect nothing less from you Esther. Go back to the farm, keep Beth warm and clean and if a high fever develops then send for me immediately. I am sure that all will be well though.’
He was holding my hand as he reassured me and we seemed to be locked together. He only let go when I felt myself blushing – I pulled myself free and rushed to the waiting gig to make my way home.
Chapter Forty-Four
For Vomiting During Pregnancy
The morning sickness is one of the most painful feelings attendant on the pregnant state; and it is one of those which medicine commonly fails to relieve. A cup of chamomile, or peppermint tea, taken when first waking, and suffering the patient to be still for an hour, will sometimes alleviate the distressing sickness.
MacKenzie’s Five Thousand Receipts in All the Useful and Domestic Arts
I didn’t mention my news to Cecilia as she seemed preoccupied, so once Beth was settled for the night I sat at my window and tried to collect my thoughts, failing miserably. Despite sitting for some hours in the dark I was no nearer to a plan of action. I undressed and began my nightly ritual of combing my hair – it was the one thing I knew would calm me. I slipped between the cold sheets and fell into an exhausted and fretful sleep. Beth cried fitfully throughout the night but she was not overly warm so I did not worry.
The next morning was a picture of beauty with a wispy mist threading over the damp ground. A pale lemon sun rose tentatively beyond the orchard. I breathed deeply as I wondered how I could willingly leave this place that had become my refuge and latterly home.
I had risen early and Cecilia had not yet come down so after giving Beth her breakfast, which she ate as enthusiastically as ever, I settled her down in the care of Mrs Fisher and Cilla and went up to Cecilia’s dressing room. I planned to tell her my news and ask her opinion. As I went in I could hear her retching and found her lying on her bed with a pitcher and bowl to hand.
‘Cecilia, what is it?’
‘I believe I am with child,’ she said primly before collapsing into a fit of giggles mixed up with tears. ‘Oh, God, I feel dreadful.’
‘Does John know?’ I questioned.
‘No one knows, not even me.’
‘Shall I call Dr Grieve?’
‘Absolutely not. I will wait and see, but I am fairly certain. Don’t tell anyone Esther, promise me, promise you won’t.’
‘John made me promise too – to tell him.’
‘You mustn’t, not yet, because he will be very upset when I tell him that my mother has insisted on me returning to Hadgwick Hall if and when I become enceinte.’
‘You are going to leave? Why?’ I was astonished.
‘My mother insists that I must be cared for by her own staff and doctors so that the baby does not die.’
‘But I would care for you, as would John and Dr Grieve.’
‘She does not consider that good enough and blames John for the loss of her first grandchild.’
She was struggling to sit up so I put my arm behind her and lifted her into a comfortable position. She looked pale as she spoke. ‘Esther, I am sorry but she won’t hear of you coming with me. We have talked about it in our letters and I am afraid that she is a trifle jealous. When I tell her that I am with child again she will insist on sending the carriage immediately to carry me off to civilisation again.’
‘But, surely, you don’t have to go?’
‘No, but I want to distance myself from the awful time I had here, before you came Esther. I want to do things differently and not live in the past as I am afraid I will do, endlessly comparing.’
‘Let me get you some breakfast, it will make you feel better.’
‘Don’t be cross with me Esther, I must do this my way – this time.’
‘Don’t be a goose – why would I be cross? You must order your life as it suits you.’ Or your mama I thought. Poor John, he would be bereft.
I didn’t tell her my news as this new plan would clearly affect my position in the household. I had to think.
Chapter Forty-Five
The following morning I rose bright and early and despite being tired from a lack of sleep went straight to Cecilia’s room to find her retching into a bowl again. We sat together with a light meal of oats and honey to settle her down. Gradually the sickness subsided and I promised, again, not to tell John until she was ready.
I was uncomfortable with this but after a few days of sickness Cecilia finally told Farmer Elwood of her pregnancy and persuaded him that her decision to return to her former home for the confinement was necessary. Cecilia only had to write to her mother and everything would change. I don’t know if they discussed my situation in their household but now that Cecelia was definitely leaving I felt I had no choice but to leave the house although they never said. They were delighted for me when I told of Dr Grieve’s offer of employment but I couldn’t help thinking that I was going from one household of a man without his wife to another household where there had never been a wife, but rumour, according to Cecilia, of a mistress.
‘If you are not happy Esther, you can return to South Farm as soon as I am back with our baby. I wish my mother was not so difficult and would let you come with me as my companion but she is adamant that my old governess holds that position. I do not feel strong enough to fight her on this.’
‘Nor should you, Cecilia, your mother is entitled to have who she likes in her own household and my being there would create difficulties for you when you don’t need them.’
Later, when Beth and I were alone, I shed a few tears before writing a brief note to Dr Grieve, accepting his proposal, with thanks. I hope
d I would be able to stay at the farm until Cecilia actually left in a month’s time. I also hoped to meet up with Wilf again under more conventional circumstances. I became quite devious in trying to find out more about him.
My last month at South Farm was bitter sweet, with Beth and I constantly in Cecilia’s company as she prepared for her journey. Beth was now weaned fully and was able to walk a few steps without falling down onto her plump little bottom. Her words were a joy to hear with everyone taking time to help her develop. She was a happy child and full of laughter. I often took her into Lewes to Mrs Makepiece’s home where her grandfather would visit and play with her. His wife had never been reconciled to his dead daughter’s child and I often wondered why people had such a large capacity for bitterness and jealousy. On occasion I had met Becca’s stepmother in my trips round the town and she crossed the road rather than acknowledge me.
I spent many hours studying my father’s journals in the hope that I would have the skills that Dr Grieve expected of me. As I read and reread his medical observations and my mother’s receipts I was reminded of our happy household and wished that I could have a home and children to fill it. Such thoughts always seemed to lead to me thinking about Wilf. I had found out a little about his background and like me he had suffered great loss. His father had been factor of South Farm for many years and Wilf was brought up in his mould. Tragedy struck when he was about fifteen. His father had been set upon by a gang of local men when he tried to prevent them stealing from one of the properties he looked after. These men were after horses and weapons and were notorious locally for their callous wickedness. The poor man had been beaten to within an inch of his life and several months later had died of his wounds. He was able to identify some of his attackers who were taken up by the law and punished severely. One man was hanged and several others transported. Farmer Elwood’s own father had arranged for young Wilf to be educated and adopted by one of his tenants in the hope that he would be able to work on the farm in the same capacity as his father when he grew into manhood and that was exactly what happened. Wilf was unmarried, though he had a sweetheart of long standing: a young woman who lived nearby in one of the farm’s tied cottages. Cecilia thought that the relationship was not of the strongest otherwise they would have married. Wilf did not appear keen, she said, to tie himself to family life.
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