‘I am sorry to see you ill, Mrs Dibkins,’ she said.
The old woman struggled to reassure her. ‘’Tis nothin’, Mrs William – dear … Be up an’ about … no time at all Mrs William – dear … that sorry to be a trouble …’
‘Mrs Jorris has been that good to her you wouldn’t believe, mum,’ Mr Dibkins said. ‘Little dainties, milk puddens, nothing too much trouble.’
‘Can she eat them?’ Nan asked, for it didn’t look as though Mrs Dibkins had eaten a good meal for weeks.
‘She does her best, mum,’ Mr Dibkins whispered. ‘’Tis hard for her to keep things down if you take my meanin’.’
‘Thiss shall go for a physician this very evening,’ Nan promised. ‘Rest all you can, Mrs Dibkins. I will be back presently.’ The smell in the little enclosed room was making her retch, despite her sympathy.
‘There you are, Mother,’ Mr Dibkins said, much impressed by her generosity. ‘You’re to have a physician.’ Servants were usually treated by an apothecary, so this was a great honour.
But honour or no, there was nothing this particular physician could do for his patient. ‘She has an impostume beneath her right armpit,’ he told Nan when he came up to the drawing-room after his examination much later that evening, ‘and another on her neck, just below the nape. I have lanced them for her. They will take some little time to drain, for there is much puss, and the arm is angry. Howsomever, as to the other swelling – ah me – that is a malignancy which will not yield to treatment, I fear. She has suffered it for some years, I believe. Laudanum will relieve the pain, but I know of no cure for the swelling.’ It was a remarkably honest diagnosis because it could easily lose him trade.
‘She will not recover?’ Nan said, and it was hardly a question, she was so sure of the answer.
‘I fear not, ma’am.’
‘Pray return tomorrow, Mr Crimshaw,’ Nan said. ‘She is a good servant. I would not have her suffer more than is needful.’
‘Laudanum, ma’am,’ Mr Crimshaw said and took his fee and his leave, shaking his head sadly. ‘’Tis the only thing.’
Poor old Mrs Dibkins, Nan thought, watching him from the drawing-room window as he climbed into his little black carriage and drove away. She don’t deserve this, in all conscience. I must stay here for a week or two just to see how she goes along. I can hardly go rushing back to Weymouth when she’s so very ill. And then I can keep an eye on Mrs Pennington, and find out what Annie would like to do now she en’t a scholar, and hear Thiss and Bessie have their banns called on Sunday. It was nearly midnight and she’d been back in the house for a little under four hours, but it felt as though she’d never been away. It seemed to her that her responsibilities had swarmed in upon her like angry bees the minute she got inside the door. During those few magical days in Weymouth she’d felt young and light-hearted, now she had returned to reality.
She was still looking out of the window, too tired to move on to the next moment. Cheyne Row was really quite well lit. She hadn’t realized how good the street lighting was in Chelsea. Why, she could see every brick in the wall of the garden opposite. She wondered idly whether new lamps had been fixed while she was away. But when she glanced around her, she saw that the illumination was coming from the moon. And even the moon had changed. Now it was no longer the perfect silver orb that had glowed so romantically above the sea at Weymouth such a short time ago, but a dented, lopsided circle, still valiantly reflecting light, but decidedly the worse for wear. I know how you feel, she said to it. Still, at least I got the worst matters in some sort of order.
But Matthew Howlett had another and equally pressing problem for her.
He was waiting for her in the shop in the Strand the next morning, busily sorting papers, but keeping one eye on the door ready for her entrance. He was so worried that he jumped visibly when she arrived and his eyes were bolting like a hare’s.
‘Good morning, Matthew,’ she said, wondering what was the matter with him. ‘I trust all is well.’
‘Well, as to that mum,’ he stammered. ‘Most of the walks is passable.’
‘And how is trade?’
‘Fair to middlin’, bein’ it’s summertime. Excep’ for … What I means to say is, there is – um – What it en’t my business for to …’
‘Spit it out, Matthew. What’s the matter? Stop blethering and tell me.’
‘Well mum, bein’ … What I means to say … I wouldn’t want you for to think … Bein’ I does me best, in all conscience … Bein’ …’
She was too alert to waste any more time waiting for him to get to the point. She strode to the foot of the stairs and called for Abby. ‘Abby! Come down here a minute, will you. Your man’s in such a moither I can’t make head nor tail of un.’
So Abby descended with a baby in her arms and their two towsled toddlers creeping behind her, and admitted that there was trouble in one of the walks. ‘We think he’s cheatin’ you, mum,’ she said. ‘He makes less an’ less week by week. ’Ten’t in the nature of things to lose so continual. Not with the rest of us a-picking’ up.’
‘Old Josh, is it?’ Nan asked. She’d had her doubts about old Josh before she went away.
Bolt-eyed nodding from Matthew.
‘Um,’ she said, considering. ‘Thank ’ee kindly, Matthew. ’Twas well done to tell me. I shall deal with this myself. It can’t go on or we shall lose all trade north of the city. Are those his papers?’
Old Josh professed himself transported with delight to see her again, which aroused her suspicions even further, but he said he was ‘quite agreeable’ to sharing his walk with Thiss for a day or two.
‘Watch him like a hawk,’ she told Thiss. ‘He’s been cheating poor Matthew for weeks, if I’m any judge. Which is easy enough in all conscience, knowing what a booby Matthew is. So now let him think he may cheat you as easily.’
‘Play dumb, eh?’
‘Something a’ that. If you do well you shall have the finest wedding-breakfast money can buy.’
‘Leave it to me, mum,’ Thiss said cheerfully.
But it was easier promised than done. Old Josh was more cunning than he looked, and although Thiss watched him most carefully for the next three days, when Sunday came he had made no progress.
So the watch had to be extended, and when Nan heard the banns called for the first time she was none the wiser. Later that evening she wrote a long letter to Calverley, explaining that she wouldn’t be able to get back to Weymouth ‘just yet’ but assuring him that she dreamed of him and longed for him and loved him more than ever.
His answer arrived four days later. ‘My love,’ he wrote, ‘I miss you to distraction. There is little to report. We parade, we drill. Went to the races a’ Tuesday and did rather well. Jericho on form. Won back all our losses, so we have money a plenty to spend when you return. A deuced good horse. I long to see you again. Your Calverley.’
She put the letter in her glove drawer, where she kept all her most precious possessions, and from time to time during her busy day she took it out again, to enjoy the sight of his handwriting, which was bold and black and flowing, and to re-read his words and remember him and miss him.
‘I must go back to Weymouth soon,’ she said to Thiss as they drove to the Strand on Monday morning. ‘I mean to open a reading-room in Salisbury. ’Tis just the season for it. Keep your eyes open this time and your wits about you.’
But Old Josh was a sly old bird and by the time Thiss finally caught him actually putting cash into his own pocket, the banns had been called for the third time and the wedding was arranged and Nan had had to write three more letters to Calverley explaining her delay and was beginning to wonder whether she would ever see him again.
But business was business and a cheat was a cheat and she couldn’t go rushing off to enjoy herself until both were settled to her satisfaction. Could she?
Chapter Twenty-three
It was the middle of July before old Josh was finally brought up before a magistrate a
nd imprisoned, and by then Nan had a drawer full of letters from her lover, Annie had decided that she would stay at home and learn to keep house for her mother and Bessie and Mrs Jorris, Thiss and Bessie were man and wife, and Mrs Dibkins had recovered sufficiently to be carried out of her room to a place of honour at the wedding-breakfast, where she nibbled a little sugar icing to show willing and declared she was ‘that happy she never did’.
‘’Twill not be long, my love,’ Nan wrote to Calverley that evening, ‘before I can be with you again. I miss you cruelly. Howsomever Mrs Dibkins improves a little and the wedding went well. I have hired a woman to replace that light-fingered Mr Joshua but she cannot start work for another ten days. Mr Teshmaker has drawn up a contract for all my future employees to sign which he says will indemnify the firm against all such losses in future. Would it were all settled. ’Tis weeks since I saw you last.
Your most loving Nan.’
And she sighed, because writing to him was pleasurable but it made her acutely aware of how very much she missed him.
On the morning after her wedding Bessie rose early, to help Mrs Jorris cook a special breakfast for her dear Thiss and her dear Mrs Easter, who’d been so kind and generous, what with the wedding and the wedding-breakfast and all. Mrs Jorris had decided on a dish of fresh scallops dredged in mace, beside the eggs and potted meats, and an old fashioned furmenty, that Mrs Easter particularly enjoyed. It took them rather longer than usual so they weren’t quite ready to serve when Nan and Thiss got back from the stamping. So when someone came knocking at the door just at the very minute when they were ready to dish up, Mrs Jorris was not pleased.
‘See who ’tis, Mrs Thistlethwaite my dear,’ she said, ‘an’ send ’em packin’. We got enough to do without unwanted tradesmen.’
So Bessie trotted up to the door prepared for an unwanted tradesman and got the surprise of her life. Standing on the doorstep, ‘fairly fillin’ the frame’ as she told Mrs Jorris afterwards, was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. He was wearing the full dress uniform of a cavalry officer and his arms were full of flowers, roses and honeysuckles and great white lilies.
‘You must be Mrs Thistlethwaite,’ he said. ‘Is your mistress at home?’
‘Why, yes, sir,’ she said, amazed that he should know her. ‘Who should I say is callin’?’
He put his finger on his lips like a conspirator. ‘Don’t say a word,’ he begged. ‘I’ve a mind to surprise her. Is she upstairs?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then we will tip-toe up,’ he said. ‘You lead and I will follow, eh?’
It was beginning to be rather exciting and the flowers smelt like incense in the narrow hall. She led the way upstairs as quietly as she could.
Mrs Easter was sitting at her desk writing her accounts. ‘Yes, Bessie,’ she said vaguely. ‘I shall be down directly.’
‘If you please, mum,’ Bessie said, grinning with excitement. ‘You got a visitor, mum.’
And Mrs Easter looked up and saw the officer.
‘Calverley!’ she said. ‘Oh, my dear love!’
And then the two of them were in each other’s arms and the flowers were being crushed between them, and he was kissing her eyes and her cheeks and her mouth with such passion and urgency that Bessie decided to make herself scarce.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’ Nan said, when she’d got her breath back a little. ‘I’ve just written you a letter.’
Actually he hadn’t known himself until two minutes before he caught the coach. It was most unlike him to be travelling simply to spend time with a woman. But this woman, it had to be admitted, had a stronger influence upon him than any he’d ever pursued. She’d made all the others in Weymouth seem dull and ordinary, slow in their movements and their passions, barely attractive at all. Since her departure he’d done little but dream of her, remembering that dark face blazing with love, those strong legs gripping the horse, or running along the beach, or threshing and clinging beneath him in the throes of love. Oh, she was a sterling creature, and just the sight of her now was making him amorous.
‘I have ten days’ leave,’ he said, happily triumphant. ‘Think of that, my charmer. Ten days and ten nights. How shall we spend the time?’
‘I have to be out again in half an hour,’ she said. ‘But I will return so soon as ever I may, I promise you. Oh, Calverley, how good it is to see you. Have you breakfasted?’
‘And waste time when I could be riding here to you?’
‘Then I will feed you,’ she said. ‘Mrs Jorris has something special planned and now you can share it, my dear, dear love.’
It was a splendid meal and they enjoyed every mouthful, but all too soon she had to tell Thiss to fetch the pony cart.
‘You must entertain my children whilst I am in the City,’ she said as they were drinking their last cup of tea. ‘They will be down presently to take their breakfast, so I will introduce them before I go.’
‘’Twill be a pleasure,’ he said. But actually neither of them were quite sure about it.
Annie and the boys came down to breakfast a few minutes later, having been warned and tidied and made to wait by Bessie. They said ‘how d’ee do’ politely to their unexpected guest, and Annie was delighted and a little embarrassed when he bowed to her as though she were a lady.
‘I had thought to meet a child,’ he said, smiling his most charming smile at her and thinking what an unremarkable girl she was. Such an unremarkable face, cheeks rounded, small blue eyes, projecting forehead, mouse-brown hair. ‘But you are already grown, I see, and grown uncommon pretty. No child, I’ll wager.’
She admitted that she would be eleven in three days time.
‘A woman, deuce take it,’ he said. ‘A beautiful little woman.’ And was rewarded by quite a pretty confusion. Her brother William, who was proud to say that he was nine, was so very much like her in appearance and manner that he too was an easy conquest. Soon they were talking happily, ‘man to man’ about horses and uniforms and the manner in which a French invasion would have to be repelled if ever Napoleon managed to slip through the British blockade and cross the Channel.
‘I see I en’t required in this conversation,’ Nan laughed. ‘Entertain Mr Leigh till I return if you please, Annie. Boys, you are to be in the schoolroom in half an hour, don’t forget.’
‘Could they not beg leave of absence, just this once?’ Calverley said, grinning at them to show he was an ally. And he was taken aback by the look of black fury that crossed the face of the younger boy. Deuce take it, he thought, surely he don’t like learning. How unnatural!
‘Tomorrow, perhaps,’ Nan said, leaving the room. ‘Bessie will bring you hot water should you need it.’ And she beamed at him and was gone.
Annie proved to be a good hostess. She left the boys eating their breakfast and then arranged for warm water and hot towels to be provided for the lieutenant in the little washroom adjoining her mother’s bedroom, and all as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
‘You are uncommon kind,’ he said to her, as she walked to the bedroom door to leave him.
She smiled at him with serious pleasure. ‘I am happy to help you, sir,’ she said.
Down in the kitchen Bessie was describing their visitor to all the other servants, including Mrs Dibkins who had hobbled out to her chair beside the window and was slowly drinking broth.
‘’Tis a lover,’ she said rapturously. ‘There ain’t a shadder a’ doubt. You should a’ seen the way he kissed ’er.’
‘What did I tell ’ee?’ Mrs Dibkins said. ‘I know’d there was a man in it, the minute she showed them titties.’
‘Well, good luck to ’er,’ Mrs Jorris said. ‘She been a widow woman too long to my way a’ thinkin’. Good luck to ’er.’
‘How long’s the gentleman a-goin’ ter stay?’ the youngest scullery maid asked. A guest meant a deal of extra work.
‘Ten days,’ Bessie said rapturously. ‘Ten days a’ love! What c
ould be more romantic?’
Her opinion wasn’t shared by every member of the household. Mrs Pennington didn’t think well of their new visitor at all, nor of the new sleeping arrangements in the house. ‘Downright disgusting,’ she said hotly to Mrs Jorris, when she came into the kitchen next morning to collect her breakfast tray. ‘I was coming down the stairs, minding my own business, and what do you think?’
Mrs Jorris had no idea what to think.
‘This strange man walked out of Mrs Easter’s bedroom, as bold as brass if you please. And with barely a stitch on. Barely a stitch! I didn’t know where to look. And then he had the effrontery to say good morning. I don’t know what the world is coming to, upon my soul.’
‘Same as it’s always been coming to, I daresay,’ the cook said phlegmatically. ‘’Tis her house, Mrs Pennington and I suppose she may do as she pleases in it.’
‘I would expect her to show more decorum with children about,’ Mrs Pennington said, her big nose purple with excitement. ‘He didn’t have a stitch on, you know. I’m sure I didn’t know where to look.’
‘So you say,’ Mrs Jorris said with obvious disbelief.
‘Those poor children,’ the governess said piously.
She could have spared her sympathy, for Billy and Annie liked their mother’s lover. He was handsome and he was fun and he talked to them as though they were grown up, which was very flattering. And when he and their mother came back from a shopping expedition on the third afternoon of his visit, with a set of splendid toy soldiers for Billy and a finely bound book for Johnnie and a positive maypole of ribbons for ‘our pretty housekeeper’ their approval was charmed into affection.
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