by Diane Allen
8
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express’d in fancy: rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
FROM HAMLET BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Charlotte walked across the market place of Settle, stopping to talk and say hello to the various people who knew her as she made her way to the bank. The town was thronged with shoppers, Settle being the market town for northern Craven and the outlying Dales.
‘Good morning, Mrs Dawson, how may we help you today?’ The bank clerk smiled as Charlotte fumbled with her bag. ‘Both you and Mr Dawson look to be suited to married life. I told him so myself this morning when I served him.’
‘Joseph was here this morning? I thought he was at the mill all day today.’
The little man smiled at her. ‘Yes, he was here first thing. He caused a bit of a stir by withdrawing twenty guineas from your account. I had to get the manager’s permission before I could serve him. I’m not authorized to handle that amount, you see, but my manager assured me that if it was for Mr Dawson, it would be acceptable.’
‘Oh! It must have been for a delivery of cotton from Liverpool, which I know he has been expecting. But that does seem strange for him to pay in cash, and out of my account.’ Charlotte took her gloves off in order to count the money she was about to withdraw from her account. How Joseph ran his business was his affair – he had made that perfectly clear yesterday. ‘May I make a withdrawal, Mr Wells?’ She watched as the clerk gave her a look of disbelief.
‘I’m afraid he also transferred your remaining funds out of your account into his.’ He watched as Charlotte’s face clouded over. ‘I presumed he had discussed it with you and that, now you were married, your husband was handling all your affairs. After all, now that you are a married woman, it goes without saying that all your assets and money are his.’
‘My account is my affair. Now kindly transfer my money back to me and reopen my account.’ Charlotte was fuming, and embarrassed. How dare Joseph help himself to her money, without even asking her?
‘I’ll get the manager, Mrs Dawson, but I think you will find that I’m correct in saying you can no longer be in charge of an account with us.’ The clerk quickly left his post and Charlotte could see him talking to the manager through the glass window of his door.
She watched as the clerk explained the position that she was in. Her frustration brought colour to her cheeks, both in annoyance with Joseph and at knowing there was a queue forming behind her, who were taking an interest in every word being exchanged.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Dawson, but it is as I feared. Mr Dawson was quite within his rights to transfer your account to his, and to withdraw any money he wishes. It is the law, Mrs Dawson, I’m sorry.’ The clerk looked embarrassed.
‘Very well. I’ll talk to Mr Dawson tonight and ask him to set me up an allowance. I can see I’m not going to get any more help from you, and the manager hasn’t even bothered to come out to talk to me. You can tell your manager that I’m still the Charlotte Booth that was; just because I am now married doesn’t mean I have gone dim-witted and can’t handle my finances. The manager smiled plenty and was eager to talk to me, when my father and I deposited my grandpapa’s legacy.’
Charlotte pulled on her gloves and tugged at the strings on her draw-bag, glaring at the timid clerk, who was only doing his job. She pushed out her chin, stood tall and stamped out of the bank, past the earwigging crowd. When she reached the frosty air of the market place she sighed deeply. Her life was going from bad to worse; now she didn’t even have any money to call her own. She hadn’t realized that, once she married, all she owned belonged to Joseph. It was something she had not accounted for, and it wasn’t a position she was going to be comfortable with. She would speak to him about an allowance at least. Surely he’d agree to that; he must see that she would need to have a little spending money?
Feeling slightly embarrassed by her ignorance, Charlotte looked around the busy market square and noticed some familiar figures wandering aimlessly amongst the crowd. It was Archie and his wife Rosie, and in her arms she could see a bundle that she presumed was their baby. She was nearly on the brink of tears as a beaming Archie spotted her, waving to her, and then turned to Rosie, before the couple pushed their way through the busy crowd towards her.
‘Lottie, it’s good to see you. Just look at you, a true lady now.’ Archie grinned and looked Charlotte up and down.
She smiled at them both, before laying eyes on the small baby, which was wrapped up tightly and securely in a hand-woven shawl in Rosie’s arms. ‘Never mind about me, look at you two – both parents. Are you going to introduce me to him or her?’ Charlotte swallowed hard, fighting back the emotions she felt for her old friend, and the pang of jealousy she had for Rosie and her baby.
‘This is Daniel, our little boy. He takes after his father and is always hungry.’ Rosie smiled and pulled back the shawl from around her baby’s face, to reveal a small but perfect face, with the brightest pair of blue eyes that Charlotte had ever seen.
‘He’s beautiful, you must be so proud.’ She sniffed back an escaping tear and smiled at the devoted parents.
‘Would you like to hold him?’ Rosie offered the squirming bundle over to Charlotte, who eagerly accepted.
‘He’s gorgeous. Look at these little fingers and the milk-spots upon his nose.’ A tear escaped from her eye and blessed baby Daniel’s head, as she watched him looking at her.
‘Aye, Charlotte, don’t cry. We are just glad he’s alright. Rosie struggled having him and, as it is, he’s only a lil’un because he came early. My father says he’s a right runt, but he’s a survivor because, like Rosie says, he’s a good eater.’
‘He’s perfect, and you are both so lucky.’ Charlotte handed the baby back to Rosie and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand.
‘“Lucky,” says the woman who’s married the most eligible man in Craven and who lives in one of the biggest houses in the district.’ Archie grinned.
Charlotte smiled, but she could feel herself welling up again inside and decided to change the subject. ‘Anyway, Mr Atkinson, you never sent me a wedding invite – what happened to that?’
‘Oh, Lottie, you know why – we only had our parents there.’ Archie blushed. ‘It was a quiet do. Wasn’t it, Rosie? I think Rosie’s father nearly thought of bringing a shotgun – he was that concerned I wasn’t going to go through with it. But he should know now that I’m a man of my word; and besides, I love my Rosie and this lil’un.’ Archie squeezed Rosie’s waist tightly and bent down and kissed baby Daniel’s head.
Charlotte recalled that early spring morning when he’d shouted his undying love for her as she ran down the fellside. He’d obviously been having his way with Rosie even then, else the child wasn’t his. ‘I know, and don’t worry, I understand. Between Father and Joseph, I didn’t have much say in who came to my wedding, either. Your aunty probably told you. Bless her, I miss Mrs Cranston; she’s a lot plainer cook than the one at Windfell, where everything is in sauces and garlic. Mrs C. hates garlic.’
‘Aye, she said it was a fair wedding, but that she hadn’t been invited to the reception. Don’t worry – I think she was thankful she wasn’t asked. She said you only had the great and the good there, and that she’d have been out of her place.’ Archie grinned again. ‘You look a little down, Lottie – what’s up? It’s not like you to look down-in-the-mouth.’
‘Oh, I’ve been an idiot and left my money at home, and I’d set my heart on a new hat. I’m going to have to go home without anything, or go and get my money from home, and I don’t have the time.’ Charlotte felt guilty, but she smiled at Rosie as she tickled baby Daniel’s chin.
‘Surely you could go into any shop in Settle and put it on an account. If you can’t, whilst married to one of the wealthiest men in the district, then God help anybody else,’ said Archie.
‘My father would never do that. “Neither a lender
nor a borrower be,” he would say. And putting things on an account never entered my head.’ Her mood quickly lifted. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Archie was right: every shop in Settle would be glad of an account with Joseph Dawson; and after all, he’d left her with no other option than to buy things that way.
‘Go and get yourself a hat. He won’t even miss the price of it, from his huge bank account,’ Archie teased.
‘Yes, go and treat yourself. Archie, we will have to be going now, I’m beginning to feel a little tired.’ Rosie’s colour had faded from her cheeks and she looked pale and wan.
‘Sorry, Rosie, I wasn’t thinking. I got carried away with talking to Lottie. Here, give me the baby.’ Archie took Daniel from her arms and cradled him lovingly, while smiling reassuringly at Rosie. ‘Rosie is still weak. As I said, she had a bad time having this bundle of rubbish.’
‘I understand. Rosie, I hope you are soon feeling better.’ Charlotte took a final look at the baby nestling in Archie’s arms. ‘Here, wait a minute.’ She rummaged in her drawstring bag. ‘I thought I had one: here, a silver florin for luck, as the gypsies say.’ She thrust the silver coin into the tiny baby’s clenched fist and he held onto it eagerly. ‘Here’s hoping for good luck for both of us, baby Daniel.’ She kissed him gently on the head.
‘Lottie, you shouldn’t.’ Archie looked at the woman he still loved.
‘No, you shouldn’t, but thank you.’ Rosie held onto Archie’s arm.
‘Yes, I should. Put it in his savings, from his Aunty Charlotte.’ She smiled and watched as the couple walked arm-in-arm through the crowds, Archie glancing back at her for a brief moment.
The silver florin was the least she could do for that baby; he was going to need every penny, to get him through life on a bleak hillside. It had been the last of her money, but Daniel needed it more than her. After all, in Archie’s words, she was married to ‘one of the wealthiest men in the district’.
‘Afternoon, Mrs Dawson.’ The owner of the butcher’s shop on the Shambles brought her back to her thoughts and reminded her of the purpose of her visit. A hat: she came for a hat, and she would go back with one – especially as Archie had said Joseph would never miss from his bank account the pittance it would cost. After all, some of that money was hers now. She made her way past the market stalls and hawkers, heading straight for the haberdasher’s and hatter’s. There, in the window, she spotted the loveliest creation she had ever seen. A red velvet hat, with fake winter berries adorning it and a red ribbon to secure it around her chin. She had to have it; it was the perfect hat for winter, and Joseph wanted her to look the perfect lady. The shop bell tinkled loudly, like her heartbeat, as the prim shop assistant handed her the hat to try on, announcing that it ‘must have been made for her’.
Charlotte preened herself and cocked her head to one side, taking in the back view, the side view and admiring how the huge red bow showed off the colour of her cheeks to perfection. She looked at the price tag. It was the most expensive thing she had ever placed on her head. Should she? Dare she? Of course she should; she was the wife of prestigious mill owner Joseph Dawson, and there had to be some benefits to being a mill owner’s wife.
‘Does madam like it?’ asked the shop assistant.
‘Yes, very much, it’s such a lovely colour.’ Charlotte admired herself again.
‘Has madam noticed the fur muff and red kidskin gloves to match? They would be the perfect accompaniment.’ The shop assistant handed them over to Charlotte, from the bottom of the shop window, and smiled at her, knowing that she had caught her customer hook, line and sinker.
‘Oh! They are beautiful.’ Charlotte held the red sheepskin muff next to her cheek, feeling the softness of the fine wool. ‘I really shouldn’t – what would my husband say?’
‘I’m sure he would say they were made for you, and that you look beautiful in them.’ The shop assistant smiled. ‘They are all the rage in Paris.’
Charlotte looked at herself again in the mirror. She had to have them. ‘Can I put them on account, please? My husband, Joseph Dawson, owns the mill at Langcliffe, so there will be no problem with payment.’ She felt herself blushing. She had never asked for credit before.
‘Of course, madam, we know Mr Dawson. He bought nearly the same gloves for his sister the other month, when it was her birthday, but they were in brown.’ The assistant took the hat from Charlotte and placed it in a striking hat box full of tissue paper.
‘I don’t think they will have been for his sister – he doesn’t have one.’ Charlotte handed her the gloves and muff to wrap, and thought nothing more of the shop assistant’s comment.
‘I must have misheard, madam. I’m sorry. We’ll send the bill for Mr Dawson’s attention, shall we?’
‘Yes, please.’ Charlotte smiled as she was handed her treasured new possessions. She hadn’t meant to spend that amount of money; she wouldn’t have done, if it had been her own money. But seeing as Joseph had helped himself to her money, it was his debt now.
‘Thank you for your custom, Mrs Dawson, please call again.’ The shop assistant opened the door for her, jingling the merry bell again.
‘Oh, I will, thank you.’ Charlotte had never enjoyed shopping so much. She might have no money of her own, but she had Joseph’s good name to get credit on. Only if she must, of course!
‘So what have you done today, my love?’ Joseph lifted his head up from his bowl of soup and looked down the table at his wife. Her cheeks looked flushed in the milky candlelight and he couldn’t help but admire her beauty as she politely sipped her soup, patting her lips with her napkin as she left the right amount for a lady to leave in her bowl, for the servants to clear away.
‘I went to Settle, Joseph. I need to talk to you quite urgently regarding my bank account.’ Charlotte hesitated. ‘Or should I say “lack of one”!’ She could feel her heart fluttering with a slight fear as she broached the subject that had annoyed her all day.
‘If you mean to ask me why I transferred your account into mine, I’d have thought that is patently obvious to you.’ Joseph stared at his wife and knew then why there was so much colour in her cheeks. ‘You are under my roof, I feed and clothe you, you want for nothing. You are my wife – what’s yours is now mine.’ He laid his napkin down and ordered the soup bowls to be cleared and for Yates to leave the room.
‘But you could have told, or asked, me first. I went to withdraw some money this morning and I wasn’t allowed. The clerk looked at me as if I was simple!’ Charlotte decided to speak her mind. ‘Besides, that money gave me a little independence, some spending money of my own.’ No sooner had she spoken the words than she regretted them.
‘Independence, Charlotte! You are my wife; you don’t need independence, just as you don’t need to be part of the running of the mill or to know my accounts. Yes, Mrs Dodgson told me that you asked for the key to my desk, after your jaunt to Settle. The desk and its contents in the study are private; they are nothing to do with you.’ Joseph took a drink of wine from his crystal glass and watched Charlotte try to explain her request.
‘I merely wanted to see if I could understand your accounts. The clerk said you had withdrawn a significant amount of money this morning, and I was curious about why you needed it. After all, as you say, I’m completely dependent on you, and if I can help in any way with my good head for figures, surely you would let me do so.’ She could see that a storm was brewing and sighed. Why couldn’t she just have sat and sewn or read, like any ordinary fine lady would have done, on her return from Settle? But curiosity over Joseph’s need of her money and the large withdrawal had got the better of her. So much so that she had plucked up the courage to ask for the key to his desk, to the shock and horror of a disdainful Dora Dodgson.
‘Damn it, woman, how many times have I to tell you to keep out of my affairs. There’s nothing in that desk anyway; the accounts are all held down at the mill. Why do you think we have offices there? What I do with my money is my business, do yo
u hear? And yes, my dear, your money is now mine – not yours – because you are now my wife and my property.’ Joseph’s voice lowered as Yates entered with the next course, a shoulder of mutton with boiled potatoes.
Charlotte dared to look across at the husband she was beginning to wish she had never married, as he spooned out his portion of potatoes from the silver tray Yates was holding. She dared not mention the hat and accompanying apparel that she had charged to him. With a bit of luck, the bill would not come until the end of the month and he would have calmed down by then. ‘I’m sorry. You must remember it’s a new life for me.’ She smiled across at her glowering husband as she too helped herself to potatoes.
‘I’ve had a hard day, Charlotte. I don’t want to come home to be quizzed about my every move. Now, let’s just eat our dinner and then I’ll be away to my bed.’ Joseph put his head down and stabbed at a potato as if he meant to kill it.
‘I do love you, Joseph,’ Charlotte whispered quietly over the table, out of earshot of Yates, who was standing waiting next to the doorway.
‘I know. I’m tired and grumpy. The mill takes it out of me. Forgive me; I’m used to doing things my way.’ He sighed, sat back in his chair and looked across at his days-old bride. He’d done nothing but argue with her since the wedding. Perhaps he should not have been so rash as to marry her, especially as it turned out she didn’t have as much in her bank account as he had anticipated. He watched as a tear slowly dropped down the blushing cheeks he’d just admired. ‘Stop crying, Charlotte. I apologize, I’m not the easiest man to live with. I love you too, my dear. Now excuse me. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.’ He rose from his chair and kissed her on the nape of her delicate neck before leaving the room.
Charlotte sat at the dining table and looked at her plate of untouched dinner. She hadn’t expected married life to be like this. She cast her mind back to earlier in the day, when she had met Archie and Rosie and seen the love and concern they had shown one another. That was what a married couple should act like; not like this sham marriage that she was now in. The big question was: what to do next? ‘To love, honour and obey’ – the words of her wedding vows ran through her head. Obey; did she really have to obey? That was the vow that she had most difficulty with.