Her Mother's Daughter

by Evie Grace

  ‘For the same reason as you failed to mention this before,’ Papa said sadly. ‘To make a stir, to embarrass me in front of our friends and neighbours, to get back at me for some imagined slight from our childhood? You have always been jealous of me being the elder son. It has always brought you a perverse joy to humiliate me or cause me pain.’ He turned back to Nanny. ‘You have disobeyed my orders and broken my trust. I have no choice but to ask you to leave Windmarsh Court at first light.’

  ‘No, Papa. You cannot send her away. I will not allow it.’ Agnes confronted her father. ‘Nanny didn’t know where we were going or whom we were to meet. She is entirely innocent.’

  ‘Then how did this come about? Tell me,’ her father said sternly.

  ‘I-I-I received a letter,’ she stammered. So much for social convention and virtue! Her governess’s reputation was at stake and she would do anything to defend it.

  ‘And nobody thought to mention this to me? As master of this house?’ Papa looked at the butler and the other servants, who kept their eyes averted.

  ‘No, sir,’ Turner said. ‘I can speak for all the servants when I say that no such letter arrived at the house.’

  ‘So how did it get here?’

  ‘I intercepted it,’ Agnes said.

  ‘Are you in the habit of intercepting the post?’

  She nodded. ‘It was addressed to me. I didn’t see why I shouldn’t open it.’

  ‘I can’t express how disappointed I am.’ His eyes glittered with sudden tears and her heart broke for having let him down. ‘Miss Treen, I wish you had told me of this, but I suppose this headstrong young woman persuaded you not to.’

  Nanny’s expression was one of complete consternation. For a moment, Agnes thought she was going to counter her lie with the truth, but her governess maintained her silence. Perhaps she would have changed her mind again, but for Mama who stood up from her place on the chaise.

  ‘You said she was dead,’ she said slowly. ‘James, you said the mother was dead and the infant was an orphan.’

  A gasp echoed around the room. Agnes couldn’t believe her ears. Papa and Nanny had been party to the truth, while Mama had been excluded.

  ‘What could I do? She needed help to get back on her feet. The child was beautiful, an endearing little soul. And I knew I could help them, and us at the same time. Look at how we were suffering, my darling. Remember how desperately sad you were before I brought the little girl home?’ Papa corrected himself. ‘How sad we were. She has brought us great joy.’

  ‘At the beginning,’ Mama said fiercely.

  ‘You said without a child, you had no role in society. Agnes’s arrival gave you hope for the future and a purpose. It was the right thing to do for all of us.’

  ‘You lied to me.’

  ‘I’m your husband. I did what I thought for the best. I had the unfortunate mother sign a document in which she waived her rights to her daughter and promised not to contact her again.’

  ‘But you didn’t trust her. You thought she might come along and snatch her back into the bosom of her family. That’s why you’ve kept Agnes here out of sight, not because you didn’t want her to fall sick and die like her true mother. How could you do this to me?’

  ‘To protect you, my love. I didn’t want you worrying. You had been through enough pain and disappointment.’ He turned to his brother. ‘Why did you think it necessary to tell tales, knowing how it would upset my wife’s state of mind? And yours too, for we all know what you were doing on the wharf.’

  ‘How dare you. I was on a charitable mission.’

  ‘To save the poorest, most desperate women of Faversham. Yes, I can believe that,’ Pa said sarcastically.

  Rufus shrugged.

  ‘I should call you out,’ Papa hissed. White froth adorned his beard.

  ‘Papa, no,’ Agnes said, stepping in between the two men. ‘You are doing yourself no good at all. Please, sit down. Turner, fetch the brandy.’

  Philip took it upon himself to place his arm around Papa’s back and support him to a chair while the butler sent one of the footmen to fetch a fresh glass.

  ‘Let me have a moment to regain my self-control.’ Papa was breathing hard. ‘Then we will go outside and have this out.’

  ‘James, no,’ Mama said. ‘This is shameful.’

  ‘You cannot tell me what to do. You are my wife,’ Papa said, his mouth twisting as though he was in pain. ‘Turner, fetch my pistol.’

  The butler frowned. ‘I shall see what I can do, sir, but let me serve you a nip of brandy first.’

  ‘I don’t know why you are so sensitive about the situation,’ Uncle Rufus said, his malice unabated. ‘We have always known and others have suspected of Agnes’s shadowy background.’

  ‘You will take that back,’ Papa snapped. ‘She is one of us.’

  ‘You have Henry for your son and heir. She is superfluous.’

  Is that what other people think of me? Agnes wondered, as Papa stood up.

  ‘Take that back,’ Papa repeated. ‘Apologise or I shall … I shall …’ His complexion turned from scarlet to royal purple as he clutched at his chest.

  ‘Or you’ll what?’ Rufus sneered. ‘You’ve always been too much of a gentleman in all of your dealings, business and private. Even when you were a boy you couldn’t say boo to a goose.’

  ‘Rufus, pray silence!’ his wife interrupted. ‘Can’t you see? He isn’t well.’

  ‘He’s fooling around.’ Rufus gazed at his brother, and something in his expression changed. ‘You are play-acting?’

  A shiver of panic ran down Agnes’s spine as Papa toppled forwards. Rufus caught him and dragged him, almost unconscious, to the chaise where Philip helped him lie him down with a cushion beneath his head.

  ‘He is overheating – I’ll open the curtains,’ Nanny said as Mama uttered a small scream. ‘Someone attend to Mrs Berry-Clay. Turner, send for the doctor.’

  Aunt Sarah took Mama aside.

  ‘We need more brandy, and the smelling salts,’ she called.

  Agnes turned her attention to her father. Philip was kneeling at his head, loosening his necktie and unfastening his collar.

  ‘Go on then, my son. If you’re so set on becoming a doctor, you help him,’ his father urged.

  ‘I’ll do what I can.’ Philip checked Papa’s wrist for a pulse, but he began to shudder and convulse and seemed to gain the strength of ten men as they tried to keep him from falling on to the floor. Philip and Rufus pinned him to the chaise, and all of a sudden, he took a gasp of air and lay still with pink foam trickling from the corner of his mouth.

  ‘What is happening?’ Mama exclaimed from the far side of the room. ‘Oh, he has gone!’

  ‘Stay here with us,’ Nanny said. ‘The men will revive him.’

  ‘Rufus, you have surely killed him!’

  ‘No, mistress, he is far from dying,’ Nanny went on, trying to calm her.

  ‘Why should I believe you? Why should I believe any one of you?’

  ‘Please, take some more brandy for the sake of your nerves,’ Aunt Sarah said.

  ‘Agnes, fetch a mirror,’ Philip whispered.

  Frowning, she went out to the landing and removed the gilded mirror from the wall above one of the side tables.

  ‘Thank you, cousin,’ Philip said on her return. ‘Hold it in front of his nose and mouth.’

  She did as he asked and together they watched and waited for the shadow of condensation that would confirm the presence of life. Agnes held her breath, and eventually it came, a faint misting of the glass along with a soft, shallow sigh.

  ‘He is still with us,’ she exclaimed gratefully. ‘Thank God.’ She knelt down and held her father’s hand.

  Doctor Shaw arrived an hour after Papa’s collapse. He addressed Agnes and Philip because Mama was unfit to speak and Uncle Rufus was standing in isolation by the fire. The other guests had retreated, while the butler organised their carriages and rooms for those who were staying overnig
ht.

  ‘How is he?’ Philip enquired.

  ‘I cannot say yet.’ The doctor turned to the other people in the drawing room. ‘I must have quiet while I examine the patient. Please clear the room.’

  Agnes released her father’s hand and went across to reassure her mother that she would let her know the doctor’s opinion as soon as he had given it.

  ‘I think it best that you put Mama to bed,’ she said, addressing Nanny and Aunt Sarah. ‘And Uncle Rufus, you must leave us. You can wait in the parlour.’

  ‘I need to stay,’ he muttered.

  ‘I insist,’ she said sternly. ‘You’ve done enough damage—-’ A lump formed in her throat. ‘There are no words to describe the level of my censure against you. I find your behaviour to be appalling beyond belief. Now, go!’

  Her uncle bowed his head and left the room, following behind the women. Agnes returned to her father’s side, taking his hand again. His fingers were limp, but warm to the touch.

  ‘How did this begin? Did he suffer some kind of excitement or shock?’ the physician asked.

  ‘He had a heated exchange with my father, his brother. They had a disagreement’ – Philip looked at Agnes – ‘over a family matter on the occasion of my cousin’s birthday. He held his chest, complaining of pain and foamed at the mouth before falling down.’

  ‘It appears that he has suffered from apoplexy as a consequence of heart disease. Mr Berry-Clay to my knowledge has always been a man of passion, and such men in my experience are more prone to afflictions of the heart. They are ambitious, hard-working and under strain.’

  Agnes thought it was odd. She had always thought of her father as a jovial man without a care in the world, but then she remembered how he worried about the brewery and the poor. Perhaps it had all been too much for him.

  Doctor Shaw opened his bag and took out his stethoscope, a wooden trumpet with an ivory earpiece.

  ‘Please, undo his waistcoat,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Philip said and Agnes watched as he unfastened Papa’s buttons, parting his waistcoat and then his shirt to reveal his hairy chest. Agnes was shocked – she hadn’t realised that men had hair beneath their shirts.

  The doctor placed the stethoscope against her father’s chest and listened intently before straightening up.

  ‘We must have brandy warmed and administered with water, and a mustard plaster is to be placed over the patient’s lungs to support respiration,’ he pronounced. ‘Firstly, though, he should be moved to a bed where he can receive the care he requires. Can we call for assistance with that?’

  Agnes got up to call for Turner and the footmen to help carry her father to his chamber, and for Mrs Catchpole to organise the treatments, and for Miriam to be at hand. She wanted her in particular because she knew she could rely on her.

  A few minutes passed as the men struggled to move Papa to his bedroom, but eventually they managed to put him to bed.

  ‘Thank you. That will be all for now,’ Agnes said, taking charge. ‘Mrs Catchpole, you have the mustard, cloths and hot water?’

  ‘Yes, miss,’ she said, her expression grim. ‘Is there anything else?’

  ‘I’ll call if I need you,’ Agnes said. ‘Oh, wait. Perhaps Doctor Shaw would like some refreshment.’

  ‘There is some venison left over. I’ll ’ave a plate made up.’

  ‘I am most grateful for your consideration,’ Doctor Shaw said.

  Mrs Catchpole left while the doctor explained to Agnes and Miriam how to wrap the patient’s feet in cloths soaked in hot water and mustard, and gave him laudanum and camphor from his bag.

  ‘Everything is designed to reduce pain and assist the heart and circulation,’ he said. ‘It will alleviate the symptoms.’

  ‘That’s all very well,’ Agnes said. ‘Will it cure him?’

  ‘I cannot say. Medicine is an art, not a science.’ Agnes saw how Philip listened to the doctor, taking in every word. ‘The spasms often return when the laudanum and camphor have worn off.’

  ‘What about digitalis?’ Philip asked. ‘Would that be of use in this situation?’

  ‘What do you know of it, young man?’ Doctor Shaw asked.

  ‘I’ve been studying medical texts – I’m hoping to go into medicine.’

  ‘Then you know that we don’t want to overwhelm the body in this situation. We will see how he is tomorrow. In the meantime, the room should be kept quiet and moderately warm to maintain his circulation.’

  ‘I shall sit with him,’ Agnes said. ‘Miriam will stay with me.’

  ‘Of course, miss, but are you sure that it’s your place to be in the sickroom?’

  ‘Where else would I be? He is my father.’

  She wondered briefly if she should have insisted that Mama came to be with him as well. They were husband and wife, after all, but she doubted that her nerves could stand it.

  It was up to her to care for Papa and make sure that everything that could possibly be done was done. It was the first time she had felt real responsibility for anyone but herself, and it was a heavy burden. If only Nanny had decided against a meeting with her true mother. If only Uncle Rufus hadn’t happened to be on the quay that day. If only Papa’s heart had been strong.

  The doctor excused himself, promising to return the following morning.

  Agnes turned to Philip. ‘I’m most grateful for how you have assisted my father this evening.’

  ‘It is what anyone would have done,’ he said, his cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. ‘I will pray for him. Goodnight, my fair cousin. I hope that we can be friends in spite of our fathers’ quarrel.’

  ‘I hope so too,’ she said.

  ‘Will you permit me to return to the sickroom in the morning? I believe that we are staying here tonight.’

  ‘Of course. I have no objection.’ She wished him goodnight.

  Miriam moved two chairs close to the bed when Philip had left the room.

  ‘Sit down, miss,’ she said.

  Agnes did as she was bid. She glanced down at her dress. It seemed a much duller red in the lamplight, more the colour of blood than a scarlet rose. She tried to ignore the haunting sound of the wind howling across the marshes and rattling the windows.

  ‘Let us pray for your dear papa,’ Miriam said softly.

  Agnes prayed for her father to be well. She prayed forgiveness for her uncle, and for herself and Nanny.

  Chapter Eight

  A Cuckoo in the Nest

  ‘I don’t understand it. The master’s always bin as fit as a fiddle,’ Miriam said as she and Agnes replaced the mustard plaster that had cooled on his chest. ‘It’s a terrible worry. Oh, I’m sorry, miss. I’m upsetting you. It’s gone midnight. Wouldn’t you like to go and get some sleep? I can stay and watch him.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep if I tried.’ Agnes rinsed out the cloth. The scullery maid had brought a ewer of freshly boiled hot water up from the kitchen at Miriam’s request. ‘Thank you, though. How is Mama, I wonder?’

  ‘When I went out last, I met Nanny on the landing. She said that the doctor gave her some sleeping drops and they’ve had the desired effect. Why don’t you go and change out of that lovely dress at least?’

  ‘You promise you won’t leave him?’

  ‘You can rely on me, miss.’

  Agnes thanked Miriam, took a quick look at her father who seemed about the same, and left the room. There was a lot of quiet activity in the house. Uncle Rufus was pacing the landing below – she glanced down through the banisters to see who it was. Turner appeared to have taken it upon himself to patrol the corridor outside her father’s room. He nodded in acknowledgement then asked her how the master was.

  ‘There’s no change,’ she said.

  ‘We are all praying for him.’

  She thanked him and went upstairs to the next floor landing. As she opened her bedroom door, Nanny stepped up behind her, making her start.

  ‘I thought you were a ghost,’ she exclaimed, her hand on her t
hroat.

  ‘Is there any news?’ Nanny whispered.

  Agnes shook her head.

  ‘He is no worse, then?’

  ‘And no better either. How is Henry? Does he know anything of this yet?’

  ‘I want to keep it from him for as long as possible.’

  ‘He’ll guess that there’s something wrong as soon as he gets out of bed,’ Agnes said. Why did her elders and so-called betters think that it was preferable to keep bad news to themselves? She recalled Miriam once sweeping some dirt under the carpet in the nursery and Nanny finding out. It hadn’t been a pretty picture.

  ‘I wish to thank you for your discretion this evening, not that I condone your interjection,’ Nanny said. ‘I’m afraid that it will rebound on us if your father is not much recovered by morning. Are you nursing him?’

  ‘Yes, I want to,’ Agnes said. ‘If we hadn’t gone to Faversham, he wouldn’t be in this state.’

  ‘It isn’t your fault,’ Nanny exclaimed. ‘This is down to me, and your uncle. Anyway, what’s done is done. I will look in on Henry. Goodnight, my dear.’

  Agnes changed into one of her everyday dresses and pulled a shawl around her shoulders before returning to her father’s room. Miriam looked up when she walked through the door.

  ‘How is he?’ she whispered.

  ‘His breathing is slower. I hope that’s a sign that Doctor Shaw’s medicine is working.’

  ‘As long as he is out of pain.’ Agnes tiptoed back to the bed, and took her seat. Miriam passed her a blanket and stoked the fire.

  Agnes wrapped herself up and sat watching and waiting. This wasn’t how she was expecting to spend her first night, having turned nineteen. She and the maid dozed and drank sweet tea on and off until dawn came, murky, pale and cold.

  Miriam pulled the curtains open.

  ‘I don’t think this can be good for an invalid. There is ice on the inside of the windows.’ She moved across to the patient and checked his hand. ‘I’ll fetch a hot water bottle.’

  ‘What can I do?’ Agnes asked.

  ‘By rights, you shouldn’t be doing anything. You’re the daughter of the house, not a servant.’

  ‘I want to help. I need him to get better.’ She couldn’t bear the thought of Windmarsh Court without Papa. ‘I’ll do anything.’