THE WOMAN FROM
Dover
Betty Annand
Amberjack Publishing
New York, New York
Amberjack Publishing
228 Park Avenue S #89611
New York, NY 10003-1502
http://amberjackpublishing.com
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, fictitious places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Betty Annand
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, in part or in whole, in any form whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data
Names: Annand, Betty, author.
Title: The Woman from Dover / by Betty Annand.
Description: New York, NY; Eagle, ID: Amberjack Publishing, 2017.
Identifiers: ISBN 978-1-944995-40-9 (pbk.) | 978-1-944995-41-6 (ebook) | LCCN 2017948561
Subjects: LCSH Marriage--Fiction. | Adultery--Fiction. | Homosexuality--Fiction. | Motherhood--Fiction. | Great Britain--History--Fiction. | Women--England--Fiction. | Historical fiction. | Love stories. | BISAC FICTION / Historical.
Classification: LCC PS3601.N5551 W66 2017 | DDC 813.6--dc23
Cover Design: Red Couch Creative, Inc.
Printed in the United States of America
Dedicated to my oldest friends, Irene and John Glowasky and Lyle Fraser.
Oh, look not at the face,
Young maid, look at the heart
—The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Victor Hugo
Part One
Chapter One
February 8, 1852
Gladys and Dolly were waiting at the gate when the carriage arrived. The driver, a tall thin man dressed in black, wore a very high top hat; Gladys thought it gave him the appearance of a giant exclamation mark. He looked down at them, doffed his hat, and jumped down to greet them warmly before assisting them into the carriage, which wasn’t much larger than Gladys’s own little shay even though it was drawn by two horses.
Gladys knew she could have saved some much needed money if she had taken her own horse and buggy, but she was afraid that the return trip from Dover to Sandwich would prove too much for her little gelding.
The morning air was quite damp and cold, so she was glad she had brought along a quilt to throw over their legs. She had also brought a pillow in case Dolly fell asleep.
For the first hour, Dolly kept her busy answering questions.
“Do you think the man shall give us a place to live, Mama? When do you think we shall arrive? Do you suppose the man has children, like Lord and Lady Sorenson?”
“If the man hires me, yes, we shall have a place to live. I do not have any idea when we shall arrive, but I fear it is going to be a long day, my dear. Lady Sorenson did not say if Mr Hornsby has children or not, but if he has, I trust they will have a nanny to look after them,” Gladys answered.
“I don’t fancy having to tend to children along with my other duties, which would be plenty, according to what I have heard. I doubt anyone has children as unique as the Sorenson’s three.” They both smiled at the thought.
“When we arrive at Mr Hornsby’s home, Dolly, you shall have to wait in the buggy for me. I do not think I shall be long. I’ve put one of your books in the bag and an apple for you. Do you think you can manage, my love?”
“Of course, Mother. I am seven years old. I am not a child anymore. You may rely on me from now on.”
“Oh, Dolly, I’ve lost everyone else I ever loved, and I don’t think I could bear living if I didn’t have you.”
They hugged each other for a long time, then, after a while, Dolly fell asleep. Gladys laid her down with her head on the pillow. Then she rested her own head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
The past two weeks had been so distressful that Gladys felt she was living in a nightmare. The jogging of the carriage seemed to relax her a little, and she did her best to enjoy the trip, but memories of recent events kept creeping into her thoughts.
The last happy thing she could recall was sitting on the divan wrapping a favourite ornament that she and Tom had received as a wedding gift to take to Oaken Arms, the estate her father-in-law had had built for the three of them to live in. The ornament was two beautiful china doves sitting on a branch, and she was trying to imagine what it would look like on the mantle in the sitting room of her suite in the lovely new mansion. Then she heard someone knock at her door.
She wished she could block the next scene from her memory, but she remembered opening the door and seeing Peter Pickwick standing there. She could still picture his sickly white, puffy cheeks as he took her hand in his and turned it over. When he saw the scar on her palm, he stared at her with an evil and smug look and said, “Aha! Gladys Tunner, I believe.”
As soon as she heard her old name, she knew that her past had been discovered at last, but she had no idea how devastating that information would be for her and her daughter’s future.
The carriage stopped, interrupting her thoughts, and the driver opened the door. “We’re ‘ere at Forbes junction, Mrs Pickwick, mum. Would yer likes ter use the facilities? They makes a good cuppa tea ‘ere too, mum.”
Dolly woke when she heard the driver and sleepily asked, “Are we there, Mama?”
“No, dear, but we can get out for a stretch and have a cup of tea and maybe a biscuit, if you like.”
They only stopped long enough to partake of some refreshments and to use the outdoor facilities before returning to the carriage. Dolly went back to sleep a few minutes after resuming their journey.
Gladys’s thoughts returned to that fateful day once more. She hadn’t heard the name Tunner since she had left the slum neighbourhood of London known as Old Nichol some eleven years ago, and now it sounded foreign to her.
She had taken the name Tweedhope the day she ran away because it was the name of a dear lady in Old Nichol who had taught her how to read and write. Now, as the carriage rocked back and forth, she recalled how lost and frightened she had been back then, travelling incognito in a coach, to an unknown place called Dover with three strangers. There was something about the ride this day that was causing her to have the same feeling of trepidation.
She was not certain how much Peter’s detective had found out about her past, but she could not afford to challenge him when he ordered her to take Dolly and leave town for good. She might have had a chance if her father-in-law had been alive, but Peter had been only too happy to deliver the painful news that Andrew had been murdered during his trip to Ireland.
She was sure that Peter had enough damning information to blackmail her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Now, instead of becoming the mistress of one of the most prestigious mansions in Dover, Gladys and Dolly were homeless.
She vowed she would do anything, no matter how degrading, to prevent being sent to the poorhouse, where it was said that they separated mothers from their children. Fortunately, Lady Sorenson, an old friend of her late father-in-law, had told her of a widower named James Hornsby who was looking for a housekeeper for his estate near the town of Sandwich.
Although she knew she should be thankful, Gladys wasn’t looking forward to working as a mere servant again, but it seemed she had no choice. For a while she thought there may be an alternate solut
ion.
Only two days ago, she had decided she would pay Hugh Mason, the minister’s son, a visit and ask him if he still desired her hand in marriage.
Hugh had been smitten with Gladys ever since he returned to Dover. Having been away at Divinity College, Hugh was newly ordained and planned on spending a year working with his father at St Mary’s Church in Dover before he sailed to North America to begin his life as a missionary. He also had hopes of finding a wife who would agree to accompany him.
Hugh was a handsome man, and Gladys hadn’t enjoyed the company of a young man since her husband was killed in India six years earlier. She was flattered by his attentions, and for six months she had enjoyed his company and the socials they attended, but when he surprised her with a proposal on Christmas night, she had to tell him that although she was fond of him, she did not love him, therefore could not accept his offer of marriage. Hugh hadn’t taken the refusal well, and he accused her of dallying with his affections. He had not spoken to her since.
Gladys was a member of St Mary’s Church and enjoyed singing in the church choir and playing the organ, but she received such a cold reception the Sunday after she rejected Hugh’s proposal that she hadn’t returned. Now, she reasoned that being married to Hugh, even though she didn’t love him, might be better than returning to the life of servitude. She knew Hugh would be a faithful husband and a good father. It would be a chance for her to leave England and her past behind—a past that had haunted her ever since she was forced to kill a lecherous landlord, steal his purse, and run away from Old Nichol, leaving behind the boy she had loved since she was four.
The next morning, she and Dolly were dressed in their best and about to leave to visit Hugh when his father, the Reverend Mason, and the superintendent of the cemetery, Mr Grimsby, arrived with their wives. They had come to express their sympathies over the death of Gladys’s father-in-law, Andrew Pickwick, and to tell her of their concerns over his funeral arrangements. The undertaker had informed them that Andrew’s service was not to be in St Mary’s, nor were his remains to be interred in St Mary’s cemetery.
“I cannot believe you would allow such a thing, Gladys,” Reverend Mason exclaimed in an accusing tone of voice. “I know we were upset with you for not accepting Hugh’s proposal, but that is no reason to deny Andrew his final resting place beside his wife and son.”
“I have no say where my father-in-law will be buried. If I did, you may be assured that I would not have him buried anywhere else.”
“But surely, you can have your say in the matter. We know how much Andrew thought of you and his granddaughter.”
“According to the last will Andrew signed, his adopted son, Peter, inherits all of his property. I am sorry, Reverend, but you will have to approach him about it.”
Mrs Grimsby took hold of Gladys’s hand and in a soft voice said, “But, Gladys dear, don’t you think it would be better if you were to ask him?”
Gladys didn’t know what to tell them, but then she had an idea. Years ago, Peter, his sister, and his mother had left the church in anger when Reverend Mason refused to ask Gladys to leave, so she said, “Peter has made it perfectly clear that he, his mother, and his sister want nothing to do with us, so anything I say will only make things worse. Perhaps if you were to promise them that I will not be coming back to church and will not attend the funeral, they might return to St Mary’s and allow Andrew to be buried there.”
“But that is not right,” Mrs Mason protested.
“Perhaps not, but if it means my father-in-law will be buried beside his family, I shall agree to stay away. Sometime later, Dolly and I shall come back to Dover and have a little service of our own beside his grave.”
“What does that mean, come back?” Mr Grimsby asked.
“Dolly and I shall be leaving Dover in a few days.”
“If it is because of the way we have treated you, I can assure you that the entire congregation would be happy if you returned. We miss that lovely voice, and our organist would appreciate having you back as well.”
Gladys couldn’t tell him she was being blackmailed and had to leave, so she just said, “Thank you, Reverend Mason, but I think it is time we moved. There are too many sad memories here.”
Mrs Grimsby took Gladys’s hand and said with sincerity, “Oh, my dear, how I will miss you.”
“And I shall not forget your kindness, Mrs Grimsby. I don’t know how I could have managed when Tom was in India if it wasn’t for your help.” After they hugged each other, Mrs Grimsby went over to Dolly, who hadn’t said a word during the visit, and she held the child tightly in her arms for a long time.
Gladys waited patiently until they were ready to leave before she asked Mrs Mason if Hugh was planning to leave soon.
“Oh, yes! As a matter of fact, they plan to leave right after the wedding.”
“Wedding?”
“Oh my, hadn’t you heard? Hugh and Pricilla Mulberry are being married on the twentieth of this month.”
“Would you give them my congratulations? Pricilla will make him a wonderful wife,” Gladys managed to say in spite of her disappointment. Now she had no choice but to apply for the position of housekeeper. At least it was a far more attractive job than that of an ordinary housemaid.
Lady Sorenson’s letter of recommendation had arrived two days later, along with James Hornsby’s address. Her Ladyship had also sent a note saying she had sent the widower a message stating that Gladys would arrive before noon of the following Wednesday for an interview.
Chapter Two
It was past one when they arrived at Mr Hornsby’s gate, and Gladys was afraid she had arrived too late to be interviewed and that someone else might have already been hired.
The gateman, a pleasant looking fellow, gave them a welcome smile as he told the driver to stay to the right and pull up to the side entrance when he came to the manor. Gladys was still feeling depressed after spending most of the ride thinking about the events of the last few weeks. Knowing that she would be conducting interviews herself if her father-in-law were still alive, instead of being interviewed, didn’t do anything to brighten her mood.
However, by a strange coincidence, the sign on top of the iron archway over the gate read “Four Oaks,” and Gladys felt a little less glum. The name reminded her of better times because her father-in law, Andrew, had chosen the name Oaken Arms for the estate he had built for them. There were four big oak trees at the entrance to Oaken Arms, so when Gladys and Dolly saw the two on each side of Hornsby’s gate, they were both pleasantly surprised, thinking it a good omen.
When they came in sight of the mansion, they were even more impressed. It was much larger than Oaken Arms and far grander than Gladys had expected. When their driver pulled up to the side entrance, Gladys told Dolly to stay in the coach and she ordered the coachman to wait for her. Trying to appear calm, she went to the door, but her hand shook as she took hold of the huge ornate lion-head knocker and brought it down on the metal, making a noise so loud it made her jump. The door immediately opened which startled her even more.
James Hornsby had interviewed two housekeepers earlier in the morning, but hadn’t hired either of them. Lady Sorenson had given him such a glowing recommendation for Mrs Pickwick that he thought he had better wait and see her before making up his mind. When she failed to arrive on time, he had decided she wasn’t coming and had his lunch. He was about to leave the house to take a stroll and had his hand on the doorknob when Gladys used the knocker. Not waiting for his butler, James opened it himself.
The look of surprise on her face caused him to offer an apology before inquiring if she had come to see about the housekeeper’s position. When she admitted that she had, and apologized for being tardy, he invited her into the parlour.
Having taken note of the rich appearance of the exterior of the house, Gladys found the parlour disappointing. Although it was a bright
sunny day, both of the large windows were obscured by heavy drapery. The room was not only dark but had a dusty odour. Nevertheless, she noted that the furnishings were of good quality and plentiful.
James sat her in one of four comfortable wingback chairs then pulled on a nearby bell cord before taking a seat.
He sat without speaking for a while, and she wondered if he was waiting for her to say something but decided it wasn’t her place to begin the conversation.
The silence was becoming awkward when, to her relief, a pleasant and plump middle-aged lady entered carrying a tray with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits. When he noticed the amazed look on Gladys’s face, James explained, “I’ve had several ladies here today—for interviews, that is—and Freda is beginning to prepare tea as soon as she hears the knocker.”
“How very thoughtful of you,” Gladys said to the woman, who she surmised was Freda.
Freda beamed and answered, “Oh ’tis no trouble at all. Have a biscuit now. The jam is made of strawberries.” With a nod to Mr Hornsby, she left the room.
Gladys prayed it was a nod of approval.
After they sugared and creamed their teas, James Hornsby began, “Now, if you do not mind, I should like to ask you a few questions.”
Gladys nodded her assent and sipped her tea as James inquired about her previous employment. She told him that she was forced to apply for work due to the misfortune of becoming a widow. She told him that she had had servants of her own, and, therefore, was confident she had the skills to manage his household efficiently.
The interview seemed to be going well, and Gladys learned that James’s wife had been sick for many years and had succumbed to her illness several years previously. They had one son, Horace, who was twenty and had recently moved to South Africa. She also learned that James was involved in shipbuilding.
He seemed to be a mild-mannered man, and Gladys found him easy to talk to. Taking in his appearance as they were talking, she thought he looked to be middle-aged. He had a lean build, his light brown hair had begun to recede, and he had fine features. Although he was almost six-feet-tall, he appeared shorter due to a slight stoop he had acquired—not by deformity but by habit.
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