Stars Across the Ocean

by Kimberley Freeman

  They ate and chatted, Agnes answering their questions about Yorkshire and the long train ride, but there was only one question she wanted to ask them. As Daisy was clearing the plates, she finally asked it.

  ‘Is there any other family that comes by regularly? Brothers? Sisters? Julius’s mother?’

  Pamela and Daisy exchanged a glance, and even merry Annie turned her mouth down in a frown of disapproval.

  ‘You’re not to mention Marianna’s sister,’ Daisy warned. ‘She gets very upset by it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Nobody really knows,’ Daisy replied. ‘Family secrets.’

  ‘There’s talk that Genevieve – that’s her sister – stole Marianna’s ’usband,’ Pamela said.

  ‘Husband-to-be,’ Daisy corrected.

  ‘Marianna’s been a mother to Julius these past ten years,’ Annie said, tucking a yellow-blonde curl behind her ear. ‘I don’t think he even considers Genevieve his mother any more.’

  ‘Gave up his fiancée for Marianna, he did,’ Pamela said.

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘He was all set to marry Miss Georgina Bell, but Marianna didn’t like Miss Bell and vice versa,’ Daisy explained. ‘When Miss Bell declared that when they were married she wouldn’t live in the same house as Marianna, Julius told her the wedding was off.’

  ‘Caused a right scandal,’ Pamela said. ‘Did he care? Not likely. He’s a good boy is our Julius.’

  ‘But did Genevieve ever live here?’

  ‘Before my time,’ Daisy said. ‘Annie and Pamela knew her.’

  ‘Nobody really knew that woman,’ Annie muttered.

  ‘Do you know where she’s gone? Does she send letters? I should like to know if—’

  ‘Ladies?’

  Agnes turned sharply, and saw that Julius had descended the stairs and was now looking at them with a frown. How much had he heard? Her pulse flicked hard at her throat.

  ‘’Ow can we ’elp you, sir?’ Pamela asked him.

  ‘By curbing your gossip.’ Now he looked pointedly at Agnes and her face grew warm. She glanced away. He must think her devilishly foolish. Though she wasn’t sure why she cared so much what he thought. Was it because she longed for his good opinion, as her brother?

  ‘Just a bit of harmless chelping, sir,’ Agnes said.

  He addressed Annie. ‘I came to tell you that Marianna insists on advancing Agnes five shillings from her wage, as all of her things were stolen.’

  Then his eyes were back on her and she knew he mistrusted her, but she couldn’t bring herself to offer him her reassurances.

  ‘Make us some cocoa too,’ he said. ‘And for yourselves.’

  ‘Yes, cocoa,’ Annie said. ‘We’ll bring that right up.’

  He turned and headed back up the stairs, and everybody released their breath.

  ‘Don’t mention Genevieve to him either,’ Daisy said, the moment he was out of earshot.

  ‘Understood,’ Agnes said, stopping herself from asking the million questions that leapt onto her tongue.

  ‘I bet he knows where she is, though,’ Daisy said.

  ‘Knows. But doesn’t care,’ Pamela responded. ‘He’s a good lad. Wants nuffing to do with her.’

  Agnes kept her head down, and suppressed further questions.

  I bet he knows where she is, though.

  How was Agnes to get him to part with that knowledge, without putting her position here at risk?

  •

  From her bedroom, later that evening, Agnes sat on her bed in her shift and watched people and horses and carriages move past on the street below. The flow of traffic seemed endless. For once her stomach wasn’t howling with hunger. She had bathed and she looked forward to new dresses tomorrow; even now her grey dress was damp and hung by the fireplace downstairs, smelling of lye soap.

  The room grew dark and she rose to light a candle, then noticed something outside her window. Light. She went to the window and stood with her nose against it, peering out. All along the street, the gas lamps had been lit. Never had she seen so many lamps. The light they produced rivalled the stars; spots of bright illumination in two graceful, curving rows, either side of the street, against the dark sky. Agnes found herself smiling. To see such a marvellous thing with her own eyes, eyes that had only ever imagined such wonders, it had surely been worth leaving behind everything she knew.

  •

  Agnes had been working at the townhouse on Belgrave Place for three days when Marianna first woke her in the deep of night.

  At first the little voice calling ‘Agnes’ worked its way into a dream, and she was hiding in the woods behind Perdita Hall and Mrs Watford was looking for her. ‘Agnes! Agnes!’

  Then she came to wakefulness. It was inky dark, and the wind rattled at the windows. But the voice was still calling, and Agnes realised where she was and called back, in a croaky voice, ‘Coming!’

  She threw back the covers and pulled on her dressing gown. Her feet were bare because she hadn’t enough to buy new slippers just yet, and the floor was cold beneath her toes. She made her way down the creaking, narrow stairs, hanging tightly onto the banister in the gloom. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw that Marianna’s bedroom door lay open.

  ‘I’m here,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you. Get the lamp, won’t you? It’s on the dresser by the window. There’s oil in it, and matches beside.’

  Agnes did her best to feel her way to the dresser. A little weak moonlight from behind the curtains helped, and she lit the lamp and then could look around Marianna’s bedroom. It was enormous, on the same side of the house as the drawing room, perhaps even the same size. Marianna sat up in a large brass bed with delicate hangings over the canopy and posts. There were three wardrobes and two dressers, a large chest, four small bookcases and two upholstered chairs. The floor was covered in thick woven rugs. The mantel over an ornate fireplace was crowded with ornaments. The wallpaper was pale green, gold flocked, and the walls were crammed with paintings and miniatures. She recognised one of the paintings as the church at Hatby, and moved over to it to look more closely.

  ‘It’s St Mary’s,’ Agnes said.

  ‘Yes. I haven’t been there in years. Does it still look the same?’

  ‘The woods have grown denser around it. There’s not so much sunlight.’ She turned and smiled at Marianna. ‘A little more mystery.’

  ‘Silly girl,’ Marianna said, but she was smiling too. ‘My family live just beyond those woods.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Agnes said, lightly. ‘Then you must mean the Breckby family, because Lord Caspian’s house is up there on the hill.’

  ‘He is my father.’

  ‘Do you ever visit them?’

  Marianna looked away. ‘I can’t sleep,’ she said. ‘A dream woke me and now I can’t even close my eyes again. Open the curtains. It will be morning soon.’

  Agnes glanced at the clock. It was five minutes after three and the sunrise was still a long way off, but she did as she was asked. From here, she could see down into the garden. The strange silhouettes of orange trees and the dark mouth of the fish pond.

  ‘Will you read to me?’ Marianna asked. ‘There’s a history of Rome on the bottom shelf of the closest bookcase to the door. I’m at volume four.’

  Agnes held her tongue so she didn’t point out that reading the history of Rome would likely put both of them back to sleep. She crouched by the bookcase and found the volume, then returned to sit in one of the upholstered chairs. The wind continued to wail outside and Agnes saw swinging branches, moonlight and gas-light flickering among the shadows.

  ‘Your feet must be freezing,’ Marianna said, and tossed her a knitted rug. ‘Put this around them.’

  Agnes tucked her feet up on the chair with the rug over her knees. ‘Chapter eleven,’ she read. Then curiosity got the better of her and she closed the book again. ‘What was the dream? Was it really so awful that you couldn’t go back to sleep?’

  Marianna sh
ook her head. ‘It wasn’t awful at all, dear. It was the kind of dream so unspeakably lovely that waking up makes one want to cry for disappointment.’

  ‘An unspeakably lovely dream? What about?’

  Marianna was having none of it. ‘Go on. Chapter eleven.’

  Agnes dropped her head and read. The wind slowly died down and pale pink appeared at the far edge of the sky, over the rooftops of London. Her voice hoarse, she finally looked up to see Marianna asleep once more. Agnes closed the book, extinguished the lamp, and drew the curtains. She left Marianna behind, sleeping in the grey morning light, and hoped she might have another of her unspeakably lovely dreams.

  CHAPTER 5

  At the end of the first week, Agnes, dressed in one of her two new pale blue serge dresses, had been to the library depot on the Strand to fetch more books for Marianna, and had chosen a few that were slightly less dry. Marianna liked history, so Agnes read Mr Carlyle’s account of the French Revolution, which had quite a few sensational details and kept them both interested. By the second week, she had sneaked in a book of short ghost stories, overcoming Marianna’s objections by assuring her there was no details of love and romance to contend with – and if there were, Agnes would simply skim over them. By the third week, Agnes had Marianna hooked on mystery novels, and they both gasped and squealed through Mr Collins’ The Woman in White; Marianna didn’t even complain about Walter and Laura’s love affair.

  Over those three weeks, Agnes felt she was swimming through the days. Marianna woke most nights and then slept late in the day while Agnes had to work on the mending and help with the rugs, all in a fog of tiredness. She saw the sun come up through Marianna’s bedroom window more times than she cared to count and felt exhausted falling into bed most nights, sometimes skipping supper so she could have another hour or two of sleep before the inevitable early morning call.

  That the time was spent mostly inside was starting to wear on her. There wasn’t even a visit to church on Sundays to break the routine; instead, a vicar came to them, on account of Marianna being unable to leave the house. Agnes’s contact with the outside world was a short walk with Daisy every afternoon for some fresh air. Mostly, though, she witnessed the world through thick window panes. She submitted to this routine, had been careful not to ask about Genevieve, to earn Marianna’s and Julius’s trust. But her spirit longed to roam and ramble, was not well suited to being cooped up in the locked house. She had escaped Perdita Hall, only to end up circumscribed again.

  One fine spring afternoon, as she and Marianna settled in the drawing room for reading time, Agnes cast her gaze towards the window – the orange trees, the pansies all in bloom – and said impulsively, ‘Let’s sit in the garden for reading time.’

  ‘I don’t go outside,’ Marianna said, her mouth turning down slightly at the corners.

  Agnes put down the book and approached her, sank to her knees in front of her and said, ‘Look, Marianna. Look outside.’

  Marianna reluctantly turned to the window.

  ‘The sunshine on the leaves as they move on the breeze. Do you not want to feel that breeze on your cheeks? Hear the birds?’

  Marianna turned back to Agnes, then grasped her hand. ‘Dear, you don’t understand.’

  ‘Help me understand.’

  ‘The world is very big. Too big for me. Its bigness … gets inside me and I feel as though I am going to burst.’ She glanced at the garden again, then dropped her head. ‘I wasn’t always like this.’

  Agnes, whose dearest wish was to live beyond walls and windows, could not understand this fear. But she saw Marianna’s pale hands tremble and was overcome with a wave of compassion so strong that she impulsively stood and took Marianna in her arms. ‘I will stay with you. Very close by. And all you need do is listen to me read. You can even close your eyes if it frightens you to be out.’

  She felt Marianna’s tight shoulders ease a little. ‘Close my eyes? Yes, I suppose I can.’

  Agnes stood back and held out her hand. ‘Close them now if you like. I will lead you, just as though you were blind.’

  Marianna considered her for what seemed like a long time, and Agnes was sure she would say no. Indeed, Agnes felt her own pulse ticking hard at her throat in that long silence: had she gone too far, pushed too hard? Would Julius come to find her in the kitchen tonight to berate her?

  But then Marianna closed her eyes, and stretched out her hand.

  Agnes smiled, closed her fingers around Marianna’s and pulled her to her feet. ‘You won’t regret this,’ Agnes said, leading her out of the drawing room, grabbing the book on the way. ‘I promise you.’

  She led Marianna down the hallway, calling down the stairs to the kitchen for Daisy to fetch Marianna’s hat and gloves and bring them to the garden. Then the garden door was open and they were stepping out into the warm, fresh air. Robins pipped in the hedges. The faraway sounds of hooves beat on the road. The breeze in her hair. She glanced back at Marianna, whose eyes were still closed and whose mouth was drawn into a straight line.

  ‘This way,’ Agnes said, leading her to a sunny stone bench beside a garden bed overgrown with lavender. She sat her down and then settled next to her, her hip against Marianna’s. ‘Can you feel the breeze on your face?’ Agnes asked.

  Marianna nodded, but there was still no smile. Agnes told herself to be patient.

  Daisy emerged from the house with the hat and gloves, and approached them curiously. Agnes fixed the hat on Marianna’s head and Daisy pulled on her gloves.

  ‘What about you, Agnes?’ Daisy asked. ‘You’re in the sun too.’

  ‘I don’t mind if my hands get a little brown,’ Agnes said, shooing her away. ‘We won’t be here long. Just one chapter. What do you think, Marianna?’

  Marianna’s furrowed brow told Agnes she might be thinking, A whole chapter? But nonetheless she nodded. ‘Just one.’

  Daisy withdrew and Agnes began to read. Her fingers were tightly entwined with Marianna’s, and halfway through the chapter she noticed her companion’s grip loosen. She glanced up to see Marianna had cautiously opened one eye. Agnes put her head down and kept reading, becoming aware of the way Marianna’s body was relaxing. At the end of the chapter she looked up again.

  Marianna had removed her hat. The sun was in her hair, and she gazed around her with a look of wonder on her face.

  •

  After a chapter, Marianna declared the need to lie down, so Agnes accompanied her upstairs to her bedroom. Marianna handed Agnes her gloves and asked her to put them in the drawer, so Agnes turned to the nearest chest of drawers, a polished dark walnut piece of furniture behind the bedroom door. But the top drawer wouldn’t budge. She was just about to say, ‘It’s locked,’ when Marianna called out, ‘Not that one.’

  Agnes hesitated, looking over her shoulder. Marianna had hung up her hat and was striding towards her, then snatched the gloves out of her hand.

  ‘This one,’ she said, yanking open the top drawer of another chest, this one painted white beside a matching wardrobe.

  ‘Sorry,’ Agnes said.

  Marianna caught herself. ‘Just old clothes in there,’ she explained in a gentler tone. ‘Most of them not mine. Too good to throw away, though.’

  Most of them not mine. ‘I see,’ Agnes said, and apologised again. But her brain was ticking over wildly. Not mine. Then whose? She knew the answer: Genevieve’s clothes. And likely other things of Genevieve’s. Even evidence, perhaps, of where Genevieve had gone.

  Agnes helped Marianna to bed, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off the chest of drawers.

  •

  After supper that night, Agnes sat in the kitchen with the other servants, working on a piece of embroidery. It was a handkerchief with a spray of lavender in the corner, and she intended to collect some lavender from the garden and dry it out and tie it into the handkerchief as a gift for Marianna. Daisy, Pamela and Annie were chatting merrily. It seemed Annie had taken a shine to the new butcher she had paid a
call on today, and Daisy and Pamela could not stop themselves from making slightly lewd jokes about it. Agnes laughed along, but her eyes were on her sewing the whole time.

  She became aware at one point that the other three had gone quiet, and when she looked up she realised why. Julius stood in the doorway in his shirt and waistcoat, and he had her in his gaze.

  ‘Agnes. May I speak with you?’

  Agnes had done a good job of avoiding Julius over the past three weeks. Given so much of her work was in the early hours of the morning, and that she retreated down here to the servants’ section of the house to sew or write letters in the evenings, there hadn’t been any need for her to say more than good morning or good evening to him. Her impression was he barely approved of her, and Agnes had spent enough time in her life enduring the disapproval of others.

  ‘Certainly, sir,’ she said, putting her sewing aside, wondering what she had done wrong to prompt his visit.

  She stood and he led her back up the stairs and down along the hall that led towards the back door, then admitted her to a small but very tidy study. He did not ask her to sit down, so she waited, hands in front of her, to hear how she had failed him.

  But as soon as the door closed behind him, he approached her and took her hands in his. She noticed that his sleeves were rolled up towards his elbows, and he had well-formed forearms. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and his hands were warm and there was such a light in his eyes that it quite transformed his face.

  ‘Thank you?’ she asked.

  He withdrew his hands and her grasp was empty again. Emptier than before.

  ‘How did you do it? How did you get my aunt outside?’

  My aunt, too, she thought. ‘Ah. Now I take your meaning. Well, sir, it was really quite simple in the end. I told her to close her eyes and I would lead her. She sat there on the bench with her eyes screwed shut for quite a time, but then she opened them and was happy.’

  ‘Close her eyes? I had never thought of it. Mind you, I’m always trying to get her out the front door, to go to see a physician or a merchant. Never had a bit of luck.’

  ‘I should think the crowds would frighten her terribly, sir. Why, they almost frighten me and I’m unfrightenable.’