Quiet reassurance

Lydiatt House
April 11th 1853


I have woken up exhausted from the trials of yesterday. After I took my leave of the woman from the village I went directly to the Post Mistress and asked her to send a message to Horsham that Cook is to be collected immediately in a secure vehicle. I do not think I have the strength to witness her departure, so shall have to comfort myself with the knowledge that I have done all that is in my power to help her. When Cook is safely strapped into her transport and away from Blindingham for sure, I shall send a basket of breads to the woman and her brother to thank them.

As I came back to Lydiatt in the afternoon I could hear strange sounds from somewhere on the upper landing. Having not the slightest interest in what the Cornbench children do to fill their days, I gave it no thought. But I was a little surprised, I must allow, to see Mrs Cornbench come scampering down the stairs, rather in the manner Dauncey uses when I have surprised him in the middle of an afternoon nap. I expect a cat to sleep as often as it can and in as many obscure crannies of the house he can find - so to find that Mrs Cornbench also seems to favour an afternoon rest in the attic (at least I assume that is where she was - the door to that part of the house was swinging open as she descended in a fluster to the hallway) was disconcerting.

I was just about to tell her my tale of Cook and the village woman when Josiah appeared from upstairs. Bless and save the man, he has been wrestling with his grief for days now and is spending a good deal of his time alone. I went to him but he is still so saddened that he could not quite bring himself to kiss me. I rather think his sensibilities are such that he is disinclined to be affectionate towards me in front of our hosts - Mrs Cornbench was close by, waiting to offer us tea I expect. Josiah is a proud and thoughtful man, indeed. After spending my day in the company of such poor and crazed folk, I am delighted simply to be in his presence. I do not need physical manifestations of my husband's love for me. The expression on Mrs Cornbench's face as all three of us were gathered in the hall was sufficient proof of the regard in which I am held by him.

Back to Bedlam

Lydiatt House
April 10th 1853


It was Cook! Today has been one of such emotion and upheaval I can hardly sort my head from my heart - oh, the relief at seeing her, and the fear of what is to become of her!

I walked from Lydiatt down to the village as slowly as I could this morning. In truth I did not want to find the cottage, or the couple, or Cook. I took rest on a bench near the Inn, before climbing the hill to St Beverel's but after some minutes of gathering my breath and my strength I could find no further reason to delay.

The cottage was small but well looked after and as I approached I could see a woman in the garden. I hid for a while behind some hedging but began to feel too silly so I coughed a little and made as if to clear some mud from my shoe. The woman noticed me and called out,

"Good morning, Madam. Are you quite well? Do you need some help?"

I fiddled a moment longer with my shoe and then answered her.

"I do indeed need help and am grateful for your kindness."

"Blindingham is a friendly place, Madam. We will always go to the aid of a soul in need, any one of us in the village." She smiled at me and opened her garden gate to welcome me in. I ignored her shameful misrepresentation of the leaden boobies she lives amongst and went straight to the reason for my visit.

"I know the village well, thank you," I said, "I am the mistress of Blindingham Hall. I am Mrs Josiah Hatherwick."

The woman looked at me as though I had declared myself to be Queen Victoria herself. She rushed to bring me to a seat and produced a glass of lemon water from a jug on the bench beside me.

"You are Mrs Hatherwick?" she whispered after some time. "You are the poor lady whose house burnt down? Oh my dear Lady you must be beside yourself with worry. You are very welcome here, please be assured of that."

"Actually, the Hall has not been entirely destroyed," I told her, "Some damage was sustained to the West Wing and the Orangery, but I am confident that we shall be able to restore and refurbish it before long. I have had some very exciting ideas for new furnishings and will soon be instructing furniture makers and decorators. I want to create the feel of Osborne House whilst retaining the essence of the Hall as a country residence. There are some divine new upholstery fabrics in the London shops which I am sure would not be out of place down here."

The woman listened to me with a look of comfort and a little confusion on her face. She did not answer.

"Of course, that is not why I have come to seek you out this morning. I am trying to find our Cook. She was in the Hall when the fire broke out and none of us has has seen her since. I have been given to understand she may have taken sanctuary with you."

Another few moments passed before the woman spoke to me.

"My brother was fortunate enough to find a poor, distressed lady walking the road to Lydiatt in obvious disarray a week or so ago. She was confused and could not tell him her name. She said very little, in fact, except to keep worrying that supper was going to be late because she could not find the kitchen. John could not leave her to carry on walking the streets in that condition."

"Indeed not," I agreed, although I think had I been the one who found Cook rambling about supper in her undergarments I should have gladly left her to it.

"We took the lady in and have been caring for her but I must confess I am not best placed to provide the help she needs. Keeping her nourished and safe has left me little time for anything else." She poured me another measure of lemon water as she spoke. "Can I ask, have you come to take her home?"

"Alas, I have not," I told her, "My husband and I are depending on the kindness of our neighbours until the Hall is restored. I could not take her back there with me at all."

"I see - yes. I should have deduced that for myself." She sounded weary, such that I quite wanted to hug her for her kindness towards Cook. I did not, of course.

We spoke for a few mintes more and then she asked if I would like to see Cook, who was upstairs resting. I accompanied her into the cottage with some trepidation, I admit.

Cook was a sorry sight. She was lying in a tiny bed with her hair all matted and crazy around her face. She was snoring a little and wheezing as she slept. As I watched her I could of think of nothing so much as the bellows the staff use to draw the fires in London. They make a similar sound and are as fragile. I left the room quickly for fear of waking her up.

The woman was waiting for me at the foot of her staircase. "My brother and I can not care for her here, Mrs Hatherwick," she said, "even though we are good Christians who know our duty. I am truly saddened at this lady's plight, but what is to be done? She is not to be left unattended for more than a minute. I am frightened of what she might do."

I knew at once that she was genuinely concerned for Cook's safety and for her own. It is a marvel her tiny cottage had housed Cook for this long and remained intact. I had to make a responsible decision, as Cook's former employer and as this woman's superior.

"Please do not worry," I said to her," I shall send for a carriage from Horsham. She must return there. I know of no other action for the best. I will go straight now to the Post Office and send word to the sanitorium."

The woman was shocked at my resolve.

"Horsham? Really?" she said. I nodded, holding my face in a grave and responsible expression.

"Horsham," she repeated. "That poor, poor soul."

Decision

Lydiatt House
April 9th 1853


Josiah spent the whole night in the dressing room. Mrs Cornbench had been thoughtful enough to set up a day bed in there for him while he has been staying here to give instructions as to what should be done at the Hall. The rooms set aside for our use (we must find a way to make adequate recompense to the woman as soon as we are free of this place) are nice enough, but Josiah is being too polite to request a fire or anything much in the way of help from the servants. He has been sleeping on the day bed in preference to the one in 'our' room. Last night I sat outside his door for hours hoping he would need me to comfort him, but he did not call upon me. I can only guess at the anguish he feels at the death of his friend.

Today I am to visit the cottage near St Beverel's to see if Cook is indeed there. I should be keen to find her alive after all these weeks but in truth I can not bring myself to care overmuch. I am being dutiful as a good employer should be, not excited as a friend. After all, if it is her, what is to be done with her? She may have been the cause of the fire - I rather fear she shall not be welcome at the Hall in future. I will certainly not bring her to London - she would cause havoc in the streets. She would not cut such an unusual figure amongst the residents of Bayswater, it must be acknowledged, but I find myself unwilling to take on the responsibility of keeping her safe for much longer.

No, if Cook is upstairs in that cottage she can stay there. And if they do not wish to deal with her ravings she must go back to Horsham.

Shoot the messenger

Lydiatt House
April 8th 1853

I am quite beside myself and have not the remotest notion of what to do!

This morning, as I made ready to leave for Blindingham, Villiers appeared with a smirk on his face and a hand-delivered note on the salver. The note, he said, had been pushed through the letterbox at break of day and was found lying on the doormat as innocently as you please. I saw at once that it was addressed to Josiah, in the handwriting of an uneducated person with the word 'Urgent' scrawled across the top of the envelope. Fearing it might be something to do with one of Josiah's business interests, or perhaps some underhand communication from an employee, I decided immediately to pack the note in with my belongings and set off.

Villiers saw me place the note in my pocketbook and gave one of his little squeaks. I know that sound to mean that he has something to say to me but wishes me to invite him to speak, rather than wait for an unsolicited approach. I also know that this is a device by which he can impart unwelcome information and blame me for requesting it. Really, he is as devious as a woman at times.

"Villiers," I ventured, "Is there anything you wish to say to me?"

"I am afraid there is, ma'am, yes." He looked at me gravely, as one who is carrying bad news might. "I think ma'am may be interested to know the sender of this note before it is transported to Blindingham."

I was curious, of course, but determined to observe the conventions of written communication in a civilised society. They have been arrived at through gentleman's agreement and there is as yet no law against opening envelopes addressed to others, even one's own relatives. But that should not mean I am at liberty to pry where I am clearly not included - where would society rest if we all did just as we wished, even in moments of high passion?

"I expect I shall discover the identity of the sender as soon as the note has reached its rightful destination, Villiers," I said, as coolly as I could. "The note is meant for Mr Hatherwick, not myself."

"Indeed it is, Ma'am. I am sorry to have suggested otherwise. I am sure she will not be expecting you to read the note before Mr Hatherwick does." Villiers then dashed out of the room and hurried as quickly as propriety would allow down the stairs and into the servants' kitchen.

She? What She? Did Villiers mean that the note was delivered by a woman? A woman known to me?

I busied myself with my gloves and twittered about with Dauncey whilst the maid laced my boots and called for the carriage. I watched the driver load my luggage on board, then climbed inside and instructed him to begin the journey. The note was in my pocketbook, on the seat beside me.

I glanced up at the house as we left and saw Villiers and the maid standing at the top of the street steps, laughing.

I took out the note and stared at the writing. It did indeed seem familiar. It wasn't Boo's writing else I would have recognised it straight away, and besides she has no call to write to Josiah without my knowledge.

A moment later, as the carriage struck a particularly poor section of road, my heart leapt straight out of my chest and sat beating loudly in my mouth. I remembered where I had seen that writing before.

The ill-formed letters, the poor arrangement of the words and the smudging of the ink all combined to bring me to a quite shocking conclusion.

The note had been sent by The Girl!

Why would she write to him? What could possibly be so important that she, a servant, should take it upon herself to make direct communication in writing to her previous employer? Why could not her master, Josiah's friend, have written?

It was at that moment the full horror struck me. The note and the manner of its delivery could only mean one thing.

I was to carry to Josiah the news that his friend and associate had died.

I have had a number of fretful journeys to Blindingham of late, but none so worrisome as this one. My poor husband was to receive sad news of the death of his friend and I was to be the bearer. I spent the whole time thinking how best I could bring cheer to him, such that by the time I alighted at the Cornbench's house (how tiresome that we should still have to accept their thin, grey hospitality) I was exhausted.

Josiah walked out to greet me and all my plans for a loving reunion were forgotten. I took his hand, kissed it, and gave him The Girl's note. His face drained of all its colour the moment he saw it - his powers of mental alertness are much more finely honed than mine and he must have deduced immediately what the envelope contained. He took it from me and opened it as he walked away towards the garden. I watched as he read it. My poor, poor darling, I could see he was much affected by its contents.

He has been alone in the dressing room for four hours now, and will not admit me into his company. All I can do is wait outside and listen as he suffers. I wish he would call me to comfort him, I could ease his torment I know I could.

Oh, I cannot bear this a moment longer! My husband is in pain and I cannot help him!

City Break

April 7th 1853
Sydney Walk

I have spent the most delightful day with Dauncey, who asks nothing of me but that I should love him. I prepared Villiers for my departure - really, it is hardly worth our having come to London this Winter. We have been more at Blindingham than anywhere else. I am determined that Josiah and I shall visit Clacton again, or perhaps Brightlingsea. We have been too much overrun with troubles of late and we are in need of a little relaxation. There is precious little of that to be had in Bayswater, I am sorry to note. I shall plan a little trip for when Josiah and I are both in London.

I am setting off at first light in the morning, so must retire now and will fall asleep telling Dauncey of my plans. He is bound to approve of them - he is such a comfort to me!

The Sound of Breaking Glass

April 5th 1853
Sydney Walk

I have learned a little of Mrs Doughty's maternal leanings from Villiers. A short time before I sent him and LB to stay with her she had fallen foul of a rotten cold. I was swift in my dispatch of them, as anyone with an inferno raging in their home would be - and had not thought to enquire as to her health at this time. Indeed I had trusted to fortune that I could not be so unlucky as to have two sick friends as well as a burning house. I was wrong.

When Villiers entered her home with the boy, Mrs Doughty gave my letter of explanation the briefest of readings and went directly to bed for a week. Villiers says she instructed her servants to be welcoming and courteous but it was soon evident that domesticity and child welfare were alien to them all. There was no fire laid in LB's room, no playthings, very little food save for a kind of broth Mrs Doughty favoured when ill and no-one to give him his bath or read to him. I had expected Villiers to undertake such duties, I suppose, but it seems he was keen not to change his nocturnal arrangements - which, when I was there to mother the poor child, were not in jeopardy. Mrs Doughty keeps unusual hours, I now know, and the whole household was silent from seven o'clock in the evening til daybreak.

So LB was bored and not a little frightened I imagine. At least I believe that to be the reasoning behind his behaviour. Poor lamb, who could blame him for being so terrified of a cold, quiet house when he was used to Boo's chatter and my ministrations. The boy needed to hear noise and life going on around him.

And it is utter folly to place glass ornaments on an upstairs landing anyway, everybody must know that.

Mrs Doughty tired of LB's boyish exuberance after the third day, Villiers tells me, by which time only the Waterford was left intact. She whisked him by hansom cab back to Boo's house - whereupon Boo was heard to blame me - in my absence - for the cuts on his face! The injustice of it.

I have decided to go to Blindingham and find this mysterious set of siblings who have secreted Cook away. I shall find out for myself whether they are heroes or scoundrels. If they are village bred it is sure to be the latter, mark my words.

Reward

Sydney Walk
Monday April 3rd 1853

I am astounded that I have not received so much as a thank you from Boo for looking after her precious child. Not a note, nor any flowers despite my having fed and coddled him all the while she was on her sick bed. She is in severe danger of my never speaking to her again. Indeed were it not for the boy himself and the Press I would be glad to cut her out of my life completely. I shall speak to Mrs Doughty to find out what happened while I was away to make Boo take LB back.

Josiah has sent word that a man from the village is claiming that he has seen Cook. He went to the Hall as Josiah was walking over the Orangery - what there is of it - with a surveyor and told him that he had found Cook in a distressed condition, walking half dressed along the lane towards Lydiatt. He recognised her, he said, from when he used to visit the hall with his father to deliver coal. Apparently she is now staying with this man and his sister in a cottage near St Beverel's Chapel.

I read Josiah's note with a lightening heart until I reached the final part. It seems the man will not take Josiah to see Cook, he says she is too frail, but has asked for funds with which to feed and clothe her. Funds indeed! Josiah gave him a few shillings - he is a soft hearted bear and I love him for it - but said he would give no more til he has seen Cook with his own eyes. He is a wise man, too, I am glad to know.

Oh, how weary I am of it all! I am surrounded by self serving ingrates when all I have tried to do is provide succour. I should travel back to Blindingham to visit this sister and find Cook - but I am loth to put myself out for anyone any more. I have had my fill of people taking advantage of my good nature.

Continued absence

Sunday April 2nd 1853
Sydney Walk

I am astounded at Boo's ingratitude! I sent word to Mrs Doughty that I am back in London and more than ready to welcome LB back into my household. After an hour, which I spent plumping his pillows, arranging his nightgown and telling Dauncey about my adventures at Blindingham, the servant came back without him. Instead of carrying that darling child up to my room, he handed me a note which I could barely read, so blinded was I by tears of bitter disappointment.

It appears that Boo has rallied such that she is able to have her son with her after all. All my little hopes and dreams of skipping with him in the park tomorrow have been dashed on the rocks of Boo's recovery. I am angry beyond words and only glad that Josiah is not here to see my fury.

Villiers has returned from Mrs Doughty's and is sweeping about downstairs making sure the staff have kept up his standards in his absence. But I must not confide my feelings in him. He is a servant and a man - both those attributes rob him of the understanding I require.

I shall persuade Dauncey to sleep with me tonight. Oh, that selfish, selfish woman!