A Woman's LotA Chapter by SE Wright The opening chapters of a historical novel set in Victorian times told through the eyes of 4 women. A Woman’s Lot by S E Wright July 1863 Elizabeth
Wright stood in front of the mirror and gazed at her reflection. Her wedding dress of pale bluish-grey silk with
white under-sleeves, did, according to her mother make her the perfect combination
of respectability and beauty. “I am glad the fad of wearing white has passed,”
she had said when discussions of the dress had begun. “In
my day a girl only wore white if she had nothing to bring to the marriage, and
you my darling girl, are bringing plenty.” Her
sister Sarah had pointed out that the queen herself had worn white, to which
their mother had snorted and declared that no daughter of hers needed to make
such a political statement. Elizabeth and
Sarah had looked confusedly at each other, a look which failed to escape the
sharp eye of Mary Wright. “Never mind,” she had tutted, “once you are
married you will learn, a man needs to feel in charge, even when it is his wife
who is in control.” More
confused by this enigmatic statement, both girls had decided it was best not to
pursue the matter. Mary Wright was not a
woman who liked to be questioned. Her
mother Mary flung open the door and bustled into “Oh my dear,” she gasped putting her hands to
her plump face in what “Oh Mama you are not going to lose me,”
laughed “I will be living but a few short miles away and
Peter and I will visit quite regularly,” she said reassuringly. “Yes but once you are with child you must not be
making such journeys,” muttered Mary, as she made a great show of smoothing out
the silk skirt of her daughter’s dress. “Mama let me get wed first before you start
talking of grandchildren,” smiled “ “ “Those ear-rings,” she said almost to herself
lightly touching the long, heavy gold which hung from “This necklace,” she continued, grasping the
long chain which hung from “I do not measure Peter’s love by gold Mama; I
would marry him if he were the boy who mucked out the stables.” “You think your father would allow such a
thing?” gasped Mary resuming her vigorous smoothing of the skirt, “I tell you
now my girl, no boy who had a job mucking out dirty stables would not be
receiving a coal scuttle full of gold sovereigns as a wedding present, that’s
for sure.” They
had arrived in good time at the stables, Ralph Leyland was just bringing the
horse out into the yard for potential customers to view; a cross breed of Shire
and Clydesdale, with strong shoulders and legs like mill posts, just the sort
of horse needed for heavy farm work. As
far as John was concerned one horse was pretty much the same as another, much
to their father’s despair. He showed no
inkling of wanting to carry on the family farming business and had, It
was then she became aware that her younger brother was no longer by her side as
he had been instructed to remain, but was in fact disappearing into one of the
stalls. Glimpsing his brown woollen
waistcoat “What do you think you are doing?” and meaning
to pull him back to where they had been ordered to stand, in silence, when she
too late realised the owner of this particular waist coat was not her brother
but a rather affronted young man of roughly the same age. Startled at being grabbed, the young man in
question reacted by shoving “I’m ever so sorry,” they both said in
unison. “I thought you were someone else,” stammered “So did I as it happens,” he replied, “I thought
you to be one of my sisters.” “And I thought you to be my brother,” laughed “You do look a right state,” laughed the boy
but not, She
began to giggle, holding out her hand in the manner her mother had taught her
when meeting someone for the first time, “Miss Elizabeth Wright Sir.” The boy had
stepped back at hearing her name, “Not Mr Wright’s daughter?” he gasped.
Puzzled by his reaction, “Do you know my father?” she asked. “Not really, but now he is going to know me as
the lad who covered his daughter in straw and horse muck!” The boy covered his
face with his hands in a gesture “Don’t fret, please,” she had said, reaching
to pull his hands away from his face, “I will explain what happened, truly, it
won’t get you into any trouble”. As she pulled
one hand away she saw the boy was in no distress whatsoever and had, as she
suspected, been fooling her. “You are too kind Miss Wright,” he said,
keeping hold of her hand, and then in a grand gesture he had clearly copied
from somewhere he bowed deeply and kissed her hand! Kissed her hand! “Wait,” cried the boy, catching hold of her
arm, “You ever seen a foal be born?” It
had always fascinated “Goodness knows how I will explain your
appearance to your mother!” was all Richard Wright had said. Her
mother’s enthusiastic adjustments of her attire interrupted her reminiscing and
brought “I pray one day you too have a daughter you
can love as much as I love you,” continued Mary. Placing her hands firmly on “Elizabeth are you in here?” without waiting
for an answer the door once again flew open and her younger sister Sarah walked
into the room they had shared for so many years. “Oh Lizzie, you look lovely, almost as
beautiful as the Princess Alexandra.” she gasped referring to the recent royal
wedding between the Prince of Wales and Princess of Demark. The
younger Wright daughter may be deemed prettier, her face not so round and her
nose not so long, her hair a more attractive shade with glints of auburn
running through, but Peter had chosen her, Elizabeth. Little Lizzie with her
plain brown hair, slightly plump cheeks and a nose that she had always believed
belonged to someone else’s face. He may
have humoured Sarah in her childish attempts to engage him with her limited
knowledge of farming, most of which she had overheard from their father, but it
was Elizabeth he had talked to for hours about his plans for the future of his carting
business as they walked the lanes around his family farm in Burscough whilst
their fathers discussed the pros and cons of carts versus canals for
transporting manure from the city to the farm.
It was “Are the women of this house determined to
make an old man lose his senses?” boomed Richard Wright as he climbed the
stairs. He paused for breath, his large
frame not being conducive as it once was to physical exertion. “Richard is the carriage ready?” shouted their
mother as she bustled out of the room. “Coming Papa,” shouted “Are my flowers on straight?” she asked her
sister. “Yes,” replied Sarah with an exasperation she
made no effort to disguise. “I thought green was considered unlucky in a
wedding” commented Sarah coolly. Sarah, in Richard
walked out of the farm house proudly, his eldest daughter, who despite now being
a grown woman still did not even reach his shoulder, on his arm. Not known for being an emotional man he was
not prepared for the lump growing in his throat as he escorted his daughter
past the farm labourers gathered to see her off. “Good luck Miss Lizzie,” they called. Their
house servants, Jane and little Sissy threw petals at her feet in the old
country tradition as they walked to the awaiting carriage. “We
don’t want to go looking like a May Day parade,” her mother had warned,
referring to the colourful garlands which festooned the cart horses each year
in the city’s annual May festivities.
She had finally approved the elegant sprigs of roses and orange blossom
much to everyone’s relief. In
what seemed no time at all, Elizabeth and her father pulled up outside the Holy
Trinity church, Both
grandmother and granddaughter had been extremely close, especially as
grandfather John had died five years before Her
brothers had not minded, but young Sarah had often pouted and scowled until a
lemon sherbet had been popped into her mouth, made by their Aunt Helen with
whom Grandmamma lived. Pausing to
compose herself before stepping down from the carriage, she wished her formidable
but petite figure of a grandmother was there now. She had passed away at the grand old age of
seventy five, just two years ago. What
would she have made of Peter Elizabeth wondered. A successful carter employing several men,
from a good farming family such as her own. A carter like her grandfather, only
Peter was a world away from the grandfather who had signed his own wedding
certificate with an X. “Ready my dear?” asked her father, holding out
his hand to his eldest daughter. “Ready Papa,” she stated firmly, breathing in
the flowers one last time before taking
his hand and stepping down onto the stone dismounting step then onto the
ground. As they walked into the church Standing
next to her brother, Ellen leaned across him to whisper “You look radiant.” Once
their guests had been received Elizabeth and Peter were seated whilst the rest
of the wedding party were served standing.
She watched as platter after platter of delicacies were brought forth by
Jane and Sissy and marvelled at how the two girls, under the careful and
scrutinising eye of Mary Wright, had prepared such a feast: Lord Sefton has sent her father a whole
venison for the wedding breakfast and it had been roasted to perfection and
obviously served as the grand entrée, closely followed by rich, steaming
braised beef, lamb seasoned with rosemary from Mary’s own herb garden, along
with plates of cold tongue and slices of roast chicken cooked the night
before. The two servants must have been
awake all night marvelled “Are
you happy my dear?” murmured Peter as he reached to take her hand. “Of course, my darling,” “In “If
it’s a song we’re after, Ralph, would you honour us?” asked Peter to his
brother. “I
had a message to send her, to her whom I loved best..” “Thank
you,” whispered “There’s one in every family, no doubt we’ll
have one our own someday,” Peter joked kindly as he joined in with his
brother. Their deep voices were soon
joined by some of the other guests and the celebratory mood thankfully returned
once more. As
they sat on the train to Preston Elizabeth could not remember ever feeling so deliciously
happy. A few spots of rain fell against
the train windows, just a summer shower assured Peter, and by the time they
reached The
Salutation Hotel in Ambleside had been a most welcome sight as their carriage
from the station had pulled up outside. The
large white stone building was sat at atop of grey stone steps on which large
puddles had formed. The gaslights on the front of the building reflected in
each pool, like golden moons lighting their way. “This used to be a coaching inn in the last
century,” commented Peter “Very in-keeping for a cart owner’s honeymoon
then,” replied “Good evening Sir,” said the desk clerk “Evening, Mr and Mrs Leyland,” said Peter,
squeezing “Ah, our honeymooners, well may I offer my
sincere congratulations on both your marriage and choice of honeymoon
destination Sir. Mabel will show you to your room and I will
have someone bring up your trunk. Now
will you be taking dinner in the dining room this evening, or would you and
your good wife prefer to have something sent up to the room?” asked the clerk,
a most efficient but friendly man. Peter
looked at “I think after such a long day and journey I
should like to avoid the trouble of dressing for dinner,” she said, then added
“If you don’t object Peter.” Relieved
that a decision had been made to her satisfaction Peter had no objections at
all and dinner was ordered to be sent up. “So much for a summer honeymoon” Peter joked
when on the fourth morning in a row they had been greeted with the
pitter-patter sound on the small window of their room. He stood at the window gazing out across the
cloud covered hills surrounding the small “It’s almost too poor to step outside” smiled “What
ever shall we do whilst stuck indoors I wonder?” She leaned across the bed to lay on the still
warm place recently vacated by Peter, her nightdress lay on the floor in a
crumpled heap from last night when he had carefully removed it before not so
carefully casting it aside. “Elizabeth Leyland!” he said in a shocked
tone, “For a woman who insists on going to church twice each Sunday, you are in
danger of becoming a wanton woman.” He moved towards the bed and knelt down
beside her, gently stroking her long unbound hair. “I do love hearing my name, now it’s the same
as yours,” she whispered as she pulled him close to her. Kissing her neck gently he murmured in her
ear “I never imagined I would marry a woman named Peter!” Before she could laugh he kissed her deeply
on the lips and Later
that morning, after making love and sleeping, and waking to make love again,
the newly-wedded couple lay entwined on the bed, neither wishing to ever leave
the room. “I am going to miss you so much, too much I
imagine” Elizabeth said as she placed her head on her husband’s chest, her fingers
gently stroking the coarse auburn hair which grew there. Peter was returning to Liverpool that
afternoon to attend to his business interests, she was staying on at the hotel
and her sister Sarah, Peter’s sisters Sally and Ellen, Elizabeth’s brother John, and family friend, Henry Dean were
all joining her for another week. “What would happen if you missed someone too
much I wonder?” asked Peter. “Would you
love them more when you were finally reunited or would all that missing of them
make you quite mad with grief until you forgot them?” “I am not sure, but just in case it is the
latter you had best give me something to remember you by as a precaution,” she
whispered. A
knock at the door prevented him from so.
“Mr
Leyland, your family has arrived,” came the voice through the door. “Thank you Mabel” Peter shouted back. Kissing his wife on the nose he ran his
fingers through her hair and whispered “You had best pray it is the former.” With
that their honeymoon was over. Sarah
Sarah Wright looked at her sister.
She still had the same slightly plump face, plain brown hair, nose a
little too large for her small round face, but there was something different
about her Sarah thought. She had a glow
about her that seemed to radiate from within, as if she was in possession of a
glorious and wonderful secret. Marriage
certainly suited her she thought, maybe having Peter as a brother-in-law would
not be so bad. Peter had bid them hello
and goodbye in the same hour, rushing back to Lizzie herself did not seem too distressed by his departure but
then she wouldn’t be would she �" not sweet natured, see the good in everyone
Lizzie. Much of their childhood seemed
to have been spent with her older sister chastising her for any criticism she
had levied against others �" a dinner guest who bored her was just interested in
matters she did not understand, a dreary sermon delivered by a dull curate was
just a lesson in patience and tolerance.
Lizzie never had a bad word to say about anyone, not even her new
sister-in-law Sally, whom even her own family struggled to tolerate at times it
seemed. Sally Leyland was stood at the
window of the hotel lounge watching the rain splash against the glass. Her face always seemed to Sarah to suggest
that she had detected an unpleasant smell from somewhere and was not best
pleased about it. “I do hope this does not
last the week,” she snapped in a tone that seemed to imply the weather was
within someone’s control and they should order the rain to stop forthwith. Her voice was beginning to grate on Sarah’s
ears, it reminded her of the sound of her mother cutting bones to make roast
marrow. And Sarah hated roast bone
marrow. “It has been much the same
since I arrived, but don’t worry Sally, there is plenty to see and do here
regardless of the weather, and I trust you brought suitable clothing,” Lizzie smiled
kindly. The party had eaten a hearty meal in the hotel dining room, Ellen
had complained of a headache and retired early, the others were now sat playing
‘Happy Families’ with a pack of cards John had brought with him. “Why don’t you come and join us?” Sarah asked politely Sally wrinkled her nose derisorily, “Don’t you have any proper cards?
I would not say no to a few hands of whist,” she said “As it happens I do indeed,
but it is only a four player game,” pointed out John. Predictably Lizzie chose that moment to
announce that she was tired and was going to retire as she wished to write a
letter to Peter before going to bed. Always the peace-keeper thought Sarah as
she kissed her sister on the cheek and bid her good night before settling her
self next to her brother and making it clear that if Sally insisted on playing
a four player game whilst part of a group of five people then she could jolly
well team up with Henry, a man, Sarah had noticed, Sally had little tolerance
of. This could turn into a very long
week she noted to herself. “Did you have a pleasant
game or two?” asked Lizzie as Sarah eventually retired to the room they were
sharing. “Well I did, I very much
enjoyed beating that Sally several times if I am honest,” replied Sarah smiling
smugly as she began to undress. “Now, now Sarah, she is
practically still a child, and one must be patient with children,” teased Sarah sat at the small dresser and began to unpin her hair, the
auburn glints which ran through her locks shimmered in the gently glow of the
lamp. “Is that what is says in
your booklet Lizzie?” asked Sarah nodding towards the copy of ‘The Angel in the
House’, the now renowned poem extolling the virtues of Coventry Patmore’s
perfection of a wife, a copy of which Mrs Wright had presented to her daughter
by way of marital advice. “Oh no, I’m afraid Mr Patmore only advises on the qualities of a
wife, he does not mention those required of a mother.” Sarah climbed into the bed and turned down the gas lamp, “Well I am sure you will be
an exemplary version of both,” she said in the darkness. Sally The
rain had finally stopped as the party descended the steps but all the ladies
cautiously carried their umbrellas as they stepped out of the hotel dressed in
their walking dresses and wearing waterproof capes as
a precaution. The sun was warm and the
sky was clear, but Sally had learnt this was no guarantee of fine weather
lasting. A carriage was provided
for guests by the hotel for a small charge and stood waiting on the wet and
muddy road. “Shall we take the carriage
or walk to Bowness?” asked Henry Dean to the gathered party. They planned to visit the photographic studio
of one Mr Brunskill as both Sally and John wished to have their likenesses
taken. Before anyone could answer Ellen broke into another of her coughing
fits. Honestly, she is always ill in
some way thought Sally impatiently. “I think Ellen and I should
take the carriage at least,” “Well I would prefer to
walk, especially as the rain has stopped, it could be the only chance we get
and I did not come all this way to sit down all day,” stated Sally firmly
thinking of how the day before Elizabeth had insisted they all attend church
not once but twice! Sitting in a cold
church in a damp dress had not been what she anticipated when she agreed to
accompany Ellen on this holiday. She had
wanted to come here at all; it was a very busy time at home and she did not
like to think of the kitchen maid, Emma, interfering with her domain in her
absence. She trusted the dairy maid, Annie,
but only just and that was more due to her age than her ability. Henry looked about hesitantly, he is such a weak, irritating man thought Sally, always looking to someone else to make a
decision and then flapping about whether or not everyone agrees with the
decision made, it’s a wonder he ever gets anything done. “So that’s Ellen and Lizzie
to ride and rest of us to walk then,” stated Sally out loud in an assertive
manner Henry found most alarming, but John Wright found quite appealing. “Well, erm, if that’s to
everyone’s agreement, I mean would you like to ride Sarah, or perhaps, well I
am not sure….” wittered Henry much to Sally’s annoyance. And he had an annoying habit of stroking his
beard whenever he dithered she noticed, a beard that seemed more than a little
over oiled in her opinion and at times over the past few days she had itched to
wrench the damned thing clean off his chin, or at least take a hot rag to it
and remove that awful bergamot scented oil he seemed so fond of. “Sarah �" walk or ride?”
demanded Sally forcefully. Sarah Wright
was fiddling with the clasp on her walking cape and seemed to Sally to be in no
hurry to do either. “Oh I don’t mind, I suppose
a walk would be pleasant seeing as how it has stopped raining but if it starts
again I don’t much fancy being out in it” dithered Sarah. Oh for heaven’s sake thought Sally, we are not going to do
anything at this rate. “John, what about you? Walk
or ride?” she demanded, making no effort to disguise her exasperation at the situation. The young lad in charge of the horses attached to the carriage
looked on in amusement. It made no
difference to him if they walked or not, plenty of people had used the carriage
that week due to the weather and his pocket was full of the coins he had made
in tips. The opening of the railway
station in Windermere had done the little town of “Walk,” replied John
decisively, more in admiration for Sally’s decisiveness than a genuine desire
to walk the five and half miles to Bowness. “Let’s go then, if we start
now we should reach the photographic studio before lunch and be able to make an
appointment for tomorrow,” Sally said briskly and began to start walking down
the road before anyone could further debate the matter. John fell in step beside her, neither of them
looking back to ascertain what decision the remainder of their group had
reached. Ellen’s coughing started again
and Sally let out an involuntary sigh of exasperation as she narrowly avoided a
large puddle. “Something troubling you
Miss Leyland?” asked John in a pleasant yet slightly sardonic tone. Sally
looked at him out of the corner of her eye, keeping her head facing the
direction they were walking. “I told her not to come if
she was ill, I told her it may be summer but that is no promise of good weather
here and now look, she is ill, again, and spoiling it for the rest of us,”
complained Sally angrily. “The problem here is one we both share,” replied John as they each
walked around another puddle on opposite sides. “What would that be?” asked
Sally “We both have older sisters
who think they know best,” he smiled. For the first time that morning Sally smiled, and not for the
first time that morning John thought she looked rather pretty, especially when
she smiled. “At least you only have
one, I have had to grow up with a whole gaggle of older siblings, seven of them
in fact,” bemoaned Sally as they fell into a brisk synchronised step with each
other, somehow unconsciously deciding to each circle the unending puddles in
opposite directions. “Although another one of
them died before I was born” she added. Her
harshness at the reference to the brother she had never met shocked John
momentarily and he feared she may list the other sisters, Alice, who had died of
tuberculosis only two years back and Bess who had died of scarlet fever two
years before that, in the same shocking manner.
But there was something about her frank, albeit brutal, honesty he found
quite attractive. “And I’ll bet you never let
anyone of them tell you what to do,” he replied diplomatically in an attempt to
divert the conversation away from what he feared was a most uncomfortable
subject. At that moment the carriage carrying Ellen and Elizabeth drove
passed them, it now appeared to be carrying Sarah as well. “Wait up,” came the voice
of Henry. John and Sally turned to see
him trotting towards them waving his walking cane. He caught up, slightly out of breath much to
Sally’s irritation. “Sarah decided to ride in
the end,” he panted. “So Lizzie
suggested it would be more appropriate if I walked with you two,” he explained John smiled at Sally “See, older sisters, always spoiling it for
others,” he grinned. Sally laughed, some of her frustrations from what she regarded as
the morning’s ditherings ebbed away. “What?” asked Henry
somewhat confused at this rather enigmatic statement. “Nothing for you to worry
about Henry, nothing at all,” laughed John clapping Henry on the back good
naturedly. “Now, let’s pick up the
pace a bit shall we, make the most of this fine weather, beautiful countryside
and,” he glanced at Sally “most excellent company. For what may have been the first time in her life, Sally Leyland
blushed. John Wright, she noted, was
rather handsome, charming and was himself proving to be excellent company. Why had she never noticed this before? Maybe this trip was not going to be as bad as
she had expected. If she could just keep
her distance from her elder sister and her incessant coughing fits, and her
equally annoying new sister-in-law Elizabeth who just fussed about everyone and
everything then she may just enjoy herself.
Sarah Wright was tolerable if a little too empty headed for Sally’s
liking, always twittering on about some frivolous nonsense she had read in her
latest magazine. And as for the
blithering Henry, well as long as she had John for company she supposed she
could tolerate him too. The party of now
three strode purposefully along the wide road which linked Ambleside to
Windermere. Sally gazed out at the rolling
fields full of sheep. It was so
different to the farm back home where the land was flat and they kept cattle
not sheep. Still it was very picturesque, especially with the mountains in the
background, like a painting she thought to herself. The dry stone walls intrigued her, each one
seemed so sturdy and solid but there was no mortar holding the irregular slabs
of stone in place, they just fitted together and held each other up. Lost in her own thoughts she was irritated
when Henry interrupted them. “Tell me young Sally, do
you know much about botany?” he asked
cheerfully as he bounded along in way that reminded Sally of an over excited
dog that needed putting on a leash. ‘Young Sally?’ Sally’s eyes
widened in disgust at being addressed in such a patronising manner. She fumed silently, why he was only five
years older than her, what an odious little man he was! “I know all I need to Henry,”
she snapped, keeping her eyes fixed ahead. Ignoring her tone Henry continued on,
leaving the path he began to poke about in the undergrowth with his walking
cane. “Ah ha!” he exclaimed
excitedly, “Then you will be able to identify this specimen will you not?” He used the end of his stick to point to some
tiny fungi. Sally stomped over to where
he stood, like some irritating school master she thought. They were never going to reach Bowness in
good time if he persisted in doing this along the way. How could a man be so annoying? If he wasn’t wavering about the smallest of
decisions he was boring her with his infuriating fascination of the very
subjects she clearly knew far more about than him. Why on the train journey here he had spent a
good hour lecturing her on the process of churning butter! Something she had been doing for a good many
years and to a very acceptable standard too.
Why he thought he knew so much about what was clearly a woman’s job
baffled and bored her in equal measure. The fungi Henry had found was thin, white and standing up like a
row a candles. “Do you know what this is Henry?” asked Sally, making no effort to hide
the boredom or exasperation from her voice. Seemingly oblivious to her annoyance Henry beamed at both her and
John, “I do indeed young Sally, it is in fact …..” “It’s candlesnuff,” interrupted
Sally bluntly, “It is indeed,” exclaimed
Henry, “or to give it the Latin name, xylaria hypoxylon.” Sally sighed. “I know many young ladies
like your good self are taking a rather keen interest in botany these days,”
continued Henry, clearly missing the unspoken meaning of the sigh. “It is not poisonous, nor
very edible, I would call that common sense, but if the ‘young ladies’ you
choose to keep company with wish to pass their time learning Latin names then I
can only assume they do not have a large farmhouse to run. Now can we get on?” Without waiting for him to
answer Sally stomped away firmly. Oblivious
to, or perhaps too polite to mention, her abruptness Henry trotted after her. “Well, perhaps we can find
some other specimens and I can teach you some Latin, what do you say to that, I
do have rather a keen interest in botany you know,” Henry said excitedly, half
walking half running to catch up with Sally who had increased her pace out of
sheer fury at his interruption to their journey. “Well I do not,” replied
Sally rudely. Again Henry did not seem to take in her lack of interest or
tolerance to his attempts at making conversation. “No? Well you do amaze me,”
Henry continued, clearly blind to her annoyance. Poor Henry thought John, he was clearly sweet
on the girl but all his attempts to ingratiate himself were failing dismally
and the hapless chap just did not seem to see it. Sensing Sally was reaching a point where
politeness may be too much to ask of her, John quickly positioned himself in
between the two and changed the subject. “So tell us young Sally, what does a farm girl like
you find interesting?” He stressed the
‘young’ with the same teasing mockingness he had used earlier when he had
addressed her as ‘Miss Leyland’, the one which Sally felt was slightly conspiratorial
against Henry and for some reason gave her a small warm glow inside. “Farming,” she stated
firmly. “I help my father far more than
any of my sisters or brothers, especially since young Ralph left for his own
farm. Peter lives in Liverpool and runs
the carting business, James is in Australia and goodness knows if any of us
shall see him again, Ann chose to follow Miss Nightingale and be a nurse, Alice and Bess are both dead, Ellen is neither
use nor ornament around the place, constantly taking to her bed at the
slightest chill, so that just leaves me,” she explained. Again the cold factual reference to her deceased elder sisters coupled
with her blatant intolerance of sweet Ellen’s weak constitution could, to some,
have appeared heartless and almost cruel, but to John this no nonsense,
practical attitude Sally exuded intrigued him.
Was it due to her having lost her mother so young? Sally had only been seven when she died and
the role of mothering had fallen to her eldest sister Ann who reluctantly returned
from nursing at the Liverpool Infirmary when her mother fell ill, only to
decide a few years later that at fourteen Sally was old enough to manage
without her. After an enormous and very
heated argument with their father Ann informed him that she had left home at
the same age Sally was now, and she intended to go back out to nursing. Ralph Leyland Senior had called her selfish,
amongst other things, for abandoning her younger siblings, but Ann had stood
her ground and told him directly that she had no desire to work herself into
the ground on a farm or an early grave as her mother had done. When Sally had woken up the next morning Ann
had gone and her name was never mentioned again. John was well aware of all this, their two
families working so closely all these years.
Whatever it was that had caused Sally to be so hard, it had also caused
her to grow into one of the most fascinating young ladies he knew. At eighteen she was no longer just Peter’s
little sister to be acknowledged as politeness decreed when their paths
crossed. No, indeed Sally Leyland was a
young lady with a refreshing mind of her own and a tongue to be wary of. “Farming, now that is in your blood young Sally,” commented Henry,
“But did you know….” Before he could finish John interrupted, safe in the knowledge
that whatever it was he was confident Sally would know and, based on what he
had seen of her so far today, would not take too kindly to being told,
especially by Henry. “Ah the life of a farmer,”
he said, “Never appealed to me I’m afraid, no I am a man who enjoys the city
life too much, far more pleasurable and predictable.” “Predictable?” asked Sally
as they stamped along the road towards Windermere at a brisk pace. “Yes, well look at
farming. You plant the seeds but then
you have to wait to see what the weather brings, will it all grow well? Will you lose your crop to the elements. Now in my shop I have a steady and
predictable stream of women who come in each Monday or Tuesday morning with
their wedding rings, household goods, and many a rosary bead, all wanting
enough to put food on their tables till pay day. Then come Friday they redeem it all plus
interest till the following week when they find the old man’s money has run out
or been spent elsewhere if you catch my drift,” John explained matter-of-factly
as he described the life-style of many of the poorer classes back in Liverpool. “So you see, I don’t have
to worry about rain or shine, whatever the weather many a man will put ale
before bread and many a woman will find a way around it. And that way is to pawn.” Sally thought for a moment, it was true the land around their farm
at Martin Hall in Burscough was reclaimed from the draining of the mere but it
was good rich soil which grew a great range of produce, not to mention fine grazing
land for cattle, which in turn led to rich creamy milk to be sold or churned
into butter. She had never known hunger
or worried about where her next meal was coming from, and apart from a jug of
beer with the farm hands during harvest
and a polite tipple at special occasions she rarely saw her father Ralph drink,
let alone put ale before food. “My father told me a rhyme his father used to say, Them that buys beef buys bones, them that
buys land buys stones, them that buys eggs buys shells, but them that buys ale
buys nowt else,” she recited. “And very true it is,” agreed John, smiling at the folklore. Well, more fool the women who married such men Sally thought. A mistake she did not ever intend to make. No man was going to make her be hungry, or
force her to pawn her belongings just to feed herself. No, Sally had decided long ago that marriage
was for those who could not fend for themselves and what did it lead to? Children that could die, or even kill her
giving birth to them like so many poor women; as much as she loved her niece
and nephews she saw no reason why she should go through the agony and risk of
childbirth - therefore there was no reason to marry. The grey clouds which had been blanketed across the sky were
beginning to clear and the bright July sun shone on the three walkers as they
tramped their way towards Windermere.
The rain soaked landscape glistened and birds began to sing in the trees
around them. “Listen,” said Henry,
stopping dead on the path and raising his cane in the air. He stood open mouthed as though by doing so
he could hear better. Once again Sally
felt the impatience rise inside her.
They had been having a perfectly interesting conversation; or rather she
and John had been having a perfectly interesting conversation and now
this! What had grabbed Henry’s attention
now? “If I am not very much
mistaken that is the call of the whooper swan,” Henry informed them. “I think I can see the lake
from here,” stated Sally walking away from the annoying Henry and looking out
across the landscape, completely ignoring him and his wildlife. “Well, whoop-ee,” joked
John, which made both Henry and Sally smile, although for very different
reasons. Ellen The carriage ride to Bowness near Windermere carried the three
women, Ellen, Elizabeth and Sarah. From
the window they watched as the fluffy white clouds drifted across the sky and
the rays of the warm summer sun reached out to try and catch them. “There Ellen, some warm sunshine
should brighten your spirits,” “It is turning out to be a
beautiful day isn’t it,” she replied. “I am sorry you and Peter had such dreadful weather, and with him
only able to spare four days away as well,” Ellen continued. “Oh I am sure they found
plenty to amuse themselves with despite the rain,” commented Sarah, making her
elder sister blush. Ellen felt the familiar ominous rising scratchin in her throat
again and turned away from the other two whilst she coughed. “Maybe there is an
apothecary in town we could go to, get something for your cough Ellen,” said “I am so sorry to be a
nuisance, I know you would have preferred to walk,” she apologised as she wiped
her mouth with her handkerchief. “Nonsense,” said Elizabeth,
“Sarah, walk anywhere? She was glad of
the excuse weren’t you Sarah?” she joked to her sister, whose fondness for
walking or indeed any sort of exertion was well known to be lacking. The carriage arrived in Windermere in just over an hour, during
which the three ladies had settled into a comfortable silence as they marvelled
at the majestic views of the Alighting from the carriage Ellen suddenly felt a wave of suffocating
nausea crash over her and she stumbled onto the ground, dropping her umbrella. Momentarily the surroundings blurred and she
felt as though the whole world was spinning.
Alarmed, both Elizabeth and Sarah had reached out to hold her up on
either side and were shocked at how suddenly pale and pallid her face had
become. “Oh Ellen I fear you are
not well at all. I think it best we
return to the hotel at once and put you to bed,” pleaded “No no, what about the
others?” mumbled Ellen weakly. “We will pass them on the
road and explain what has happened,” reassured Sarah. Before she could answer another fit of the
hacking, dry cough overtook Ellen and she weakly allowed both her companions to
assist her back into the carriage without further argument. “Back to the Salutation
Hotel please driver,” “I fear one of our party
has been taken ill and needs to return,” Sarah explained. “Oh dear,” replied the lad,
“Does she need a doctor? I know of one in Windermere if you need me to run for
him,” he offered. “No, no please, just some
rest will be adequate,” murmured Ellen quietly, the last thing they needed was
to incur the cost of a doctor. After a brief confer with her sister Sarah assured the lad that
the lady in question was merely suffering from a chill and a good rest, some
warm food would suffice, but thanked him for his concern. As he turned the carriage around and flicked the
reins to start the horse off in a trot Ellen leaned back against the seat of
the carriage and closed her eyes. Her
bones ached and she felt both hot and cold at the same time. Probably just all
that travelling yesterday, she told herself, probably all the dampness that had
greeted them as they arrived, probably the change of air. The cough rose again, her chest tightened in
the frightening grip that was becoming more and more familiar and she felt the hot,
bloody mucus rise in her throat. Reaching for her handkerchief she coughed violently
as her mouth filled then carefully concealed the crimson stained linen from her
friends. There was no need to worry
everybody. Once back at the hotel Ellen was feeling somewhat better. The rhythmic gentle rocking of the carriage
had relaxed her and she was able to walk up the steps unaided. She was not sure if it was the now glaring
sun which made her feel hot or whether the heat was coming from within her, but
these episodes of feeling very hot then very cold were becoming more and more
frequent. But it was just a chill she
told herself, a weak chest she had had since childhood. It had to be. The room she shared with Sally was at the front of the hotel
overlooking the road they had returned by.
It was furnished with two large comfortable beds, two chairs and a small
dresser. In the corner stood a large oak
wardrobe into which “I will have some tea sent
up, and maybe some soup?” said “I think a doctor should be
sent for,” Sarah whispered to “I think you are right,”
she agreed at last, Ellen may have insisted a doctor was not needed, and it may
indeed be just a chill, but something was not right. “I will go and see to it,”
said Sarah standing up, grateful for something to do, anything to do that meant
she could escape this room and that awful sound. “Thank you, it may be best
if I stay with Ellen tonight, would you mind dreadfully if Sally shared with
you?” asked Elizabeth, the thought of Sally impatiently snapping at Ellen
whilst she was so poorly did not bear thinking about, and Elizabeth knew she
would only lay awake worrying about her friend otherwise. At this request Sarah pulled a face, Sally was, in her opinion,
the last companion she wished to be lumbered with. The two of them had nothing in common apart
from being the daughters of farmers, but whereas Sarah enjoyed the social life
her father’s money provided her with, Sally seemed happiest when actually working. She behaves more like a dairy maid than a
young lady thought Sarah. But under the
circumstances she was preferable than having to share with Elizabeth who no
doubt would only keep her awake with her fretting, and judging by the worrying sounds
Ellen was making there did seem to be something to fret about. “Of course, I will go and
speak to the staff about sending for a doctor then I will bring all of your
things in here, Sally can move her own belongings once they return,” said
Sarah, again relieved for something to occupy herself with. Although distant to her hearing, Ellen was aware of the discussion
between the two sisters and tried to summon up the strength to speak, she was
grateful for their concern but really did not want to be such a nuisance to
everyone. But it was no use, her mind and body were too far apart for her lips
to form the words. She could not take in
enough air to speak and the icy chill, she was so cold now but did not have the
strength to pull the blankets any closer.
Making the only sound she could summon up she let out a small moan,
causing “Oh Ellen, please don’t
worry, the doctor will be here soon,” she implored. “Cold,” mouthed Ellen “What are you saying?” “Cold,” rasped Ellen, the
very effort of speaking exhausting her. Ellen felt the weight of the thick woollen blankets being laid on
top and tucked about her, just as the cold gave way to another wave of
prickling heat. She moved as much as she
could to free herself from the cocoon of bedding but it was no use, she simply
had nothing left. The sleep she fell
into was one of lurid dreams of burning flames licking at her very core, her
then icy water washing over her, painfully freezing her. The pain, the unending, searing pain would
not leave her bones. She awoke to find a strange man with kind eyes and old fashioned
mutton chop sideburns like her grandfather used to have sat on the bed next to
her. She was half lying, half sitting
and he was holding the back of her head whilst pouring a bitter tasting liquid
into her mouth. The liquid spread a
warmness down her throat then across her chest, not a burning like she had felt
earlier, this warm sensation was soothing, comforting and the pain at last began
to ebb away, everything began to drift away as she felt herself floating on a
cloud of stillness and peace. There were
voices but she could not make out what they were saying, strong hands lay her
back down and tucked the blankets around her.
The voices faded as she gently drifted off into a laudanum induced
slumber. When Ellen awoke it was dark in the room and for a moment she was
disorientated as to where she was. She
sat herself up in bed and took in her surroundings. “Oh Ellen, you are awake,
how are you feeling my dear?” Ellen paused before answering, the pain had gone, she no longer
felt the waves of heat or the shivering cold.
Her chest felt tight and heavy but she had no urge to cough. “Better I think,” she
answered. “You have slept on and off
for two days, were you aware of much? Doctor
Miller came, a most pleasant man, he was very concerned for you and is calling
in the morning to see how you are doing.
He left a prescription which the hotel sent a lad out to collect, they
have been extremely helpful,” explained “The others have gone down
to dinner, shall I have something sent up for you?” asked “Did you not go down with
them?” asked Ellen “I did not want to leave
you, but don’t worry, I have had a most pleasant time reading in peace whilst
you slept, something I rarely get the chance to do, especially these last few
months what with the wedding and all,” chattered Elizabeth, anxious that Ellen
would feel guilty she had spent the past few days watching over her. “Thank you, you really are
a very, very dear friend you know,” Ellen clasped “Well we are family now,”
smiled “Now, Sally swapped rooms
with me so that I could be near you in the night should you need anything,”
explained Elizabeth, “I don’t think she minded much but she did make quite a
song and dance about moving all of her things quietly so as not to wake you.” Ellen smiled to herself, Sally was never one
to just quietly get on with something.
How could two sisters be so different?
But then Sally was very much like their older sister Ann, wherever she
may be now �" strong willed and strong voiced their father often said. The memory of Looking at Ellen across the breakfast
table, “Letter
for you ma’am,” interrupted the maid handing “Oh
thank you,” she replied eagerly, recognising Peter’s large looped letters. Tearing open the envelope she was thrilled to
see not one but two pieces of paper made up the letter from the husband she had
not seen for almost five days now. She
had written every day to tell him of their adventures but so far had not heard
back, because he is such a busy man she had consoled herself. “Do you mind if I
read this now?” she asked Ellen politely “Not
at all, here are the others now to keep me company,” Ellen replied as Sarah,
Sally, John and Henry entered the dining room. Excusing herself Elizabeth walked to a
seat near the window to read Peter’s letter, a small smile settled across her
lips as she read the opening line, ‘Dear my darling little wife’ he had
written, her lack of height had once been the source of many a family joke but
now it was just one of the many things her husband loved her for. Dear
my darling little wife I
hope this letter finds you well, despite the fact that you have had the
pleasure of the company of certain members of my family for a number of days
now! I arrived safely home in It was very warm when I arrived home,
the rain clearly had not touched the city but there was a pleasant breeze from
the river. There were not too many carts
about it being Saturday but I did almost collide with one of the hackney horses
pulling its hansom �" I am not fond of those horses, too dainty and ornamental
for my liking. Give me a good strong
cart horse any day of the week Elizabeth laughed softly to herself, it was so typical of Peter to
talk about the grandeur of architecture in one sentence only in the next to
revert back to the farmer’s son he was and criticise a horse breed for not
being strong enough to pull a heavy cart.
Oh how she missed him, her head in the clouds, feet on the ground
husband, full of contradictions, but she loved each and every one of them. Well my darling, I was all set to return
to Leeds Street to ensure everything had run well in my absence but after
nearly losing my life to a hackney horse I made the decision that a medicinal
tot of whiskey was deserved and so I briefly visited the Lion Tavern where I
met Robert Lunt and an acquaintance of his who I am ashamed to admit I could
not recall the name of, even now. I am
sure you will remember Mr Lunt, he owns the saddlery and really is the finest
saddle and harness maker I have ever dealt with. It was extreme good fortune me seeing him as
I have a number of harnesses which need replacing and he was in a jolly mood
having finished for the week. He sends
his congratulations on our marriage and invited both myself and this
acquaintance, with our good wives, to dine with him and his wife at our convenience,
although from the way the acquaintance was talking to the young bar-maid,
Isabella, I do not think it wise it repeat what was said or you would not be
able to look his good wife in the eye. I
promise you faithfully that I would never dream of conversing in such a manner
for why would I need to when I have the dearest, sweetest wife of all. The bar-maid in question also passed her
congratulations. An uneasy feeling swept over Well my darling I must tell you
something and I beg you to not be alarmed as all ended well, so before you read
on you must promise not to become upset The page ended, frantically As we were making our way home we were
approached by a group of young scallywags asking for money. Three
of them, and from the look of their clothes, what little they were wearing, had
never seen the inside of a wash-tub. For
a moment I was extremely afraid having read of so many violent attacks in
London and the case of that poor chap who met his end at the hand of such
fellows in Parliament Street last December.
Lunt was all for arguing with the gang but before we could engage in
anything of the sort I noticed a little girl sat on the steps of a shop behind
them. Oh Lizzie she was such a pitiful
sight! Only about eight years old, no
shoes on her little feet. She had been
selling matches and had just sold her last before someone had pushed her to the
ground and stolen all her money. Can you
imagine anyone being so cruel and heartless to a child? No I am sure you cannot because you are the
sweetest, kindest soul alive and had you witnessed such a distressing sight I
am sure you would have been heartbroken.
The boys were her brothers, all too afraid to return home without the
money for fear of a beating from their father.
I must confess Lizzie I had half a mind to return home with them and
beat such a man for sending his children out to earn a living. But rest assured my darling I did not. Instead I gave her what little change I had
left, only a couple of sixpences and a few pennies but her little face Lizzie,
well it was worth it. Lunt did not take
too kindly to my actions, he believed it to be a ruse and warned that they
would now have me marked down as a ‘soft touch’. He himself told me I was soft, but my dear I
think there are worse things to be known as don’t you agree? © 2020 SE WrightFeatured Review
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1 Review Added on November 14, 2020 Last Updated on November 14, 2020 Author
SE WrightLiverpool, Merseyside, United KingdomAboutBy day I teach SEN kids, but by night I am a full in history geek - any era as long as it's pre 100 years ago. After inheriting a box of letters, diaries and other paraphernalia from the Victorian ag.. more..Writing
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