A Carriage for the Midwife (41 page)

‘It is signed by Octavius Enoch Gravett, Doctor of Divinity, on behalf of the Board of Guardians and the people of Beversley,’ replied Sophia, smiling. ‘And you too must sign it. Don’t you see, Susan, May Cottage has been bought and presented to
you
in gratitude for your services to the women of Beversley and also at the House of Industry. Are you not pleased, Susan? Would you not like to have a home of your very own?’

Light began to dawn as Susan took in the meaning of the document that awaited her signature alongside that of the rector and Mr Jamieson.

‘But
who
has bought this house for me, Sophy?’

‘Lots of people! There has been a public subscription of large amounts and small, according to means,’ explained Miss Glover, who knew that Mr Calthorpe had given the most. ‘Take it and be thankful, dear Susan. Look upon May Cottage as a gift, and well deserved. Write a letter to the rector and to the Board of Guardians, thanking them and saying how pleased you are!’

‘Oh, I will, Sophy, I will!’ cried Susan, as she began to realise what a home of her own would mean. She would be able to receive friends, and Joby could visit her whenever he was free. And that was not all . . .

‘You will need a couple of reliable maidservants, Susan, and a girl to scrub floors and sweep the yard,’ said Sophia.

Susan stopped speaking as her thoughts raced ahead. She thought of Lizzie Decker, who had had to take work as a house servant while her mother looked after one-year-old Kitty for long hours every day. A new curate, Mr Roberts, had been installed at the Parsonage with his young wife, and the Widow Smart had been kept on for the time being as an unpaid housekeeper in return for her keep. Susan also thought of Mag, the browbeaten drudge at the House of Industry. Things were about to change for these women, she thought happily; and that for her was by far the best part of this wonderful surprise.

And Sophia Glover considered herself well rewarded for all the secret plotting she had done to bring it about.

In the same month another event took place amid much surprise and some head-shaking: Miss Rosa Hansford was married to Mr Osmond Calthorpe in Great St Giles. The ceremony was quietly conducted by the rector and witnessed by such family members and close acquaintances as were able to attend. They saw the bridegroom leaning upon his stick as he made his vows beside his kneeling bride, and heard the solemn declaration of matrimony pronounced.

Mrs Gertrude Calthorpe shed the tears expected of her and the squire and his lady looked upon their smiling daughter in her white gown and trusted that her confident expectations would be fulfilled.

Kneeling in the pew. Miss Glover prayed for the blessing of the Almighty, both on this marriage between the two families and the next one.

Which would be her own.

AT LAST THE
negotiations for a peace treaty were no longer rumours. Admiral Rodney’s brilliant display of strength at sea had given a timely lift to morale and provided a stronger background for recognition of the colonies’ independence. The fighting on land virtually ceased over the summer of 1782, and tired, devitalised troops put up their arms and looked homeward. There were forecasts of an armistice as early as September, but in fact it was to be November before the final draft was signed between Britain and the new United States of America. Peace with the old European foes had to wait until the new year, and the Spanish continued to besiege Gibraltar with unremitting persistence.

First Lieutenant Hansford’s return on the
Minotaur
following the Battle of the Saints was eagerly awaited, and Miss Glover was conscious of the contrast between her own situation and that of her friend Susan, now installed in May Cottage with Lizzie Decker, little Kitty and a transformed Mag. She was talking of training Lizzie to be her assistant as the work increased, and engaging the Widow Smart as housekeeper.

One afternoon towards the end of June Sophia called at May Cottage and found Susan sitting sewing in the garden; little Kitty was toddling on the grass, holding out her chubby hands to the brightly coloured butterflies.

‘I am glad to have a chance to speak with you, Susan,’ Sophia began tentatively. ‘You know that I still feel grief for your loss, even in the happiness of my own hopes.’

‘Let’s ha’ no talk o’ grieving, Sophy. I’m happy f’r you and Mr Hansford,’ came the firm reply. ‘Ye deserve y’r heart’s desire, if ever a woman did.’

‘You have a generous spirit, Susan, and I thank you from my heart. Only . . .’ She hesitated, wondering how best to put into words what she felt was her duty to say. ‘Only with your dear Edward gone, and hopes of his return all but given up—’

‘He won’t ever return, Sophy.’

‘And accepting that sad fact, my dear friend, is it not time that you made your peace with his family? You are a person of some consequence in the parish now, and there should not be this holding on to grievances. The Calthorpes also mourn for Edward, so can you not forgive them now, and bear his name with pride?’

Susan’s face was blank. ‘My sister Polly had more right to bear the name o’ Calthorpe than I ever did, yet she was beaten and turned out o’ their house when she most needed caring for. Why should I forgive them? ’Tis they should be asking f’r it, not me.’

‘My cousin Calthorpe greatly wishes to call you daughter, Susan,’ Sophia persisted gently. ‘He was very much involved with the purchase of this house for you, though the rector got most of the credit. And Selina would be your friend if you’d let her. As for Mrs Calthorpe and – and Osmond – I suspect it is but shame for past unkindness that holds them back.’

‘And ’tis anger t’wards them as holds
me
back,’ retorted Susan bitterly. ‘I ha’ nothing to say to Osmond Calthorpe, nor his mother, nor that china doll he married after my sister died holding your Henry’s hand. No, Sophy, my poor Polly’ll stand between me and them f’r ever.’

She gripped her hands around the wooden handles of her sewing bag until the knuckles showed white, and Sophia glimpsed the pain as well as the anger.

‘All right, Susan, forgive me. I pray that you may find peace one day, for Edward’s sake.’

‘Poor Edward ha’ been set free from a marriage that was never meant to be, and brought him only sorrow and disappointment,’ muttered Susan half under her breath, but Sophia heard in shocked astonishment.

‘
Susan!
How can you say such a thing? If ever a man loved the wife of his choice—’

‘Please, Sophy, don’t speak o’ what ye don’t know,’ begged Susan, her eyes darkened by long-hidden anguish. ‘Ye’re dear to me, as well ye know, and I’m truly pleased f’r ye – but there’s some things as can’t ever be told.’

She picked up Kitty and sat her on her lap, pointing to the tabby cat who had just appeared with her two kittens. Sophia sighed, wondering if her friend’s imagination had become somewhat unbalanced by the long strain of waiting, hoping and praying for news that never came. Sophia longed to comfort her, but sensed something darker beneath the surface of the words, a warning not to pursue the matter.

The silence was broken by the sound of a horse’s step and a cheery male voice at the gate.

‘A charming group, indeed! Am I allowed to join in women’s talk?’

‘Dr Parnham!’ There was no mistaking Susan’s welcome and the immediate brightening of her features as she rose to greet the eminent man like an old and trusted friend. He drew up a chair and chucked Kitty under the chin.

‘Good news, Trotula. I’ve got young Jinny settled at last, and it’s a good place.’

Susan clapped her hands. ‘Oh, Dr Parnham, I’m so glad to hear o’ that!’

‘Aye, and so am I, for she nearly drove away my cook, and none of the maids would speak to me because they were woken every night by the Little Monkey hollering while Jinny slept. I tell you, madam, I had come close to drowning them both.’

‘Oh, enough o’ y’r nonsense, sir – tell me where she is now.’

Susan’s face was completely transformed from the wretchedness of only minutes ago. What a blessing her work was, she thought gratefully, and the pleasure of talking with one who shared her interest in it.

‘Very well, madam, I will tell you. She is doing good service to a pair of hungry twins who would otherwise go unfed, for their mother lies low with childbed fever and the father is at his wits’ end. Our Jinny now site in splendid state, lacking no comfort while the babies suck their fill, along with the Monkey. I only hope that there is no truth in the old belief that children suck wisdom from the teats.’

Susan laughed. ‘And does she also care for the babies, sir?’

‘No, indeed! I had to place my cards on the table with the husband, as it were, and tell him that the girl has no great intellect, so his mother-in-law is caring for their other needs. The man’s a Belhampton hatmaker of fair means, and as long as Jinny can be milked, her place in his household is assured, whatever the poor wretch’s long-term prospects may be. But enough of her – how is it with you, Madam Trotula? I trust your practice is flourishing?’

‘Enough to need an assistant, sir, and I’m teaching Mrs Decker the basic rules o’ the birth-chamber. I think she’ll be a quick learner and a careful midwife.

‘And yet I see so little of you,’ he said with mild reproach. ‘You never send for me these days.’

‘There haven’t been that many cases o’ difficulty, sir, none that I can’t deal with myself.’

‘Ah, my Trotula, you have grown so clever that I shall soon be sending to
you
for advice, I dare say,’ he said with a mock sigh, and Susan smiled.

His tenderness of expression was not lost on Miss Glover as she watched and listened; neither was Susan’s ease of manner in his company. By the time he got up to leave, Miss Glover was certain that his emotions were involved, and equally certain that Susan was unaware of it. He shook hands with them both and congratulated Sophia upon her daily expectations of seeing Lieutenant Hansford, and the good news of an approaching end to hostilities. Sophia could not help speculating about the future, and wondering if in the course of time the good doctor might propose marriage to a young midwife nearly thirty years his junior; but she quickly checked these thoughts and chided herself for encroaching on the province of the Almighty.

‘Dr Parnham has shown himself to be a true friend to you, Susan,’ she remarked when he had gone.

‘’Tis true that I wouldn’t be where I am if ’twasn’t f’r his defence o’ me,’ agreed Susan. ‘But think, Sophy, who was it took me to Belhampton in the first place, to meet him? Who asked him to train me up f’r a licence? Who was it?’

And they both smiled at the remembrance of that journey with Mr Turnbull, when Sophia had wept at the thought of Susan imprisoned in the House of Industry, under the same roof as poor Mad Doll.

Henry appeared in Beversley at the beginning of July, and to his great surprise found himself a hero, Admiral Rodney’s representative in his own home village. The squire’s eldest son had always been liked, from boyhood through to joining the navy, where his adventures had been eagerly followed. Now his popularity was even greater, and everybody wanted to shake the hand of the naval officer who looked older than his twenty-eight years but retained the friendly, open manner that had always been his chief attraction.

His romantic attachments had also provided much interest, and his choice of Sophia Glover was generally approved. She had never looked more radiant than now. Her many friends rejoiced with the future daughter-in-law of the squire, and she was seen driving out in the Hansford chaise with Mrs Hansford and Mrs Osmond Calthorpe. Her friendship with the elder Miss Calthorpe conveniently paved the way towards her acceptance by Mrs Gertrude Calthorpe and Caroline, and Sophia responded with the ready graciousness of a woman deeply in love; her heart was overflowing with joy, and there was no room for malice.

‘The squire expects us to move into the farmhouse as soon as we are married,’ she confided to Susan one day at Glover Cottage. ‘But Henry knows that I want us to spend our first few years in this dear house.’

She looked fondly around at the home she had bought with her grandfather’s bequest fourteen years previously, and Susan thought of all who had passed through its door and found a place of refuge – Mrs Coulter in her infirmity, and many a disgraced maidservant like poor Polly, who had died under its roof.

The people of Beversley took the couple to their hearts during those unforgettable summer days. Henry and his bride-to-be were invited to tea-parties, dinners and picnics, and Great St Giles was once again packed to capacity for Divine Service, because Lieutenant Hansford could be seen in the family pew; afterwards the men of the choir seized him bodily and carried him shoulder high in a triumphant procession while he laughed and protested. His sister Mrs Osmond Calthorpe added her smiles, and Henry was glad to see her apparently happy in her new life; Osmond now limped round the Bever estate daily, with or without his father, and Mr Calthorpe made no secret of his hopes that a new generation of Calthorpe children would enliven Bever House.

Henry announced that he would exchange the navy for the more settled life of a gentleman farmer, and the squire looked forward to handing over the management of the Hansford acres, the orchard and piggeries to his elder son. William, now eighteen, worked in the offices of the
Hampshire Chronicle
at Winchester, though, like his brother, he planned eventually to share their father’s involvement with the Bench of Justices and Board of Guardians. Beversley now looked to Henry as the future squire, a keeper of law and order, and who better than Miss Sophia Glover at his side? It was pronounced a perfect partnership.

There was much speculation about when the wedding would be. Sophia’s bright smiles promised an early date before the summer’s end, but to everybody’s dismay Henry was recalled to Portsmouth at the beginning of August, to take part in one more naval engagement. The besieged and blockaded fortress of Gibraltar was in desperate need of relief, and Lord Howe was preparing for a tremendous onslaught on the combined French and Spanish forces to smash the siege once and for all. It would be another boost to national prestige, and secure for Britain a better bargaining position when drawing up a peace treaty with her old European foes.