A Woman Undefeated (39 page)

“My dear Mr Arlington, if only that could be true. And these bounty vouchers, what are they? How are they going to work?”

Maggie had to move away quickly then, as she could hear Alice walking to the kitchen door. So, Mr Arlington had big plans for her little company? She didn’t know whether to jump for joy, or to sit herself down and cry.

Maggie tried to voice her concerns, as she and Betty waited for the stagecoach to take them on their trip to Chester the following Monday. Alice had agreed to have Mikey for the whole day, though she couldn’t understand why a woman of Miss Rosemary’s importance should want to take Maggie. Surely the dressmaker would have business affairs to attend to and she would be in the way?

“Well, my dear, you should be pleased that we have found such a gem to help us with our business,” Betty said, when she had been told what Maggie had overheard. “You say he has plans to develop the property side? That is wonderful.......! What is the matter with you today?”

Betty peered at the girl, as she stood beside her, because Maggie was frowning and looking close to tears.

“Oh, for heavens sake. I’m not going to put up with you in this mood all day. Cheer up or I am going to leave you behind.”

Her waspish words, said in aggravation, caught the attention of the little queue that had formed behind them. Curious faces looked at the dressmaker and her assistant and the two women nearest pricked up their ears.

“I’m sorry, Miss Rosemary, I’m not feelin’ very well.”

She made sure her voice was loud enough for all of them to hear her words, then she began to talk in a whisper, so no one else could hear.

“It’s that Mr Arlington. It’s his manner. He’s goin’ to take over
everything. You’d think he owned the business, the way he was talkin’ te Mr Peel. Even said he could have a job himself, if the company got big enough. It just, well, annoys me!”

“Maggie,” replied Betty, her voice pitched high enough for only Maggie to hear.

“You are suffering from what they call frustration. I have had it often over the years. You know that, should we put our minds to it, we could equally do the job as well as Mr Arlington, but as I have told you, we live in a man’s world and he is the man who can open all the doors. Imagine if you went to a large department store in Liverpool and put the plan of accepting bounty vouchers from their poorer customers. They would not even discuss it with you. You would be shown the door. I have had big problems in the past being taken seriously, especially when I wanted to buy a row of cottages. I had to rely on the bank’s agent to complete the sale. Now, let’s see a smile on your face and let us look forward to our day out together, and when we sit in the coach, just talk about day to day things, or everyone around will know of our business.”

The black and yellow painted stagecoach arrived outside the Brown Horse and a scarlet coated guard got off his perch.

“Coach fer Chester, coach fer Chester. Four travelling inside, twelve on the top!”

He walked over to where Betty and Maggie stood, looked them both up and down and said, “Inside fer you, Madam, and on top fer yer servant? This way.”

There seemed to be a collective intake of breath behind them, as everyone waited to hear what Miss Rosemary would say. But she smiled sweetly at him and said, “My companion is travelling inside the coach with me. Would you be so kind as to assist us both, young man?”

So, now everyone knew that Maggie Haines, the Irish immigrant widow girl, was the dressmaker’s companion. That would be an interesting piece of gossip for everyone to tell!

They were helped into the shiny black and yellow painted road coach, along with two middle aged women, then a wooden folding
ladder was erected, so that the roof top passengers could climb aboard. Whistling cheerfully, the guard began to collect the money for their passage. Two shillings for the comfort of travelling inside and one and sixpence, for an outside return.

He offered to take Miss Rosemary’s valise and strap it into one of the luggage nets, provided between the roof seats. Of course, she declined. In it was a large amount of money, as she hadn’t visited the bank in Chester for a while.

Maggie sat back and surveyed her travelling companions, as they settled down and waited for the coach to start. She was startled when a horn was blown by the guard, to say that the journey had begun. It then hit her that she had never travelled in a passenger coach before. Here she was, riding in style, instead of walking, and sitting by the side of an elegant, gracious lady too. Betty had dressed very carefully in a smart outfit of cream and lavender, and a matching poke bonnet, with lavender ribbons under her chin.

The women who sat opposite were not known to either Maggie or Betty. The fact that they were not patrons of Miss Rosemary’s establishment was plain for them both to see. They looked like little brown sparrows, dowdily dressed in nondescript outfits, black laced boots, and with plain straw bonnets upon their heads. They only spoke to say good morning and to remark on the weather, which had turned out fine.

The coach circled Neston Cross, then began to climb the incline up Liverpool Road. Maggie looked out upon the passing view, tracts of farmland, arable and grazing, a little thatched cottage or a farmhouse, at occasional intervals along the rutted road.

The two grey horses strained and pulled, snorted and puffed, as the driver used his whip in an effort to get them to pull the carriage and its full load of passengers up the steep hill. With the track being dry and dusty, it was a daunting task and the horses must have been deeply thankful to arrive on the flat of the Chester High Road, a track well worn by the passage of time, as it was the main highway that bounded the small villages of Thurstaston, Heswall and Gayton nearby. Betty said it would be about an hour
to their destination, as it was only fifteen miles away.

Maggie sat back in her seat and took the time to daydream, mostly about all of the things that Betty had said they were going to do that day. She had told Maggie that the city of Chester had been built by the Romans and, when the girl had looked at her blankly, she explained that there had been a Roman empire far away, over a thousand years ago. They were conquerors, who liked to leave their own land and set up cities far and wide. There were many such cities in England, but Chester still had the walls round it that the Romans had built to keep the marauding Welsh and Saxons out.

The main street names all had “gate” on the end. Northgate, Eastgate, Westgate, Southgate because that was where the soldiers stood, to let people come in or out. Maggie had been fascinated at the story and couldn’t wait to see the place, especially as the River Dee, the estuary that she could see from her window at Seagull Cottage, also flowed around the city of Chester. Such a lot to do, such a lot to see, Maggie wondered if there would be time, because the return coach was to leave at four. There was the bank to visit, the solicitor, the fabric house and furniture shop, and that was beside the sight seeing that they had planned to do. Betty had said that if they ran out of time, they could always come again, perhaps on a Wednesday or a Saturday next time, as that was when the market was held and country people came in to sell their wares.

Before too long, the coach had arrived in Chester, where Maggie looked at the black and white half timbered structures on the very old buildings with interest. Betty told her that the city’s streets were soon to be lit by something called gas light.

The coach stopped outside the imposing cathedral, built on the site of a medieval abbey called St. Werburgh’s, Betty said. The guard climbed down from the roof top and helped the women get down, telling them that they must be back by four o’clock, as the coach wouldn’t hang about past then.

They walked for a few minutes, until they came to the Chester Bank, situated on Watergate Row. Betty told Maggie to let her do
the talking when they met Mr. Hughes, the manager. He was very important and he only dealt with Miss Rosemary because she had a thriving bank account. Maggie wished then that she wasn’t still wearing her dowdy widow’s weeds. She should have gone to the shop before they started and put on the grand pearly grey dress that she had been working on.

Her heart began to beat fast and furiously as they entered the portals of that grandiose place, with its marble floors and wooden beams and clerks sitting behind a brown wooden counter in official black suits.

“Miss Rosemary.” The grand personage himself came over to greet them, bearing down upon them like a strong dray horse that Maggie had seen in the street.

“Good morning to you, dear lady, and what a pleasant morning it is for seeing the sight of you. Richards, come and take Miss Rosemary’s valise from her. It looks too heavy for a lady to be carrying. You look as if you could be carried off in a puff of wind! Ah, this will be the friend that you were telling me about on your last visit? Mrs Haines, I seem to remember? Welcome, Madam. Now do come along with me to my office, ladies. Richards, bring the bag in here, then bring in three cups of tea.”

They were taken to a side room, where the manager sat them down on comfortable straight back chairs. When Richards, his clerk, arrived with the tea, he was told to count the contents of the valise in an outer office and bring the receipt back in.

“So, ladies, how can I help you this fine and lovely morning?” Mr. Hughes boomed. “Was your journey an agreeable one? Did the coach arrive on time?”

He sat back at his desk, pleasantries over with, listening attentively while Betty told him of her plans for the enlargement of the Sheldon Loan company. Soon to be known as the Sheldon Loan and Property Company. During this time, Maggie just sat back and watched the proceedings, studying the manager’s florid face, his bushy ginger side burns, his fair wavy hair and his long tapered fingers, with no dirt under the nails. She also noted the
silver ink wells and leather bound blotting paper pad that were sitting in magnificent opulence on his grand mahogany desk.

“Does Mrs Haines understand that though she will be partner in the new company, she will not be a signatory, until she is twenty one?”

Ooops, they were talking about Maggie, but had she been listening to anything they’d said? Betty tutted in annoyance and scolded,

“Maggie, this is no time for you to be daydreaming, did you not hear what Mr Hughes said about being a signatory?”

“I’m sorry, yes, I know you told me that this may happen, but I will still get ter be asked about things, won’t I? Yer wouldn’t go ahead and do things without asking me?”

Maggie certainly didn’t have a head for business at that time.

“Of course I wouldn’t, Maggie”, Betty replied sharply, sending her eyebrows skyward, as if to say to Mr Hughes that this is what their partnership was all about!

“Then, if Mrs Haines and yourself, good lady, are in agreement, I will have an account opened in the name of the Sheldon Loan and Property Company. Proprietors Miss Anne Rosemary and Mrs Margaret Haines.”

“I think in this case I should be signing my real name, Mr Hughes. As you know it is Miss Elizabeth Brown. There will be new documents to be signed at the solicitor’s and Anne Rosemary is only my trading name.”

Maggie looked in surprise at Betty and paid attention. She had known her all that time and thought her name to be Elizabeth Rosemary, Betty for short. Perhaps this was going to be a day of learning many things!

“Then next time you visit our premises, a cheque book will be waiting for you,” Mr Hughes was saying. “Ah, here is Richards with your deposit receipt and valise. May I wish you two ladies all the success in your new venture, and thank you for using the Chester Bank.”

He saw them off the premises and Betty stood uncertainly for a moment, clutching the empty valise to her chest.

“I think we will visit the solicitor next, Maggie. If there are papers to be drawn up, we can get them done this morning and they might have them ready by the afternoon. Charming man, the bank manager, wasn’t he? I have known him now for thirty odd years, when he came to the bank as a clerk at the start of his career.”

Maggie didn’t reply to that. He had scared her greatly with his pomposity.

They walked a little further on, until they came to a red stone building. On the ground floor there was a tailor, and within it was a set of stairs. They climbed to the first floor, where, barring their way, was a green painted half glass door. On the outside, etched in small gold letters were the words “Hawkins and Harrison, Solicitors”.

A young clerk sat at a desk, writing in a large brown ledger. As the two women entered the room, he looked up from the ledger and asked how he could help them?

“Yes, my name is Miss Elizabeth Brown and this is Mrs Haines. Is it possible to see Mr Hawkins? He is my solicitor.”

“I’ll see if he’s free.” The young man disappeared through another doorway.

“Mr Hawkins will be free for the next fifteen minutes, Madam, if you would like to step this way.”

Maggie was taken aback by this behaviour. At the bank they had been greeted at the door by someone of importance, not a boy of lowly rank!