Mr Cavell's Diamond (5 page)

Chapter 4 – May-June 1829

Ca
roline

A week after the wedding, Caroline put on her best dress and bonnet, and went to visit her mother for the first time as a married woman. She walked briskly along Marine Parade, her head held even higher than usual.

As she approached her mother’s house, a neighbour
’s door opened and a woman came out onto the doorstep, her arms folded over a dirty apron.

‘
If it ain’t Miss Caroline Simpson. How do you like living in that grand house on the sea front, then? How many servants you got? Come on, tell us all the details!’ The woman came close to Caroline and tugged on her arm.

Caroline pushed her away in disgust.
‘Leave off me. You’ll soil my best gown.’

The woman
sniffed. ‘You too good for the likes of us now, then? You want me to come and scrub your Ma’s doorstep, afore you dirties your hem on it? Or should I just lay meself down on it for you to walk over?’ She turned her back and flounced back into her own house, though Caroline knew she’d be watching from her front window.

Inside her mother’s kitchen, Caroline moved a pile of washing off an armchair and sat herself down beside the fireplace.

‘You mind that washing, it’s clean!’ said Ann. ‘Give it here, I’ll put it on the table. So, how’s married life then? Got what you wanted now, haven’t you? Big house, fine gentleman husband, servants at your beck and call. Though I don’t rate your cook much. That onion soup she served us up on the wedding day weren’t nothing compared with my nice hearty turnip soup. You’ll have to trot down to the kitchen and give her some lessons, my girl!’ She threw her head back and laughed. ‘That’s a funny thought – my Caroline showing someone how to cook!’

‘
Stop it, Ma,’ said Caroline. ‘That soup was a
French
recipe. Probably just too refined for you.’ She hadn’t liked it either but was not going to admit that to her mother.

‘
Well, tell your cook to make honest English food next time I’m in the house, won’t you?’ Ann shook out a sheet and threw one end of it into Caroline’s lap. ‘Here, help me fold this.’

Caroline brushed the sheet off and on to the floor.
‘I’m not your skivvy, Ma! Fold your own sheets, or get one of my sisters to help you. I’m a lady now. I don’t
fold sheets
! Ugh. And what makes you think you’ll get another invitation to dinner? We’ll be inviting only the very
best
people from now on.’

Ann sighed, and pursed her lips.
‘I knew this would happen. You’re not five minutes gone from this house and already you think you’re better than you are. But you’ll never be his class, you know. His friends and family, the
best
people you’re so fond of, won’t accept you into their society, and you’re more simple than I thought you were if you believe otherwise.’ She bent and picked up the sheet, brushing off the dust it had acquired from the floor.

Damn her mother. She’d put her finger right on Caroline’s greatest fear. She raised her chin defiantly.
‘Don’t fret, Ma. They’ll accept me. Henry says they’ll all love me. He says, how could they
not
love me?’

‘
Well, we shall see,’ replied Ann.

There was a cry from above. Caroline looked towards the door.
‘That’s Franny. Bring her down, Ma, I’d like to see her.’

Ann dumped the sheet on the table.
‘You could get her yourself, madam. And when are you going to take her to your new home? You said you would, once you had your rich gentleman tied down.’

‘
Soon, Ma, soon.’ Caroline watched her mother leave the room to fetch Frances. Her hands were shaking. Since marrying Henry she had missed the child more than she thought possible. She would never have come home to visit just her mother, but the thought of Franny had drawn her back here. She’d been sorry not to find the little girl toddling around in the kitchen, or playing in the backyard.

She got up and walked around the room, turning her nose up at the scarred and stained tabletop, the washed-out curtains, the jumble of chipped crockery on a shelf.
The room smelt of cold cabbage, no doubt that had been part of yesterday’s evening meal. She’d only been gone a week but already the cottage appeared shabby and cluttered. How quickly one could get used to a smart house, with shiny new furniture! How easy it was to slip into the role of the lady of the house, and have servants do your bidding! She smiled to herself. It was as if she was born to it, as though she was
meant
to rise above her origins, and move into a better class.

She would have to sever all links with her family, that was clear. When they moved to the
London townhouse for the Season, she would need to think up a story to explain her lack of family.

But she couldn’t drop her birth family just yet. Not until little Franny was safely living with her, in the Marine Parade house.

Franny. Her arms ached to hold the child again. Why was her mother taking so long to fetch her from upstairs?

At last the kitchen door swung open and Ann entered, carrying
Frances. ‘Here she is, the little madam. She’d soiled herself, so I had to clean and change her before bringing her down. You’d not have wanted to spoil your fine dress, eh my lady?’

Caroline held out her arms, and took the little girl. She buried her face in the child’s hair, and kissed her.
‘Well, my sweet Franny, and how are you today? Have you missed me?’

‘
Want to get down,’ said Frances, struggling in Caroline’s arms. Caroline kissed her and gave in. Instantly the child ran to the cold hearth and began poking in the ashes.

Ann stepped over and slapped her.
‘Don’t you mess up your clean smock, child! And your fine
aunty
over there won’t want you near her with dirty hands.’

‘
Don’t slap her, Ma. She’s just playing. She’ll soon learn her manners when she comes to live with Mr Cavell and me. Come here, pet.’ She picked up a cloth from the pile of washing on the table, and wiped Franny’s hands.

‘
For goodness sake, not with my best bolster case!’ Ann snatched the linen from Caroline’s hand and tutted over the ashy fingerprints on it. ‘You didn’t answer, my girl. When will you take Franny away to
learn her manners
, as you put it? And just how are you going to get your fine gentleman to agree to take in a bastard working-class child? Are you going to tell him exactly whose child she really is?’

‘
I have a plan, Ma,’ said Caroline, as she got up to leave. She was feeling irritated by her mother’s presence, even though she longed to stay and play with Frances. ‘Have patience. And you’d better stay away from my house in the meantime.’

‘
Oh ho,
your
house is it now?’ said Ann, her hands planted firmly on her hips. ‘You may have a ring on your finger now, but the house belongs to Mr Cavell, as do you, and once he’s tired of you, married or no, he’ll be rid of you, mark my words.’

Caroline sighed as she bent to kiss Franny goodbye.
‘You said that before, Ma. You didn’t believe he would marry me but he has. And he’ll take Franny. You mark
my
words. Bye bye, little pumpkin. I will come and see you next week, and I’ll bring you a new dolly to play with. How will you like that?’

‘
Dolly, dolly!’ squealed Franny. She ran over to Caroline and began searching through her skirts for the gift.

Caroline caught her up and spun her around, for once not caring about any damage to her clothes.
‘No dolly now, darling. I’ll bring it next time, I promise!’ She kissed the little girl, squeezed her, and reluctantly put her down. ‘I must go now, Franny. Be good for Grandma.’

‘
Don’t disappoint us,’ said Ann as she saw Caroline to the door. ‘Don’t let the child down. Or me.’

Caroline raised her eyebrows indignantly.
‘Have I ever?’ She stepped into the street and pulled the door closed behind her, instantly feeling the tug of separation from Franny.

She took a deep breath, raised her head and set off down the street towards the beach.
The neighbour’s curtains twitched as she walked past. Caroline smiled to herself. It was only four months since she had first walked this route to the house on Marine Parade, but how different things were now! And once her plan had worked out, she would never again need to set foot in the squalid little house on High Street. With luck, she would never again set foot in Worthing itself. The London life of a lady of society beckoned.

Jemima

We have had a Mistress for a week now and although Mrs Smith grumbles I do believe she is getting used to the idea and she won’t be off looking for another place just yet. I was bold enough to say to her that she mayn’t find such an easy job in such a lovely situation as this. Mrs Smith said she hates the beach and the sand gets everywhere, specially when Sultan comes in from his walks, and the sweeping is endless. I bit my tongue rather than remind her that tis I who does all the sweeping up of sand and I don’t mind it a little bit. I do think Mrs Smith likes to grumble a bit, and I don’t mind listening to her do it, so long as she doesn’t grumble about me.

An odd thing happened this morning which I must think through and
work out whether it means anything or nothing. I was in the Master and Mistress’s bedroom, clearing up. There were clothes strewn all over the floor – they were the Mistress’s clothes and I think as she may have had a hard time choosing what to wear this morning. I have heard her complain to the Master that perhaps she should have a lady’s maid to help her dress. And he reminded her she managed to dress herself all these years and what has changed now, but if she wanted help perhaps the quiet young maid (by which he meant me) could be trained up to take on the extra job. The Mistress scowled at that for she thinks I am not good enough – I clean the grates and scrub the pots in the kitchen so how could I be trusted to handle her beautiful gowns?

And this is what I
was thinking to myself as I picked up those beautiful gowns which she had left on the floor to be trampled upon.

I tid
ied too the dressing table which was dusted with her powder and hairs from her head and all manner of pots of creams and lotions. When this was just the Master’s room it took me no time at all to tidy in here but now it takes me a good while to put everything straight as it should be.

There was a clean lace handkerchief in the middle of all the muddle and I picked it up and dusted it off, and thought if it were put away now it would not need to be washed. The top drawer I thought is where the handkerchiefs go, so I opened it, but things have been moved about and it was not the right place. So I had to open another drawer, and another, and it was in the third one that I found it. Not the pile of clean handkerchiefs I was looking for, but a little velvet pouch, its drawstring open. I picked it up to pull tight the string so it wouldn’t lose its contents but
what was in it fell out back into the drawer. It was a jewel – a diamond I suppose though I haven’t ever seen one before so I wouldn’t know for sure. It was the size of the last joint of my little finger, and cut so it sparkled in the light, all the colours of the rainbow were inside it.

The words of the
fortune-teller up at Cissbury Ring rushed into my head.
Take the jewel when it is offered to you
, she said.
Take the jewel.
Was this the jewel she meant? Was I supposed to take it now, tuck it into my apron pocket, hide it in my room? It didn’t seem right, but if you go against the words of a fortune-teller who knew what might happen to you? I was frightened and I felt my heart pounding, until I thought again on her words,
take the jewel when it is offered to you.
Well, no one was
offering
me the jewel, were they, so it was not the right time and maybe not the right jewel. I put it back in its bag and pulled the string up tight, and tucked it back into the drawer which was not the right one for the handkerchief at all.

And that is what happened, and I did not take the jewel. I am sure the Master must mean to keep it to give to the Mistress on a special occasion, perhaps an anniversary or if they are blessed with a child.

Caroline

Caroline had rarely seen so much food on one table, and all of it just for the two of them. Roast partridges, pork pies, quails’ eggs in jelly, braised spring cabbage, new potatoes, a pheasant stew, tender asparagus spears and sweet new season onions. Her Ma would have made this amount of food feed her large family for a week or more.

She picked delicately at a morsel of pie. It was delicious – the
cook had done a good job. Henry smiled indulgently at her as she reached for more vegetables.

‘
Let the maid serve you with those, my love,’ he said. Caroline blushed. She still could not get used to being waited on. But she was enjoying becoming used to it.

Henry filled her wine glass and raised his in a toast.
‘To us. And to our unborn child.’

Caroline coughed, blushed and raised her glass.
‘Happy Birthday, dear Henry. I feel I should have bought you a gift, but I’ve been so…’

She broke off, a bell clanged in the hallway announcing the arrival of a visitor. The maid left the dining room to answer it.

Henry reached for her hand across the table. ‘I want for nothing, my love, now that I have you, and the promise of a large family in time–’

He was interrupted by t
he door bursting open and the little maid running in, looking flustered. ‘Sorry, sir, ma’am, but it’s the mistress’s mother. She is at the door and frantic.’

Caroline scowled. What on earth was her mother thinking of, barging in on them during the dinner hour?

‘Show her in,’ said Henry, rising to his feet. But she was already in, pushing past the maid into the dining room.

‘
Caroline, you must come quickly. It’s little Franny, she’s been taken poorly. The doctor is out at a birthing, and poor Franny, well, she just needs her–’

Caroline glared at her mother and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Just in time Mrs
Simpson stopped herself from finishing the sentence.

‘
Who is Franny?’ asked Henry.

‘
She’s my niece,’ said Caroline quickly. ‘She’s very attached to me. Henry, I am so sorry, but I think I must go with my mother and see if there is anything I can do for her.’ Her heart was thumping hard. If anything should happen to Franny…

‘
Of course,’ said Henry, ‘you must go to her. I am touched that you care so much for your niece. I shall send for my own doctor to attend her as well.’

‘
Thank you, sir, that’s very kind of you,’ said Mrs Simpson. ‘I am so sorry to disturb your dinner.’

‘
Come, Ma,’ said Caroline. ‘There’s no time to waste. Get my bonnet,’ she said to the maid.

‘
How bad is she?’ she asked her mother, when they were safely outside and hurrying along the seafront.

‘
She has a fever, and can’t keep anything down. And she keeps moaning and calling for you. I had to fetch you.’ Mrs Simpson looked sideways at her daughter. ‘You have not mentioned her to him yet, then?’

‘
Not yet. I told you, I must pick the right moment. And I know when that will be, believe me,’ said Caroline impatiently. As long as her mother didn’t let on who Franny really was in the meantime, her plan would work, she was sure.

When they arrived at the cottage on High Street, Caroline rushed straight upstairs to
Franny’s cot under the eaves in Caroline’s old room. The little girl was hot and clammy, moaning and twisting about in her sleep. Caroline immediately took a seat at her side, whispering words of comfort and sponging her brow with a cool damp cloth. She was pleased to see Franny quickly become calmer, and fall into a more restful sleep.

The doctor, when he came, prescribed sugared water and bed rest and left within two minutes of his arrival.

‘I could have prescribed that myself,’ sniffed Caroline. ‘She’s better already, Ma. I should get back to my husband.’

‘
I thought you might stay the night here, in case she takes a turn for the worse. You don’t care about the poor wee thing, do you?’

‘
That’s not fair, Ma. You know I care more about her than anyone. But I have a husband and a house now. It wouldn’t be right to spend the night away on account of a niece, so soon after getting wed. It would look odd, especially as the fever is easing now. I’ll come back tomorrow. With a basket of cakes to tempt her appetite.’ Like the lady of the manor visiting the poor and dispensing charity, she thought. The vision pleased her. She put on her bonnet and prepared to leave. ‘Oh, but it is quite dark outside now! I cannot walk back alone,’ she said in dismay.

‘
Well I can’t go with you, and your father and brothers are all out,’ said Ann. ‘So you’ll have to walk alone.’

‘
I’ll call a cab,’ said Caroline. ‘Fetch the lad from next door, tell him to run out and find me one.’

‘
My, you have gone up in the world,’ said Mrs Simpson, shaking her head. ‘Too good to walk home or even find your own cab. Well, good luck to you. Go and talk to the lad yourself. I’m off to my own bed now that Franny is settled.’

With a scowl, Caroline left the house and slammed the door. She decided to walk back to Marine Parade anyway. She wasn’t quite sure how best to hail a cab, or whether it was the correct thing for a lady to travel in one alone in any case. Besides, it was a warm, still night and pleasant to walk along the beach, listening to the gentle lapping of the waves, while reflecting on her good fortune to have secured herself such a rich and well-connected husband.

Henry was waiting for her when she returned. ‘I thought you might spend the night at your mother’s,’ he said. ‘But I’m glad you’ve come home. Is the little girl all right?’

Caroline wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest.
‘The doctor says she’s very poorly but will survive,’ she said, squeezing out a few tears for his benefit. ‘But I couldn’t stay away from you, my love. I will rise early and go back to see her first thing in the morning.’

Henry kissed the top of her head.
‘You are so caring, sweet Caroline. You will make such a good mother to our own child.’ He patted her midriff. ‘I am looking forward so much to meeting him.’

Caroline bit her lip. She had some difficult times ahead, before she had everything just the way she wanted it. But she was sure it would all work out as she intended.