The Wet Nurse's Tale (30 page)

We were quiet for a moment and then Lily said, “No, it is the letter.”

We all looked at her. “How do you know, girl?” said Mrs. McCullough. “Are you able to read it?”

“Yes, I can read,” she said. “I read it the day she got it.”

We all looked at each other. I wished to slap her very hard which I think Carrie could see. “Lily,” said Carrie, “will you tell us what it said, then, for we are most curious.”

“Oh,” said the stupid girl, looking down her snub nose at us. I made up my mind there and then: if a girl as stupid as that could learn how to read, then I could too. “It was from her husband, you know.”

“And what did it say?” repeated Carrie with more patience than I will ever have.

“Mr. Norval said that he would return in July and that he yearned to see his dear wife holding a sweet baby. He said—I remember these words because they were so pretty—he expected she was the perfect picture of motherhood. Is that not pretty?” Lily smiled at us and took a sip of her tea. I had watched her sugar it: there were four spoons of sugar in that one cup.

“Is that all?” asked Mrs. McCullough.

“The whole letter was like that,” said Lily. “All about how he wished only to see Madam and the baby together and how darling he thought it would be. It was all like that.”

We were all of us quiet for a minute til Mrs. McCullough’s girl said, “Strange is as strange does,” and then we all laughed. But I pondered on it. That’s why the lady was wanting more to do with Davey. She was preparing to be her husband’s mother-wife, just as dear as ever he could have wished.

I had returned to Davey’s room to watch him when I heard steps in the hall and then a knock at my door. “Susan,” said Lydia, putting her head in the door. Her eyes were wide. “Mr. Brooks wants you. He sits in the parlor.” My heart beat in my chest. Would he let me go for having taken the baby out in such weather? Would he let me explain or would he just dismiss me?

I knocked on the parlor door and walked in. We were alone, he and I.

“It is Susan Rose, I believe?” he said when I walked in.

“Susan, sir,” said I. “Mrs. Norval prefers to use both my names as if it was one.”

“Ah.” He looked friendly enough. “Do sit down, Susan. To be honest, this is delicate, what I have to say to you.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, and then, “Begging your pardon, sir, but the lady?”

“My sister is fine,” he said. “Her maid has brought her upstairs to rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

“May we speak plainly, Susan?” said Mr. Brooks. “This is, as I said, a delicate thing.”

“As you like, sir.”

“I fear that Mrs. Norval may not be . . . altogether well. She suffers a great deal from nerves, as I am sure you know.”

“Yes, sir. She is . . .” Then I thought to stop speaking.

“Do go ahead, please,” said he and when I looked up at him I saw that he was indeed worried and that he desired what counsel he could come by, even if it were from a servant.

“If you please, sir,” I said, “Mrs. Norval is nervous, to be sure, but mainly we here, we servants, can make her quite . . . comfortable.” I catched his eye as I said it and saw that he and I knew what the other was about. It was not her comfort, not entirely, that he worried on. He hoped that she was presentable, as much as comfortable, and I knew it.

I did not think that Mr. Brooks was in any way a bad man. He did not seem to me to be one of those who would like their relative to be locked away in a place. He did desire her to have as pleasant a life as she could, I reckoned. But he was as anyone would be in his shoes: afraid for what she might do, afraid for how she might seem when she walked out in public. He required us servants to do much for him. He needed us to do what he could not do for himself.

“You needn’t worry overmuch, sir,” said I, “for we do our best for Mrs. Norval and generally, she is glad at home.”

“But today!” he exclaimed. “The baby must have suffered.”

“Yes,” I said, “it was quite a fright. But most times I can control her so that she is happy enough.”

“Control her,” he repeated. I closed my eyes with what I had just said to him, for I could think of nothing else to do.

“Is she that bad then?” he said in such a small voice that I opened my eyes back up and looked at him again. He was shrunk into his chair and so sad that I leaned forward in my own.

“Sir?” said I.

“It’s just that she was so lively as a girl. I hate to see her this way.”

I said nothing.

“How bad is it then?” he said.

“It’s not so very bad,” I said as gently as I could. “She is like a little girl, very often, and likes to have her way, but it is nothing too terrible. Between us servants we see to her. She does not perhaps eat as much as she should, but that is not,” I said quickly, “because Mrs. McCullough’s cooking has anything wrong with it, no indeed, sir.”

“No, I know, Susan, and you needn’t worry. I am grateful to you for . . . seeing to her.”

“She is a good lady,” I said. “And we all think so.”

“What of today, then?” he said, worried.

“Twas my fault,” I said for I felt that it was. “I should have been firmer with her. But I would not have let anything happen to the child. I had just made up my mind to disobey her, if you please, sir, when you came into the park. I would not have let anything happen to him for I love him as if he were my own.”

“Yes, I can see that,” he said. “He is fortunate to have a nurse such as you.”

He stood up and walked around behind the sofa. I thought it seemed as if now we had got to the important part of the conversation. I kept very quiet.

“Jane has taken to you, I think. She mentioned your name several times as I brought her home and seemed eager to see you when we arrived home. Twas just by wheedling that I managed her into Lily’s care without your attendance.”

“Sir, I would have come!”

“Yes, but I thought you would be with the baby and I did not like to disturb your work.” He looked at me kindly as he said it.

“Yes, sir,” I said slowly, for in truth I was still suffering with the upset of it. “He did need a warming up, but I feel sure there wasn’t no permanent harm done to him.”

“Thank God for it,” he said.

We were both quiet for a minute. Suddenly, he took his head in his hands. “Louisa Bonney is a stupid, meddlesome woman,” I heard him say under his breath. “After what happened before, she should have known better than . . . I believe I will bring her here to see what she’s done.”

“Sir?” I said. “I don’t understand.” I was right astonished to have heard my old mistress’s name though I realized that of course she was his relative, same as she was Mrs. Norval’s, and he would know that the baby had come through her arrangements.

He shook his head at my confusion and smiled a bit. “It is nothing, Susan. Here. I will out with it. I should like to thank you for looking after my sister so well.”

“You needn’t, sir,” I said.

“Please, Susan. I rest easier knowing that she is being well cared for and that the baby is safe.”

I looked at him more sharply than I meant to at that word “safe,” and he stiffened just a bit. I wondered about it but quick looked back down at my hands.

“And, Susan,” said he very low, “I should like to ask you to continue, if you would, to look after my sister. I know that you were not hired to do this work, and so it seems right that you are recompensed for your labors in this regard.” Reader: he handed me a sovereign!

“I will do my very best, sir,” said I, taking the gold piece.

He thanked me again and then I excused myself and went back to my room. Davey was still asleep in his cot. I took him up and brought him to bed with me and he did not waken fully, but settled in to suckle. I worried for a time about Mrs. Norval and whether we could make her be good and what sort of place it was that Davey had been brought to, and then I fell asleep and we both slept til the afternoon.

MISS GARDNER’S REASON

Here I relate a circumstance that occurred so long ago, truly I cannot say that I remember all of it exactly. I will try to recall it as precisely as possible and to be as truthful as I can, though it may cast me in a poor light.

My mother having died in the childbed with me, I was taken by her cousin Lord W___, and raised as a companion to his own daughters. Whilst I was given the same education as those young ladies, yet I was made to wear their castoffs and denied many of the pleasures they enjoyed.

“Laura does not care for picnics. Laura does not care to primp for a party. Laura does not enjoy to ride” was their mantra, and thus I spent many a dull day inside with an even duller book. In truth, I owe them thanks. Without that I was envious, I may never have found the strength to seek what it was I desired—which was all they had that I did not!

I say here, and though it may sound a boast, indeed it is not: I was the most beautiful young woman for many miles. I know it is true for I saw the others. Against their flaxen blandness, I stood alone. My hair was like flame, my eyes large and dark, my nose elegant and aquiline, and my figure slender and tall. It may sound odd to you to hear someone talk thus about their own attributes with what seems like little humility. But I tell you now that I have had a long experience in the field and that I speak from a seat of judgment.

One day when I was about fifteen, I chose to walk in the garden while the young ladies of the family were at a dinner party to which I had not been invited. I came upon a houseguest, a friend of Lord W___’s. He was an older gentleman who had shown me much kindness over the years. We fell to walking together. By the end of our walk, I was no longer a maiden. He had not forced me; I had simply agreed to his heartfelt request.

He took me home with him to London under the guise of wanting to “do something for me,” and do something for me, he certainly did. Having been to the Orient, he was schooled in many exotic ways of love, all of which he taught to me. He delighted in my candor, in my enthusiasm, and indeed, in my natural abilities. He gave me gifts and took me to the theater, and on his arm, I met the great artists of the day. When he died, he left me some money, but also, something more important. He left me his set.

I decided to strike out on business for myself. Always ambitious, I had no interest in luncheons and whist; I preferred to take my fortune and make it larger. My clientele was quite the very best of England’s cream. I saw Paris and Venice and Rome. I lived as I wished and worked when I liked. If I did not like, I knew that the men would wait, as a dog waits for its dinner.

When I found myself with child, I was not entirely displeased. Like many other women, I had felt the draw of motherhood. I certainly had enough money to raise a child and to give it the best of everything. If society proved a problem, I could live in France or even America. Should I later need to marry, for the child’s sake, I saw no reason why that should prove difficult.

What I could not do, of course, was to suckle it. Work such as mine depends on a figure. Mine, even during pregnancy, proved an irresistible draw to whatever gentlemen I wished to see. I knew I could regain my former slimness after the baby came. But suckling a child causes a flaggy bosom which would never do. Therefore, I sought and found a wet nurse, a Mrs. Rose from Leighton who came highly recommended, and I brought my little daughter there. Caroline lived there til she was twelve months old and I found the arrangement very satisfactory.