The Baron & the Clockmaker's Daughter, Page 2

  Chapter 2

  The gate leading to her aunt’s cottage was already standing open, so she went through the opening and up the old brick path to the front door. There was a thatch overhang above it which kept the rain and the sun off. She didn’t know if it had slipped or not, but she had to duck under it slightly to reach the door, which was black. She was here. She’d come all this way and didn’t have any other alternatives at hand. The door was more solid than it looked because her knock was an unsatisfactory thud. She bent and picked up a pebble to try tapping with it and was satisfied with the crisp sound it made.

  “Coming, coming,” she heard a woman’s brisk voice announce, and the door swung open. There stood the proverbial ‘little old lady’. She was dressed in black with a white mop cap on her head and a white apron around her waist. Faith’s attention was then drawn over the woman’s shoulder to another old lady behind her, dressed in a similar fashion. As she took in this imagine, Faith also noticed a smoky grey cat with yellow eyes at her feet rubbing back and forth on her skirt.

  “Yes, my dear? How may we help you? You’re certainly a long way from any other living soul,” the dame stated.

  “Mrs. Florence Warren?” Faith queried.

  “Yes, dear.”

  “I’m your niece, Faith Eversley.”

  “Ooooh my…” The woman brought her hand to her mouth and then said, “If you’re here, then something’s wrong, because your father would never have let you come otherwise.”

  She stood back opening the door a little wider.

  “Come in, Faith. Please meet my dear friend and sister, Agnes Warren. I married her brother, Augustus.”

  Agnes Warren seemed to be a little younger than her aunt, but Faith could see that her hair was white too. She was also taller, but there was a similarity that made them look like sisters rather than sisters-in-law.

  “I’m sure that I’m pleased to meet you,” Agnes said to Faith taking her hand. “We don’t often have visitors, and as we get older, we don’t go about as much,” she added.

  “I’m delighted to make your acquaintances as well as I have no other family that I know of,” Faith told her.

  She was completely at ease with the welcome the women had given her and felt contented knowing that they were family. Her aunt hadn’t wasted any time crossing the room to go to a kitchen at the back of the house, expecting Faith to follow as Agnes and the cat were already doing.

  The beamed room was clean and bright with light entering through a bay window next to the front door. As Faith glanced towards the source of light, she saw the mullioned window panes were spotless but the glass, with its impurities, nevertheless distorted the front garden. In the bay under the window was a solid wooden bench that followed the sweep of the window while an oval table with a cloth and a bowl of roses stood before it. The room had obviously had a fresh coat of whitewash that the outside could well have used too. The floor was planked wood, stained a dark colour with a basically red and black rug runner that went from the front door to the kitchen. To the right there was a steep narrow staircase that led to the floor above with banisters made of the same wood and staining as the floors. Faith didn’t take longer to look as she hurried to catch up with the two women.

  The kitchen was small but adequate, running the width of the cottage. In Faith’s eyes, it had everything that a kitchen would need. The kitchen range was against an outside wall with a side door next to it leading out into the gardens. Another mullioned window, flush with the walls, looked out over the back garden. A wooden table and two chairs had been placed under it to benefit from the light and the view. On the third outside wall was a stone sink next to a cupboard that reached the low beamed ceiling. The kitchen walls had been whitewashed too, but the irregular red terracotta tiles and the wooden cupboard, table and chairs saved the room from being stark. Agnes produced a stool from under the sink so that they could all sit around the table.

  “Sit down, Faith. The tea won’t be ready right away. Would you like some bread, butter and cheese with it?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “That’s a good girl. No point in being shy or coy with me. Now, tell us what has happened while I prepare everything.”

  Faith was somewhat surprised at the incongruity of her aunt’s appearance with that of her manner of speaking. If she shut her eyes, she could imagine a much younger woman. She certainly seemed to be the more dominant of the two women. She could see that Agnes was a little plumper than her aunt, which added to the impression of good humour and patience that she gave.

  Faith wasted no time in relating her father’s sudden death from a heart attack, the eviction and the journey to find her. She also explained that, although she was sad that her father had died, they had never been close. She’d felt as much a servant as a daughter, as he’d only spoken to her if he’d wanted something.

  “Yes, that sounds like Robert to me. No reason to deny it, he was self-centred, even as a child. He was eight years younger than I. We did have a sister between us, but she died in infancy and I’ll never know how many miscarriages our poor mother had… I’ll save you the trouble of counting, I’m seventy.”

  Faith had to smile. Her aunt was certainly direct for a ‘little old lady’, but Faith began to see her as if she were in a disguise. The body might be old on the outside but she was as sharp as a brand-new pin on the inside.

  “So how old are you, young miss?”

  This was the part Faith hated. She had turned twenty-six on her last birthday, and although she looked much younger, she could see the sorry looks that she got when it suddenly put her in the category of a spinster on the shelf.

  “Twenty… six”, she articulated slowly.

  “Well, you don’t look it, does she Nessie?”

  Her aunt looked to Agnes to back her up. Nessie shook her head.

  “No, not at all,” she agreed.

  “So that’s to your advantage,” her aunt continued. “People won’t expect you to have your wits about you, and yet you’ve certainly had the time to learn a thing or two.”

  Agnes was nodding her head as Florence spoke. She put the teapot on the table next to the cups and the plate of bread and cheese she’d already prepared.

  “Don’t wait to eat,” she encouraged. “I’m sure you must be hungry after your walk from town.”

  Faith did feel hungry now that she’d relaxed a little, so she took a bite from the wedge of cheese which immediately made her mouth water with its sharpness. She could see there was not going to be anything bland about her aunt. The fresh bread with the salty butter complemented the cheese perfectly, and she enjoyed it as much for the savour as for the quelling of her hunger.

  Two cups of tea and there was no longer anything amiss in the world. Both her aunt and Agnes had sipped their tea and not said anything while Faith ate. As she finished eating, her aunt began again.

  “There are two small rooms upstairs. Agnes and I share one of them, so you’re welcome to stay as long as you need in the other one. Having said that, I have to add that you can’t bury yourself here indefinitely. That’s no life for a young woman.”

  “I’m sure you would soon be bored with two old ladies,” Agnes added with a smile.

  Faith was in no position to argue. She could hardly expect to live off her aunt and Agnes’ hospitality, and she had only hoped to have somewhere as a refuge for the time it took to find work.

  “I really am very grateful to you both for your offer of somewhere to stay. I wasn’t even sure you were here or that you would take me in, so there is no question of me imposing on you longer than it takes me to find work. When I do, I will repay you anything I owe. I would just like to ask you for your suggestions and help in finding work in this area.”

  “Well spoken, Faith. I like someone with a bit of spunk. Let’s size you up.”

  Faith turned towards her aunt so that she might inspect her more easily.

  Florence looked at her carefully, taking in her
neat, dark blond hair that fell down her back in a thick, single plait.

  Sensible to have done that rather than trying to pin it up for the journey, Florence thought. She noted that her dress was a light blue, a little faded, but the simple cut flattered her slim figure. Her skin was clear with the slightest hint of tanning; her straw bonnet hadn’t totally protected her from the sun. The colour in her cheeks brought out the blue of her eyes. Her nose was straight and fine and the mouth under it, wide without exaggeration. Naturally pink lips smiled slightly to one side to reveal solid, healthy looking teeth. The rest of her gave the appearance of a healthy working girl; slender but not skinny. She seemed tall, but then, she herself was small. Most people did seem tall to her. Whereas Robert had taken after their father, she had taken after their mother, who was petite. Faith’s figure was pleasing with a roundness of her bosom that was in proportion to the rest of her. Yes, she was presentable, but Florence hoped she hadn’t crossed the line into being enticing. She knew from experience where that could lead.

  “Let me have a look at your hands.”

  Faith held out her hands to her aunt, who looked at both sides of them and then at the nails.

  “They’ll do well,” she approved. “They’re not ruined by hard work but they do show that you’ve used them. Your nails are neat and practical. You never know what crosses people’s mind when they consider you for a job. How far did your education go? You can read and write, can’t you?”

  “Oh, yes,” Faith assured her eagerly. “I love reading and do so at the least opportunity. I went to Dame Hilton’s school until Mama died. Then Papa wanted me at home. I have studied arithmetic, geography, nature studies, reading and writing, of course, and a little French. We did needlework and painting, too, although I preferred the painting. So, there you have it in a nutshell.”

  “What about children? Any experience?” Florence continued to probe imagining the possibilities of work for a young woman. To begin with, it would be better to aim high.

  “Not really, except if you count helping with the younger children at the school?”

  “Yes, that would do. If anyone asks, you do have experience. Better to exaggerate than to underrate yourself. The reason I’m questioning you so is because every Thursday it’s market day in town. Not only do all the farmers take their goods and livestock to sell, but there is a part of the market reserved for people hiring themselves out for all types of work. It ranges anywhere from milkmaid to secretary, but you have to be adaptable, feel the way of the tide. It may be that nothing happens the first week or two. You have to be persistent. We’ll talk about this a little more this evening. Come with me. Agnes and I will show you around. We’ll start with the garden in the back as the privy’s there.”

  Both women got up to take Faith out the side door, and Florence was quietly pleased to see Faith tidy the tea things into the sink before following. Another good point to her credit.

  The garden was a riot of colours with an abundance of roses, some of them climbing. Faith didn’t know all the flowers but her favourites were the lupins. Beyond the flowers was a vegetable patch with the beginnings of tomatoes and lettuces that she could see. Right at the back were green beans climbing up poles. Their red flowers made them look quite decorative.

  “Agnes takes care of the flower garden mostly. I have always had a more practical side to me, so I take care of the vegetables,” her aunt informed her. Down a path and off to the right behind a yew hedge was the privy; a small shed-like construction with a door having a carved-out diamond shape at the top of it.

  “You don’t want to fall in,” her aunt warned her seriously. “It was once a well that ran dry. It makes an excellent privy, though, because there’s no smell,” she finished with a smile.

  They took Faith to the other side of the vegetable patch where there was a very large paddock with a pony and two donkeys.

  “That’s Polly our Dales pony and Daisy and Doris our donkeys. We have a pony trap that we use for going into town and Polly obliges us. The rest of the time she lives a carefree existence with her friends here. At the back of the vegetable patch there’s a shed which houses the vehicle and stalls for them all in the winter.”

  Faith was happy to go slowly, taking in all the different things she was being shown, but Florence and Nessie almost treated the visit like a military manoeuvre. They were spry, and Faith had to hasten her pace to keep up. On the way back, they indicated steps leading down to a low door under the cottage.

  “That’s our cellar. We are able to store fruits and vegetables there through the winter and it keeps our butter cool during the hotter days.”

  Then they continued around the side of the cottage so she could see where the water well was, just past the side door.

  “This is the one we use for water. It’s fed by the stream that you must have noticed as you walked here. You don’t have to worry about its purity, I can assure you.”

  The path continued around to the front of the house, but they didn’t.

  “Now come and take your bag upstairs with you,” her aunt told her.

  They passed through the kitchen where she grabbed her bag before mounting the wooden stairs. Agnes waited below while Florence showed her the rooms. At the top, there was a tiny square landing with two doors off of it.

  “This is our bedroom,” her aunt said opening the left-hand door. Faith had a glimpse of a fair-size room that must cover most of the room below. Light entered through dormer windows.

  “And this will be your room while you stay,” she opened the other door.

  It was a tiny room with a sloping ceiling that was particularly apparent because of the size of the room. The first thing Faith noticed was that the thatch could be seen on the inside, but its colour was brighter here and there was a pleasant harvest smell in the room, probably increased by the sun on the roof; her aunt’s room had had a wooden ceiling. This room was furnished with a single bed which was next to a small table and chair by a dormer window. She was going to have to be careful not to bump her head on the sloping beams… A china basin and jug sat on the table. There was also a small chest at the foot of the bed which, she supposed, might hold linen or was, perhaps, empty waiting for use? Her aunt continued…

  “Have you any other clothes with you? It’s obvious that none of ours will suit.”

  Faith pulled her spare dress from the bag.

  “This is my better dress. I didn’t want to bring more, as my plight was so uncertain. I didn’t want to have to carry more than necessary with me.”

  Her aunt examined the crumpled dress, which was a pleasant peach colour.

  “Yes, this will do for market day. You want to have a bit of style and not look too down-trodden as you plan to aim high enough. You could propose your services as a secretary, a governess to small children or perhaps as a housekeeper. There may even be a demand for a shop assistant. We have to keep our options open.”

  Faith loved the way her aunt had thrown herself into the enterprise without hesitation.

  “With you as support, Aunt, my self-esteem has just doubled. Thank you.”

  Her aunt had taken a hanger from the chest and had put the dress on it hoping the wrinkles would drop out by Thursday.

  “You’re family, Faith, so we have to stick together as we’re on our own now, just you, Nessie and me. The only child I had was Andrew and he died of a fever when he was seven. All these years on, I still miss him. I was never able to have another child, much to my husband’s and my regret. It’s the way with some women…”

  Faith felt a little sad for her aunt who was getting old and living in an isolated spot. She was lucky to have Nessie for company. She, herself, would have liked to have had a brother or a sister.

  Loneliness can weigh heavy for something so empty.

  They went down to sit in the main room where Agnes was already seated near a window in a high-backed chair with no arms to it. She was busy with some knitting in hand. Ther
e was a settee along a wall and two padded armchairs near the empty fireplace. They sat there to make themselves comfortable while continuing with the thread of the family story. No sooner was her aunt seated than her cat jumped up onto her lap purring. A few caresses had it comfortably curled into a ball that didn’t move again, not even tempted by the clicking knitting needles and wool.

  Faith asked her aunt to explain her earlier comment about her father not letting her come unless something dire had happened. She wondered why that would be. Her aunt sat looking at her as though deciding if she should stir up old feelings again by telling them. Agnes already knew her story first hand. She had nothing to lose all these years later and Faith, as her niece, had a right to know about her family.

  “I think you will agree that your father put his own welfare before that of others?”

  Faith nodded.

  “You see me now as an old woman. No, no, don’t deny it. I hold no illusions about myself and never have.”

  “Aunt, strangely enough, I see you as a younger woman trapped in the body of an older one,” Faith reassured her. “I promise you.”

  “I thank you for that kind comment.” Her aunt smiled. She then continued, “I was considered quite a desirable young woman. There are men who like petite women. Perhaps they think them childlike and want to protect them or to dominate them? Whatever the reason, I had my fair share of beaux, but none of them pleased me. I should have taken one of them regardless, because my employer’s attentions became a little too insistent.

  “I was governess to his two children, and whether his wife turned a blind eye or not, I’ll never know. He caught me one afternoon when she’d gone out with the children. He turned quite ugly when it finally sank in that I didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He overpowered me, and when he’d finished his disgusting performance, he told me that I was to leave. He turned me out without a reference even before his wife returned. He threw down two guineas saying it was my wages or payment for services rendered, I could decide for myself.

  “I was not much older than you are, Faith. I went home hoping to have a place to stay while applying for other work. It didn’t take me long to realise I was carrying the bully’s child. As soon as your father knew, he did his utmost to have me thrown out by our father. I suppose he thought he was protecting the family name. My mother had not a word to say, the poor woman.”

  Faith was looking at her aunt with an expression of horror. Words failed her. Her aunt continued the tale however.

  “It was thanks to dear Gus, Nessie’s brother, that I didn’t finish on the streets as other violated women have so often. He was a blessed soul, handsome but not quite normal. Slow with his thinking due to a difficult birth. Yet, he did understand what he was doing when he asked me to marry him. I suspect he thought someone needed to protect me, and he did love me. The fact that he was handsome saved me, because I found that I was willing to have him. It worked well enough, and he was a good father to Andrew. He cried as much as I did when he died. I would have liked to repay him with a child of his own, but after Andrew, I miscarried early and then after that it never happened. My dear Gus died more than ten years ago. I am sorry that you aren’t able to meet him.”

  Faith got up and went to her aunt. She crouched down by her and took one of her hands.

  “I am so sorry for everything and especially for my father’s behaviour. If I could change anything, I would, please believe me. I understand now the strength that you effuse. You have had to be so strong, dear Aunt Florence. How I do hope that your blood runs in my veins.”

  “So do I,” her aunt laughed. “I wouldn’t give tuppence for your father’s.”

  Looking at Nessie she added, “I have to say that I shall be forever grateful to Nessie for coming to live with me at that unhappy moment of my life. Losing my dear Gus was very difficult for both of us, but we have been happy in our own little world since then, haven’t we Nessie?”

  “Sometimes there is good that comes from bad,” Nessie stated quite simply. “I wasn’t happy where I was working, and Florrie wasn’t happy all alone. Between us we have more than enough to live on. I sell some of the knitting I do, and Florrie sells extra vegetables and honey when it’s ready. We didn’t show you the two hives we have. There’s one in the middle of the flower garden and one in the middle of the vegetable garden.

  “We get along very well.”

  She smiled a soft smile at Florence.

  They finished the evening with some cold meat, potatoes, pickled onions and bread before going up to their rooms. Being early summer days meant it stayed light later. No need to light candles. Her aunt happened to mention that this was the latest they had both stayed up in a long time, and that she was very happy that Faith had come to them. Faith gave her a kiss on the cheek and then another to Nessie saying, “Thank you for inviting me to stay with you. I am so happy to find that I have you as family.”

  She’d taken water up with her to have a wash and brush her teeth. Her nightdress was even more crumpled than her dress, but who cared? She hardly had time to smile at her good fortune before she was asleep.

  Faith couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt more contented. Her aunt was a never-ending source of information, suggestions and amusing stories. Nessie was such a happy soul that she filled the rooms with sunshine. Faith no longer saw their lined faces but rather their sparkling eyes and the smiles that were always hovering, waiting to show themselves. The contrast between her aunt and her father left her baffled that two siblings could be so different.