A Carriage for the Midwife (7 page)

‘And you were working in the barley field?’ asked Edward.

‘Oh, ay, master, me an’ Polly was follerin’ the horses pullin’ the harrow, and Jack an’ Joby was scarin’ the birds off the spring barley. We get what outdoor work we can, soon as the days start gettin’ longer.’

He shook his head wonderingly. ‘Yet you are still but children, Susan, about the same age as my sisters – and
they
are back in school today.’

It now occurred to him how different she appeared from the saucy, bright-eyed child who had chatted and laughed with him – how long ago was it? He had been sent away to school soon after, and had largely lost touch with events in Beversley. He and Osmond had been home for Easter, but had to return to Winchester in two days’ time. Looking at this poor, barefoot girl who had almost run under his horses hoofs, he was obscurely ashamed of his privileges in the face of her poverty.

A tray arrived with a teapot, milk jug, cups and saucers, and Miss Sophia looked thoughtful as she poured out the fragrant brown brew that Susan had never tasted before. Edward handed her a cup balanced on a saucer, which she gingerly took with both hands.

‘You deserve this more than I do, Susan. Here, let me put in a spoonful of sugar for you,’ he said.

‘Thank ’ee, Master Edward. Thank ’ee, Miss Glover.’

As far as Susan was concerned, this fourteen-year-old boy was like a being from another world, so finely dressed and clean. Yet he spoke to her as if she were one of his sisters, with kindness and courtesy. She had never known a man to be gentle like this, and her heart swelled. Miss Glover was smiling at her, so she was not going to be chastised again. She sipped her tea gratefully, and felt that life could hold no greater bliss.

A sudden loud ringing of the doorbell announced the arrival of Edward’s elder brother, who strode into the parlour, nodding to Sophia and completely ignoring Susan.

‘What the devil have you been up to, Neddy? Could you not keep your seat on young Juniper?’

‘If you had not taken my Duchess, I wouldn’t have needed to saddle him,’ retorted Edward.

Osmond shrugged and went to the window. He looked bored and discontented as he accepted a cup of tea from Sophia.

‘How dull it has been in Beversley these two weeks, with Henry away at sea! Even Winchester has more to offer a fellow.’

His light blue eyes roved round the room, and briefly lighted upon Susan. She felt his contempt for her poor gown, and was conscious for the first time of her bare feet in Miss Glover’s parlour. She blushed crimson as she looked down at them, tough and leathery, with grime ingrained between the toes. In an instant her elation vanished; she was reminded of her low status and with it the unspeakable secret burden she carried. She felt unfit to be in this room among this company, and she hung her head in shame, unable to meet Edward’s eyes again. Just suppose he knew about
that
: how horrified he would be – and Miss Glover! Her mind reeled away from the very thought, and she did not notice Sophia Glover eyeing her attentively.

Osmond laughed at his brother’s bandaged head.

‘Good God, Neddy, you’ll frighten the populace out of their wits, looking like a corpse on horseback, pale and bloody! Come on, let’s be going. We have to meet with the carriage at Pulhurst, and Father will be complaining as usual. I shall say I had to stay and tend you. Good day, Cousin Sophy. Come
on
, Ned!’

Susan still sat with lowered head, so did not see Edward’s bow to her as he left.

As soon as Miss Glover had gone to see the brothers on their way, Susan rose to leave; but the lady came back and asked her to stay a few minutes longer.

‘Sit down, Susan. I have something important to say to you.’

The girl braced herself for the scolding that Miss Glover must have saved until they were alone.

‘Don’t look so worried, Susan! I have been talking with Mrs Bennett and Mrs Gibson about you, and they both speak highly of your good sense.’

Susan was so surprised that she raised her head and blinked. What was coming now?

‘And I think that you should be given the chance to learn the alphabet, Susan. Would you like to try?’

Susan was utterly bewildered. ‘Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss Glover, but what do that mean?’ she faltered, though even as she spoke her heart leaped at the sound of the magic word, as if it could transform her life and begin her escape from the Ash-Pits. She waited, hardly daring to breathe.

‘The
alphabet
is made up of the twenty-six letters that from the words of the English language,’ replied Miss Glover, smiling. ‘And I will send you to Mrs Bryers’ school to learn how to make them into words to read and write. Would you like that, Susan?’

THE IMMEMORIAL RHYTHM
of the fields moved from sowing to growing, and with the passing of the summer solstice haymaking time came round once again, when all available labour was in demand.

The Bever carriage was sent to bring the Calthorpe brothers home from Winchester, and young Midshipman Hansford came home on leave from the navy’s Royal Academy at Portsmouth. Osmond listened eagerly to Henry’s stories of life at sea, and longed for manhood; the stirrings of his young body had become a craving for that mysterious coupling with a female body, about which his fellow scholars joked but for which Osmond had found no opportunity, either at school, or at Bever House, where some of the maidservants smiled slyly at him but were unable to escape Mrs Martin’s vigilant eye. The only woman allowed to enter the brother’s bedchamber was the one-time nursemaid, black-browed Mrs Ferris, forty if she was a day, who glided silently in with clean linen and hot water in a china pitcher. Once or twice Osmond thought he sensed her dark eyes upon him, but when he turned to face her she always seemed busily occupied. The burgeoning of Nature all around him, and the animal kingdom’s universal drive to procreate was a torment to the handsome, well-built boy, now seventeen; his virgin state grew more irksome daily.

‘’Ee be that dull, Sukey, since ’ee started goin’ to that ol’ school,’ grumbled Polly, lying on the grass.

‘Oi may be dull to ’ee, Poll, but Mrs Bryers do say that Oi be – that Oi
am
– the best in the class,’ replied Susan with modest pride.

‘Tha’s ’cos ’ee be the oldest on ’em!’ laughed Polly scornfully.

The sisters had been working in Farmer Bennett’s hayfield, and were resting in the shade at midday. As soon as they sat down under the hedgerow, Susan had got out the well-worn reading primer that Miss Glover had given her. There was little time for studying, and she only attended school on two mornings a week during this busy season.

‘Hush, Poll, Oi ha’ to know this page afore Oi sees Mrs Bryers again.’ She began to whisper the words to herself as she deciphered each one. ‘“Tom sat on a fat nag.”’

‘Tibby Dummet do say ’ee might as well teach a cat her letters as a poor gal,’ mocked Polly. ‘For then Puss’ll give herself fine airs an’ catch no more mice – an’ a gal won’t work indoors or out if her nose be stuck in a book all the time, like yourn!’

Susan did not reply, but smiled in secret satisfaction. The word
cat
was special to her, for it recalled the actual moment when she had grasped the principle of building words from letters.

‘Take the letter C,’ Mrs Bryers had said. ‘C says
c
! say it after me, Susan, c!’

‘C!’ repeated Susan, nodding. She had learned the sounds that each of the letters made.

‘Now A,’ went on the teacher. ‘A says
a
!’ She broadened her mouth to make the vowel sound, and Susan did the same.

‘And now T,’ said Mrs Bryers, tapping her tongue against her front teeth. ‘T says
t
!’ She smiled as she led the eager girl towards the door of literacy. ‘
T!
’

‘
T!
’ tapped Susan breathlessly.

‘Now put all three sounds together,
c
and
a
and
t
. What do they say?’

‘
C
–
a
–
t
.’ Susan rapped out the three separate sounds.

‘Faster! Run them together, Susan.’ Mrs Bryers smiled encouragingly, and Susan saw light dawning.

‘C-a-t.
Cat! CAT!
’ Susan almost shouted the word, an explorer discovering a new country. ‘Cat, cat! So
that
be readin’. Oh, Mrs Bryers, now I can learn
all
the words!’

And sure enough, she progressed rapidly from then on, and now, after two months, could read and write simple sentences. She never forgot that moment of enlightenment that compensated for the painful humiliation she had undergone on her first day, when nervous but avid to learn she had been the first pupil to arrive on a bright morning in May, wearing a new smocked cotton gown that Miss Glover had given her, and a pair of wooden pattens on her feet.

Mrs Bryers had greeted her somewhat doubtfully, and sent her to sit by herself at the back. No child from the Ash-Pits had ever attended the school, and Mrs Bryers thought that Miss Glover had been unwise to bring such an awkward, uncouth girl to sit with her betters. When the others arrived, they looked askance at the new scholar and chattered among themselves.

Susan curtsied to Edward Calthorpe’s sisters. ‘Good day to ye,’ she said carefully. ‘If ye please, Oi be Susan Lucket an’ startin’ school today.’

The only response was a long, unfriendly stare from several pairs of haughty female eyes. They then turned away and put their heads together, glancing in her direction as they whispered and tut-tutted. When Mrs Bryers rang the handbell that summoned them all to assemble and repeat the Lord’s Prayer, Susan could see the Calthorpe sisters and Rosa Hansford, still shaking their heads and muttering behind their hands.

Mrs Bryers then read Psalm 19 aloud, and Susan listened intently to its majestic cadences about the vastness of Creation and the timelessness of Eternity; but she soon became aware of a rustling and tittering among the girls, a stifled laugh and heaving shoulders; then Selina exploded in a fit of giggling, and Susan saw that Rosa was holding her nose and glancing towards Susan in a meaningful way.

The awful truth was clear:
she
was the object of their mockery. Nobody wanted to sit near to her because she was from the Ash-Pits. And she smelled.

Other children saw Rosa holding her nose, and the laughter spread. It ceased when Mrs Bryers looked up with a frown, but Susan heard no more of the psalm; she flushed scarlet, and for one moment was tempted to run out of the school and never return.

Only for a moment, though, for she was here to learn all she could, whether welcomed or cold-shouldered. How else might she raise herself from the Ash-Pits and the dreadful thing she regularly had to endure? It was something these stupid, cosseted girls could not possibly imagine, and set her apart from them far more than any unfriendliness on their part.

She straightened her shoulders and set her mouth in a determined line: even as she smarted under their ridicule, she vowed that nothing, absolutely
nothing
, would prevent her from learning to read and write as well as the best of them.

So on that first miserable morning Susan learned and memorised the alphabet from A to Z, a fact that Mrs Bryers did not fail to notice. She made no further attempt to speak to her fellow scholars, but sat bowed over her slate until the midday break when the others went out to play at the back of the school and eat the bread and cheese they had brought with them.

‘Don’t you want to go outside too, Susan?’

‘No, thank ’ee, Mrs Bryers.’

‘Have you brought anything to eat?’

‘No, thank ’ee, Mrs Bryers.’

The teacher retired to her own private parlour, leaving Susan alone in the classroom, but not for long. A tall, rather gawky girl with a chipped front tooth slipped in quietly.

‘Have some o’ this barley bread, Susan. It’s too much f’r Sally and me.’

Susan looked up to see Marianne, the younger of the two Bennett girls and something of a scatterbrain. It was her forgotten needlework bag that had begun the chain of events that had brought Susan here today.

‘Thank ’ee, Miss Marianne, that be good o’ ye,’ she said, but added quickly, ‘’Ee don’t ha’ to stay in here wi’ me. Oi got a lot o’ learnin’ to do.’

For she had already discovered there was more to education than reading and writing; there were social differences that put her at the very bottom of the scale. And the one way of asserting herself would be to outstrip them all.

‘Come, Poll, we ha’ rested long enough,’ sighed Susan, closing her book and tucking it inside her bodice. ‘The others are startin’ again.’

‘No, Sukey, wait – see o’er there by the gate, three fine gen’lemen be lookin’ our way.’

Susan’s heart gave a sudden leap at the sight of Edward and his brother with another tall, fair-haired young man. She did not care to be seen toiling in a field, especially with that dark, menacing presence among the men working some way off.

‘Don’t look at ’em, Poll. We better get back,’ she muttered.

But Polly had returned Edward’s smile, encouraging him to approach them. He had been drawn to seek out Susan in Lower Beversley, much to Osmond’s irritation and Midshipman Hansford’s amusement.

‘’Tis a disgrace that these girls should labour in the fields all day while we play fools on horseback, Henry! We talk of abolishing the enslavement of negroes, yet turn a blind eye to the condition of the poor among our own people—’

‘Oh, spare us your pious sermons, Neddy, on matters you know nothing about,’ sneered Osmond. ‘I’ll wager the parents of these girls drink every penny they earn and then come whining for parish relief. You listen too much to Cousin Sophy’s cant.’

‘Whoa, Osmond, steady on. You are as cross as a bear since you returned from school,’ chided Henry. ‘Edward may surely talk with the girl if he pleases.’

The boy had already dismounted and was walking over to the Lucket sisters.

‘Good day to you, Susan. I had hopes of seeing you,’ he said artlessly. ‘So is this your sister, Polly?’