The Brontes Went to Woolworths (27 page)
Read The Brontes Went to Woolworths Online
Authors: Rachel Ferguson
‘
I
can,’ said Deirdre. ‘They’d be after the dreary things – basins with linen tops for lifting out. The aunt with the pattens wanted ’em. Besides, it depends whether they went to Woolworth’s after the publication of
Jane
Eyre
or before. Charlotte’d have lots to splurge with if it was after.’
‘Oh, how lovely!’ breathed Sheil, her head in Lady Toddington’s neck.
‘You don’t need much money for basins,’ objected Mrs Carne.
‘But, we’ve only Deirdre’s word for it that those were the desiderata,’ responded Sir Herbert caustically.
‘The
what
, Toddy?’
Sheil cocked her head. ‘You do know such uncommon words.’
‘I mean, my dear, the objects required.’
‘Well,
I
like the thing you said before, best. Anybody can require objects.’
‘You’re all wrong, and it wasn’t basins, and we must be off, Herbert.’
‘Oh, tell what it was!’
‘Darling, it was writing-pads. And Charlotte bought a hair-net. Mauve. Quite hideous, poor girl. Come along, Herbert.’
‘Did they like Woolworth’s?’
‘Ask Deirdre.’
‘No.’ Deirdre nipped a smoking wick on a lower bough. ‘Emily had one of her difficult fits right in the middle of the haberdashery, and Charlotte wrote to Miss Nussey: “It was a queer shop, much favoured with their custom by a class which I do not think to be our own. The attractions, my darling no, I
will
not be sentimental the attractions, then, are lights, variety of articles displayed, music, cleanliness and warmth (from whence obtained I do not know), but proving an evident lure to these families who know no better . . . ”’
Sir Herbert’s eyes gleamed as he bade Miss Ainslie good-night, and Lady Toddington advanced and shook her hand, with some conventional remark. Miss Ainslie did not follow the party into the hall. But the voices were audible.
‘Mrs Carne, you’re a genius about parties. Wish I had the touch! . . . before the longer days are here, and then you must all come down for stays at Molesey. There’s a canoe for you, Baby.’
‘ – then you will bring the manuscript and we will go over it together . . . lunch next Saturday.’
‘ –only au revoir, then.’
‘Oh, look at Crellie! He’s simply
biffing
down the road. Mother’s own bolster!’
‘ –lovely
’ Thanks, thanks, thanks. Evident perception of the hall mistletoe. A great deal of laughter and kisses.
In her bedroom, Helen Ainslie was firmly pacing up and down. From the table in the window to dressing-table opposite, and turn. Her presents were neatly stacked. Extraordinarily kind. Everything one had hoped to be able to buy from one’s salary.
Then where was exhilaration?
Lady Toddington had failed one, suddenly. A promising and useful friendship gone. Helen Ainslie, arriving at the Henry the Eighth affair, checked her stride, then resumed it more rapidly. That air of contretemps which succeeded the offering of the parcel . . . always work with, not against. But if, so to speak, presents from Henry the Eighth were going to be no good, then what was?
Charlotte and Emily.
Miss Ainslie’s cheeks flushed with sundry and deepening annoyances.
The next turn brought her to the dressing-table. Her reflection disclosed hair slightly disordered and topped with a blue paper fool’s cap.
With singular asperity she cast it upon the floor.
Rachel Ferguson was born in 1893 in Hampton Wick. Educated privately in Kensington and at a finishing school in Italy, she later became an active campaigner for women’s rights and leading member of the WSPU, co-founding the junior branch of the organisation.
Having written a play for the suffragettes, her growing interest in theatre led her to enrol as a student at the Academy of Dramatic Art. After graduating in 1913, her brief career on the stage was interrupted by the First World War. Returning from service in the Women’s Volunteer Reserve, Ferguson embarked upon a career as a writer, starting out as a drama critic on the
Sunday Chronicle
. Her first novel,
False Goddesses
, was published in 1923. Two years later she wrote the hugely popular ‘Rachel’ column for
Punch.
Her second novel,
The Brontës Went to Woolworths
, was published in 1931 to wide acclaim. She wrote seven more novels over the next two decades including
Alas, Poor Lady
, published in 1937.
An accomplished pianist and caricaturist, Rachel Ferguson was also a cat-lover, and in her later years became the President of the Kensington Kitten and Neuter Cat Club.
Rachel Ferguson died in Kensington in 1957.
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First published in 1931 by Ernest Benn
Copyright © 1931 by Rachel Ferguson
Ex libris illustrations © 2009 by Penelope Beech
This electronic edition published 2011 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
The right of Rachel Ferguson to be identified as the author of this work has been
asserted her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
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