The Windsor Girl (7 page)

Chapter Nine

Victoria Barnstable manoeuvred her large, awkward, invalid carriage across the breakfast room and helped herself to a second cup of tea.

She was pleased they were not eating in the dining room.  She couldn’t stand the place and considered this a much
more pleasant room.  The French windows were open, to the bright summer’s day, and she could smell the scent of the Stocks from across the garden.

Victoria
had not seen the children for a couple of days.  Little Beth had a slight cold so she had decided to leave her in the capable hands of Miss Claremont. 

She was a good nurse and had come to her, with excellent references, shortly after the birth of her daughter, five years ago.  She was especially good with babies and Victoria, freely admitted, she hardly knew she
had
Samuel.  She had rarely heard him cry and he was now fifteen months old.

She had felt a little uneasy, since she had dismissed Samuel’s ‘wet nurse’, last week and was 
afraid that he would miss the breast milk, which flowed, in great quantity, from Missus Brown’s ample bosom.  Of course, Missus Brown was also nursing another, younger child in the area so she had no difficulty in keeping her supply of milk.  No doubt she now had another child to replace Samuel.  The thought made her sad.  However, it was just as well that someone could do such things, as the very thought of a baby suckling at her own, small, breasts was absolutely repulsive to her.

As she sipped her tea,
Victoria thought,
thank God for the Missus Browns of this world.  What would we do without them?
’

Her brother, Richard, had said that the name of Brown was perfect for such a woman.  ‘Brown cow’, he called her when she was out of earshot.  Richard could be unkind sometimes but the same could not be said of her younger brother, James.

James was a gentleman, in every sense of the word, and if little Miss Lucy Musgrove had any sense, she would grab him for a husband before anyone else did.  They had been seeing each other for a while now and he seemed very fond of her.  One only had to see them together to realise how much she liked him, but somehow, he never seemed over excited by her presence.

Victoria
had to admit that it was often difficult to know what James was thinking as he was always so nice to everyone he came into contact with.

He was away at the moment, working the farm in
York.  The farm was owned by the family, along with a good size Country House, and James worked the numerous acres with only a couple of local men to help him.  Her mother had commented on how incredible it was that he managed with only one girl, acting as servant to him.  Had it been Richard, he would need an army of maids and valets.

Unlike Richard, James loved the farm and all that went with the ‘life in the country’.  George had also loved the life there, and was always reluctant to return to the city, even for their brief visits to her parents, but he loved his wife
dearly and usually went along with her wishes.

In those days the county house had a full complement of staff and life was wonderful. 

How quickly one’s life can change
, she thought.

Sitting there, looking out at the herbaceous borders, with the sun enhancing their colours, of pinks and blues, she pictured her husband’s face.

His hair had been in the habit of sticking up in the crown and no matter how he had it styled or slicked it down, up it would stand as if it had a mind of its own.  How they had laughed about it.  He was the kindest, most loving man anyone could hope to have, and she had intended to keep him for the rest of her life.  But life was cruel.  She had him for eight, short, years, then suddenly, he was gone and she was left a sad and embittered woman.

Her beloved George had been dead for two years now.  He never knew she was pregnant with his son.  Her hazel eyes filled with tears and she had to swallow hard so as not to choke on the lump, which threatened to fill her throat.

She turned to see her mother, standing in the doorway, watching her with compassion.

‘
Dear Victoria, why do you sit alone?  It only makes you dwell on the past.  And darling, it does no good, you know’.

‘Oh I know, but I really can't help it.  I sometimes wish I had died with him.  My life is so empty without him’.

‘Please don’t say such things.  You still have the children.  Don’t they mean anything to you?’

‘They would be all right with you.  After all they hardly know me’.

‘Of course they do.  They love you.  You’re their mother, for goodness sake’.

Louise had never understood her daughter.  Even as a child she had proved unreasonable and only
behaved well for her father.  Edward loved Victoria much more than he did the boys, always spoiling her with little gifts, bought on his way home from business at the mill.

As if reading her mother’s thoughts,
Victoria asked, ‘is Daddy still here?’

‘No
Dear, he left for the mill an hour ago and said to let you lie in your bed awhile.  I thought you were still there’.

‘I wasn’t sleeping so I rang for Mable and she attended to me, she said, then added, with a sigh, ‘I really must have a maid of my own Mother.  I don’t care for Mable at all and she has enough to do, dressing you’.

‘Victoria.  How many times must I tell you?  Mable does not dress me.  You know I always insist on dressing myself unless it’s a special occasion.  I only need her to lace and tie my bodice and, most of the time, she really has
very
little to do’.

Her daughter, staring once more out of the window, said sarcastically, ‘your
bodice
Mother?  It’s a
corset
.  Why do you always call it a bodice?  A young
girl
wears ‘a bodice’ not a matron’.

Louise was furious.  She was well aware of her forty-six years but she did not consider herself ‘old’.  Ladies of her standing were not old until they reached their sixtieth year and she had a long way to go.  You only had to look at the queen.  Nobody ever considered her old until she reached
well
over that age.  Who would have thought that she would have reigned so long, and she a widow?

She was annoyed with
Victoria for getting her into this state, and with herself too, for allowing her to do it.  She did it all the time.  She had been in such a good mood this morning, when she came down for breakfast, and now she wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to eat.  She sat at the round table and poured a cup of tea.

‘Drat!  This tea is cold’, she said and rang to bell for
Doris.

‘Tut, tut Mother.  Swearing so early in the day?’

Louise’s voice was now weary.  ‘Don’t be troublesome Victoria.  I can’t tolerate your unreasonable attitude today, I really can’t’.

‘Unreasonable?  Is it reasonable to sit in this ugly chair, with my ugly crippled legs wrapped up tight so as not to upset anyone with the sight of them?’

With great effort she swung her invalid chair around, and in doing so, knocked her cup and saucer from the table spilling the contents over the table linen.  Louise was immediately repentant and went to comfort her daughter.

‘Please Mother, just leave me alone.  It’s obvious that I disturb you so I shall return to my room.  Please tell nurse not to expect me in the nursery this afternoon.  I shall not be spending time with the children until Beth is recovered’.

And with this she wheeled herself out of the room almost knocking down the maid who was just entering.

‘Sorry Ma’am’, said
Doris.  Victoria did not even turn her head.

Louise sighed, ‘Oh there you are
Doris?  Missus Barnstable had an accident with her tea.  Clear it up, there’s a good girl, and bring me a fresh pot’.

‘Yes Ma’am’, said
Doris, already transferring the crockery from the table to the sideboard.  She took off the tablecloth and replaced it with a clean one from the cupboard, along with matching napkins.  This done she reset the breakfast table.

‘I’ll get your tea now Ma’am.  Will you be wanting breakfast now?  There’s kidneys this morning’.

‘No thank you Doris, a little bread and honey will be sufficient today’.

Louise sat in the large, over stuffed, chair letting her head fall back, and gazed out at the garden. 
It looks so peaceful out there
, she thought, w
ho would ever imagine the turmoil that went on in this house?  Victoria’s a problem, no doubt about it, but the child has suffered so much since the accident.

Louise was at a loss to know how to deal with her.  Such a lot had happened to change her daughter.   She had been such a happy girl when she had married George.

Victoria
had been twenty when she had met George.  He had been invited to dine at the house, along with the Lord Mayor, his wife Clara and their daughter Margaret.  Margaret and George were about to announce their betrothal.  As it turned out, there was no such announcement because George was never the same towards Margaret after that night.  He had fallen, head-over-heals in love with Victoria.  The affair caused the family much embarrassment and the friendship of the Mayor. 

George was apologetic but adamant.  He loved
Victoria and was determined to marry her as soon as she, and her father, would permit.

At first, Edward refused to receive George, at the house, or at the mill, however, faced with the man’s obviously good intentions, he reluctantly agreed.  George would be allowed to call on
Victoria.

Within six months of meeting the two young people entered into matrimony.

After a most exquisite wedding, Edward gave George the opportunity to work as Manager at the mill, in South Leeds.  George was not over fond of the city so voiced his preference for working the farm in the outlying countryside of York.  Edward was surprised but agreed to this, as his own sons were not yet old enough to take over the farm, with all its responsibilities.  At this time, it was being managed by paid labour but Edward was not, totally, satisfied with this arrangement, so was highly delighted with the turn of events.

Victoria and George moved into the country house and lived there, together with their servants, and life was perfect.

Their happiness was complete, when Beth was born, four years later.  Their love grew and so did their contentment.  They were made for each other and everything was wonderful.  Then the world fell apart.

It was the day of Beth’s fourth birthday and, by way of a treat for them all, they were to spend the day by the river.

Victoria had instructed the maid to pack a picnic basket with all Beth’s favourite things.  A bottle of wine was to be packed for her and George.

The party was to include the Nurse and also Emily, a
favourite maid, so they decided to travel there by carriage instead of taking the small trap.  They were about half way to their destination when the accident happened.  A shot rang out in the quiet of the country lane and the terrified horses took off in fright.  George fought to regain control of them, and would have succeeded, were it not for the sharp bend in the lane. 

As they hurtled towards the bend they both knew that his efforts would be futile but George tried, desperately, to bring the horses to a halt.

The open carriage, now travelling at great speed, turned over.  George died instantly, as he was thrown from the driver’s seat, his head smashing, violently, into the trunk of a tree.  Emily also died.

Victoria
was lying under the carriage, her legs badly crushed.  Miss Claremont was unhurt, and little Beth was also safe.

For many weeks after the tragedy,
Victoria could nether eat, nor sleep, her poor legs were broken beyond repair.  She was gently told that she would never walk again but said she did not care.  She was devastated by her husband’s death and incapable of functioning.

Victoria
was brought back to the town house to live with her parents and gave birth to Samuel six months later.  Against all odds the baby was perfectly healthy but Victoria could find no interest in the child.  It was only in the last six months that she had started to visit him in the nursery, for an hour, in the early afternoon.

‘I really don’t know what to do with her any more’, said Louise, softly, still gazing out at the gardens.

‘I beg pardon Ma-am?’ said
Doris, having returned with bread and honey and a fresh brew. 

‘Oh
Doris.  I’m afraid I was talking to myself.  I must not make a habit of it, now must I?’

She laughed weekly and
Doris answered with, ‘no Ma'am’, bent her knee and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Louise ate three pieces of bread, spread with honey, and despite her feelings of well being
were ruined, somewhat, enjoyed her cup of tea.  She was in the process of folding her napkin when Richard came in for breakfast.

‘Why are we eating in here Mother?’ he asked as he rang the bell for the maid.  ‘I would much rather breakfast in the dining room.  It’s much more
civilised’.