London - Edward Rutherfurd [554]
Lucy was perfectly agreeable to this. But if she had any misunderstanding about the arrangement, it was entirely dispelled when Esther declared with a vehemence that was quite frightening: “If ever, however, there is any word, any hint about any relationship to my father or about . . . the past, then she will be out on the street within the hour, and without a reference. Those are my conditions.” Only after Lucy had promised her faithfully they should be met, did Esther’s manner relent again. “By the way, what is her name?” she asked.
“Jenny.”
So early in February 1890 Jenny Ducket, as she was now called, came to train as a housemaid for Mrs Silversleeves.
The spring of 1890 should have been a time of unparalleled joy in the household of Edward and Mary Anne Bull. In late March, Edward announced a breathtaking piece of news.
“The Earl of St James is selling his Bocton estate in Kent,” he told the assembled family at dinner. “And I am buying it, lock, stock and barrel! We could move in tomorrow.” He smiled at them all. “There’s a deer park and a fine view. I think you’ll like it.” And then with a grin at his son. “As you’ve become such a gentleman, I should think it will suit you rather well.”
“Us too!” cried two of his daughters. Eligible young men liked girls whose fathers had a place in the country. Only Violet did not trouble to give more than a vague smile of approval.
In recent weeks, Violet had taken to going to lectures. At first her mother had insisted upon accompanying her, but after three or four long and tedious afternoons at the Royal Academy or some place associated with the university, she had given up and allowed the girl to go to these dull but respectable affairs on her own. The only thing she wondered was where this was intended to lead. “I suspect,” she confided to Edward, “she’s up to something.”
In the first week of April Violet came into her room one evening and closed the door behind her.
“Mother,” she said calmly, “I think there’s something you should know.”
“If this is to do with university. . .” Mary Anne began wearily.
“It isn’t.” She paused. “I’m going to marry Colonel Meredith.” And then she had the impudence to smile.
For perhaps a minute Mary Anne was not able to speak. “But . . . you can’t!” she stuttered at last.
“Yes, I can.”
“You aren’t of age. Your father would forbid it.”
“I’m nearly of age. Anyway, I could always elope if you force me to. There’s nothing, actually, that anyone could do about it.”
“But you hardly know him! How. . . .”
“I went to the poetry reading at Hatchards, mother. The one you didn’t go to. I’ve been seeing him at least two days a week ever since.”
“The lectures. . . .”
“Exactly. Though we do go to lectures, or galleries. Concerts too.”
“But you should be marrying a young man! Why, even university would be better than this.”
“He is the most educated and the most interesting man I shall ever meet in my life.”
“He’s done this behind our back. He has never dared come to see your father.”
“He will. Tomorrow.”
“Your father will turn him out of the house.”
“I doubt it. Colonel Meredith is rich and a gentleman. Papa will be quite glad to have me off his hands. If not,” Violet added coolly, “I’ll make a scandal. He’d hate that.”
“But, child,” Mary Anne wailed. “Think of his age. It’s unnatural. A man of that age. . . .”
“I love him! We are passionately in love.”
At the word “passionately”, Mary Anne gave a little involuntary start, then, suddenly feeling very ill she looked at the girl, full in the face. “Surely,” her voice was husky, “you don’t mean. . . .”
“I shouldn’t tell you if it were so,” the girl said blandly. “But after all, mother, one thing is certain anyway. You can’t have him.”
THE SUFFRAGETTE
1908
Young Henry Meredith was weeping. He had just been soundly beaten. The fact that Mr Silversleeves, housemaster and teacher of mathematics, was a relation had not made any difference. Nor was his punishment unusual. The cane, the birch and the strap were liberally used in England, America and many other countries.