CHAPTER 10

June 16

Oh joy! I have had my first guest in my new home.  It was our next door neighbour Mrs. Gillam from the Red House.  She is quite a bit older than we are, and has 4 children and seems to be expecting another. She is a large woman with a very cheerful face, her hair prematurely grey, and intelligent dark eyes.   We took tea, and she welcomed me to the neighbourhood, asking me about where I come from. I wonder if we will be friends. She made me nervous as she seems so confident and I seemed inadequate to match her wisdom. But at least I now know someone in person and will be able to greet her when I see her in the road.  She invited me to come to see her and she is "At Home" on Tuesdays, so perhaps next week I will venture to her house. But because of not having a servant like most of my neighbours do, I will have to work harder on the days I do work to be able to fit in my social life.

I have had another go at writing poetry. This time I chose the subject of my sister Elizabeth. I had not thought before the wedding how my leaving would effect her. We are the only girls in the family and being close in age, and similar in looks and temperament, we always shared a bedroom and told each other our secrets (except of course I never told her about the baby, and I don't think Mother and Father did either.) Mother says she is missing me sorely.

The Bridesmaid

The bridal is o'er the guests are all gone.
The bride's only sister sits weeping alone.
The wreath of white lilacs is torn from her brow
And the heart of the Bridesmaid is desolate now.

With smiles and caresses she decked the fair bride
And then led her forth with affection and pride.
She knew that together no more should they dwell
Yet she smiled when she helped her and bade her farewell

She would not embitter a festival day
Not send a sweet sister in sadness  away.
The bells are all ringing, she sees her depart.
She cannot veil longer the grief of her heart.

She thinks of each pleasure each pain that endured
The lovely compassion of earlier years.
She has torn the white lilacs in grief from her brow
And the heart of the bridesmaid is desolate now.

I am not quite as pleased with it as I was with my earlier effort. Somehow the third stanza doesn't seem to sit well with the others. I shall work on it some more.  I hinted to Charles that I was working on some poetry, but I don't want him to see if it he is only going to criticise it.

He criticised the cleanliness of the house the other day. He is used to being in rooms which were cleaned daily by servants, and of course although I did many jobs at the Inn, cleaning wasn't one of them, and it doesn't come easily to me. Now there is only me, and I have so many jobs to do that I perhaps spend less time cleaning than other things I would rather do.  I cried at his tone, and he did apologise.

June 18th

We had a light rain last night which was much needed refreshment for the garden. Today I sat on the bench and had a quiet read under our shady tree, as the excessive heat did not make me  feel like doing any work at all. But we were in doors all the evening as it was close and sultry, sure signs of more rain to come. I must get on with doing some preserving tomorrow, as we have such a lot of berries.

June 21st

I heard back from Aunt Ann today. She says her mother who is elderly and frail lives in Scarborough.  So the plan, if we agree, will be for us and her children to go to Scarborough to visit her mother.  However, those in York will be told that her mother is ill and that she is going to care for her.  She will also intimate that she has a cousin who is pregnant who lives nearby there, although that is not true. And we will tell people here in Worcester that I am needed to help with a relative from York without being too specific. The difficulty is of course, that Charles has family in both places, and we must make sure that the stories don't conflict. 

I went to see Mrs.Gillam today. She says I am to call her Sophia but it is very difficult for me to do that. I was always taught to call older women by their married names and with full formality.  I keep forgetting that I am a wife now, not a girl anymore, and as a wife I have a status of my own.  She is very pleasant and seemed very happy with life.

She has a lovely big house with big high ceilinged rooms and heavy mahogany furniture. Her youngest child Phoebe who is two was playing in the front room. She has 3 servants but mostly they deal with cooking and cleaning and the garden and Sophia says she likes to have the children herself.  I didn't want to ask when her baby was due, but she volunteered that she is expecting it in January. My baby will be born by then too. I wonder how we will cope with all the deception that must take place if our plan is to work.

June 22nd

I had another visitor today. What a full week this has been for exercising my social skills. Mrs. Brown (she also asked me to call her by her first name, Emily) came and took tea with me. She is closer in age to me, and has only one child, a daughter who is also called Emily and is nearly one. She is tall and thin and very pretty.  I was so pleased to have her in my house.

Emily told me that most of the women with young children in this area have nurses who care for the children most of the time.  I can hardly speculate about how circumstances will be for us when we "adopt" our baby back in a year's time. I will call at Emily's house next week.

Charles says we are invited to an Open House Party at Landsdown Villa on Saturday July 9th.  To my amasement it is the Mayor of Worcester who lives there. He is called Joseph Wood and his wife is called Maria, not that I would presume to call her by her first name.  I shall have to take lessons in how to address a Mayor. I wonder if my new friends from our road will be invited too. I expect so.  I wonder what Mother and Elizabeth will think of this tale. I will write to them straight away.

June 26th

I have decided to list the jobs that need doing and when I shall do them each week, leaving time for my visiting.

Mondays, I shall change the bed linen, do the washing, (luckily we have a wooden wringer), either hang it out if the weather is fine, or put it on clothes horses to dry. Then in the afternoons, I shall make time for mending and sewing and reading.  And of course each evening I must make the evening meal and clean up after it.

Tuesdays I will iron in the mornings, but leave my afternoons free for calling on friends. If I have no plans for visiting, I can spend the time with embroidery and writing my poetry.

Wednesdays, my "At Home" days, I need to be available in the afternoon to entertain guests. I shall spend time tidying the parlour and baking in the morning, and then I can write letters and read as and when there is time between guests.  Charles says that most guests will only stay for fifteen minutes.

Thursdays, again a day when I might well be visiting in the afternoons, I shall plan to  do any  cooking in advance than can be done and also preserving as and when it is ready to be done.

Friday will be my heavy cleaning day, and I shall clean the carpets, scrub the floors and black-lead the range. I also make a list of needs for shopping.

Saturday, Charles works most Saturday mornings and sometimes has to be in all day. But when he is free, he  and I love to spend the time shopping for groceries together. He knows which foods he enjoys and where the best prices can be obtained.  Then in the afternoons, we walk somewhere if the weather is fine. Charles spends time in the evenings when I am washing and tidying the house after tea to see to his garden, but he often has a longer stretch there also on Saturdays.

Sundays of course we go to church, and either go to visit his relatives or have some of them around to see us afterwards. We nearly all go to the same church, St Martin's so it is a good time to catch up on all the family news.

June 29th

I called in to see Emily today, as this is her "At Home" day.   She lives at 7 Rainbow Hill Terrace, and has quite a large house for their small family. She says they hope to have many more children.  Her husband in a Linen Draper so I will consult with him when I get around to making new curtains.

She seemed as pleased to see me as I was to see her. I think we shall be great friends. She has a kind if rather plain face, but a very generous outlook.  I do so long for someone to share my thoughts with. The days are so long when Charles is at work, and this tiny house doesn't take long at all to keep clean now that I have created a routine for myself.  I spend some time most days at the allotment, but Charles really feels that it is his project, and he wants to do all the heavy work. I only go to pick vegetables and flowers of which we have a grand supply. I shall make a special vegetable soup tonight. Since Charles is a vegetarian, we rely heavily on soups to go with our egg and cheese dishes. I do find it difficult to have much variation in our meals. And being a vegetarian it is difficult to use things like ambergris and musk which are traditionally used to flavour jellies, but they are products of animals, and therefore Charles doesn't feel happy using them. Luckily we can use agar agar which is made from seaweed but has similar properties.  I must see if I can find a supply locally.  Charles is the secretary for the Vegetarian society, so I wrote to the head office and asked if they had a recipe book of vegetarian foods which I might buy.  It turns out that the first president James Simpson died recently and his father-in-law William Harvey took over from him. His sister Mary Harvey wrote first Vegetarian Cookbook in 1812. Charles will send him a postal order to buy one for us. I will also check with my new neighbours to see if they have any good recipes to share with me.

I told Charles that since Jesus is mentioned several times in the Bible as eating fish, surely it cannot be wrong to do so. He says he sees my point, and he has agreed that he will occasionally eat fish so I have been checking out Mrs. Acton's cookery book for how to do it. This is what she says:
The cook should be well acquainted with the signs of freshness and good condition in fish, as they are most unwholesome articles of food when stale, and many of them are also dangerous eating when they are out of season The eyes should always be bright, the gills of a fine clear red, the body stiff, the flesh firm, yet elastic to the touch, and the smell not disagreeable.  When all these marks are reversed, and the eyes are sunken, the gills very dark in hue, the fish itself flabby and of offensive odour, it is bad, and should be avoided.
Eels should be alive and brisk in movement when they are purchased, but the 'horrid barbarity,' as it is truly designated, of skinning and dividing them while they are so, is without excuse, as they are easily destroyed 'by piercing the spinal marrow close to the back part of the skull with a sharp pointed knife or skewer. If this be done in the right place all motion will instantly cease.' We quote Dr. Kitchener's assertion on this subject; but we know that the mode of destruction which he recommends is commonly practised by the London fishmongers. Boiling water also will immediately cause vitality to cease, and is perhaps the most humane and ready method of destroying the fish.
I am not sure that we are quite ready to hazard into the realm of eating eels just yet.  I think I prefer Mrs. Acton's poems. I particularly like this one, as blue is my favourite colour and Susanna one of my favourite names.

To Susanna. February 1824
by Eliza Acton

 Amidst  the first young flow'rs of spring,
Which o'er this still, and lonely spot,
A gleam of grace and beauty fling,
I found a pale "Forget me not!"

Its blossoms had not gain'd the hue
They wear beneath a warmer sky;
That clear, intense, and lovely blue,
Which wins, and charms the wand'ring eye.

Cold winds had swept across its bloom,
And press'd its gentle form to earth;
And chilling tears, and wintry gloom,
Had gather'd round its place of birth.

I will not send so frail a thing,
My herald to a distant spot,
But sunnier hours to thee shall bring
A fair and bright, "Forget me not!"

It makes my attempts at poetry seem rather paltry, but I have  had another try.  This one I have not titled, but it is meant to be about when I first met Charles after I had grown out of childhood. I used poetic license, because of course, I have known him ever so long, and it was all much more relaxed and comfortable than the poem makes it sound. But what is true is that his voice is ever so wonderful, and I always thought of that first about him when he was away. It is deep and rich and ever so polished.

I knew him not, I sought him not
He was my father's guest
I gave him not one smile more kind
Than that I gave the rest.

He sat beside me at the board
The choice was not my own
But oh! I never heard a voice
With half so sweet a tone.

And at the dance again we met
Again I was his choice
Again I heard the gentle tone
Of that beguiling voice.

I sought him not - he led me forth
From all the fairest there
And told me he had never seen
A face he thought so fair.

And wherefore did he tell me this
His praises made me vain
And when he left me how I longed
To hear that voice again.

 I feel that I need to add some more to finish it off, but have no more time at present.