Dilly Court - The Summer Maiden

‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it, Carrie. Don’t take too long because I want you to go to market and buy some vegetables and a beef bone. I’m afraid it will be soup again for supper.’

‘Yes, of course. I’ll go as soon as I’ve got the boys out of bed.’ Caroline left the kitchen without giving Sadie a chance to think of anything else that she might want, and hurried upstairs to wake her brothers. When she was satisfied that they intended to get up and dress themselves, she took the newspaper to her room and sat down to study the ‘Positions Vacant’ column. Her attention was caught by the name ‘Colville’, which she had often heard spoken when her parents were discussing business matters over breakfast or dinner – Colville Shipping Company, her father’s bitter rival, was part of the reason for Manning and Chapman’s dire financial straits. She memorised the advertisement and the address, selected a straw bonnet adorned with scarlet rosebuds and ribbons, slipped on her lace shawl and prepared for battle.

The Colville residence was situated in a beautiful Georgian terrace at the pier head. After a long hot walk along Wapping High Street, past wharfs, warehouses, numerous pubs and cheap lodging houses, Caroline could not help but be impressed by the comparatively tranquil setting. But she quickly realised that it was an illusion, cleverly created by green lawns and the grouping of tall trees. The houses themselves overlooked the busy entrance to Wapping Basin and the river was crowded with vessels of all shapes and kinds. The peace was shattered by the noise from the docks: the sound of flapping sails, the drumming of great paddle wheels as the steamers ploughed through the water, and the shouts of seamen, stevedores and dock workers. But dirt, noise and bustle meant money. Caroline had imagined that the Colville family would be very well situated, and now she was certain. Some of their profits had been gained at the expense of her father’s company and had probably contributed to its downfall. Leaving her wicker shopping basket beneath the splendid portico, she knocked on the door and after a short wait it was opened by a trim parlour maid.

‘I’ve come about the advertisement in The Times ,’ Caroline said with as much confidence as she could muster.

‘You should put your application in writing, miss. I doubt if the mistress will see you otherwise.’

Caroline was not going to be put off so easily. ‘I’ve been offered a position with a titled family,’ she said, lying valiantly. ‘But this situation interests me. I would like to speak to your mistress before I accept the other one.’

The maid cocked her head on one side, eyeing Caroline suspiciously, but she was obviously impressed. ‘Wait there and I’ll see if Mrs Colville is at home.’

‘It’s very hot out here. Might I wait inside?’ Caroline stepped over the threshold before the maid had a chance to close the door.

‘Very well, but stay there. Don’t move.’ The maid hurried off with the white ribbons on her frilled mobcap flying out behind her like pennants.

Catching sight of her flushed cheeks and slightly dishevelled appeared in one of the large wall mirrors, Caroline tucked stray strands of dark hair behind her ears. People were always telling her that she resembled her mother, and it was true that she had inherited her mother’s large hazel eyes, luxuriant dark hair and clear skin, but Caroline could never see the likeness herself. She straightened her bonnet and wiped a smut from the tip of her nose, hoping that Mrs Colville would not notice the smear on her white lace gloves. The jaunty headwear gave her a pert appearance, and she was wondering whether it had been a wise choice when the maid reappeared.

‘The mistress will spare you five minutes. Come this way.’ She marched off, leaving Caroline to follow her.

She had a vague impression of glacial elegance as she hurried after the maidservant. The walls and the paintwork were stark white, unrelieved by touches of colour, and gilt-framed mirrors reflected the sunlight that flooded through the tall windows, creating square patterns on the highly polished floorboards. Caroline had worked out her speech but when she was ushered into a large, airy parlour overlooking the river, she was momentarily lost for words. If the entrance hall was ice-white, the parlour was the cool blue of a winter sky. The chairs and sofa were upholstered in pale grey velvet, and a similar material had been used for the curtains. After the dust and heat outside, the coolness of the room was matched by the frigid reception of the elderly woman, who was seated on a throne-like chair with an embroidery hoop on her lap.

‘You may go, Gilroy,’ she said in clipped tones.

The maid bobbed a curtsey and backed out of the room as if in the presence of royalty. Caroline eyed Mrs Colville warily. The advertisement had been brief to the point of terseness and had merely required an educated woman to act as companion to a young lady: no more, no less. It had intrigued Caroline almost as much as the name Colville. She had a score to settle with that family. Had it not been for their cut-throat business tactics her dear papa might still be alive.

‘Well, what have you to say for yourself? Your five minutes is ticking away.’ Mrs Colville fixed Caroline with a steely gaze, her hooded eyelids barely concealing her disapproval.

‘I came in answer to your advertisement,’ Caroline said firmly. ‘I think I would be ideally suited to the position.’

‘You do, do you? And what gives you that idea?’

‘I’m well educated, and I know how to conduct myself, Mrs Colville.’

‘What is your name?’

Caroline hesitated. The name Manning was well known in Wapping, especially by those connected with shipping. ‘Caroline Manley.’

‘You look very young. I was hoping for an older woman.’

‘I’m seventeen, ma’am. But I’m mature for my age.’

‘Hmm.’ Mrs Colville raised a lorgnette to her eyes. ‘My granddaughter is of a similar age, but I would not consider you to be a suitable chaperone. You may leave now.’

Caroline stared at her, shocked and surprised by this cavalier treatment. ‘That’s not fair, Mrs Colville. You haven’t given me a chance to prove my worth. Might I not meet your granddaughter? Surely it’s important that she has a companion she likes.’

‘You have a lot to say for yourself for someone so young.’ The lorgnette was raised again and Mrs Colville was silent for a few seconds. ‘Very well. I’m a fair woman. Ring the bell and I’ll send for Maria. But don’t think this means that you have the position.’

Caroline tugged at the bell pull. ‘I understand perfectly.’

‘You’re well spoken, I’ll give you that, and you have the air of a lady, even if you are wearing that ridiculous bonnet. I cannot abide bright colours and in particular I hate scarlet.’

‘I have more bonnets.’

‘Then why do you want to work? Why are you not at home with your family, where any well-brought-up young girl should be until she is married?’

‘My father is dead.’ Caroline did not need to put on the tremor in her voice. She dashed tears away with her gloved hand. ‘My mother is unwell, and my family have fallen on hard times. But I don’t want pity. I need to pay my way and that is why this job is important to me.’

‘You speak eloquently. Why didn’t you accept the position with the titled lady, or is she a figment of your imagination?’

‘The person in question is Lady Bearwood, who is a friend of Mama’s.’ Caroline had not intended to flaunt her connection with the late Earl of Dawlish’s daughter, but she was desperate. ‘I am prepared to work hard and do my best.’