Kathryn Hughes - The Short Life and Long Times of Mrs Beeton

But in fact Mr Hagarty was not dining that Sunday at the Dolphin, and Sam, mindful of the way that news and gossip flew back and forth between the Mayson, Dorling and Beeton girls, knew that he had to cover himself. At nine o’clock that night (a guilty conscience perhaps making him put the hour on his letter) he sat down and wrote a letter of explanation to Isabella:

First of all, by some misunderstanding, Mr Hagarty didn’t dine with us to-day and consequently I had not even the satisfaction of being able to say unto myself – Well, if you would have preferred being with Bella , still you are doing your duty in paying all the respect you can unto a good fellow, and most valued friend of your Father’s – you see I couldn’t even gammon myself with that small specific, so I ate my dinner with the best grace possible, potted everybody, was surly to all, and escaped to my den in Bouverie – have written a multitude of people on different matters, looked at Ledgers, Cash books, Cheque books, etc., and, after all this dreadful wickedness, complete the scene by annoying you.

Sam had given a suspiciously full account of his Sunday, but it was probably enough to convince Bella, who never seems quite to have understood the depths of his aversion to Ormond House. Her parents, though, were not so trusting. Henry and Elizabeth Dorling were increasingly critical of the way in which Sam was leading a life that was insultingly independent of his fiancée, the woman with whom he was supposed to be getting ready to share his life. Four days after the Mr Hagarty Sunday, Henry and Elizabeth made a point of telling Isabella that they had discovered that Sam had recently invited friends to the house in Pinner and had a tea party without bothering to ask her, or, indeed, even mentioning it to her. ‘Naughty boy to thus forget your nearest and I hope dearest friend,’ Isabella starts her next letter with gritted gaiety. And, indeed, she had every reason to be piqued: this was their house, after all, and the fact that Sam had borrowed a proper tea service showed that it was no hugger-mugger affair, unfit for ladies. From here Isabella lurches back into her usual refrain, which sounds much nearer her real feelings: ‘You are sadly tiring my patience; consider it is ten days since I saw you. Anyone would think you lived in Londonderry instead of London, you are so very sparing of your company.’

Late April finds the courting couple happier again, enjoying what will be the calm before the final big storm. Indeed, by 23 April Sam is in a positively flowery mood, perhaps because as the wedding nears he knows this ghastly regime cannot go on for ever: ‘Oh – what I would not resign to see you now for just one short half-hour? That sweet, short preface that I have read and studied during the past few days – what a joyous volume does it not foretell? – a book of bliss, with many pages to smile and be glad over.’ All the same, he still manages to get in a sly dig at Henry’s famous stinginess: next Saturday is the last Saturday that Bella’s season ticket is valid for the Great Exhibition, and surely for that reason alone she will be granted permission to visit it with him? Bella gets her parents to agree, but immediately worries that Sam will do his usual trick of not appearing, or else spoil the day by being spectacularly unpunctual. Written firmly across the top of her next letter is the stern warning: ‘Do not be too late for the train to-morrow.’

Whether or not Sam turned up on time, the trip to the Crystal Palace, on 26 April, went well, perhaps too well. Mrs Dorling was, of course, ever present as chaperone and the Crystal Palace would have been full of crowds and bustle. Still, the occasion seems to have unlocked an intensity of feeling in Bella that was both wonderful and alarming (only the previous day she had written: ‘Do not be too sanguine, dear Sam, do not look forward to too much happiness for fear of being disappointed in me ’). At any rate, very soon after their outing they had a row, a terrible one. It is difficult to work out the exact sequence of events, since some of the letters have gone missing, perhaps because someone considered them too painful to retain. What we do know is that during the last few days of April Sam was too busy to write a letter to Isabella and that she paid him back by deliberately cutting off contact. Always uncertain of getting her emotional needs met, Isabella did her usual thing and simply ceased presenting them, withdrawing into the self-contained competence where she felt most comfortable. Unsurprisingly, when she does eventually deign to write on 2 May it is simply to ask Sam stiffly to bring down some embroidery that was being professionally cleaned in London. ‘I know your dislike to luggage, but as this is a parcel you can stow away in one of the large pockets of your very large coat, you will I am sure not mind troubling yourself with the said packet.’ She also pointedly reminds him of his promise to arrive on the 6.15 from London, ‘so if you do not make your appearance you will have much to answer for’, although she does soften it with an emollient ‘Goodbye with much love and many kisses.’ It looks as though it is to this letter that Sam replied with a sharp little note, the tartest he ever wrote: ‘As I think you will have so much to do, and your house be so pressingly full, I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you next Saturday and am Yours most affectionately S. O. Beeton.’

Panicked by a tone that she has not heard before, perhaps terrified that he was going to break off the engagement altogether, Isabella immediately responds with an abject apology. Writing probably on 3 May she is contrite, aware that she has been beastly.

I know I have been a very cruel, cold and neglectful naughty girl for not having written to you for so many days and cannot sufficiently reproach myself for the sad omission … What a contrast is my frigid disposition to your generous, warm-hearted dear self; it often strikes me, but you know I cannot help it, it is my nature … You have guessed my weak point, for if there is one thing more than others I detest, [it] is to be chafed in that quiet manner as you did in the note I received this morning … Now my darling I must say good bye, hoping you will freely pardon this my first offence (at least I hope so), with much love,

Believe me, my dearest boy,

Yours penitently and most lovingly,

ISABELLA MAYSON

Pray don’t write any more cutting letters as you did yesterday, or I don’t know what will be the consequence.

Isabella’s apology apparently did the trick and from this point the correspondence resumed its normal rate, although lingering tensions about the way that Bella allows her parents to dominate her continue to prevent an entirely easy exchange. Indeed, the ‘dreaded subject of interference’ (Sam’s words) is still something that can be guaranteed to trip them up, get them cross, have them each retiring to their own corners to stew and fret. On 26 May, and still cogitating on the subject, Isabella sat down in an attempt to explain her position to Sam:

My own darling Sam

As I have here two or three little matters in your note of yesterday which rather puzzled me, I thought I must write and ask an explanation; very stupid of me you will say, as I am going to see you on Wednesday morning, no doubt you will think I could just as well have my say then as trouble you with one of my unintelligible epistles. In the first place in what way does Bella sometimes now pain Sam just a little? Why does he not wish to be near her? Secondly; what right has he to conjure up in his fertile imagination any such nasty things as rough corners to smooth down, when there is one who loves him better and more fondly than ever one being did another on this earth at least. Oh Sam I think it is so wrong of you to fancy such dreadful things. You also say you don’t think I shall be able to guide myself when I am left to my own exertions. I must certainly say I have always looked up to, and respected, both parents and perhaps been too mindful of what they say (I mean respecting certain matters), but then in a very short time you will have the entire management of me and I can assure you that you will find in me a most docile and willing pupil. Pray don’t imagine when I am yours – that things will continue the same way as they are now. God forbid. Better would it be to put an end to this matter altogether if we thought there was the slightest possibility of that , so pray don’t tremble for our future happiness. Look at things in a more rosy point of view, and I have no doubt with the love I am sure there is existing between us we shall get on as merrily as crickets, with only an occasional sharp point to soften down, and not many, as you fancy … Good night, my precious pet, may angels guard and watch over you and give you pleasant dreams, not drab colours, and accept the fondest and most sincere love of,