Mary Nichols - An Unusual Bequest

She remembered the stranger on the cliff with a wry smile. He had taken her for a schoolteacher and she remembered thinking that was what it might come to. A school was the answer, one that took boarders, young ladies from wealthy homes whose parents were prepared to pay to have their daughters educated and given some polish before being brought out. If she did that, the village children could still have their school. The wealthy could subsidise the poor. But did she have the right qualifications to attract the wealthy? She would need teachers beside herself and premises and connections. She weighed the coins in her hand and laughed at her foolishness.

She went up to say goodnight to the girls and quietly told Miss Quinn to make sure their doors were locked, though the poor lady did not need to be told; she was already in fear of her life. ‘Tomorrow we will make plans,’ Charlotte told her before returning to her own room and making sure that that door was locked.

She could hear the three men downstairs, laughing drunkenly. They had called for wine and a new pack of cards which was evidence enough that Cecil had not changed his gambling ways. She did not sleep until long after she heard them stumbling up to bed in the early hours and the house had gone quiet.

The next morning, she and the children slipped out of the side door to go to the village. She noticed a carriage arriving at the front as she passed the corner of the house, but, guessing it was John Hardacre, the family lawyer, she decided not to stay to receive him. Foster would alert the still-slumbering Cecil that he had arrived.

They crossed the stable yard to a path that led into the kitchen garden and from there through a side gate of the estate wall on to the road into the village. The damp hedgerows dripped onto the newly thrusting primroses at their base and the burgeoning trees in the meadows on either side moved softly in the breeze and sheltered the new lambs. It should have been a joyful time, this time of new life, but for once it did not raise her spirits. She had too much on her mind.

‘My lady,’ the Reverend greeted her. ‘I did not expect you so early, you do not usually come until after noon.’

‘No, but I need to speak to you, Reverend.’

‘Then come into the church, I was on my way there.’

She sent the children to the classroom and followed him into the church. ‘Reverend, I hardly know how to begin,’ she said, after they had genuflected to the altar and seated themselves in one of the pews. There was a chill in there that matched the chill in her heart. ‘My life has taken a dramatic turn…’

‘I had heard the new Lord Hobart had arrived.’

‘My goodness, news travels fast. Yes, he came yesterday morning and he is not prepared to go on as his father did and that means—’

‘You will no longer be able to teach, is that it? We shall all be very sorry.’

‘No, Reverend, it means that I must teach. And I must be paid for doing it.’

‘You know the village children cannot pay.’

‘Yes, I know that. But I must find pupils that can. And premises. The village children could be included later, when everything is up and running—’ She stopped, daunted by the task ahead of her.

‘I see.’

She knew he did see and was glad that she did not have to explain. ‘What I need to ask you is whether you know where I might find a house…?’

‘For a school?’

‘Yes, but also living quarters for me and my children and their governess.’

‘You surely have not been asked to leave Easterley Manor?’

‘No, but I do not wish to stay. Lord Hobart is a bachelor. It would not be fitting.’

‘No, I see it would not. But what about the uncle you spoke of? Would he not give you a home?’

‘I do not know. I have never even met him and how do I know I won’t be jumping from the frying pan into the fire? Besides, I love living at Parson’s End, my children were born here and they love it too. I do not want to leave the area.’

‘Then, my lady, you really do have a dilemma.’ He smiled suddenly and patted her hand. ‘You are welcome to stay at the Rectory until you have found somewhere. I am sure Mrs Fuller will raise no objections. But as for premises, we will have to put our thinking caps on because I do not want to lose you from the district and I am sure I am not alone in that sentiment.’

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

He rose and she knelt for his blessing. As they left the church she could hear the children arriving for their afternoon lessons. ‘Will you take your class today?’ he asked her.

‘Yes, of course. The children expect it and I want everything as normal as possible for Lizzie and Fanny.’

‘Then while you are with your pupils, I shall go up to the hall and pay my respects to his lordship.’

Charlotte managed a smile as she passed him to go into the schoolroom, wondering, as she did so, what kind of reception he would get.

The children were noisily chasing each other round the room, but quietened when they saw her. ‘Back to your seats, children,’ she said. ‘And out with your slates. Lizzie, you can help Josh with his sums and Fanny can amuse the little ones. I will hear your reading one by one.’

The quiet industry of the classroom soothed her a little, but the worry at the back of her mind would not go away. She could not take advantage of the Rector’s generosity; it would not be fair to him and his elderly wife. And though she had no qualms about being able to run a school, the problem was financing it and finding pupils. She would have to try and borrow the money against future income. If Mr Hardacre was still at the hall when she returned, she would try to see him privately and broach the matter with him. Not for the first time she wondered how he was faring with Lord Hobart.

‘Miss.’ She felt someone tug at her skirts and looked down to see Danny White looking up at her, anxiety writ large on his face. ‘Meg wants to go home. She’s got the bellyache.’

She looked at the lad’s tiny sister, only a toddler, certainly not old enough for school, but if she had not been allowed to come neither would Danny and he was a bright child and deserved whatever education she could give him. Soon he would be able to join the select few who took more advanced lessons from the Rector himself. Meg was holding her stomach and crying. Charlotte scooped her up in her arms to comfort her. Her forehead was hot and she was obviously in some pain. What should she do? She could not let the child go home alone, not even if she sent Danny with her, and she was reluctant to leave her class when the Reverend was absent.

There was nothing for it but to take them all. ‘Enough of lessons,’ she said, suddenly making up her mind. ‘We’ll all take Meg home, shall we?’

The idea was greeted with enthusiasm and, having left a message with the Reverend Fuller’s wife, they set off, headed by Charlotte carrying Meg, Danny beside her and Lizzie and Fanny following with the others in a double file.

The strange crocodile was greeted by smiles from the village women they met, all of whom knew the good work Charlotte did, not only for the children, but the old and infirm. She brought food and clothes, but, more than that, she brought hope. ‘Mornin’, me lady,’ they called. Charlotte returned their greeting and went on her way, with the children singing ‘One man went to mow’ behind her.

The children waited outside while she took Meg into Dr Cartwright’s to ask him to check on her, fully accepting that the account for his services would be remitted to her, for the poor child’s parents could not pay. He felt all over her stomach. ‘What have you been eating?’ he asked her.

‘Nuffin’.’

‘Yes, you have. You’ve been stuffing yourself with something bad, haven’t you?’