Название | The Sweeping Saga Collection: Poppy’s Dilemma, The Dressmaker’s Daughter, The Factory Girl |
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Автор произведения | Nancy Carson |
Жанр | Классическая проза |
Серия | |
Издательство | Классическая проза |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9780008173531 |
‘I don’t wonder at it, Miss Silk,’ Mrs Newton said with a knowing smile. ‘You are an exceedingly pretty girl.’
‘Thank you.’ Poppy smiled graciously.
‘Robert did mention the death of your father. I was so sorry to learn about it. Wasn’t your father a navvy?’
‘A ganger.’ Ganger sounded so much more elevated than navvy. ‘He was in charge of a gang o’ navvies.’
‘Of course, we hear so many horrific tales about navvies and their antics. The newspapers are full of their criminal acts up and down the land. I can only hope such reports are exaggerated.’
‘Well, they ain’t all rogues and vagabonds,’ Poppy replied, trying to stifle the defensive edge in her voice. ‘Some have the kindest hearts …’
‘Of that I’m sure. To my mind, there are good and bad in all walks of life …’ She adjusted the lie of her spectacles. ‘You were telling me how you got to know my nephew. How did your friendship progress?’
‘Oh, yes … Well … we used to stop and talk a lot, Robert and me. We would bump into each other as I went to the tommy shop and he went about his business. Once, he took me for a ride on that two-wheeled machine he’d made.’ Poppy laughed as she recalled it.
‘That infernal hobby horse …’ Mrs Newton rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
‘Oh, but it was a lot o’ fun, Mrs Newton. We seemed to have fun together whenever we met, Robert and me.’
‘I take it you met unchaperoned?’
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘You realise, of course, that he is engaged to be married?’
‘Yes, I do know …’ Poppy felt reprimanded. Maybe she had said too much, appeared too enthusiastic about her meetings with Robert.
‘So how old are you, Miss Silk?’
‘Sixteen. I’ll be seventeen next April.’
‘A lovely age, to my mind … So tell me – are you keen to resume your learning?’
‘Yes. If you have time, Mrs Newton. Depending on how much you charge.’
‘Oh, I don’t intend to charge, Miss Silk. The privilege would be mine. I used to be a teacher, as Robert must have told you. I continued to teach long after Mr Newton and I were married. I didn’t need to, of course, and Mr Newton would have preferred it if I hadn’t. But I wanted to. I felt I was doing some good. Regrettably, my husband died four years ago. He owned a metalworking company, you know, which has prospered over the years. It fell to me to maintain the business. It’s still functioning, run by a manager now. I have no family – children, I mean – much to my regret. It was always my dearest wish that I would have a daughter, but it was not to be. I tended to regard my pupils as my children …’ Poppy detected a wistful look in Aunt Phoebe’s eyes. ‘So … as you can imagine, Miss Silk, nowadays I have plenty of time on my hands. I rather miss teaching. I enjoyed it, and I was rather good at it, although I say so myself.’
‘I can imagine you was,’ Poppy said with a smile.
‘My nephew did tell me that you are a very quick learner. He said you have “limitless potential”. His very words. He felt it would be a great sacrifice if your abilities were never developed. Praise indeed, you know, Miss Silk.’
They heard the chink of crockery on a tray and the click of footsteps on the hall floor. The maid tapped on the door, and Mrs Newton bade her enter. Esther gently laid the tray on the occasional table that stood between host and guest.
‘Thank you, Esther, I’ll pour … Milk and sugar, Miss Silk?’
‘Please …’
When the maid left them, Mrs Newton said, as she poured the tea, ‘So tell me, my dear, when will it be convenient for you to come for lessons?’
‘The way things am at the moment, I could come any time. But I intend to find work in service as soon as I can. Work on the railway has been stopped till they sort out all the problems, you see. So me family have moved on, and I left them so as I could make me own way in the world. I want to earn me a decent, honest living, Mrs Newton … I don’t want to end up a street wench if I can help it …’ She said it as though prostitution were the most natural progression. ‘So me intention was to ask you if you knew anybody what needed a maid. I’m a good worker. I can do most things.’
‘I didn’t realise,’ Mrs Newton said pensively as she handed Poppy a cup and saucer.
‘Thank you, Mrs Newton …’
‘So if you’ve already left the bosom of your family, where are you living?’
‘At a place called Gatehouse Fold … with me friend who just rented a house there. It’s not the best place for a young woman trying to make her way decently in the world.’
A look of apprehension clouded the older woman’s face. ‘I take it you are not living with a man.’
‘Oh, no, Mrs Newton. With Minnie Catchpole. We’ve known each other years.’
‘Gatehouse Fold …’ Mrs Newton ruminated earnestly over the name. ‘Yes, I recall … Gatehouse Fold is certainly not an ideal place for any decent young woman. It’s surrounded by some awful public houses. Dens of iniquity.’
‘There’s nothing I can do about it till I find a job as a live-in maid, Mrs Newton.’ Poppy shuffled self-consciously and spilled some tea into her saucer, which she tipped back into her cup.
Mrs Newton suffered the impropriety and smiled tolerantly. ‘May I be frank with you, Miss Silk?’
‘Oh, yes, o’ course. I always think it’s better to be honest, and say what you think.’
‘Well, when my nephew mentioned you I did not know what to expect. When he said he had met you on the navvies’ encampment, I was horrified at whom he might be associating with. However, I feel bound to say you are not in the least what I expected. I see before me an intelligent girl, polite, decently dressed. In all honesty – and you must not take offence at this – I see some rough edges too, but nothing that could not be smoothed out with a little more education and regular lessons in etiquette and elocution. I would consider it my crowning achievement to render you a respectable young lady fit to grace any company. To my mind, you certainly have looks and demeanour in your favour.’
Poppy smiled demurely, uncertain how to respond to this assessment.
‘So come tomorrow morning and I’ll assess your reading and writing. We’ll take it from there. It will also give us a chance to get to know each other a little better, don’t you think so, Miss Silk?’
Poppy grinned happily. ‘Yes, Mrs Newton. And thank you.’
Poppy attended her lesson, and several more besides, over the days that followed. During that time, she and Mrs Newton did get to know each other better and their easy accord was confirmed. But it was not only Mrs Newton that appealed. Poppy was fascinated with the library where she took her lessons. Because she had seen nothing like it before, it provoked no memories, only discoveries. There were books galore. She looked at the rows neatly lined up on shelves, and craned her neck to read the titles on the spines. She ran her fingers across them with a touch that was almost sensual, occasionally pulling one out, opening it with extreme