Chapter 14

Bidston, Wirral, September 1869

‘Basil, it’s wonderful! It’s exactly how I imagined it!’ Helena had been all over the house and now she stood in the lofty hallway with her hands clasped under her chin in delight.

‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ her husband responded with a smile.

Sir Basil was good-looking man with nut-brown hair, parted in the centre, and a neat beard and moustache. Slightly above medium height, he had the athletic build of a sportsman and his face was tanned from exposure to the Italian sun. Patty guessed that he was some years older than his new bride, perhaps in his early thirties, but together they made an attractive couple. Helena was blonde and willowy, with wide violet eyes and, contrary to her husband’s bronzed complexion, her skin, carefully protected from the sun, was roses and cream. To judge from the way they looked at each other, theirs was a genuine love match.

He turned to Miss Banks, who had accompanied them on their tour of the house. ‘You’ve done wonders, Nanny. Thank you.’

The old woman glowed with pleasure. ‘I’m glad you’re satisfied, sir.’

‘I think all the staff deserve our congratulations,’ Helena said. ‘I’m sure it has been a team effort.’

‘Of course,’ Sir Basil agreed.

Later that evening, when Iris had gone home and Vera was closeted with Miss Banks, Helena came into the kitchen. Patty had just sat down with a cup of tea and she jumped to her feet in surprise.

‘Oh, ma’am! Was there something you wanted? You should have rung.’

‘And make you run upstairs, when I’m perfectly capable of walking down?’ Helena said. ‘Anyway, all I wanted was to congratulate you on the dinner. It was excellent.’

Patty breathed a sigh of relief. She had agonised over the menu for days, until Miss Banks had let fall the remark that Sir Basil liked simple food, well cooked. ‘None of your fancy foreign concoctions,’ was how she had put it. Then Jackson had come in with a pair of trout a friend had caught in the River Dee and the butcher had provided some fillet steak that he promised was so tender a toothless babe could eat it, and Patty’s problems were solved.

She bobbed a curtsy. ‘I’m pleased it was satisfactory, ma’am.’

To her surprise, Helena sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Do sit down, Patty. There’s no need for this sort of formality. I know our stations in life are different, but I should like to think we can be friends.’

Patty slid into her chair. The idea seemed far-fetched to her. The world simply did not work like that. But she had no wish to argue.

‘Now,’ Helena said, ‘for the future. Sir Basil will go back to his office tomorrow and he will have something to eat at his club at midday. So we will adopt the new fashion of dining in the evening. I think seven o’clock would be convenient. I do not require a large meal in the middle of the day as well. Just a light luncheon. Some soup, perhaps, and a salad or an omelette.’

‘Very good, ma’am,’ Patty said, her mind running over this new schedule. It would work well, she thought. It would allow her to concentrate on the dinner for the staff in the morning and give her the afternoon to prepare something more elaborate for the gentry in the evening, and the midday soup would do for her employer as well.

‘But I shall want afternoon tea,’ Helena went on. ‘I am looking forward to sampling some more of your delicious cakes.’

‘Of course, ma’am,’ Patty agreed. It meant more work but she was glad to be able to show off her greatest skill.

‘That reminds me,’ Helena said. ‘On Wednesday I have invited some lady friends to visit. There will be four of them. We are going out for a walk first. There is something I want to show them. But then we shall all want tea. I’d like you to make a special effort for that. I have told them all what a wonderful pastry cook you are.’

‘Very good, ma’am.’

Patty hesitated. There was a question that had been nagging at her for some time and now seemed as good a time as any to voice it. ‘Begging your pardon, ma’am, and not wishing to presume, can I ask you something?’

‘Of course you can. You really don’t have to worry about being presumptuous. I’ve told you, I want you to think of me as a friend. What is you want to ask?’

‘I was just wondering, ma’am, what Sir Basil’s business is. Only him being a … a titled gentleman, I thought he wouldn’t need to work.’

‘Ah, I understand,’ Helena said. ‘Yes, it does puzzle people sometimes. It’s like this. He never expected to inherit the title. He had an elder brother who would naturally succeed when his father died. Basil expected to have to make his own way in the world. The idea of a career in the military did not appeal to him – and he is certainly not fitted for the church. So he decided to try his hand in business. He came to Liverpool and joined a firm of shipping agents. He did well, and now he owns a fleet of ships that carry goods from all over the world.’ Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. ‘I love to see them coming and going, and learn where they have been and what cargo they carry. It’s romantic, don’t you think?’

Patty thought, romantic or not, it obviously paid very well.

‘But you were wondering about the title,’ Helena continued. ‘Basil’s brother was killed in a riding accident ten years ago. So when his father died, Basil inherited the baronetcy. But he had a life here. He had no wish to go and bury himself in the country. So he sold the land and rented the house out to a rich American. And I’m very glad he did. I should hate to be cooped up in a country manor with no one to talk to but farmer’s wives. This house suits me very well. It’s a lovely situation and we are away from the soot and the smells, but close enough for friends to visit or for us to go to the theatre or a concert.’ She checked herself with a laugh. ‘Listen to me, rambling on. I’m interrupting your well-earned rest. Have I answered your question?’

‘Oh yes, ma’am,’ Patty responded. ‘And thank you.’

‘Then I must get back to my husband. He will be wondering what I am doing all this time.’ She got up. ‘Goodnight, Patty.’

‘Goodnight, ma’am.’

As well as the master and mistress, the household had increased by two more servants. Mr Charles, Sir Basil’s manservant, was a slightly built, fair-haired man with what Vera described as ‘an almost perfect Greek profile’. That meant nothing to Patty, but he was undeniably good-looking. He was clean-shaven except for a small moustache and, although Patty guessed that he was not much younger than Sir Basil, he had a youthful, almost boyish look. His actions were neat and precise, and his manner of speaking was reserved, almost to the point of rudeness. Vera wondered whether Charles was his first name or his surname, but when she asked his reply, through pursed lips, was, ‘That is the name by which I wish to be known in this household.’

Dulcie, the lady’s maid, was a very different character. Dark-haired and vivacious, she chattered away in a voice slightly tinged with the accent of North Wales, where she had grown up. The two of them had, however, certain points in common. One was that both were plainly devoted to their respective master and mistress, and the other that they both had a firm conviction of their position in the hierarchy of the household – a position that debarred them from taking on any work not immediately related to the service of that master or mistress.

The four ladies duly arrived and they all set out at once for their walk. They returned flushed with excitement. Vera met them in the hall and relieved them of their wraps, then conducted them to the drawing room where Patty was ready to serve tea. Charles had gone to Liverpool with his master, and Dulcie had made it clear that she did expect to act the role of parlourmaid, so Vera and Patty carried out those duties between them.

As Vera handed round cups and plates, the excited conversation continued.

‘I would never have believed it!’ one exclaimed. ‘Such an ancient relic right on our doorstep, and I had never heard of it.’

‘I know,’ Helena responded. ‘I thought at first that the local people were making fun of me. But then Jackson, our gardener, took me up there and showed me.’

‘Viking, they think?’ queried another. ‘What makes them say that?’

‘I looked it up in the encyclopaedia. This whole area was occupied by the Vikings from around nine hundred. They say it’s a depiction of the Viking sun goddess.’

Patty was only half listening as she dispensed sandwiches and slices of cake, but she could see that Vera was agog with curiosity. When the four ladies were climbing into the coach to be driven back to the ferry she whispered, ‘I wonder what they were talking about.’

‘Ask Lady Helena,’ Patty said. ‘She doesn’t mind you asking questions.’

So when Helena returned from seeing her friends off Vera said, ‘May I ask you something, Lady Helena?’ (Patty had noticed that she rarely called their employer ‘ma’am’.)

‘Of course,’ was the reply.

‘I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation at tea time. I’m wondering what it was that you had shown them that they were so excited about.’

‘Oh, yes. I suppose it must have sounded rather mysterious if you did not know what we’re discussing. There’s a rock carving up on the hill. It seems to show a woman’s figure with outstretched arms and a halo of sunbeams at her feet.’

‘Oh, I should love to see that!’ Vera said. ‘Can you tell me how to find it?’

Lady Helena’s brow creased. ‘It’s not easy to direct someone – but if you are really interested I will take you.’

‘Would you? That would be most kind!’

‘Would you like to come, Patty?’ Helena asked.

Patty hesitated. She really had no idea what they were talking about, but the idea of going out walking with her employer, as if they were social equals, seemed rather shocking. ‘Yes, I suppose so, ma’am,’ she muttered eventually.

‘Tomorrow?’ Lady Helena said. ‘Perhaps after the luncheon has been cleared away. I suppose you must have a little free time before you have to start preparing the dinner. We should only be gone for an hour.’

‘That would be perfect,’ Vera said, without pausing to consult Patty. ‘Thank you, Lady Helena.’

‘Not at all. I’m pleased to find that you are interested in such things.’ She moved away and then turned back. ‘Oh, and Patty, the tea was delightful, as always. We have decided to make it a regular occasion, every Wednesday afternoon.’

As they washed up after the midday meal the next afternoon, Vera kept urging Patty to hurry.

‘We mustn’t keep Lady Helena waiting, when she’s putting herself out for our benefit,’ she said.

‘I don’t know what you’re so excited about,’ Patty grumbled. ‘Me, I’d rather take the weight off my feet for an hour or so.’

‘Oh, come along!’ Vera exclaimed. ‘Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud. This will be really interesting. And it’s a lovely afternoon for a walk.’

She was right there. They were enjoying an Indian summer. The sun shone, but the heat was gentle, the sky a softer, paler blue than in mid-summer and there was a light breeze. They walked at first through woodland, where the trees had shed their leaves in a golden carpet that rustled as they walked. Patty trod it suspiciously at first. Used to city streets, she had misgivings about what might be concealed beneath.

Vera, by contrast, kicked up the leaves with the glee of a child and exclaimed, ‘Oh, it’s so good to be out in the country. I have missed this!’

‘You have lived in the country, then?’ Lady Helena queried.

‘Oh yes. I grew up there. I only came to the city when … well, about a year ago.’

‘I grew up in the country, too,’ Helena said. ‘I should not want to live there permanently but I feel we have the best of both worlds here.’

They walked on, Vera and Helena engaged in an animated discussion of the contrasting advantages of the country life versus the city, chatting more like friends than mistress and servant. Vera seemed to know the names of all the trees and to be able to identify the birds that hopped ahead of them or flew up as they approached. After a while the tall trees were replaced by smaller ones which grew more sparsely and Patty found herself picking her way over uneven slabs of rock – sandstone, Vera called it. Prickly bushes grew on either side of the path, covered in yellow flowers.

‘That’s gorse,’ Vera said. ‘There’s an old country saying that “when the gorse is not in flower, kissing is out of fashion”.’

Helena laughed. ‘Because gorse flowers all year round, of course.’

It took Patty a moment to catch up. ‘Oh,’ she said eventually

The path grew steeper and Patty began to pant. Country walking, she decided, was a vastly over-rated pastime. Then, quite suddenly, the ground levelled out into an open clearing and there in front of them was a tall structure with four huge sails, which rotated slowly in the breeze.

‘Is that a windmill?’ she asked.

Helena smiled at her. ‘You’ve never seen one before?’

‘No.’

‘Well, don’t go too close. Even in a light wind like this those sails can be dangerous. The miller before the present one was killed when he came out of the wrong door and was struck by one. There’s a story that once a pedlar had tied his donkey to one of them and when the miller released the brake and the sails started to revolve the donkey was whisked up into the air.’

‘No, really?’

‘Well, that’s what they say.’

A door opened and a large man in a floury apron appeared. Helena called cheerfully, ‘Good day, Mr Youds,’ and he responded with a respectful, ‘Good day to you, ma’am.’

‘We are going to look at the sun goddess,’ Helena said.

‘Ah, now there’s a sight. Strange to think people were carving these rocks all that time ago.’

‘Yes, isn’t it. But Bidston seems to have so many ancient stories associated with it. I heard that people say one of King Arthur’s knights came here, bringing the Holy Grail.’

‘Aye, so they say. And Joseph of Arimathea too. Him that gave his own tomb for Our Lord to be buried in.’

‘I wonder, could it be true?’

‘Who knows? There’s many a tale of goings on on this hill. Maybe some of them are true.’

‘Ah well,’ Helena said, ‘at least the sun goddess is evidence that ancient people were here. We had better be on our way. Good day to you.’

As they walked on Vera said, ‘Is there really a connection with King Arthur?’

‘They say Sir Gawain came here. I’d love to think it was true. That’s why the house is called Avalon.’

‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand.’

‘It’s the island where Arthur was taken after his last battle. It means the island of apples, and the land where the house is built was once an apple orchard, so it seemed appropriate.’

‘Is that why you have those two figures in the stained glass either side of the front door?’

‘Yes. They are supposed to be Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere. They were designed by the artist Edward Burne-Jones. Ah, we are nearly there.’

A little further on the ground fell away on either side and Patty saw that they were standing on a high ridge. To her right was a view of the Mersey estuary and the Liverpool skyline, much like the one she had from her bedroom window, but more extensive. To her left another vertiginous prospect revealed green fields and the estuary of another river, and beyond that in the blue distance the hazy outline of distant hills.

‘That’s the River Dee,’ Helena said, ‘and those are the mountains of North Wales.’

Patty felt slightly dizzy. She told herself that she was out of breath from the climb, but the fact was that after growing up in the city, where her view was always bounded by high walls, this vast panorama made her feel queasy.

Helena led them across the ridge to another clearing.

‘There!’ she said. ‘There she is, the sun goddess.’

At first Patty could only see a flat sandstone slab; then she began to make out the crude outline of a woman etched into the stone. At her feet, lines radiated like spokes in a wheel.

‘That is a symbol of the sun,’ Helena said, ‘Her head is pointed in the direction that the sun sets on midsummer’s day.’

‘And did you say it was carved by the Vikings?’ Vera asked.

‘That’s what scholars believe. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the Norse Irish, but they were of Viking descent, of course.’

‘Who were the Vikings?’ Patty asked.

A look flashed between Vera and Helena and Patty understood that she had revealed an unexpected depth of ignorance. She felt herself flush with embarrassment.

Helena answered kindly, ‘They were a warlike people from Scandinavia. They came in their longboats and attacked eastern England and Ireland. Then some of them came across the Irish sea and settled here, on the Wirral. That was a long time ago. About nine hundred years.’

‘Oh,’ Patty said humbly. ‘Thank you.’

As they walked home Vera said, ‘I wish my father could have seen that. He would have been fascinated.’

‘Your father was a historian?’ Helena queried.

‘He was a palaeontologist. His main interest was in fossils. But that carving would have excited him.’

‘A palaeontologist? How interesting! Tell me, did he agree with the theories about the earth being far older than we ever thought?’

‘Oh yes. He said it must be millions of years old. Some of the fossils he found were of creatures that lived long before men ever walked the earth.’

‘Indeed! So he discussed these things with you?’

‘After my mother died he had no one else to talk to. He was not much given to society.’

‘You were very fortunate. So many men believe women to be incapable of comprehending such things. Was he familiar with the work of Mr Darwin?’

‘He had his book, On the Origin of Species.’

‘And did he agree with him, that humans were not created in their present state, but evolved slowly from lower forms of life?’

‘He said it fitted with what he had learned from the fossil record.’

‘Fascinating! So we really could be descended from the apes?’

‘In some way, yes. At least, that seems to be the way scholars are interpreting the evidence.’

‘Just a minute!’ Patty stopped walking and faced them. Here was something she did know about and was quite certain of. ‘That can’t be right. God created Adam, the first man, and then Eve, in the garden of Eden. The Bible tells us so.’

Once again she saw Helena and Vera exchange glances. They looked uneasy, as if she was a tricky problem they had to solve.

Helena said, ‘Modern scholars – some of them – are beginning to think that the Bible stories were made up to explain things that were too mysterious for ancient people to understand.’

‘You mean, you don’t think the Bible is the Word of God?’

‘Not – not all of it, no.’

Patty looked at Vera for confirmation.

‘The problem is,’ Vera said, ‘that what we are learning from the fossil record is that creation cannot have happened in the way the Bible describes it, in six days. It took much, much longer than that. And Mr Darwin’s work shows that creatures of all kinds did not just spring to life fully formed. They evolved slowly from more primitive forms. And that is true for human beings too.’

Patty gazed from one to the other for a few moments longer. If she was to believe what they said, the whole bedrock of her universe, everything she had been taught in the workhouse chapel and in the schoolroom below it, was unreliable.

‘Of course,’ Helena said, ‘there are many people who refuse to believe the new theories. Eminent churchmen have argued bitterly against them and denounced Darwin as an atheist.’

‘But you believe him?’

‘I think the evidence is in his favour, yes.’

‘I see.’ Patty turned and began to plod in the direction of the house. Somewhere in the centre of her being she felt a weight, a deep, slow-burning anger at the system that had left her so ignorant, so incapable of making her own decisions on matters like this. And she was aware of a yawning, hitherto unsuspected, gulf between her own education and Vera’s.

Outwardly, nothing changed in the daily routine of running the house and Vera showed no sign that she harboured any contempt for Patty’s ignorance, or pitied her lack of education. But Patty could not dismiss a nagging worry that her friend was making a terrible mistake. She had been taught all her life that the Bible was the word of God and to question it would be a sin. She believed that if you obeyed the Commandments, said your prayers and confessed your sins, you could be redeemed and that in the end you would be received into heaven, where there was no poverty or sickness but only eternal joy. She had been taught to accept her place in the world and to regard misfortune and suffering as part of God’s plan, to try her faith and purge her soul. Now it seemed all that was thrown into question. She did not know what to believe, but she was very much afraid that Vera was committing the sin of pride in her own intellect and would eventually be punished for it.

Her misgivings received added weight the following Sunday. The whole household was expected to attend matins and they duly trooped off to St Oswald’s, the parish church, in their Sunday best. That particular Sunday, the vicar chose as the subject for his sermon the Creation story and delivered a forceful diatribe against the ungodly ideas being perpetrated by Mr Darwin and his supporters. As they left the church Patty looked at the faces of Sir Basil and Lady Helena, but she could detect no embarrassment or unease as they exchanged pleasantries with the local gentry. She wondered if Sir Basil shared his wife’s heretical beliefs or not.

‘You see?’ she said to Vera as they walked back to the house. ‘This man, Darwin or whatever you call him, has got it all wrong. The vicar says so.’

Vera glanced sideways at her. ‘I’m afraid I have more faith in Mr Darwin’s intellect than the vicar’s.’

After that, Patty decided to leave the subject alone.

At mealtimes, Vera made it her project to draw out Mr Charles, Sir Basil’s valet. She questioned him about his recent experiences with his master and mistress in Italy and at last received some response. It transpired that he had taken great pleasure in the art they had seen and he talked with enthusiasm about the glories of paintings by Raphael and sculptures by Michelangelo. It meant nothing to Patty, but Vera seemed at least to recognise the names and made encouraging comments. When she tried to change the subject, however, to the ladies and the Italian fashions, his face closed up again.

‘It’s not a topic I feel qualified to remark upon,’ he said, with a return of his normal prissy manner.

‘I don’t know why you bother,’ Patty said to Vera later. ‘He’s a miserable so-and-so.’

‘I don’t think he’s miserable, exactly,’ Vera said. ‘But I don’t think he knows how to behave with women. I imagine he has no sisters, and went to a boy’s boarding school and since then his life has revolved around Sir Basil’s, which seems to have been divided between his office and his gentleman’s club.’

‘Well, Sir Basil met Lady Helena somewhere,’ Patty pointed out. ‘He must have had some social life.’

‘True. But I suppose at social events the men servants probably stuck together and didn’t have much to do with the women. He certainly doesn’t make any attempt to be pleasant to Dulcie. Anyway, I’m determined to humanise him.’

She persisted in her attempts and was rewarded by the occasional smile and even once or twice by a laugh. Patty, observing this, was struck by a sudden misgiving.

‘Vera, you are flirting with him.’

‘Flirting? No, I’m not. I’m just trying to be friendly.’

‘No, you’re flirting.’

A mischievous smile crossed Vera’s face. ‘Well, so what if I am? Where’s the harm?’

‘Harm? You might give him the wrong idea.’

‘Rubbish. I’m sure he’s immune to any such suggestion.’

Patty put down the dish she was drying and sat down opposite her friend. ‘Listen, I don’t know much, but I do know about men – more than you do; a lot more. You can’t lead them on and not expect some kind of – well, a response.’

‘So? Perhaps I want a response.’

A cold hand gripped Patty’s heart. ‘You don’t mean what I think you mean, do you? You’re not hoping he’ll fall for you?’

‘Well, why not?’

‘Why not? Vera, you can’t marry a man like that.’

‘Why can’t I? What do you mean by a man like that?’

‘He’s not good enough for you.’

‘I don’t know.’ Vera seemed to consider the prospect. ‘One day he will probably be promoted to butler, and when Nanny finally retires I shall be housekeeper. Butler and housekeeper have a certain position in a household, a respectable place. I could do worse.’

‘You couldn’t!’ Patty said passionately. ‘You’re worth much more than that.’

‘Am I? So what should I be aiming for?’

‘I don’t know. Someone well educated, a professional gentleman.’

Vera shrugged. ‘I don’t see much likelihood of my meeting a “professional gentleman” who will want to whisk me away from my humble situation and set me up as a lady, do you?’

‘So would you really settle for Mr Charles?’

‘He is very good-looking, you know.’

Patty was close to tears. ‘And what about us? What about our dreams, our plan to own our own teashop? Have you forgotten that?’

Vera gave a sudden laugh and leaned across the table to grasp her hand. ‘Oh dear, Patty. It’s so easy to lead you up the garden path! Of course I’ve no intention of marrying Charles – even if he ever thought of me like that, which I doubt. Don’t worry! Our plans are still the same. I was only teasing you.’

‘Oh, were you?’ Patty swallowed and rubbed her hand across her face. ‘Thank goodness for that.’

Vera squeezed her fingers, her eyes troubled. ‘I’ve upset you. I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to. But the whole idea of me and Charles …’ she suppressed a giggle. ‘It was just so ridiculous I couldn’t resist having you on.’

‘Well, please don’t do it again,’ Patty said.

‘I won’t.’ Vera’s expression became more serious. ‘But don’t you want to marry one day? Don’t you want a home of your own, children, all that?’

‘Not me!’ Patty said with emphasis. ‘I’ve had enough of men to last me a lifetime.’

Later that evening, as a distraction from the confusing events of the last few days, she took refuge in writing a much-overdue letter to May in Australia.

Avalon

Bidston,

Wirral

October 2^nd 1869

Dear May,

I’m so happy to know you and James are married. You had to wait such a long time but I’m sure you will have a wonderful future together.

I’m very sorry that it has been such a long time since I wrote to you. I’ve had a difficult time lately but things are looking up now. I lost my job at Freeman’s. It was my own stupid fault. I let a man take me in. He was a real con man but I should have known better. Things were hard for a while and I ended up back in the workhouse for a few months. Can you believe it? I thought I’d turned my back on that years ago.

But I had a bit of luck. I am now working as a cook for a gentleman, who owns a lot of ships, and his wife. They have only just got married and he has built a beautiful house here in Bidston. It’s a tiny village close to Birkenhead. I’d never even been this side of the river before and this place is right out in the country, so it feels a bit strange, but I’m getting used to it. Lady Helena, my new missus, is very nice and treats servants like human beings, which makes a nice change!

Another good thing is that I made friends with a girl called Vera in the workhouse and she is working here as well, as under housekeeper. You probably think it’s funny that someone like Lady Helena should want to employ two girls from that place, but she has ideas about how unfair society is and wants to make a difference. Pity there aren’t more like her!

She has some funny ideas about other things too, like this thing called evoltution. I’m not sure if that’s the right spelling. Vera seems to understand her and they chatter on about fossils and a man called Darwin. It’s all above my head, so I let them get on with it.

It must be lovely for you, having Angel with you. What a turn around that is! I hope she is settling down well in Australia. I expect it all seems a bit strange to her but at least she’s with people who love her now.

Well, that will have to do for now. Please write and let me know how married life is suiting you. I’ll try not to be so long answering this time.

Your friend,

Patty