Worldly Goods
Nothing is as delicate as the reputation of a woman; it is at once the most beautiful and most brittle of all human things.
Fanny Burney, Evelina (1778)
Maria had been at home for only three days when George and Martha sent her back to the farm to thank Mrs Bowditch for the care she and her cousins had received. She was reluctant to go, said Tuckett later, even when accompanied by Elizabeth Snell, the maid of the house. Her truculence puzzled him as it was quite out of character for someone generally so compliant. She had said nothing to them about the business with James Bowditch.
A little over a week later, Mrs Mulraine and Betsey Bowditch came calling. They wanted Maria to walk out with them but Martha, who was resting upstairs, refused to let her. Instead, the guests sat in the parlour.
‘I’ve never seen a person in such a state as Mr Bowditch,’ said Mrs Mulraine quietly. ‘He is like one distracted. He has made up his mind that unless he can have you he will murder you. He has sworn to murder you and himself afterwards. Don’t suppose that by telling your uncle and aunt you will prevent it, for that will only put yourself in greater danger.’
‘Yes, it’s a miserable thing,’ said Betsey. ‘My brother looks indeed like one distracted. He is the kind of man who whenever he says a thing he is determined to do it.’
‘I speak to you out of friendship,’ added Mrs Mulraine, ‘for I have nothing to do with this business. Don’t mention it to anyone, for I know better than you, being older, what danger you should be putting yourself in by telling any person, especially your uncle and aunt. It makes no difference to me, of course, but I have liked you from the moment I saw you. But I advise you out of friendship that if you would become Mr Bowditch’s wife, he will die to save you. You have a capital excuse for doing so, as your uncle and aunt have been so unkind to you.’
‘My uncle and aunt have always been the reverse to me!’ said Maria.
‘Oh, nonsense,’ replied Mrs Mulraine, ‘she [meaning Martha] can’t be kind to you to refuse letting you go for a walk. You can but go away and make their unkindness an excuse for doing so.’
And on it went until Mrs Mulraine said: ‘Swear upon your life and soul, Miss Glenn, that you will do as Mr Bowditch wishes you! Will you do it? Only conceive what a thing it would be to be murdered! You will, won’t you?’
By now Maria was totally intimidated and in a tiny voice said, ‘Yes’.
‘You need not be afraid of Mr Bowditch now, for he will not injure you.’
Mrs Mulraine told Maria she would soon be going to Bristol to join her husband and may not see her again. As the visitors got up to leave, Maria was stung by a wasp. ‘Does it not give you pain?’ asked Mrs Mulraine, but Maria was so preoccupied she did not feel it.
On the way back upstairs, she passed Jane Marke, the cook, who turned around and followed her into her bedroom. She seemed to know all about James Bowditch and his threats: ‘Oh, Miss! I have seen Mr Bowditch and he is like one mazed.23 He has made his mind up that except you are his wife he will murder you, let you go to any part of the world whatever.’ She said that Bowditch had told her that if Maria went to her uncle and aunt for help, she would be in even greater danger. ‘It makes no difference to me,’ she told Maria, ‘but I love you like my own soul and I speak only out of friendship.’ At bedtime, she was in Maria’s room again, saying the same things, and repeating them over and over in the days afterwards.
On Saturday, Maria’s aunt asked her to run an errand to the poultry market in the centre of town. On her way home, just next to Mr Cox the hosier’s shop, James Bowditch and Mrs Mulraine grabbed her by the arm, one each side.
‘Come, I want to tell you something. Come with us,’ said Mrs Mulraine.
‘No, I could not think of it,’ replied Maria. ‘My aunt would be uneasy at my staying out, and I must make haste home.’
‘How can you be so foolish! Come along,’ said Mrs Mulraine and when Maria continued to resist, she became sarcastic. ‘Don’t come, don’t come,’ she said. ‘You know already what Mr Bowditch has said.’
‘I’ll certainly do it,’ said Bowditch.
‘For such a trivial thing as to walk up the street! But never mind, go home,’ said Mrs Mulraine.
‘Go,’ said Bowditch, glaring at Maria. ‘Go. You already know what I have said, and it is of no use to repeat it again.’
Maria gave in and they walked her up to White Lion Court, one of the dingy yards off East Street, where she stopped and tried once again to turn back. ‘I am sure my aunt won’t like it,’ she said, but Mrs Mulraine and Bowditch ignored her protests. William Bowditch was in the parlour, and he and his brother stood guard over Maria while Mrs Mulraine fetched pen, ink and paper.
‘I want you to write something,’ said Mrs Mulraine. When Maria refused, there was more cajoling. ‘How can you be so foolish as to be against doing so trifling a thing!’
Maria wrote as Mrs Mulraine dictated, that she would comply with everything that James Bowditch required, and that she was sixteen. As she wrote, Mrs Mulraine instructed her to leave gaps at specific places. Then they made her sign it.
William Bowditch left the room and returned with a short fat man with dark hair and a greasy face. In his hand he held a large document covered with strange writing. Maria thought it might be Greek.
‘Write your name here,’ he said, pointing towards the corner and guiding her hand to the place. Then he took the paper and left.
‘You need not be afraid now,’ said Mrs Mulraine. ‘If you continue to do as you are told, Mr Bowditch will not hurt you.’
When she got home Maria told Elizabeth Snell what had happened and that she was going to inform her uncle.
‘Oh don’t tell, Miss, for the world,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I knew a young lady by the name of Prideaux who they were going to take away, as they are you, and I advised her not to tell, as her father would never believe her. But she did tell and her father beat her and broke the comb in her head and said it was all her fault and put her in a convent. So, Miss, your uncle would never believe you, but say it was all your fault.’
Even so, Maria thought she should tell the Tucketts and that evening came downstairs intending to do so, but she became suddenly afraid that James Bowditch would kill her and changed her mind.
In the kitchen, Jane Marke, the cook, told Mary Ann Whitby that Maria had been to William Bowditch’s house and signed ‘something which could never be undone.’ After Miss Glenn is taken, said Jane, you must tell the master that.
For Maria, Sunday started badly. The signing of the papers at William Bowditch’s house was on her mind and Jane Marke again warned her of what would happen if she told her uncle and aunt about James Bowditch. But then, during the walk to church, her aunt carefully broke the news that she would soon be going to London to live with her aunt Maria Burrows. Martha, expecting tears and resistance, was surprised and relieved that she seemed to be so happy about it.
For Maria there was a sticky moment when, after the service, they encountered Mrs Bowditch in Mary Street. Mrs Tuckett told her that Maria would soon be leaving for London and Mrs Bowditch said she was sorry to see her go.
‘I hope, Ma’am, you will allow her to come over and see us before she leaves,’ she said.
‘Perhaps I shall,’ said Martha, ‘and I shall accompany her. Indeed, I suspect that she is a favourite of yours.’
‘Indeed she is, Ma’am!’ said Mrs Bowditch.
Later that morning Maria received a note from Mrs Mulraine telling her that she must go with the Bowditches when they came for her, but she didn’t let it worry her. Her mind was easy. Within a couple of days she would be in the safety of her new school many miles away.
The afternoon was pleasant. While Tuckett and his wife read to each other, Maria and her cousins played chess. They were animated and a little noisy, but Tuckett was so happy that Maria’s mood had lifted that he decided not to take her to task. After dinner, they went to hear the band in Taunton and later that evening Maria sat with Tuckett in the parlour, she doing her needlework and he reading, until it was time for bed. At 9.00 pm she went up to the room she shared with Lucretia and Gertrude, and after Mary Ann helped her undress, fell asleep easily for the first time in weeks.
In the attic, the servants were bickering amongst themselves. Jane Marke had told Mary Ann to leave Maria’s door ajar but she refused, frightened that this was a step too far.
‘Never mind,’ said Jane later. ‘It makes no difference. I have opened it.’