Chapter 7
Victoria spent her first two weeks in Manchester settling into Bert’s warm, cozy home.
It had all the modern conveniences, and she didn’t want to interfere with how it was run.
He had it set up the way it worked for him, so she organized her dressing room, and reorganized his linen closets with a better system.
Mrs. Kelly objected at first, and then realized that Victoria’s system worked better, and helped her move things around.
Initially the housekeeper was suspicious of her.
She expected a spoiled fancy girl from London who would want to be waited on hand and foot and change everything in a household that had functioned well without her for twenty years, but little by little she could see what Victoria was made of, that she was a hard worker who was willing to pitch in and even do the work herself.
Victoria was a very bright, respectful young woman, experienced at running a household efficiently.
And she didn’t want to do anything to disrupt her husband or his home.
By the end of the first week she had made an ally of Mrs. Kelly, who spent the second week doing everything she could to help her.
Victoria spoke to Patrick herself, and asked the chef to maintain the menus that Bert loved, but to provide just a few light, easy-to-prepare dishes for her. He was happy to comply, and appreciated the diplomatic way she approached it.
Seamus, the houseman, was impressed by her too. She tried to fall into step with the way they’d been doing things, with a few tweaks here and there, which actually improved the smooth running of her husband’s house.
There were two young Irish girls, Mabel and Fiona, who were particularly helpful, and relieved when they saw that Mrs. Kelly liked the new Mrs. Banning.
What startled them all was that she looked fancy, and they knew she had a title, but she didn’t act it.
She acted like she was part of a team with them, to make Bert happy.
He was the focus of her efforts. She arranged flowers from the garden beautifully.
She did a fresh bouquet for Bert every day, which he noticed when he got home.
He was tired after a long week of work and many meetings.
He had toured all his factories where he returned to make sure that everything was running smoothly and the workers were happy.
He ran his mills with strength and diplomacy, and a keen ear for dissent in the ranks.
He wanted to nip trouble in the bud before it started, a theory he shared with Victoria and with which she agreed.
She saw to it that the cook continued to prepare all his preferred meals, his favorite was haggis, a heavy Scottish dish that Victoria had never been able to stomach.
Bert had been afraid that Victoria would want to change everything when she arrived, but she didn’t.
She was careful to keep everything the way he liked it.
She had done that with her father, and had learned that most men hated change.
They wanted things in the same place, cooked the same way, and all their quirks and habits respected even if you thought that a piece of furniture would look better elsewhere, a favorite sweater was too old to wear, or a meal was unhealthy.
If they loved something the way it was, you couldn’t touch it.
Change was the enemy and Bert was no different from her father about that.
It wasn’t as much a matter of age, but of gender.
Men just got more stubborn about it as they got older, but the principle was the same.
Her father had prepared her well for life with a man.
By the end of the second week, Victoria had five staunch supporters who liked the way she did things and spoke highly of her to her husband, with lavish praise.
“What have you been doing to them? Mrs. Kelly is the original curmudgeon and never likes anyone. Patrick can be very temperamental if anyone criticizes his cooking or wants to alter a recipe. And Seamus gets nervous when anything changes.” Bert had fully been expecting all of them to complain about her, and instead they loved her.
“Running a home is more about diplomacy than keeping the house clean,” she said, pleased that his staff had accepted her minor changes so easily.
They had proven to be much more agreeable than her father’s servants, who were older, grumpier, and more set in their ways.
Mrs. Babbitt could be a tyrant with the young maids, and she and Parker threatened to kill each other every six months.
The cook cried and threatened to quit whenever Victoria’s father wanted to change a menu.
Victoria had been dealing with them for years.
“You’re a magician, or a snake charmer,” he said as he kissed her, and they sat down to another of Patrick’s traditional Scottish dinners. And he readily prepared lighter fare for Victoria, wanting to please her.
At the end of the second week of domestic diplomacy Bert told her they’d been invited to dinner by one of the local mill owners, who was having a small gathering at his home, and Bert wanted her to meet them.
She was delighted at the prospect. She wanted them to have a social life, and she was very curious about Bert’s friends and their wives.
She was starting to come out of mourning for her father.
Their honeymoon had restored her usual sunny disposition and positive nature.
She felt more like herself again, with Bert’s calm, loving support.
The dinner party was set for Friday night, and Victoria wore a navy silk evening gown with a set of sapphires of her mother’s, necklace, bracelet, and earrings.
Bert drove them there himself. He liked driving, and rarely used a chauffeur.
He had asked Victoria not to drive herself, and to have Seamus drive her.
She knew how, and frequently drove herself in Hampshire, but Bert said there were some rough types in the streets of Manchester.
They came out of the slums to pick pockets and steal purses, or jostled people on the sidewalks if they were drunk, and Bert didn’t want anything unpleasant to happen to her.
On several occasions Victoria had one of the men drive her into the city so she could walk around and get her bearings.
The house they were going to that night was in Trafford, and she asked if the mill owner who had invited them was important.
“He’d like to be, and he probably will be one day.
He’s an ambitious young guy. His father-in-law owns the mill where he works.
His wife is an only child, and I suppose she’ll inherit everything and her husband will run the mill one day.
But it could be a long wait. Her father is younger than I am, so she won’t inherit soon.
Her husband is a second son and I think he’d like to be richer than his brother.
So he married a girl who stands to inherit a decent fortune one day.
His wife seems like a nice girl. You might like her.
She’s close to your age,” although she wasn’t by any means as bright as Victoria, but Bert thought few women were, and few men.
The better he knew her the more remarkable he thought Victoria was.
They’d reached the house by then, which was a pretty Victorian.
A liveried butler answered the door, which seemed a little pompous in the circumstances.
Victoria left her wrap with him, and they walked into the drawing room, where a dozen people were gathered who Victoria assumed were all mill owners.
She was immediately aware that Bert was the oldest person there, and probably the most important.
The other men were all younger, somewhere in their thirties and forties.
Their hosts approached them, and Victoria noticed immediately that their hostess was wearing a very expensive fashionable gown, but as the daughter of a mill owner she could afford it.
When Victoria glanced at their host, she gave a start.
He shook Bert’s hand and then stared at Victoria.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her, and it was obvious that they knew each other.
He had been one of the young men checking out the girls in their first season when she was presented, and the rumor was that he was looking for a rich wife.
She had found him unappealing even then.
He had come to call a few times, and eventually gave up on her when he saw she wasn’t interested.
He was very handsome, tall and dark, in his early thirties now.
His wife seemed shy and very plain, aside from the expensive dress.
His name was Ed Wheaton, and his wife was Jane.
Victoria silently dubbed her “Plain Jane,” and felt immediately guilty, as though their hostess could hear her thoughts.
“I think you know my husband,” Victoria said politely, indicating Bert.
“The last I heard of you,” their host said rudely, “you were a spinster living with your father.”
“Sometimes things change,” she said quietly, refusing to let herself be annoyed with him, although it was tempting.