Chapter 8 A Fine Kettle
A Fine Kettle
AFTER TIDYING the sitting room in anticipation of her aunt coming to visit, Belinda walked out to where the river ran behind Everson Cottage, book in hand.
I must be done with standing outside of the milliner’s, she told herself, and will instead spend this time improving my mind with reading.
Though the bustle of Trippingham was just yards away, she found solitude under a tree on the river’s bank, and opened Mansfield Park. Looking now and again at the humpback bridge to watch for Aunt Rose’s carriage, she swatted at hoverflies and tried to read.
Now that Sir Thomas Bertram is away in Antigua, she had to remind herself, Fanny is making herself useful by serving as her aunt’s companion.
But thoughts of ‘making oneself useful’ brought her sister to mind, fracturing her concentration further, so she closed the book.
Unlike herself, the Eversons’ peculiar reputation in the village had worked to Catherine’s advantage.
The baronet up at Inbrooke House had regarded her as a suitable playmate for his ward years earlier, and the two girls had become the best of friends.
Recently, he had offered Catherine employment as a lady’s maid.
“Certainly we can find something more suitable for you, my dear,” Aunt Rose had said, thinking servitude an odd choice for someone who had enjoyed visits to Whitehall throughout her childhood.
However, Catherine had insisted that she was pleased to accept the position, saying it would allow her and her friend the chance to enjoy adventures together beyond quaint, little Trippingham.
She will be earning her way, and enjoy doing so, Lindy thought. Though she was pleased for her sister’s victory, she couldn’t help but feel that it highlighted her own lack of achievement.
I am nearly one and twenty, and have yet to prove my skill or capability in any manner whatsoever!
This sentiment was under-girded by the fact that her brothers, Charles and John, were both excelling in the apprenticeships that Aunt Rose had negotiated for them. Even little Bertie stood out amongst his peers in the important work of winning footraces and catching frogs.
How might I distinguish myself? she wondered. The only times I feel truly competent are when I’m playing cards or dancing a gallopade. And tea — I do well at making tea! Given the chance, I might have convinced everyone that I was a proper doctor’s wife.
Belinda sighed, and sank further into the riparian grass.
But it’s clear now that Mr Alwyn does not mean to return, let alone marry me, so I would be wise to forget him altogether.
Alone for weeks now with her foolish longings, she had considered admitting them to Nell, Aunt Rose’s daughter, as the two of them had been confidantes since they had learned to speak.
However, her newly wed cousin was away, touring the Continent with her husband, and Lindy had no desire to commit a confession of that sort to the ink of a letter.
Besides, even she might marvel at me thinking for a moment that a man like Mr William Alwyn might love me.
It was growing warmer on the riverbank.
Oughtn’t Aunt Rose be here by now?
Realizing she had not been watching the bridge, Belinda tucked the novel into her apron pocket, and walked back to the cottage where she found the back door ajar. Slipping off her dirty pattens, she left them outside, and stepped into the kitchen on soft, bare feet.
Indeed, she is here already! She heard her aunt and mother speaking in the adjacent room. It was not in her nature to eavesdrop, but there was a sense of urgency in their tone that made her stop and listen.
“But don’t you need her here?” her aunt asked. “I know you’re much improved, but—“
“I’ll manage,” her mother replied. “Bind her, if you must, and take her away at once.”
‘Bind her’? Belinda grew completely still, straining to hear more. Take who away at once?
“Why such haste, Barbara?” Rose asked, an amused lilt in her voice.
“Because Mr Turner is ready to offer for her, and I will have none of it.”
“You think Mr Turner wants to marry our Lindy?”
Had Belinda been holding anything in her hands, it would have clattered to the floor.
“Barbara, you must mistake him,” Rose tutted, her mirth dispelled. “Lindy is a very pretty girl – certainly many men gaze at her a little too long.”
“Sister, I have witnessed that man’s wooings of not one, but two wives, heaven keep them both.
When Turner’s on the prowl, he slinks around, gurning and laughing like a fool.
Last Sunday, after church, he started over towards Lindy — his face quivering like a ferret were crawling up his trouser leg, so I dragged her out of the nave quick-like.
I needn’t tell you what a fine kettle of fish we’d be in if he offered for her and she rejected him, yet no one with a pair of eyes and a brain in their head would expect her to accept him. ”
“Yes, with John under his roof, Mr Turner must be kept contented, but certainly not by Belinda sacrificing herself.”
“That’s the way I see it! So you must take her away today. Oh, where is the girl? I thought she’d be back by now.” There was rustling as if Mrs Everson had heaved herself up from the settee to go and look out of the front window.
“Perhaps, if you tell her of your suspicions outright, she will be more inclined to accept my invitation.”
“Hmph! I can see why you’d worry, as your previous plan for her came to naught.”
“I beg your pardon – what can you mean?”
“Oh Rose, don’t pretend with me! Last spring, as soon as you learned that that Dr Alwyn fellow would be coming here twice a week, you hastened Belinda home from Whitehall.
And at first, I thought your plans were Fate itself, seeing the way his eyes shone every time he talked with her! But then – nothing!”
Holding her breath, Lindy waited for her aunt’s response, which did not come.
Mamma and Aunt Rose had hopes for me there, but I failed them both.
She felt quite ill as her mother went on.
“At his last visit, I was so cross with him that I nearly tossed him out. Too in love with his profession to see the jewel within his grasp – that’s what I think!”
“Hmm, poor Lindy…and on the heels of seeing my Nell so happily situated.” Rose’s voice regained some of its typical confidence. “London is full of eligible young men…if only we can get her there. Goodness, have I become a conniving aunt?”
“You have played worse r?les in your life, and you mean to help my girl, so I absolve you of it.”
The sisters shared a little laugh.
“The tea’s gone cold,” Rose said. “No, no. I’ll go. I know how to work the hob.”
Hearing her aunt’s footsteps, Belinda darted outside, and hurried back down to the solitude of the riverbank.
Mr Turner wants to marry me?
Suddenly, the wheelwright’s strange behaviour in front of the milliner’s two days earlier all made sense – horrible, nauseating sense.
Several months prior, Rose had gone to Mr Turner’s house to settle the terms for John’s apprenticeship, and Belinda had accompanied her.
Sitting in the kitchen, they sipped tepid tea and tried not to giggle while a large mongrel under the table leaned against their legs and licked at their ankles.
Several times, the wheelwright’s young daughters had come in, pretending to check a pot on the stove, though neither steam nor scent arose from it.
Belinda had understood their interest as surely no lady as fine as Mrs Rose Caspar had ever visited their home before.
It had been a quaint, homely scene, but the thought that Mr Turner wanted her to become a permanent fixture within it, turned her stomach.
If I go to London with Aunt Rose, then his eye will have to settle elsewhere.
Yet it sounds as if my aunt is set on finding me a match in town — Ha!
Her love for me blinds her. If Mr Alwyn, who truly seemed fond of me, could not look past my deficits, then no fine gentlemen in London would.
Mr Turner’s doltish face flickered into her mind, and a groan escaped her. Yet, it seems I must go to town.
Unhappy with, but certain of, her next step at least, she returned to the cottage, announcing her arrival with a loud banging of the back door as she stepped into the kitchen.
There was silence in the front room as she smoothed her countenance and went to stand in the doorway.
Both women gave her a searching look as she said, a little too brightly, “Aunt Rose, you are here already!”
“Lindy, darling!” Her aunt shot up from her chair, and strode forth to embrace her.
“I thought my sister had come to see how I got on,” Mrs Everson said, not bothering to look up from the knitting she had just taken up. “But so far she’s spoken of nothing but you.”
“Me?” Belinda turned to her aunt inquiringly, which felt very much like a lie.
“Lindy,” Rose grasped her hands and began to swing her arms playfully. “I’d like to invite you to accompany your uncle and me to town. It’s time we got you situated.”
“Yes, now that Nelly’s been married off, your aunt can take up your case.”
“There’s no need to present it like that, Barbara,” Rose said with a frown.
Though she already knew she would go, Belinda heard herself say, “Oh aunt, my future is not your responsibility, and surely you have done enough for me already.”
She felt this in her very bones every time she thought of her visits to Whitehall — the food, the clothes, the dance lessons.
“Oh Lindy, stop trying to tie your own corset!” Mrs Everson chided, her knitting needles momentarily still. “There’s no shame in using your connexions to ensure a better life for yourself.”
There is if I want to prove myself to myself! Stifling her heart’s cry, Belinda said, “But Mamma, you cannot yet do the washing on your own.”
“I would not keep you here in Trippingham just to launder shirts and drawers! Besides, I feel stronger every day, and Mrs Bosworth is always eager to earn a few pennies. ”