Chapter 21: A Connection

Berkshire and London, 1866

At age eighty Lady Wilkes was still a person to behold. From the moment Rose saw her she was awed. Under white hair, a pair of blue eyes looked at Rose with honest friendliness over half-glasses that sat perched on her nose.

"Ellen tells me only good things about you, Mrs. Tremayne," the old woman stated. "She also tells me that you were orphaned early?"

Rose blushed a little. "Yes, I ... My mother died when I was fourteen years old and my father had died long before. I had to ... work in a tavern to earn my keep."

"Don't let any of those old biddies know that," Lady Wilkes cackled.

Somehow it was funny how this wizened old woman called other women "old biddies". Rose smiled.

"Very few and select people know," she answered and she caught a warm smile from Priscilla.

"Wise, my dear. Oh, they don't know it but I was an orphan, too." Her voice changed into a conspiratorial whisper. "Worse even, I stole a loaf of bread to feed my siblings. In '02 it was, and they had me deported to New South Wales. The transport was taken by pirates but I escaped with another woman. We were picked up by a Navy ship under Anthony Carter. He brought me back to England and Harriet's father, Old Lord Lambert, had my sentence revoked."

Rose recognised the names "Lord Lambert" and "Anthony Carter" but they could not have been alive in 1802.

"Anthony was the current Lord Lambert's father. He was one of the naval heroes of the Great War. He even fought under Nelson at Trafalgar. There are few men whom I consider better than Richard, but his father was one of them. Harriet, his wife, was my best and dearest friend. Oh, well, I'm talking too much again.

"Ellen seems to think that you might be able to help me with my charity. I hear you ran an alms house in the past?"

"I mostly collected contributions. My friend, Prudence Pilkins, organised the shelter."

"My dear Mrs. Tremayne, collecting contributions is exactly what we need," Lady Wilkes cackled. "The hospital treats many poor people who would never get treatment elsewhere. The doctors perform the treatments pro bono publico but there are other costs incurred and those are paid for by the St. Albert's Benevolent Society. Do you think you might find it worth your while to help?"

"I would like to, Lady Wilkes, but I know almost nobody," Rose answered. "I am American, too."

The old woman gave her a smile. "Believe me, I was less suited for the duty when my late husband first tasked me with it. Are you planning to live in London?"

"We are not fully decided," Rose temporised. "My husband is looking into opportunities with His Lordship's help."

"Should not be too difficult. Come to think of it, Anita Heyworth's house still has not sold. It is a charming property, right on the river."

"Should I know that name?" Rose asked.

"No, my dear. She retired from the stage in the '30s. She was exceedingly famous in her heyday and many considered her one of the most beautiful women of her time, along with Moira Palmer and the hapless Emma Hamilton. She was a dear friend to all of us. Perhaps your husband can look at the property. It would be nice to see it pass into the hands of somebody we know."

"I can let my husband know, Lady Wilkes," Rose answered. "Although I should admit that neither of us would want to live in a shrine."

"Heaven forbid!" Lady Wilkes laughed. "All her personal belongings were sold at auction as by her will. The proceeds were substantial and the interest contributes to our efforts. No, the house is about empty."

"How do you propose I should help you then?" Rose asked.

"At first, by joining the Society. We do need an infusion of fresh blood. Come to think of it, what about you, Mrs. Marsden-Smith? You are young. You should have a task to keep you busy."

Priscilla turned pink. "If Rose thinks it is hard for her to gain acceptance, my own situation would be even worse."

Lady Wilkes laughed again. "Aah, I see. Your 'antics', isn't it?"

Priscilla nodded.

"Frankly, my dear, I cannot imagine that anybody in London ever heard of you, your husband, or your understandable lack of mourning. Besides, your mourning year will be over soon and a young woman should see people."

"I can certainly help, but I am afraid that my current situation does not allow me to live in London."

"You still lodge with Siobhan?"

"Yes, I do. I can afford to live on my own, just not in London."

"Then you can consider yourself a welcome guest in my house when I return to the City. I should like the opportunity to see a young face around me at dinner."

Priscilla was hesitant. "That is indeed kind of you, Lady Wilkes. In what function would you envision me? I do have an income you know."

"I was thinking of you perhaps helping me with some letters. My own handwriting is deteriorating a little and I find it increasingly difficult to keep up with all my correspondence. It is not much, an hour or two a day at most, and I could certainly hire some help. Then again, I would prefer somebody I can trust. My daughter Violet used to help me but after her stay on the Slave Coast she lost most of her eyesight. We believe it was a case of the dreaded African river blindness. At least that is the opinion of our friend, Dr. McNeill."

"May I give this some thought?" Priscilla asked. "I will admit that the thought of spending the season in London is appealing but I have also acquired friends here in recent months which I should hate to miss."

Back home in Thornfield Abbey, Rose related her visit to Jim. When she mentioned the house of the late actress Jim looked up and smiled.

"I have already seen it. Lord Lambert had alerted me to its current uninhabited state. Perhaps we can both view it on our next visit? It is indeed located beautifully and Chelsea has become quite fashionable."

"Did you ever hear of her?"

"Anita Heyworth? As a matter of fact I saw her a few times at High Matcham. She was one of the oldest friends of old Admiral Carter and his wife, and she always spent the holiday season with them. The stories she could tell!"

"Is such a town house within our means?"

Jim smiled. "We can buy it three times over with our last dividends alone. Besides, I promised you a life in style."

Rose shook her head. "Jim, really, coming here was the best thing that could happen to us. Everything turned out well. I found so many new friends and I feel accepted and liked."

Jim pulled his wife close. "That is because you are likeable in the extreme. Did you know what Colonel Payden said to me?"

"No?"

"It was after the parade. He went, 'Damn it, Tremayne, they do raise lovely lasses in the Old Colonies.' I could not agree more with him."

Rose beamed at her husband. "And they raise sweet-talking devils in Berkshire. I suppose I should change for the night. Are you coming, too?"

Jim raised his eyebrows and grinned. "I guess I should turn in early today. Nothing to say against a good night's sleep."

Rose fell in love with the house immediately. Located on the River with only a promenade between it and the bank, it appealed to Rose's sense of modesty. There were no pillars or statues out front, only a glass enclosed winter garden that overlooked the promenade. Its state was on the run down side as far as its outer appearance was judged but inside they could not detect much damage. The outside would take some work but fresh coats of paint and some plaster work would suffice to make the interior habitable.

Forty-eight hours after viewing it, the Tremaynes closed the deal and within days workmen began to tear off rotten shutters and broken gutters. They decided to adopt its colloquial name, Heyworth House, and Jim had a bronze plate cast to be affixed near the entrance to memorise the first owner.

The next weeks were spent in London hunting for furniture and fixings, something Rose enjoyed tremendously. She even came upon a portrait of Anita Heyworth, an original Melissa Martin canvas showing the actress at an advanced age but nevertheless capturing the astounding appeal of the woman. The gallery owner was a hard case and the painting cost more than Rose could accept. She decided to let it go but in the afternoon when she had tea with Lady Lambert she related her experience.

Talk turned to the reasons why Rose wanted the paintings, mainly her own complete lack of family heirlooms. Tentatively, she told Lady Lambert of her mother, Suzie Donegal neé Potter, and how she had been wooed by a handsome Irishman named Timothy Donegal who had visited Boston where Suzie worked as a nanny. Hearing Rose's reminiscences Lady Lambert suddenly stared at Rose.

"Are you telling me that you are Suzie Potter's daughter? Did you have an aunt by the name of Charlene Evans?"

"Charlene Evans? No, the only aunt I knew was named Annabelle Fourtnoy. I am named after her."

Lady Lambert wiped a tear from her eye, visibly touched. "My dear child, did your mother ever tell you how she came to Boston?"

"No, she wouldn't talk at all about her youth, but then I was only twelve when she died."

"Annabelle Fourtnoy was the name your aunt assumed when she left England. Her real name was Charlene Evans. Your aunt was instrumental in reconciling Lord Lambert and me after our first engagement had broken up. She was also under threat from a ruffian by the name of Jeremiah Cook, and my husband helped her to leave England. I saw her only once in person before we travelled to Boston in '31, but when I met her there, I gave her a three-tiered pearl necklace for the three times she helped us."

Rose almost choked over her next words. "She visited us once. I was perhaps eight years old, and Aunt Annabelle let me put that pearl necklace on. She died not long after, back in Boston. My mother said that she was run over by a shying horse. But how did you know my mother?"

"When I met Charlene – pardon me: Annabelle – in Boston I asked her if there was anything I could do for her and she asked me to look after her cousin Suzie. I was able to recruit the help of Admiral Wilson – well, he was a commander then – and he found your mother. She had suffered greatly herself under that Jeremiah Cook character and we made haste in getting her on a ship bound for Boston. Black Jeremiah Cook was hanged for murder not a half year later and I list alerting the police to his activities as one of my best deeds ever."

"What did my mother do back then?"

"What many orphan girls are forced to do, my dear. Do not judge her, please. She worked in the Treasure Trove, off Driver's Alley in Stepney. She ... she provided entertainment for gentlemen who visited the establishment. Don't take this as to have any meaning, my dear. As I said, orphan girls can have a hard time surviving, and there are always rascals around who take advantage of them."

Rose did not hear her mentor. She sat there with her mind in a turmoil. Evidently whoring was in her blood. First her mother, later Rose herself.

"Rose, dear, what is it?"

With eyes full of anguish, Rose stood. "Milady, I never told you how I earned my livelihood, did I?"

Now it was Lady Lambert's turn to look mortified. "Oh dear, I did not know. Really?"

"It was after my mother's death. When I turned fifteen, the man who owned the tavern where I cleaned took me. For a week it was only him, but after that I had to go with the patrons. If I didn't, he'd beat me and worse. I lived like that for four years before I was sold to a man who in turn traded me to a saloon owner in Independence. I worked in his saloon for another four years. He was better with us girls, kind and respectful, and I started my singing in his saloon. Then, one night a patron wanted to hurt me. I fought him and he lost his eye. They sentenced me to prison for hurting and maiming one of their upstanding citizens but a man paid my fine and took me westward to Fort Laramie, to be married to some trapper or another man who would reimburse the agent. The man who had 'placed the order for me' had been killed before we arrived and I was auctioned off. At first nobody made a bid because I had a bad reputation for gouging that man's eye. Jim made his offer then, I suppose more out of pity and because his partner urged him on. That is how we came to marry."

Lady Lambert shook her head in amazement. "If I had heard this story from a less reliable source, I would discount it as an outlandish fantasy. Yet, from your mouth I have to believe it. I suppose providence brought my son and your husband together so you would land in my close circle of friends many of whom have similarly tales to tell. You have yet to meet my old friend Maddalena Palmer, Lady Brougham. It is not for me to tell her story but perhaps I can bring you together with her. There is my mother, too, who suffered deportation and cruelty from the gaolers. I doubt there is any circle of friends in London that could be more understanding and accepting of your past, my dear."

"Would you rather I left, Milady, now that you know who and what I was?"

"Tsk, tsk, what nonsense, my child! On the contrary. You and I have a connection that runs over thirty years into the past. Your aunt – I guess you should know that she also worked in the Treasure Trove – was a good person through and through. She ... wait, why don't I show you the first letter she ever wrote."

Lady Lambert did not wait for Rose's answer but went to a writing cabinet rummaging through drawers. She returned to the tea table with a letter that was brown with age and covered with awkward letters. Looking at Rose over her reading glasses she commenced her tale.

"This was in 1828 and my husband had just inherited the title from his uncle. He and I had declared for each other long before; we had even planned our wedding in 1827, but the deaths of his grandfather and then of his uncle delayed our plans twice. Once Richard became a Peer of England there was much resentment against me. I was, after all, the daughter of an insignificant officer. One person in particular hated me because her former paramour had died in a duel over me.