The invincible miss cust, p.6
The Invincible Miss Cust, page 6
“Me too, but… well, there were plenty of other people with you, surely?”
“Yes. Hundreds. All poring over one another’s outfits, discussing who had the finest milliner, and giggling when a man tipped his hat in their direction. They might as well have been at another ball.”
“Oh dear. Was there nothing enjoyable about the Season, aside from the racehorses?”
“Well, I had some pleasant rides in Hyde Park and watched the birds in Kensington Gardens.”
I glanced at her. She was thinner and paler than when I had last seen her at Newton Hall earlier in the year. I wondered what others had made of her in London. Because she was beautiful, educated, intelligent, and a Widdrington, Dorothy’s reserve would no doubt have taken some by surprise. They might even have mistaken it for aloofness and imagined her cold, but I knew otherwise. Dorothy preferred the outdoors to drawing rooms and would rather wade chest deep in water and cast a salmon line or sit in the woods and watch the birds than dally and gossip at tea parties. She was ill-disposed to large gatherings and disliked talking for the sake of talking. The only time Dorothy became truly engaged in conversation was when the topic entertained books, the writing of Wordsworth, fly-fishing, ornithology, horses, or science.
“Perhaps when it is your turn in a few years, you will find it satisfying, Aleen, but I did not.”
“I am sorry.”
“It was tiresome wearing my hair pinned up all the time and being laced into a corset every day. The introductions. They were endless, and there was seldom time to be alone to read or think. The talking…oh, how the constant chatter exhausted me. I had not realized before what peace and freedom being a girl in the country afforded me,” she said.
“Did you not meet anyone you liked?”
She glanced at me with a smile. “You sound like my mother. She despairs. Fortunately for her, Ida will love London and make up for my disappointing Season.”
We stood and looked across the sea while Ruby dug a hole in the sand at my feet. Leasowe delivered another magnificent sunset. A walk to the beach to watch the sun touch the clouds with pink and orange and draw a golden pathway to the horizon was something of a mandatory undertaking for visitors. It seldom disappointed.
“It is wonderful to be away from the city,” said Dorothy. “If I had my way, I would never return.”
“Why should you?”
She ignored my question. “Do you remember I told you that I did not like the idea of being married?”
I nodded.
“The Season confirmed it for me. I will not do it. Marriage is nothing but matching women with the right backgrounds to men with the right backgrounds. Or women with healthy dowries to men whose wealth is threatened. Or wealthy men to women whose families’ worth has shrunk. I want none of it.”
“Did you tell your parents?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
We did not move, even though the sun was almost gone, taking with it its warmth and colorful palette. Dorothy’s tone was listless. I was sorry she had not arrived earlier so that we could have gone for a ride. Being on a horse always cheered me up, and I could not imagine it being any different for anyone else.
I wished I knew what to say about marriage that might lift her spirits. I pictured myself with a husband one day. I had not given much thought to having children or running a home, but I liked the idea of sharing my life with someone who enjoyed the things I did and who understood and supported me even if others thought my choices in life were unusual. I would like to be with someone who looked at me the way Major Fitz looked at Lady Widdrington, even when she grew excited about something she had read in the newspaper and raised her voice at the dinner table.
“What will you do?” I asked as we walked back toward the castle.
“I have asked Miss Herbert to find out how soon I can go to a hospital to train as a nurse,” she said, referring to her former governess, who had become a friend.
“A nurse?” I repeated, thinking, of course, of Florence Nightingale who had just months before received the Royal Red Cross. I wished my mother would listen to me long enough for me to put Miss Nightingale forward as an example of a well-bred woman who worked and was not rejected by society for doing so.
“Yes, I cannot continue living with my parents indefinitely. Being a nurse is one of the few things open to me.”
“I think you will make an excellent nurse.”
As we approached the front door of the castle, I pictured Mama standing over my box of bones.“I told my mother that I want to become a veterinary surgeon.”
Dorothy grasped my wrist. “My goodness! How did she respond?”
“As you can probably imagine, she was appalled. Did not speak or even look at me for days afterward and continues to be curt.”
“You have time to win her over.”
“I wonder if it will ever be possible. Charles castigated me too when he was last home. Mama wrote to him. He said I should not toy with our mother’s health or risk others’ hearing about my ridiculous notions. He and Mama, he said, are custodians of the Cust name, and I should not undo their efforts to maintain its proud history.”
I did not mention that Charles had also forbidden me to help Samuel with the horses, which, I suspected, Ursula had informed him about.
“I believe Percy has joined the royal household as Her Majesty’s Page of Honor. That will surely help uphold the family pedigree,” said my friend.
“Indeed,” I said, wondering, if one day, my achievements might be seen in the same light.
Chapter 6
1885
Cheshire, England
Within two years of Dorothy’s insisting that marriage was not for her and Percy’s ratifying the Custs’ royal connections by taking on the task of keeping Her Majesty’s robes from trailing the ground at official events, my friend was engaged and my youngest brother dead.
My mother’s vacant gaze mirrored the family’s shock at Percy’s death. It did not seem possible, but we were even less prepared for it than we had been for my father’s demise. Fourteen-year-old Percy was at boarding school at Wellington College, where he attended classes between performing his duties as Her Majesty’s Page of Honor, when he fell ill. He was tucked into an infirmary bed but within four days—before word of his illness reached my mother’s ears—had died. Mama, once again swathed in black, was momentarily comforted when a representative of Buckingham Palace attended the funeral at Bidston near Leasowe Castle and placed a wreath from Her Majesty on Percy’s grave. Then she took to her bed in the castle, refusing to see anyone but Charles and Ursula for more than a fortnight.
It was Orlando who told me that I had inherited £958 from Percy’s estate, our youngest brother’s inheritance having been divided up among my other brothers, sister, mother, and me.
“Will it be available to me? I mean, separate from my inheritance from Papa?” I asked.
“It will be added to that from Papa,” said Orlando.
In other words, the money from Percy would mean nothing to me until I reached the age of twenty-one, and even then, it could be meaningless. If I was married at that age, my inheritance—that from Percy and my father—would become part of my dowry, and my husband would take ownership of it. If I was not married when I turned twenty-one and was released from the guardianship of Major Fitz and my mother, I would still not have free access to the money. In terms of my father’s will, the patriarch of the Cust family—that is, Charles—would decide how much and when my inheritance would be apportioned to me. Essentially, he would allocate me the living allowance that he deemed adequate. I would have no financial sovereignty.
“Are you anxious for it? Percy’s inheritance, I mean,” said Orlando. “What do you need money for? You are only seventeen.”
“To study.”
“To study? Really? What do you plan to study?”
“I want to train as a veterinary surgeon.”
He pursed his lips. “Still? Charles told me about the bones, but that was years ago. You are still set on the idea?”
“Why would I have changed my mind?”
“Perhaps, because you can see now how difficult…impossible…it will be for you. Mama and Charles will never let you attend university. Even if they did, do you understand what would be in store for you? And to work as a veterinary surgeon? Be reasonable, Aleen.”
I looked away. Orlando was the only sibling I thought might understand my dream. Now, I feared even that was too much to hope for.
He went on. “You must know what difficulties women face when they insist on being educated. I have heard of men, fathers, and husbands who have had their daughters and wives committed to mental asylums because they want to go to university. I—”
“You think Charles and Mama would have me locked up?”
“No. No. I mean, I do not think so. They would certainly not want to attract attention to the family name by initiating unnecessary drama, but you know how they are. I do not know what they would do. But it is not just the family, Aleen. You would be ostracized by society. Not to mention taunted at college. Why would you put yourself through that?”
“Because I want to do something with my life, even if it involves work, struggle. I want to help animals.”
“Our grandmother helped animals. You could be like her. You already are,” he said.
“No. It is different. I want to work. I want to be a veterinary surgeon.”
“Is it possible, even, for a woman to do the work required by a veterinary surgeon? I mean—”
“Women are stronger than anyone realizes,” I replied, echoing Lady Widdrington. “I want to work with animals, for animals. It is that simple.”
Orlando took my hands in his. I was not mistaken; he was nothing like the rest of us. We were not an affectionate family. We did not express our attachments or our emotions. We did not cry easily or laugh together frequently. The Custs typically kept stiff upper lips or left the room before the tiniest of trembling was spied. Orlando, though, was a different species. He gave in to his emotions and was affectionate, and most surprisingly, he was not ashamed of it.
“I know you do, my dear sister,” he said. “I know your love for animals. Everyone does. You understand and handle horses and dogs and all other creatures as if born to take care of them. There is nothing stopping you from having packs of dogs, herds of horses and cattle, flocks of sheep, and whatever else you want when you are married and have a home of your own. You can breed them, train them, ride them, and care for them all day long. They will be the most fortunate animals in the kingdom. But you cannot turn your love for animals into a profession and work as a veterinary surgeon. It is not appropriate and would be too difficult to even attempt. For you. For all of us. The Cust family would not survive it.”
His dark eyes reminded me of Ruby’s when she thought it was time for another walk to the beach. A walk would not satisfy Orlando; he wanted me to agree for the sake of peace. I could not.
“You do not understand,” I said, pulling my hands from his. “You are free to live your life the way you want. You wanted to leave and make a life for yourself in Ellesmere, and so you did. Nobody frowns upon you, Charles, or Leo because you are unmarried and doing things that involve neither your family nor the creation of a new one. You have no idea what it is to want to do something with your life and yet be forbidden simply because of your gender.”
“No, I do not. And I wish it were not so, Aleen, but I do not make the rules.”
“No. But other men do. And women like Mama and Her Majesty do nothing to change things. That is why I, and other women who want to take different paths, have to take on the battle.”
“Battle?” His voice rose. There were few things that upset Orlando more than confrontation. Even talk of it made him pull at his collar as if he were being strangled. “There must be another way.”
“If you find one, let me know.”
Little over nine months later, we shelved our mourning faces to celebrate Dorothy’s nuptials in Northumberland.
The gardens of Newton Hall had never been as immaculate, which was no small feat; the wedding had been brought forward a few months to accommodate the campaign of the groom, Edward Grey, as he led the Berwick-upon-Tweed division of the Liberals. The gardeners were still at work when Dorothy and I rode toward the stables the afternoon before the wedding. The hedges were table-flat, and the maze, as meticulously groomed as a pony on show day. Scattered across the estate like cushions in autumnal shades of yellow and orange, several beds of chrysanthemums grew tall and bold. The flowerpots that lined the entrance were ablaze with golden-yellow black-eyed Susans.
We had ridden to Embleton Bay and raced one another across the hard sand, laughing into the wind as our horses threw themselves into the challenge and thundered neck and neck to where the shore met the road. Uncertain when we might next have the chance to ride together, we had done the same the previous day.
“I do not know why they bother,” said Dorothy, glancing at a young man clearing a path. “They will have to rake again tomorrow morning. That is what happens when you have a wedding in October.”
Leaves from the trees bordering the carriageway fluttered onto the lawn while the remaining foliage, buffeted by the sea breeze, flapped on the branches like netted fish. The air was cool, but with the low sun tinting the clouds a muted version of the orange leaves and bright flowers, autumn was modestly beautiful.
This time tomorrow, I thought, Dorothy would be married.
When she had written that she was engaged to Edward, whom she’d met hunting the previous winter, I’d had to read the letter twice for the news to register. Once it had sunk in, I felt unsettled. I worried that marriage would uproot Dorothy from my world and replant her in another one. Edward, it seemed, was set for a life in politics. Would that not mean they would have to settle in London and that our meetings and enjoyment of the countryside would be no more? Responding to my letter asking as much, Dorothy insisted otherwise.
“Edward and I have agreed that our relationship is based on the shared interests of rod and line, hunting, walking, and ornithology, all of which are undertaken in the countryside. As such, I will, as far as possible, remain at his family estate Fallodon Hall, which is a lovely ride from Newton Hall when he is working in London. You will always be welcome there,” she had written.
The groom took our horses, and after admiring the neatly braided manes of the pair that would pull the bridal carriage, we walked toward the house. That was when Bertie, almost a teenager now, appeared. He continued to worship Dorothy and accompanied her and me whenever he could. Ida insisted it was because Bertie was smitten with me.
“What nonsense,” I’d told her. “He is five years younger than I am. He idolizes his big sister and likes being with us because we are more adventurous than you and Gerard—and we like fishing.”
“Josephine was six years older than Napoleon,” said Ida, with a showy wink.
“You are being silly. Stop it,” said Dorothy.
Now, as he walked alongside his sister, Bertie’s cheeks were flushed; he looked every bit the excited youngster he was.
“Did you see the carriage, Dorothy? It is so shiny, you could check your teeth in it.”
Dorothy nodded.
“Are you excited?”
“Of course. Do I not look it?”
“Frankly, no. You look the same as you did yesterday after you had also ridden with Aleen.”
“Oh? And how is that?”
“Sunburned and windswept.”
Dorothy chuckled and reached up to ruffle Bertie’s hair. When had he grown so tall?
Smiling, the three of us entered Newton Hall to find Major Fitz and Lady Widdrington drinking tea in the library with my mother, who had arrived from London while we were out. I had not seen her for several weeks and was pleased to see that the color had returned to her face after having drained away with the news of Percy’s death.
“Hello, Mama,” I said, bending to touch her cheek with mine.
“Aleen,” she said, turning away slightly. “You look so well that I shall forgive you the whiff of horse you carry with you.”
It was like my mother to temper her rare praise of me with rebuff. I ignored it and accepted a cup of tea.
“Ah, Isabel,” said the major, smiling at her, “there will be plenty of time tomorrow for the young horsewomen to spruce up.”
“I have no doubt that Dorothy will be the most beautiful bride,” Mama said, turning her attention to my friend. “What a handsome couple you and Edward make, Dorothy.”
I glanced at Dorothy, who detested comments on her good looks but who was also gracious, and she smiled at my mother.
“Did you travel with Charles, Mama?” I asked.
“She did,” came a deep voice behind me. I turned to see Charles, tall and lean, standing in the doorway. My oldest brother, who had worked his way up the ranks of the Royal Navy to the position of sub-lieutenant by then, had arranged leave specifically to attend Dorothy’s wedding. I wondered if he would do the same when my time came.
“It seems that it was just yesterday that we sat in this very room discussing how you might train to become a nurse,” said Charles, after he had greeted Dorothy. “Instead, tomorrow, you will become the wife of, from what I hear, a consummate young politician.”
Dorothy laughed quietly. “I had no idea at the time.”
“That brings to mind an article I read,” said Lady Widdrington. “Dr. Jex-Blake is to open a school of medicine for women in Edinburgh next year.”
“To train nurses?” asked the major.
“No, Fitz. She’s a physician. She will train other women to become doctors.” Lady Widdrington frowned at her husband. Then she turned to address the room at large. “It occurred to me that Dorothy might have trained to become a doctor rather than a nurse. If she had not met Edward, that is.”
