spending less than a day in Aunt Jane’s house, where the list of rules seemed endless and meals had to be earned by doing menial work, Alice decided that almost anything would be an improvement. Jane employed the minimum of servants needed to run the household. Cook and Clara lived in and there were a couple of daily women who came in to clean. Alice spent the afternoon polishing the silver cutlery and the brass cross and candlesticks from the small altar in Jane’s boudoir. Beth was given the task of cutting up a sheet that had already been turned sides to middle, but was now too worn to use on a bed. The resulting squares then had to be hemmed and the cloths used for cleaning and dusting. Jane was nothing if not frugal, although Alice knew that her aunt was a wealthy woman.
Supper that night was again taken in the cheerless dining room where a few lumps of coal smouldered feebly in the grate. ‘You should dress according to the weather, sister-in-law,’ Jane said sternly when she saw that Beth was shivering. ‘A woollen shawl is all you need.’ She glared at Alice who was about to pick up her spoon. ‘We will say grace.’
The soup was cooling rapidly by the time Jane came to the end of what turned out to be a sermon on gratitude aimed, no doubt, at her reluctant guests. Alice was too hungry to care and she spooned the vegetable broth into her mouth, wiping the bowl with a chunk of dry bread. She waited eagerly for the next course, but it did not materialise. Jane folded her hands, murmuring a prayer before rising from the table. ‘I spend my evenings studying the Good Book. You may do as you please, but bear in mind that candles cost money, and I don’t approve of fires in the bedchambers. We rise early in this house; therefore you should retire at a reasonable hour. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, Jane,’ Beth said meekly.
‘Yes, Aunt Jane.’ Alice sighed inwardly. She waited until her aunt had left the room. ‘I don’t think I can stand much more of this, Mama,’ she whispered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that Jane was not within earshot.
Beth rose wearily from the chair. ‘We haven’t much choice, my love. It’s this or the workhouse, and I know which I prefer.’ She leaned her hands on the table, taking deep breaths. ‘It’s all right, I’m quite well, just a bit stiff from sitting on a hard wooden seat. I think I might go to bed and rest. It’s been a long and trying day.’ She held her hand out to her daughter, a smile sketched on her thin features. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Of course not, Mama. You must take care of yourself, and I’ll try to be patient and deserving, but it isn’t easy.’
‘It’s all strange and new,’ Beth said softly. ‘Jane is a worthy woman, and we must be grateful to her for putting a roof over our heads. It was good of her to think of finding you a suitable position. Teaching drawing is a ladylike occupation.’
‘Yes, Mama.’ Alice could see that her mother was having difficulty walking and she held out her hand. ‘Let me help you upstairs.’
‘Thank you, dear. It’s these silly legs of mine. They’re aching miserably this evening, but once I get going I’m quite all right.’
After seeing her mother settled for the night, although it was only seven o’clock, Alice did not fancy an evening of Bible study with Aunt Jane and she went to her room. She lit the single candle provided and went to draw the curtains, pausing for a moment to watch the large feathery snowflakes whirling and dancing as they fluttered slowly to the pavement and lay there like a white fleecy blanket. A man wearing a greatcoat with his collar pulled up to his ears trudged past the house, leaving a trail of stark black footprints in his wake. Alice sighed. The pristine beauty of the fallen snow was despoiled and ruined forever. She pulled the curtains together, shutting out the harsh reality of the world before going to sit on the bed. In her reticule was her most prized possession and she took it out carefully. The paper was yellowed with age and slightly dog-eared, but the picture on the Christmas card was of a family gathering at yuletide, and it had always seemed to her to be imbued with the true spirit of the season. It was the first such card to have been produced commercially, and her father had bought it in the year she had been born. He had kept it for her until she was old enough to appreciate the message of peace and goodwill that it contained. Sadly, so Pa had told her, the first cards had not been a huge success. In fact he had invested money in their production, losing heavily, as so often happened on the rare occasions when he had ventured into the business world.
Alice held the hand-coloured lithograph to her bosom with a whisper of a sigh. ‘Poor Papa,’ she said softly. ‘I’m glad you’re not here to see us in such a pickle, but I promise you I’ll do everything I can to make things better for Mama. I won’t let you down.’ She rose to her feet and stowed the precious card out of sight of prying eyes in the chest of drawers.
At first when she opened her eyes to darkness she thought it was the middle of the night, but Aunt Jane was shaking her by the shoulder and she was fully dressed.
‘Get up, you idle child. It’s nearly six o’clock and you have to be at the Dearborns’ establishment in Russell Square at half-past seven sharp.’ She tugged the coverlet off the bed, leaving Alice curled up in a ball, shivering. ‘I expect you to be washed, dressed and in the dining room in ten minutes.’ Jane marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her as if to ensure that Alice remained wide awake.
Stiff and cold, with no inclination to remain in the uncomfortable bed any longer than necessary, Alice did not hesitate. She padded barefoot to the washstand only to find that the water in the jug had frozen. After some difficulty she managed to crack the ice and had a cat’s lick of a wash before throwing on her clothes. Her numbed fingers made it difficult to do up the buttons on her bodice and even harder to tidy her mouse-brown hair into a chignon. Without the aid of a mirror it was impossible to see the end result and she tucked a stray strand behind her ear, hoping that Aunt Jane would not notice.
When she reached the dining room she found that Jane had already eaten and was sitting at the head of the table, sipping a cup of tea. The sight of steam rising was encouraging, but Alice experienced a feeling of acute disappointment when she realised that there was neither milk nor sugar to make the strong brew more palatable. Breakfast consisted of a slice of bread, thinly spread with butter, and that was all. There was an eerie silence as she ate her frugal meal, broken only by the sound of Jane’s cup being replaced on its saucer.
Without bothering to see if Alice had finished, Jane rose to her feet. ‘Come along. I’ll take you to Russell Square as it’s your first morning, but in future you will get yourself up and out in good time. I’m not going to pamper you as your mother has done since you were born. You’re a child no longer, Alice. You are plain and penniless and you will have to get used to earning your keep.’ She reached for her bonnet and rammed it on top of her lace cap. ‘Hurry up, girl. We’ll stop at the church on the way to ask God’s blessing in the hope that he will save you from your profligate ways.’
There appeared to be no answer to this. Alice stuffed the last crust into her mouth, washing it down with a mouthful of tea. She followed her aunt from the room, stopping only to snatch her bonnet and cape from the hallstand as they left the house.
It was getting light as they made their way carefully along snow-covered pavements to the church on the west side of the square. Candles blazed on the altar and the smell of hot wax and musty hymnals filled the still air. Following Jane’s example Alice dutifully went down on her knees beside her. Jane’s lips moved in silent prayer, but Alice’s mind was elsewhere. Her fingers were itching to draw the scene outside. The bare branches of the plane trees were dusted with snow, and the pools of yellow light created by the gas lamps sparkled with frost crystals. The piles of straw and horse dung on the cobblestones were concealed beneath several inches of virgin snow, but as the day progressed and traffic began to move it would all vanish into a mess of slush. The outside world had a fleeting fairy-tale appearance
