The Female Line

Narrated by Emily
Maidstone Manor, Kent, England

I remember my childhood with a fondness in comparison to my later years. The security of my little world lasted until I was five years of age. I was given my own room and a governess Miss Rivers, a staunch woman with jet black hair tied up in a bun at the top of her head. My father ruled despite my illegitimacy, my education should rival that of the daughters of other nobles. Thus, along with my duties - learning to sing, playing the violin, sewing, painting and learning French (all notable accomplishments for young ladies), I was also taught history, arithmetic, French literature and English literature. I rarely saw my father, so the Lady Catherine would oversee my lessons, delicately praising my script and listening to my pronunciation.

I never viewed her as my mamma, for when I was asleep I would always imagine my mamma to be here. I never knew of any madness at that point. I always imagined mamma as ill, sweet and vulnerable. She would tell me that she loved me, and was sorry she could not be here and cuddle me every night. My nurse, was so absorbed with Alain. I had never recollected her being so with me. I was almost happy to be pushed out of the nursery and into my own space with my governess. I adored learning to paint most of all. I was told I had a special talent. As I grew older, my paintings grew with me. From painting baskets of flowers from life, my paintings grew to reflect my musings - night skies awash with different shades of red and pink, moonbeams reflecting on a river, the aurora of the North. I loved drawing the country most of all. I felt at ease with nature, as if I understood it very well. I would sit in the gardens of Maidstone Manor, in my favourite place near the brook where there were many rounded stones, big enough to sit, and gaze upon the beauties of the gardens, the natural waters. I could view the hills, and the animals that grazed thereupon and if I squinted, I could view the outline of the Markets of Aldermarch. I could see almost all the countryside, and know there was a world outside Maidstone, my lessons and my loneliness.
It was there I would find my inspiration.

***

Until I was 7, I was the young lady of the household, and the Lady Catherine used to take me out in her carriage once a week. I realised after a time, it was at the direction of my father, who wanted me to be seen in society. I was dressed beautifully, in dresses just below my knees, with lots of frills and ribbons in my hair. The dresses were made to suit my complexion. I was dressed in pastel pinks, blues and reds. I despised the crinoline supported skirts which lifted up my gown to emphasise my ‘little lady‘ status, I had no choice but to wear them. However I could bear the pain, if it meant I could go out in the carriage. If it was winter, I was dressed in real fur trims to symbolise who my father was, which was even more uncomfortable.

I was often told I had a rare delicate prettiness by all my attendants, my maids, the people below stairs, Mr March the butler and sometimes the guests who came to see us at Maidstone. I was told my dark hair, small frame and heart shaped face gave me a ethereal beauty, similar to the wispy beauty of Lady Catherine, only she was fair with long strawberry blonde curls whereas I was olive-skinned which was unusual.

When I went to visit people outside my hair was tightly curled at the sides by Lady Catherine’s maid, Eloise. For the rest it was parted and weaved into a bun. I found this extremely uncomfortable, but by then I had learnt to endure. This had to be done just so as we visited some rather grand residents of Maidstone. Lady Catherine’s particular friends were, Mrs Partridge who was the sister to the Mayor, Mr Waldegrave, a friend of my fathers and Lady Estella, the daughter of the Earl of Sandwich who had married the Lord Sutherby, son of the Duke of Kent, both of whom resided in the smart division of Aldermarch, Blue Blood Way, a small village on the outskirts of Maidstone, renowned for its green pastures and wholesome country air. It was said to epitomise English nature completely.

Blue Blood Way was very fashionable in that there were many small manors belonging to the landed gentry even though they were not frequented as much. Many nobles felt the need to secure accommodation of their own for their wives and daughters near London, but a safe distance from the bustle of the city. It was often called ’England’s nursery’ as many nobles left their children to be reared in the good country air, whilst they returned to that mystic city of London to manage the politics of the realm. It was there Mrs Partridge resided, in Swift House.

*

‘My Lady, your daughter has not inherited your colouring’ boomed Lady Audrey Gilbert, the widow of the late Lord Scrutton and the eccentric cousin of Mrs Partridge who was visiting Maidstone. Mrs Partridge had apologetically glanced at Lady Catherine with an exasperated look as if she was sorry for what her curious old-aged cousin was saying. I who was eating a half a slice of chocolate cake (quite daintily I remember thinking), paused in mid-chew and looked at Lady Catherine’s face.

‘Oh no, my Lady,’ said Lady Catherine patting her bun, keeping her composure, ‘She’s my husband‘s bastard. Emily, was born just before my marriage to her Papa.’

‘I see,’ said Lady Audrey, ‘Noble bastards, there are aplenty my Lady. Since your marriage, have you been blessed by one of your own?’

At this the Lady Catherine looked at her feet. I remember distinctly the sad look on her face, one of the first times I had seen her betray any form of emotion. ‘No my lady,’ she said slowly, ‘God has not seen fit to bless us yet, even though we have been married five years come Midsummer’s eve.’

Lady Audrey looked at her questioningly, as if she would hear more. ‘Well my lady, at your age I had three of my seven sons, and one of my four daughters.’

‘Perhaps I’m not as fertile as you my lady,’ Lady Catherine said closing her eyes, as if she would shut the world out.

‘Perhaps not’ she said, with a mocking air. ‘Or perhaps you have done something which would turn God against you, for maybe that is why he has not blessed you with babes.’

‘Cousin, I think that is enough,’ said Mrs Partridge quickly, ‘The Lady Catherine is the most godly person I know. Of course she would not turn our high and mighty Lord against her.’

Lady Catherine composed herself and haughtily glanced at Lady Audrey with fire in her eyes. ‘My Lady, I will not question Gods plan for myself and my husband. I see fit to wait until we are blessed with a child of our own.’ She smiled an empty smile as if to end the conversation, but I saw her face glowed as orange as the hearth fire.

*

I was seven years old when my status diminished. At first I didn’t understand why there was such a bustle in the house with the towels and the women running to and fro. I felt as if I was placed on the sidelines, not able to be let in to the secret the entire house was carrying, from the footmen to the women in the kitchens. Strangely enough my father had been at home for the past month, and he had been smiling constantly. Nurse Amelia also seemed distracted. She came to me while I was at my music lesson in the library, with a wry smile, bustling with the aura of self importance.

‘Poppet now you’re such a big girl, I can tell you the news of the house,’ she said excitedly. I placed my violin on the table and waited with a little smile on my face. ‘Is it good news?’ I asked.

‘Yes my little lady,’ she said with a big smile exposing her yellowed teeth, ‘After 7 years, the Lady Catherine is with child and has taken to her bed, meaning that pretty soon you and Alain shall have a playmate in the nursery.’ She was smiling, as if she had told me my mamma was coming home. Yet it seemed I would still have to wait for that day.

I cannot recall the thoughts running through my head, I wasn’t as rueful or even as passionate as I had been when Alain was born, I just remember trying to be a young lady with the airs and graces as my idol the Lady Catherine had, yet inwardly my heart sank. This was a significant point in my life. This was the period in which my status had demolished as Lord Montagu‘s only daughter. I was effectively an outsider now.

*

The birth of the Lady Felicity was a momentous event, as it was previously thought that the Lady Catherine could bear no children. My memory of seeing Felicity was as clear as crystal glassware, as it was the moment I was no longer the Lady Catherine‘s concern. She now had her own child, a legitimate child.

I had been sent to the bedroom where the Lady Catherine resided in. She was sat up in her four poster bed, with the beautiful tapestries. I loved those tapestries, the lavish red velvet reminded me of luxury, the embroidery depicted into a castle with a moat and ladies in waiting around it, dancing with their pretty dresses for the Queen. I had many a time made the story up in my head. But the tapestry was sewn to represent the court life, where Queen Victoria of England resided with Prince Albert.

When I was a little younger Nurse Amelia used to tell me stories about the pretty dark haired lady who had once resided in our house and was a distant relative of my fathers. The tapestry was sewn by her and it took her over twenty years. She had been banished from court by her uncle for falling in love with a lowly groom and banished here in the country. She never returned to court and spent years mourning her loss of life.

Felicity was as unlike me, as I ever saw in a child, she looked similar to Alain. She had dirty blonde hair, very red lips and looked a miniature of the Lady herself. She was dressed in white satin, which was custom for a child, and was swaddled very tightly so that her limbs would grow straight. I wasn’t as enthralled as the four other ladies in the room yet the Lady Catherine was forlorn as I came in to look at her masterpiece but I tried to appear as if I was joyful.

‘Isn’t she lovely my Lady Em?’ asked nurse Amelia who was waiting for me to compliment my new legitimate sister.

‘For sure,’ I said brightly, ‘She will be a lovely maid.’

The Lady Catherine gazed upon me and gave a small sad smile.