Sydney Walk
December 3rd 1852

I have had the most distressing day. It is lucky that Josiah is out this evening with Mr Waterhouse – they are attending a performance by Miss Lind in Berkeley Square, apparently – for I do not feel able to arrange my thoughts in a straight line and he would doubtless press me for an explanation. I shall write down here all that occurred and see whether it makes more sense to me in the morning.

After I had finished breakfast and given Dauncey a thorough brushing, the doorbell rang. Villiers ran to answer it and gave such a shriek that I leapt to the landing as if the house were ablaze. I could hear Papa’s voice urging Villiers to put a stop to his wails and as I arrived at the foot of the stairs I could see what had caused him to become so agitated. Poor Papa was holding on to the doorway, with a river of blood pouring from his temple!

Villiers flapped around arranging towels and a bowl of water in the kitchen and we helped Papa to a seat. He seemed such a crumpled sight, not like my lion of a father at all.

“Papa! Whatever can have happened to you? Should Villiers send for the police?”

“No, Effie, I simply need a poultice and some tea. Do stop that servant of yours from screeching – I have sustained a slight accidental injury, not been set upon by pickpockets .”

I bathed Papa’s head and gave him a bowl of broth – the cook is always at the market in the mornings but I managed to warm the soup myself – and after some minutes he recovered enough to tell me something of what had befallen him.

“It was nothing, Effie. I was walking along Bartlett Street and I slipped on some vegetable matter that must have fallen from a grocer’s cart. Really, I should do better to contact the market association than the police – I think I could make a case against them for not securing their produce properly on those ridiculous barrows they push about.”

Papa seemed to become stronger with every spoonful of the broth – I must ask the cook what she puts in it – and as he regained his composure I noticed that Villiers had fallen silent and was soothing his forehead with a wet cloth. Really, he is a marvel at social occasions but as useless as a puppy if someone is in peril. I shall mention to Josiah that when we are in London we might need a butler with a more robust approach to everyday incidents. A man should be able to slip on a potato skin without causing physical distress to the servants, I am sure.

I satisfied myself that Papa’s injury was much less severe than it had seemed at first. Indeed after some more broth and a couple of stout biscuits he was quite himself again, and only an eagle could have spotted his wound.

“Shall I walk with you to your destination, Papa, to make sure your fall has not disturbed your balance?” I asked him. At which point I realised that he had not said why he was walking in our neighbourhood in the first place. I had not been expecting him to visit and as far as I am aware we do not live near any legal offices or other business interests of his. As I spoke, I fancied that the same thought had occurred to him.

“Well, I was…erm….I had planned….” he faltered a little, which is to be expected in someone who has just received a blow to the head, I suppose, and then he went on. “I was hoping to surprise you with a seasonal visit, my dear, ” he said, “I wondered whether you might like to take tea with me in Town.”

“What a charming plan!” I answered, “And how cunning of you to call without announcement and to come so far out of your way to treat me. If you still feel able, I should be delighted to accompany you.” I instructed Villiers to get our outdoor things together and then dashed upstairs to make sure that Dauncey was comfortable and unlikely to miss me. He was in a heavenly cat sleep that I could not bring myself to spoil with a goodbye kiss.

When we were out on Sydney Walk, I looked at Papa in cold daylight and saw how old he looked. I had never thought of him as anything other than my dashing Papa before, but this morning he seemed as if he had aged twenty years in the last ten. He has never truly recovered from losing Mama so cruelly, I suppose. We walked along in silence for a few minutes and then another awful thing happened. A harsh voice broke our thoughts,

“George! You old goat! You dusted yourself down quick enough, didn’t you? Where did you find this one?” I looked up and saw a woman I have often seen before – when I have been out walking in the late afternoons with Dauncey – staring quite brazenly at Papa.” Papa was staring back, aghast.

“Do you know her, Papa?,” I asked him.

“Oooh! ‘Do you know her Papa!’ she’s a pretty one, George!” said the woman, glancing at me. “I asked you where you found her.”

“She is my daughter,” said Papa, quietly.

“Daughter, indeed!” scorned the woman, “And I suppose I’m your mother, now, am I? You stay with those you know, George, else next time it won’t just be your head.” She threw her hair back, laughed and skittered off, leaving poor Papa looking confused. She must have seen him fall earlier and chosen not to help him, the witch.

“What nonsense she talks, Papa! Pay no attention.” I held his arm as he leaned towards me and I watched as he looked around us as if trying to assure himself that no-one else had seen this exchange.

I was horrified. I had introduced my dear, proud father to the sort of people I had become used to without noticing that they had no shame and less dignity. The poor man had simply wished to surprise his daughter with afternoon tea in a London hotel and I, by living in Sydney Walk, had subjected him to public derision and physical harm. We did have tea in Town but he hardly spoke to me – I can only assume he was angry that I could expose him to such degradation.

The mortification I feel is almost unbearable. I am glad Josiah is spending the evening in civilised company. I do not feel I derve to do so myself.

Sydney Walk
November 27th 1852

Good news from Blindingham. It appears that all is well and the staff are managing to look after Cook and contain her more excessive behaviour. I had not realised how worried I have been until I felt such a surge of relief at reading Mrs Cornbench’s note.

It is as well that there is nothing to concern me at home, for there is plenty to occupy me here in London. I have taken Dauncey out for a stroll or two – we make quite a pair as he pokes his pretty nose from my sleeve – and have begun to feel quite the Kensington lady. I am making plans for my contribution to the Press, I am organising a lunch party and am even beginning to help Josiah in his business. For the first time I feel as though my life is full of enterprise and sociability. I have Dauncey to thank for such fulfilment, I am sure. His need for my care is most gratifying.

The streets around Sydney Walk are alive with folk at all times of the day and night – it is quite different from Belgrave Square. I was not greeted so warmly there despite the fashionable nature of our address. In Kensington, Josiah and I have both noticed that we are observed more closely and approached more often than we had expected. People feel no shyness in speaking to us here, I am perfectly at home. I will perhaps feel emboldened when Dauncey and I are next abroad – he shall act as my Ambassador and I am sure it will be no time at all before I am a common regular around these streets!

Lydiatt House
November 21st 1852

My Dear Mrs Hatherwick

This is the briefest of notes, intended to reassure you that all is well at Blindingham.

I took the liberty of calling at the Hall yesterday afternoon and was greatly encouraged to see your Mrs Everdown hard at work cleaning the front door and steps. She is a treasure, I can tell. I did not have sight of the poor lady who used to cook for you, but Mrs Everdown and Mr Jennet both told me that she is well and, on the whole, quiet.

I trust that you and Mr Hatherwick are enjoying your sojourn in the City. Please do not feel that you need to reply to this communication, which shall not be repeated unless there is a need to disturb you. I am confident that that will not be the case.

Yours

Lorelei Cornbench

Sydney Walk
November 20th 1852

I am much chastened by Boo’s response to my request. She is right, of course, that we must not seek to use the Press for our own ends. I am lucky that such an honourable woman chooses to have a self-serving silly goose like me for a friend. I shall invite her to tea and try to make amends, if that ninny of a maid can see her way to arranging some cakes. The prospect of her serving my London friends with sandwiches makes me quite faint, but I must not sit alone here all Winter simply because I have an idiot in my employ.

My Dear Boo

I am sending the banker’s draft with this note – I have asked the boy to wait and bring me your response, since I shall need proof that he has indeed put it in your hands and not used it to set off for a new life in Pennsylvania, or some such place. I have heard that America is a country where poor people may cast off the shackles of their birth and rise to greatness, although the postboy I am sending does not appear to have much ambition about him. He is a thin little fellow who would be blown overboard by the merest gust of an Atlantic wind. Anyway, please write and tell me you have received the money.

I know that I have been sworn to secrecy about my involvement with The Press, but I am so amazed by our achievements that I am finding it hard not to announce my business interest to Josiah. Do you think now might be an acceptable time to show him some of their work? I only mean to have a few small periodicals or books sent to me, so that I may plan the most propitious moment to show him that I am so much more than a London socialite. Please do not be cross with me for asking – it is only that I am so pleased with the work we have done giving employment to so many eager young women. What do you think, Boo? I am fit to burst with pride.

I shall stand with Dauncey at the window and wait for the next American President to return with your answer!

Yrs

Effie x

Sydney Walk
November 3rd 1852

We have employed the stupidest girl in Christendom. She can make a fire and heat water to wash with, but beyond that she is useless. She has ruined my blue dress, the one I was planning to wear if we are invited to a party, and she has mislaid my tortoiseshell dressing set, so that my hair has to be put up with horrible little pins. And yesterday she tripped over Dauncey, who was minding his own business on the stairs, and she dropped the bowl and jug from my washstand. This morning I washed from an enamel dish, like a pauper. I have told Josiah that I do not want her working for us any longer, but he insists that she needs time to adjust to our ways.

I almost wish The Girl was back with us – she was competent, despite her ridiculous weeping all the time – but she is now working permanently for Josiah’s friend. And since I stopped paying her wages I no longer have any say over what she does. So I can do little but hope this booby improves. If she steps on Dauncey again I shall tread on her head myself to see how she would like it….

Sydney Walk
October 29th 1852

I visited the new Press this afternoon – Boo and Mrs Doughty have done tremendous work. They wanted to surprise me so they asked me to take a carriage to an address in Bayswater, where they would meet me and then walk me to the premises nearby. When I alighted, they were giddy as kittens and rushed up with a pretty scarf to cover my eyes in order to prolong the suspense. They chattered over each other in such excitement that I could not work out the route they were guiding me along, and when I told them they should slow down for fear I would never be able to find the place on my own they laughed aloud at my silliness. I have never known them in such a playful mood – it was such fun to be with them again!

The Press is now housed in a most impressive building. It is much larger than the Highgate factory, with a sprawling open ground floor where all the machinery is situated. There were more girls than I could count, all rushing around looking very busy and chattering away as they worked. It is a very happy workplace, for sure.

I wanted to be shown all the upstairs offices – I could see a lot of doors leading off the upper landing – but Boo needed to get back to LB, who has a touch of the croup she said. I do not know what croup is but apparently he needs regular steam baths and Boo was concerned that the maid would not hold his head correctly, or something. So after a whirlwind tour of the shop floor I was put straight into a carriage Mrs Doughty had arranged for me and I came back to Sydney Walk. I did not mind so much because Dauncey was waiting for me in the window and I had to write to Papa’s bank to authorise a withdrawal of funds to give to Boo for the Press. I can see now why they needed such a large amount! I shall go back soon and see the rest of it at my leisure – if I can recall how to get there.

Sydney Walk
October 17th 1852

What a thoughtful man my husband is! He had noticed that I was somewhat deflated at the lack of visitors here since we arrived and so he has given me my very own companion. I now share Sydney Walk with a scrumptious little kitten!

Josiah said he saw him sitting at the bottom of our street steps gazing up at the door waiting patiently for it to open. He said it looked for all the World as if the kitten had been given our address and hurried over to make our acquaintance.

“I would not have been surprised to see him with a little valise, Eff, with a collar and some dried fish inside, ready to move in.”

So now Dauncey is a resident, alongside Josiah, myself, Villiers and the maid. I am beginning to see why Boo always looks so exhausted – small creatures are so full of energy they leave no room for any of one’s own. And we make quite the happy household. If I listened hard enough I am sure I could hear every one of us purring with contentment.

Sydney Walk
October 14th 1852

This London arrival has been quieter than others. Josiah placed the usual announcement in the newspaper but as yet we have had no callers. I wonder whether we are a little too far away from the centre of London? The rooms are not as well appointed as we have been used to, but nobody could know that until they have visited. Villiers is delighted to be here, he says, as there is so much to do in the evenings. He dashes straight out the moment he is off duty but Josiah and I have yet to venture out after dark – the party season is not quite upon us and we have no wish to go walking abroad just for pleasure.

Even Boo has not been here. I called at hers almost the day we set foot in the City and she was welcoming and warm as ever, but when I invited her to bring Little Bradstone to Sydney Walk she was hesitant and soon found something trivial to discuss instead. I must find out why she does not wish to see us here.

In truth, Bradstone is not so little now, he strides about their house with his hands on his hips like a true gentleman and barks his orders at their maid as if he were born to mastery. It is very amusing to witness and has made me see Boo’s husband in quite a different light.

Josiah is busy again, investigating some business idea or other with Mr Waterhouse and Mr Price. He said something about a machine which could harness invisible impulses in the air or some such; I was not properly attending when he told me. But it appears that this machine could make it possible for me to speak to Boo without her being in the same house! It all seems like fanciful nonsense to me but it is keeping him occupied and happy, which is more important.

I shall write again to Mrs Doughty to arrange a visit to the Press now that I am back. Josiah is not the only one to be kept busy with new enterprise.