My dear Mr Breadspear
Please accept my sincere thanks for confirming the appointment agreed by the Trust last month. I am most grateful for this opportunity, particularly since, as you know, Mr Porringer passed on recently. He was an apothecary, in a good way of business, but after his death the shop had to pass to a distant cousin. However, I helped with running the shop for many years, and I dealt solely with the accounts. I permitted no nonsense of any kind from staff we employed, and did not tolerate impudence or familiarity from customers. You can therefore be sure that I shall wield a firm hand within Deadlight Hall.
I suppose if Mr John Hurst from Willow Bank Farm wants to provide some lessons for the children, that will be acceptable, although it should be made clear that we have no funds for such things.
On a separate note, the other, private arrangement you propose is acceptable. Carpenters and workmen have already been engaged and given specific instructions.
Very truly yours,
Maria Porringer (Mrs)
Michael frowned at the handwriting, because he had the strong impression that he had seen it before. But each century had its own style and fashion in writing, and probably most letters from the late 1800s would have been written in the same kind of hand. He would simply be recognizing the style of that era.
He reread the last paragraph, intrigued by the mention of a ‘private arrangement’, then read on.
Deadlight Hall
September 1879
My dear Mr Breadspear
You will be glad to know that the incident last week (I wrote to you about it) has been satisfactorily resolved, and I have taken steps to ensure it cannot be repeated. You will note the locksmith’s accounts in this month’s figures. There will also be a further carpenter’s bill, for it was necessary to strengthen the door at the same time.
Mr John Hurst calls every Saturday afternoon, although I am not happy about this. Last week I asked him not to teach the children poetry and suchlike, never mind if it is Shakespeare or Lord Byron, and yet only yesterday I caught him reading some high-flown verses to them, actually describing the behaviour of devils, such ungodliness. When I challenged Mr Hurst, he had the impudence to say he was reading John Milton’s Paradise Lost to the children, and it was one of the world’s great classics.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘the classics may be all very fine, but filling up children’s heads with rubbish about the drunken Sons of Belial seems most unsuitable.’
‘But,’ said the infuriating man, ‘we should always be wary of demons and devils, Mrs Porringer. Indeed, the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs warns us against Belial in particular – it tells us that fornication separates man from God and brings him near to Belial.’
Well, Mr Breadspear, I did not know where to look for the shame of such language, and the worst of it was I believe the man was laughing at me. I have yet to meet a more impious and disrespectful person than John Hurst.
I am respectfully yours,
Maria Porringer (Mrs)
Deadlight Hall
March 1880
Dear Mr Breadspear
I am a plain-speaking woman, and I am not best pleased by our sparse financial arrangements since the start of the year. I hope I am not one to be what the Bible calls greedy of filthy lucre, but the labourer is worthy of his hire. I am quite run off my feet, what with feeding and clothing the small ones, which is something to be considered, even with the charitable donations from ladies of the parish, including Lady Buckle’s cast-offs, which usually smell of boiled cabbage and Sir George’s pipe tobacco.
In addition to all that, I now have the two Mabbley girls, who came here in January as you know. (I was not at all surprised to be asked to take those two, for we all know what kind of come-day, go-day creature Polly Mabbley is). This means a total of fourteen children in all, and a deal of hard work.