A Heart in Chains

CHAPTER ONE ~ 1842-1

CHAPTER ONE ~ 1842Andrea Clerefall drew back the curtain from her little attic window at Wishling Cottage and peered out.

It was just after dawn and there was still a wispy mist hovering over the grass, but she could tell that it was going to be another lovely day.

If she could hang the washing out in the garden this morning, it would be dry by noon. At the moment it was strung out on the wooden ceiling rack in the laundry room.

The laundry room was Andrea’s Kingdom, the only place in the cottage where she could be sure of avoiding her stepmother and her stepsisters.

They would never dream of setting foot there for, despite the fact that Mr. Clerefall had left his family short of money when he died, his widow and stepdaughters still considered themselves a cut above their neighbours.

Housekeeping of any sort was most definitely not for them under any circumstances

Andrea herself had no such thoughts. She accepted the fact that she had come down in the world. It did not matter to her.

Very little mattered since she had lost her beloved Papa.

She had sat by her dying father day and night and knew how bitterly he regretted his second marriage and how deeply he despaired at allowing Andrea’s stepmother to fritter away so much of his modest fortune.

“I have let you down, my dear child,” he would cry, “I am leaving you with nothing.”

Andrea would protest vigorously, tears in her eyes at the thought of her father passing from her life.

“No, Papa! You are leaving me with many happy memories. No one could have had a better childhood.”

Her father would sigh sadly.

“Yes. Before your mother died we were indeed so happy. And we were happy alone together, before – ”

His voice trailed away, but Andrea was left in no doubt as to what he left unsaid.

Before the widow, Mrs. Higgs, came to be their housekeeper at their London house.

Before her dedicated campaign began to win the affections of her employer was successful.

And before she convinced Mr. Clerefall that what his fifteen year old daughter, Andrea, needed most was to be sent away to school.

And well before Andrea was summoned home for good to find that Mrs. Higgs had become the second Mrs. Clerefall and had brought her two daughters, Avis and Evadne, to live with their new stepfather.

Andrea frowned.

Her stepsisters had perhaps been the greatest shock of all. Even her father, a man too benevolent of spirit for his own good, could find very little that was positive to say about them.

They were spiteful, sullen and unpleasing to the eye with pasty complexions and waves of mouse-brown hair.

But Mrs. Clerefall thought a great deal of them and this was why they thought a great deal of themselves.

They both considered it to be their entitlement to be given gowns of the finest silk and shoes of the best leather, all at Mr. Clerefall’s expense.

Andrea would have been so ashamed to fleece her father’s purse so. This was just as well, since the new Mrs. Clerefall never deigned to include her stepdaughter in the many shopping expeditions that she and her own daughters undertook.

“Andrea has clothes enough already,” was her cold excuse whenever Mr. Clerefall ventured to suggest that she too might like to go along to look at the latest fashions.

And the refrain was always,

“You have just spoiled that girl rotten. Whereas my poor girls have had nothing.”

Andrea knew this to be true. Mrs. Clerefall’s first marriage to Mr. Higgs had been a poor one and Avis and Evadne had not been showered with opportunities.

Nevertheless it was sickening to see how greedily they settled on her father’s money, like flies on a pie.

Andrea was perfectly happy not accompanying her stepmother and stepsisters to the milliner or dressmaker. It meant she could spend time alone with her Papa.

If it was fine, they would take a walk in Hyde Park and Mr. Clerefall would note with satisfaction how many gentlemen turned to gaze after his daughter.

He thought it no wonder as, with her tumbling red-gold curls, sea-green eyes and porcelain complexion, she was a rare beauty.

“If anything happens to me, there’s one thing I can be sure of,” he would sigh contentedly. “You will surely find yourself a good husband.”

Andrea would blush.

“Papa, I don’t ever want to leave you.”

“You say that now, but when the time comes you will hardly give me a second thought!”

Andrea sighed as she remembered his words. She never had left her father. He had left her.

After three years of Mrs. Clerefall’s extravagance and one or two ill-advised investments, her father’s income was much diminished.

The family had to leave their London house and move to a modest house in the country.

Wishling Cottage in Essex had been her mother’s family home and was still the abode of Andrea’s Nanny, Hattie.

Mrs. Clerefall allowed Hattie to stay on because her sewing skills were useful and she cost little to keep.

The old Nanny welcomed them with open arms, but soon realised the unhappy state of relations between Mr. and Mrs. Clerefall and the seventeen year old Andrea and her elder stepsisters.

The atmosphere was not congenial, but Hattie was determined to stay on for the sake of Mr. Clerefall and his daughter.

Meanwhile Mrs. Clerefall and her daughters took their new station in life with ill grace and she steadfastly refused to acknowledge her own part in eating through her

husband’s funds.

Within a short time the stress had taken its toll on Mr. Clerefall’s health.

He took to his bed and never left it again, except in a plain oak coffin. And Andrea and Hattie were the only mourners to weep at his funeral.

Andrea sighed and turned from the window.

It had been two years since her father’s death and she still missed his kindness.

Only Hattie remained as her friend and confidante.

No doubt it was for that reason that Mrs. Clerefall soon used their even more diminished funds as an excuse to dismiss the old Nanny, who went to live with her nephew in a nearby village.

And so Andrea was forced to walk there and back for her embroidery lessons.

Now lifting a heavy jug, Andrea poured water into a chipped porcelain bowl to wash.

She thought wryly of how last night had been her bath night. She was allowed only the one bath a week in order, maintained her stepmother, to conserve wood.

Needless to relate there were no such restrictions placed upon Avis and Evadne.

The two stepsisters continued to be as indulged by Mrs. Clerefall as that lady could afford.

Once the housekeeping money had been put aside, the remainder went to keeping the two girls in the way that they had become accustomed to.

When they could not buy new clothes, Andrea’s were refashioned for their purposes. After all, what did Andrea need good clothes for?

It was all her father’s fault that they were in this situation. Well, then, she must atone. She must help the kitchenmaid keep house and all she needed for that was a worsted gown and a clean apron.

Andrea now put on that very apron and tied it round her waist. She tucked her hair under a plain cotton cap and set out for the laundry room. She would take the clothes out to the garden and lay them in the sun.

Passing through the kitchen, she saw that the maid of all work, Nell, had started breakfast and the porridge smelt good.

The sheets and pillowcases from the laundry room were half-dry already and Andrea took them up in her arms and carried them to the garden.

The mist had dispersed, the dew was gone and she had no hesitation in draping the laundry over the bushes.

She then returned to the kitchen and helped Nell take in breakfast to the small dining room at the back of the cottage.

Mrs. Clerefall and her two daughters were already seated at table.

“So why did you not wait until after we’d eaten to hang those sheets out there?” Avis frowned. “We can see ’em through the window and it’ll put us off our porridge.”

“I suppose we can be grateful that they aren’t our drawers,” chimed in her sister.

“Evadne!” Mrs. Clerefall scolded her crossly. “We don’t talk of such things at table. In fact we don’t mention drawers and whatever at all in good company.”

Suppressing a giggle, Andrea set down two bowls of steaming porridge, while Nell put out two others.

Nell then departed, while Andrea sat down at table.

Much as Mrs. Clerefall would have liked to banish her entirely from domestic gatherings, she had some small sense of propriety left.

The girl was after all a relation of sorts and besides it enlivened Mrs. Clerefall if there was someone present to bait. With Mr. Clerefall gone, her razor tongue had little on which to sharpen itself.

Her own daughters would never do and Nell kept out of her way as much as she could.

Andrea took her seat.

Mrs. Clerefall regarded her with disquiet. Even in a cap and apron the girl looked fresh and pretty.

Of course she could never be compared to Avis and Evadne, who were so distinguished, but then Mrs. Clerefall made sure that her stepdaughter always hid her splendid red-gold hair under a cloth cap.

Everyone began to eat.

“Don’t slurp, Avis,” piped up Mrs. Clerefall.

“It’s my jaw, Mama. It’s stiff from the draft down the chimney in my room. We need a chimney guard.”

“And I could do with thicker curtains in mine,” shot in Evadne.

“We’ll go to town later today and shop for a guard and curtains,” said Mrs. Clerefall. “I’ll hire the farmer’s dogcart.”

Avis and Evadne frowned at the idea of travelling to town in a dogcart, but they knew it was that or nothing.

Andrea wondered if she would be allowed to go with them. Hattie was helping her with her embroidery skills and she needed some new bobbins.

The lessons with Hattie had been Mrs. Clerefall’s idea. Any dowry available would go to her own daughters. And Andrea must have a trade.

Andrea did not mind in the least as she enjoyed embroidery and Hattie said that she had a natural aptitude.

The door opened and Nell came in with the local newssheet, which a neighbour had just dropped in.

The maid then set the paper down at Mrs Clerefall’s elbow and departed.

She glanced at the paper and let fall her spoon with an exclamation,

“What? What, Mama?” Avis and Evadne craned excitedly in an attempt to read the newssheet.

“The new Viscount is coming here to the village to inspect the property he has inherited from his grandfather – Mannerly Hall,” explained Mrs. Clerefall, her hand at her palpitating breast.

Avis and Evadne breathed out solemnly.

“A Viscount? Mannerly Hall? Where is it?”

“That gateway that you see on the road out of the village,” replied Mrs. Clerefall. “I have heard it’s a most handsome place. Of course none of us has laid eyes on it.”

Head bent over, Andrea trailed her spoon in her porridge. She could beg to differ from her stepmother, but chose to remain silent.

She had once been taken to Mannerly Hall by her grandmother, who had been on good terms with a Baron who happened to be staying there for the summer.

The Baron invited Andrea and her grandmother to The Hall to meet the recently widowed Lady Mannerly, who must now be the Dowager.

Andrea remembered spires and turrets and a mass of wisteria and leaded casement windows.

She recalled the scent of white lilies and a beautiful lady in a black gown giving her a lace handkerchief and a bonbon.

Then she had been sent into the garden to play and there she had glimpsed a Prince. At least she had thought of him as a Prince as he was tall and handsome and dressed in red velvet.

She was seven and he was at least fifteen, but he kindly showed her the orchard and plucked a peach for her, before strolling away with a whistle to see to his horse.

Andrea had all but forgotten this until this morning.

Now the impressive house and the beautiful lady and the handsome young man surged up in her mind like a sea-wave.