Chapter One
1880
Kingsdown, Kent
England
Audrey Wakefield pulled her light brown hair back and pinned it to the nape of her neck with a tortoiseshell comb. She leaned her head against the cool windowpane and closed her eyes at the sound of the raindrops hitting the glass. She wished the skies would let loose and that the rain would become a heavy torrent to help drown out the other sounds of the house that she didn’t wish to hear.
As if she commanded it, a sudden burst of rain pelted the window, and she sat up in disbelief. She arched and touched her lower back, feeling the steel stays in her corset underneath her dark blue dress. The rain immediately subsided to a quiet drizzle, and her ears caught the sounds around her.
She could hear Cook preparing supper in the kitchen with the help of the one kitchen maid who came in every afternoon, as well as Polly the housemaid humming to herself in the back parlor.
Polly was doubtlessly dusting the mantel clock that Father adored and ignoring everything else in the room. Audrey heard Polly singing the popular music hall song “The Boy I Love” by Sol Smith Russell.
“’They locked me in an upper room, and took away the key. Because I would not wed a man, who never suited me. They did not know the female heart, or they had plainly seen, how locks and bars could never keep, a girl of seventeen.’”
Audrey stood up and closed the curtains over the window as Polly continued to sing the music hall song. Audrey was not allowed to attend the music hall performances. Her mother, Augusta, deemed them unseemly and vulgar. Her mother had said they were dangerous and was proven right when, in 1868, a faulty gas chandelier had caused panic and killed twenty-three people in Manchester. Two years prior, a portion of the ceiling had fallen into the pit and killed thirty-seven people.
Though the music halls appeared to be dangerous and bawdy, Audrey thought they sounded quite magical. Though Polly was only three years older than her, she seemed worldly and sophisticated when she talked of her time spent in the hall, the boys she walked out with, and the music.
Audrey opened the door to the small hallway that bordered her parents’ room and sister’s room and heard the sound she hated. It was the sound of heavy coughing coming from her father’s room. He had taken to his bed four weeks ago, and during that time, his coughing and illness seemed to have intensified. He had a fever and had little appetite so he had lost weight, and Audrey was frightened for him.
She moved down the small hallway and opened the door, steeling herself to face her father. When she entered the room, it was semi-dark. A lone glass oil lamp illuminated the room. Her father lay still in his bed. Her mother was seated beside him.
She looked up tiredly at Audrey as she entered. “Audrey, come sit beside me.”
Audrey did as her mother bid. She glanced at her mother and then looked away. She had dark circles under her eyes, her dark brown hair was threaded with grey, and the lines on her face appeared to have deepened.
When she looked down at her father, her heart thudded inside her chest. He looked pale and gaunt. The skin stretched over his facial bones, and on the table next to his bed, she saw several wadded-up handkerchiefs dotted red with blood.
“Mother, what did the doctor say?” Audrey asked.
That morning, Dr. Thomson had been to the small cottage to look in on her father. Audrey was anxious to know what had been said. She had been in her room much of the morning, writing letters to their mutual family friends who had asked after her father. Her mother spent much of her time with her father, so Audrey had taken up the task of correspondence on behalf of the family. Before his illness, her father, Ezra, had been the local parish priest.
“He said all is well,” her mother said. “Your father has been ill, but he will recover. We must all pray. ‘So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand,’” she quoted the scripture from Isiah.
“I am glad there is such good news. And of course, I will pray.” She looked down at her father. “How long will it be before he recovers?”
Her mother shrugged. “Who can say? The Lord will guide us.”
“I’m going into town to market. Do you need anything?” Audrey asked. Augusta was looking down at her husband and did not respond. “I won’t be long,” she told her. “The rain has subsided so—“
“Yes, yes,” Augusta said dismissively. “Wear your coat and take an umbrella in case it starts again.”
Audrey stood up and went to the door. She turned back and saw her mother bending over her father. “You see? I told you, Ezra. All will be made right. You will be well soon enough.”
Audrey closed the door behind her and almost ran headfirst into her little sister, Franc
es. She was only eight years old and worshipped Audrey. Frances had curly auburn hair with round brown eyes.