We had a big globe which we turned round and round; we picked out places and imagined we were there.
I was sure that my parents would not have approved of this method of teaching, but it worked well. They would never have engaged anyone who looked like Felicity and who admitted that she had no qualifications and had never taught before if she had not been the niece of Professor Wills.
So we had a great deal to be thankful for and we knew it.
Then there were our walks. We learned what an interesting place Bloomsbury was. It became a game to us to find out how it had become as it was. It was exciting to discover that a century before it had been an isolated village called Lomesbury and between St. Pancras Church and the British Museum were fields and open country. We found the house where the painter Sir Godfrey Kneller had lived; then there
were the rookeries, that area into which we could not venture a maze of streets in which the very poor lived side by side with the criminal classes, where the latter could rest in safety because no one would dare enter the place.
Mr. Dolland, who had been born and bred in Bloomsbury, loved to talk about the old days and, as was to be expected, he knew a good deal about it. There were many interesting conversations on the subject during meals.
We would sit there on winter evenings, the lamp shedding its light on the remains of Mrs. Harlow’s pies or puddings and empty vegetable dishes while Mr. Dolland talked of his early life in Bloomsbury.
He had been born in Gray’s Inn Road and in his boyhood he had explored his surroundings and had many stories to tell of it.
I remember details from those days so well. He really had dramatic powers and like most actors liked to enthral an audience. He certainly could not have had a more appreciative one even though it was smaller than he might have wished.
“Shut your eyes,” he would say, ‘and think of it. Buildings make a difference. Think of this place . like a bit of the country. I was never one for the country myself. “
“You’re like me, Mr. Dolland,” said Mrs. Harlow.
“You like a bit of life.”
“Don’t we all?” asked Dot.
“I don’t know,” put in Nanny Pollock.
“There’s some as swears by the country.”
“I was born and bred in the country,” piped up the twee ny
“I like it here,” I said, ‘with all of us. “
Nanny nodded her approval of that sentiment.
I could see Mr. Dolland was in the mood to entertain us and I was wondering whether to ask for “Once more unto the breach’ or The Bells.
“Ah,” he said.
“There’s been a lot going on round here. If you could only see back to years ago.”
“It’s a pity we have to rely on hearsay,” said Felicity.
“I think it’s fascinating to hear people talk of the past.”
“Mind you,” said Mr. Dolland, “I can’t go back all that way, but I’ve had stories from my granny. She was here before they put up all these buildings. She used to talk about a farm that used to be just about where the top of Russell Street is now. She remembered the Miss Cappers who lived there.”
I settled happily in my chair, hoping for a story about the Miss Cappers. Mr. Dolland saw this. He smiled at me and said: “You want to hear what she told me about them, don’t you. Miss Rosetta?”
I nodded and he began: “They were two old maids, the Misses Capper.
One was crossed in love and the other never had a chance to be. It made them sort of bitter against all men. Well-to-do, they were. They had the farm left to them by their father. Ran it themselves, they did. Wouldn’t have a man about the place. They managed with a dairymaid or two. It was this dislike of the opposite sex. “
“Because one was crossed in love,” said Emily.
“And the other never had a chance to be,” I added.
“Shh,” admonished Nanny.
“Let Mr. Dolland go on.”
“A queer pair they were. Used to ride out on old grey mares. They didn’t like the male sex but they dressed just as though they belonged to it … in top hats and riding breeches. They looked like a couple of old witches. They were known all round as the Mad Cappers.”
I thought that was a good joke and laughed heartily, only to receive another reproving shake of the head from Nanny I should know better.
One should never interrupt Mr. Dolland when he was in full flow.
“It was not that they did anything that was really wicked. It was just that they liked to do a bit of harm here and there. It was a place where boys used to like to fly their kites … it being all open to the sky. One of the Miss Cappers used to ride round with a pair of shears. She’d gallop after the boys with the kites and cut the strings so that
the little boys were standing there … the string in their hands, watching their kites flying off to Kingdom Come.”
“Oh, poor little boys. What a shame,” said Felicity.
“That was the Miss Cappers for you. There was a little stream nearby where the boys used to bathe. There was nothing they liked more on a hot summer’s day than a dip in the water. They’d leave their clothes behind a bush while they went in. This other Miss Capper used to watch them. Then she’d swoop down and steal their clothes.”
“What a nasty old woman,” said Dot.
“She said the boys were trespassing on her land and trespassers should be punished.”
“Surely a little warning would have done?” said Felicity.
“That wasn’t the Miss Cappers’ way. They caused a bit of gossip, those two. I wish I’d been around when they were alive. I’d like to have seen them.”
“You would never have let them cut your kite and send it to Kingdom Come, Mr. Dolland,” I said.
“They were pretty sharp, those two. Then, of course, there were the forty steps.”
We all settled back in our seats to hear the story of the forty steps.
“Is it a ghost story?” I asked eagerly.
“Well, sort of.”
“Perhaps we’d better have it in the morning,” said Nanny, her eyes on me.
“Miss gets a bit excited about ghost stories at the end of the day. I don’t want her awake half the night fancying she hears things. “
“Oh, Mr. Dolland,” I begged.
“Please tell us now. I can’t wait. I want to hear about the forty steps.”
Felicity was smiling at me.
“She’ll be all right,” she said, wanting to hear as much as I did, and, having whetted our appetites, Mr. Dolland saw that he must go on.
Nanny looked a little displeased. She was not as fond of Felicity as the rest of us were. I believed it was because she knew of my affection for her and was afraid it detracted from what I had for her. She need have had no qualms. I was able to love them both.
Mr. Dolland cleared his throat and put on the expression which he must have worn when he was waiting in the wings to go on the stage and do his part.
He began dramatically: “There were two brothers. This was a long time ago when King Charles was on the throne. Well, the King died and his son, the Duke of Monmouth, thought he would make a better king than Charles’s brother James, and there was a battle between them. One of the brothers was for Monmouth and the other for James, so they were enemies fighting on different sides. But what was more important to them was their admiration for a certain young lady. Yes, the two brothers loved the same woman and it got to such a state that they made up their minds to fight it out between them, for this young lady was the Beauty of Bloomsbury and she thought quite a lot of herself, as such young ladies do. She was proud because they were going to fight over her. They were to fight with swords, which was how they did it in those days. It was what they called a duel. There was
