“Pray, Sister, do not trouble yourself about the ways of Soldiers’ wives. Tobacco has many medicinal qualities and it will carry away hunger when there is no meal to be had. This young person is off your hands—are we, your own Family, not enough for you to scold, without tormenting those who have Nothing to do with you?”
At which, this Sarah laughed and said that interfering in other people’s business was all that Mrs. Norris ever had done and that she, our Sister, was a crotchety old b—tch (and some other terms too vulgar to relate). And with that she sauntered away, still Laughing. This Impertinence disconcerted our Sister not a little, especially as my own boys were also laughing heartily, and I could not find it in my Heart to rebuke them.
We repaired to the Post Office, where our Sister mailed a letter to you, I believe—no doubt full of remarks about my Management of my own Household—and we were just regaining the sidewalk when a Tremendous Noise, followed by a great blast of Wind, nearly deafened us and knocked us off our feet. The Windows of every building in the street were Shattered—fortunately our hats and capes sheltered us from any Injury from the falling glass—but then the most frightful, unlooked-for thing occurred—a human Leg, a severed Leg, fell from the sky and dropped on the pavement right in front of our Sister, splattering her with Gore!
Her Constitution is such that she did not Faint—and neither did I—but she was robbed of the Power of Speech and movement for some Time. We led her Home and she has been a-bed ever since, and I have urged her to Remain there, as you may well suppose, and would gladly bribe an Apothecary to advise her not to stir for a Fortnight, had I the means to do so.
To return to the Incident, we at first feared an Invasion by the French, as you may imagine, and were in the greatest Perturbation for some time, but my husband, seeking out his informants in the Dockyard, returned with the Intelligence that the infernal noise was caused by the accidental alighting of a vast quantity of Gunpowder among the stores of the 8th Regiment. It is said that the spark came from a pipe of one of the Soldiers’ wives, who knocked her pipe out against the stones on the shale because it would not draw. Some of the lit Tobacco fell out and chanced to ignite some loose cartridges, which Exploded and in turn ignited a quantity of barrelsful of Powder, with the deadly result—more than a Score of persons killed, and Scores more injured!
I do not know of the Fate of your former Servant as I am too much occupied with care and concern for my own household to seek further particulars about her. Had we not come away when we had, we might well have been blown to Oblivion, and as heartily as I thank Providence for our Preservation, my nerves are too disordered for me to dress and attend Divine Services this morning. Thank Heavens I left my little Betsey at home yesterday to watch our Servants and she was spared the ghastly sight! Whenever I close my eyes I can see that severed limb on the pavements in front of me, and I pray the Shocking spectacle will cause no lasting damage to the Constitutions of my poor darling boys. They are running up and down the Stairs as I speak, causing me to have a most frightful Headache, and in consequence, I shall conclude and sign myself,
Your Martyred Sister,
Frances Price
* * * * * *
As the summer advanced, so Edmund Bertram advanced in confidence in his new role as clergyman. He had feared that he was too young to give advice to the aged, too sedate to captivate his youngest parishioners, and too diffident to command attention from the pews, but as the weeks went by he began to wear his new responsibilities naturally and lightly. His wife, alas, with her rapidity of understanding and impatience of boredom, began to feel, and to show, that she was already growing tired of the confines of the parish and the unvarying routine of country life. She felt, too, with some resentment, that every eye in the village was upon her, and making note if she arose late, or did nothing all day but read novels and play the harp.
Owing to the alterations to the landscape and the principal rooms as proposed by her brother, there was, as yet, no garden for her to enjoy—she was surrounded by an acre of mud and disorder without, and sawdust and noise and loose planks within. Unexpected expenses arose as well, for the removal of the farm-yard necessitated the digging of a new well, and the projected costs for the improvements proved to be easily twice what Henry had calculated.
Mary’s temper suffered as a result, and she was not infrequently disposed to quarrel over trifles. Edmund winced when he heard her scolding the servants and arguing with the tradesmen over their bills. Nor was he spared the sharp edge of her tongue. Sadly, she and her husband had very different modes of disputation—she could speak cuttingly one moment, in a brief flight of anger, then, having relieved her feelings, resume her wonted cheerfulness, as though nothing had occurred. But Edmund was of a different stamp—he was his father’s son—he loathed quarrelling, and he would leave a room rather than betray any loss of composure, and after the storm clouds had passed, he felt no small difficulty in laying aside the remembrance of his wife’s unkind language. He reflected, with some regret, that their dispositions were very different in this respect, and here were two temperaments that, although opposed, were not always conjoined in mutual sympathy.
Barely six
