Far From Home Page 2

  They boarded the Paragon the next day and their luggage was brought on board. Georgiana’s cabin was on the upper deck and Kitty’s on the second, where bunks were placed around the sides and partitioned off with curtains for privacy.

  ‘I’m glad I’m not down below on ’bottom deck, miss.’ Kitty had returned after exploring. ‘It’s so dark down there, even though most folk have got alantern.’

  Georgiana also went to look around the ship and was horrified to see where Kitty would be sleeping. The second deck was crowded with women and children, all quite respectable, but the atmosphere was claustrophobic with only a trapdoor in the ceiling to let in light and air. On the lower deck, the steerage quarters, men were drinking or playing cards and the women sat in desultory fashion with children about their knees.

  ‘You must come up on the top deck, Kitty,’ Georgiana declared and immediately made arrangements for another cabin, which, though not premier class as hers was, was more comfortable.

  ‘When we arrive in America, we’ll stay in New York for a while,’ Georgiana told Kitty as she unpacked the bags. ‘We’ll have a look around. The state is very big, I believe, but not all of it is civilized, so we must take care. But we will enquire and find out what opportunities are available to us.’

  ‘You’re not thinking of working for a living, Miss Gregory?’ Kitty’s voice was shocked. ‘You’ll take a house, won’t you, and entertain?’ Her words drifted away. ‘I mean – a lady like you?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, Kitty.’ Georgiana decided to confide in her. After all, she had brought the girl away from a secure, comfortable position. ‘I have enough money to last us for a while, but I must look to improve our situation.’

  ‘Well, I can get a job of work, miss, cleaning houses or in a shop. I could even sing in ’streets if necessary,’ Kitty added cheerfully. ‘My da allus said, ‘‘Sure and you have the voice of an angel.’’ ’

  ‘Well, if the worst comes to the worst, that’s what we’ll do.’ Georgiana sounded more confident than she actually was. ‘You can sing and I’ll play the piano for our supper.’

  The voyage was set to be long and tedious. It was now March and they expected to be in New York by the first or second week in May. The weather was fair for the first fortnight, with a stiff breeze, and they made good progress. Then rough weather got up and though the wind was in their favour, the sea was running high with massive waves and many passengers became sick.

  Georgiana staggered to her cabin door for some air and looked out at the spectacle in front of her. The sea was mountainous, towering high above the ship. The sun shone brilliantly, catching every great wave, each billowing swell and tossing white horse with its flashing intensity, so that she had to shield her eyes from its brightness.

  ‘How wonderful,’ she murmured, then dashed back inside to be sick.

  The wind and sea eventually calmed and Georgiana and Kitty were able to take a walk each day and mingle with some of the other first-class passengers. The ship’s Master invited Georgiana to take supper with him, his officers and an elderly lady. Mrs Burrows was, he informed her, a former resident of Beverley, the shire town of the East Riding of Yorkshire, noted for its fine Minster and horse racing.

  ‘Mrs Burrows, I would like you to meet Miss Gregory who is also from your area.’ Captain Parkes made the introductions and invited them to be seated at a long oak table in the low-ceilinged dining area, which was adjacent to the Master’s cabin. The table was set with pewter plates, fine glassware and crisp white table linen. ‘As you are both travelling alone, I thought perhaps you might care to be acquainted. Most of our other passengers are in families or groups—’

  ‘Are you one of the Hessle Gregorys?’ Mrs Burrows boomed, cutting the captain off in his verbal flow. ‘Montague Gregory?’

  ‘My uncle.’ Georgiana began to explain her relationship but was interrupted by Mrs Burrows who asked in a loud voice, ‘Travelling alone? No gentleman to escort you?’

  ‘Exactly so, Mrs Burrows. Apart from my maid.’ Georgiana was tight-lipped, certain that this tall, rather formidable woman dressed in an old-fashioned black gown with leg-o’-mutton sleeves, a lace cap pinned to her grey hair, was about to lecture her on such indecorous and foolish behaviour.

  ‘Glad to hear it!’ Mrs Burrows exclaimed. ‘If I can do it so can you. It’s about time you young women stood up for your entitlements.’

  Georgiana gave a small gasp. Such an unexpected statement coming from a woman who must be nearly sixty years of age!

  ‘Shocked you, have I?’ Mrs Burrows gave a cackle. ‘Thought I might. I usually do. Most young people think that I should be in my bath chair – or in a wooden box!’ she added, giving a further cackle. ‘But I’m not, and don’t intend to be, not just yet at any rate.’

  ‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ Georgiana said warmly. ‘So very pleased. One of the reasons for my leaving England is because I know I will be old before equality comes to English women.’

  ‘And what’s the other reason?’ Mrs Burrows demanded, glancing up and nodding at the officers as they arrived and Captain Parkes introduced them one by one. She watched as the cabin boy dished up the soup with an unsteady hand. ‘You’re new, are you not?’ she asked him, conducting two conversations at the same time, then told him he would eventually get used to the motion of the ship before he had time to answer.

  ‘Not looking for a husband?’ She continued her conversation with Georgiana with hardly a pause and gazed at her with an unflinching eye.

  ‘No, that is not on the list of my priorities,’ Georgiana murmured, conscious that the attentions of the officers were on her. ‘I want to build a life of my own.’

  ‘Rich, then, are you?’ Mrs Burrows asked. ‘For there’s not much open to single women even in the bright New World. Well, not for young women such as you. You’ll not want to be chasing after the forty-niners like some foolish young women did!’

  Georgiana stared blankly. What was she talking about?

  ‘Gold miners!’ Mrs Burrows expounded. ‘You’ll find New York almost empty. All the men rushed off to California two years ago when they heard of the gold. And half the females in New York went after them. Not gentlewomen, of course,’ she added and broke her bread into pieces.

  ‘Were none of you gentlemen tempted to jump ship and look for gold?’ Mrs Burrows addressed the officers quite informally and in a loud voice.

  One or two of the officers shook their heads and answered, ‘No, ma’am.’

  The captain spoke up hurriedly, as if he had been waiting for a chance to say something. ‘I lost some of my crew last year,’ he said. ‘The cook went and a couple of the apprentice lads. They were swayed by the lure of gold.’

  ‘All they’ll get is dirty fingernails,’ Mrs Burrows said tetchily, ‘and an aching back. My son lost half of his employees, but they’re drifting back, one by one.’

  ‘What is the purpose of your trip, Mrs Burrows? Are you visiting family?’ Georgiana was curious about her: she was either very brave or very foolhardy to be travelling so far at her age.

  ‘I’ve upped sticks now.’ Mrs Burrows took a sip of wine from a crystal glass. ‘I’ve been twice before to New York to visit my son, but this will be the last time. I shall stay. Shan’t return to England again. I’ve nobody there any more. All my friends are dying. Got no backbone.’ She took another drink. ‘No, I’ll stay in New York and set off a few crackers, wake some of them New York gels up a bit.’ She turned and gave Georgiana a wicked grin which creased her face into wrinkles. ‘They think I’m an eccentric old Englishwoman,’ she said. ‘Can’t think why!’

  They met frequently after that and, wrapped in cloaks and shawls, took walks together along the deck. Georgiana told Mrs Burrows of her involvement with the Women’s Rights group which she had belonged to, and how she hoped that women in America had more equality with men than they had in England.

  ‘Don’t be disappointed when you find that they don’t,’ Mrs Burrows ha
rrumphed. ‘Men make the rules just as they do at home! And though there are some women who are very committed to equality, I have found that the majority are very lethargic. Did you hear of that northern tour with the young woman who made a great impact by speaking on poverty and child labour?’ she asked abruptly. ‘Grace something? Miss Grace? The newspapers said that she was very poor, but I don’t suppose she was as poor as they made out!’

  ‘Indeed she was, Mrs Burrows! I know that for a fact for I was there. But she has now pulled herself up from poverty.’

  As they walked, Mrs Burrows hung onto her bonnet as the wind threatened to tear it off. ‘So it is possible,’ she murmured. ‘All you need is determination, and maybe a helping hand. Of course,’ she went on, ‘in America it is possible to overcome adversity. There is a ruling class as in England, but that class is made up from wealth and not from aristocracy, and if you become wealthy through hard work and endeavour, no-one is going to look down upon you because you are from the labouring classes.’

  Georgiana sighed. ‘But women are still excluded. They do not have the same freedom as men!’

  Mrs Burrows shook her head. ‘What you could do,’ she said, ‘is find yourself a rich amenable husband and succeed in your ambitions through him. Many political wives do so.’ She glanced at Georgiana. ‘But I don’t suppose you would want to do that? It wouldn’t suit?’

  Georgiana considered. What is the point of travelling so far and tying myself to some man whose ideals are not the same as mine and who makes decisions for me? I could have stayed in England and done that. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I wouldn’t want to do that. It wouldn’t suit at all.’

  ‘Then good luck to you, my dear,’ Mrs Burrows said wryly. ‘You’re going to need it!’

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mrs Burrows had recommended an hotel in New York, close to the park which was being created in the centre, an area of gardens, pleasant walks, lakes and arbours. ‘Not finished yet,’ she said. ‘But ask them for a room with a window overlooking it,’ she added. ‘Just in case you get homesick for the greenness of England.’ She had given a wistful smile. ‘As you will.’

  Georgiana was enthralled by the lovely harbour as they sailed towards Manhattan Island and saw, bathed in the warm sunlight of spring, the panorama of tall buildings of New York. Living as she had, near to the Yorkshire town of Hull with its narrow medieval streets, she was most impressed by the wide roads, carriageways and boulevards, and the handsome mansions built upon them. Kitty gazed out of the hackney-carriage window, amazed at the magnificent hotels and the shopping plazas as they travelled along Broadway, the long broad avenue which ran through the centre.

  They both drew in a breath when the carriage pulled up outside the Portland Hotel, Georgiana in dismay as she wondered how she would afford such luxury, and Kitty in delight as she saw the uniformed bellboys and commissionaires waiting on the wide steps to open the carriage doors and lead them through the central glass lobby into the reception hall.

  ‘Two rooms, if you please,’ Georgiana asked the reception clerk. ‘For myself and my maid.’

  ‘For yourself and your help, madam? You’re just in from England, I can tell!’ he said, and glanced at his register. ‘I’m not sure if we can accommodate you,’ he murmured. ‘We’re so very busy just now.’ He tapped his fingers on his mouth as he considered.

  ‘The hotel is recommended by Mrs Burrows,’ Georgiana said firmly, thinking that no matter the cost, all she wanted to do was climb into a bed which didn’t rock. ‘She particularly said to mention her name.’

  ‘Mrs Burrows! The English lady. Is she a friend of yours, madam?’ he said enthusiastically. ‘I just adore her, she is so quaint!’

  Georgiana raised her eyebrows but made no rejoinder on his comment and after turning over a page in his register, he nodded, asked her to sign, snapped his fingers at a passing bellboy and told him to take Miss Gregory and Miss Kitty Kelly up to their rooms on the fourth floor. ‘Your luggage will follow shortly, Miss Gregory. Welcome to the Portland. I hope you enjoy your stay.’

  A bed with muslin drapes dominated Georgiana’s large and luxurious room, but as well as a wardrobe and chests of drawers, there was a writing desk and comfortable chairs placed by the window which overlooked the new park. She saw men digging and planting trees in the grass and strangely, she thought, there were pigs snuffling in the newly dug area. On opening another door at the other side of the room, Georgiana discovered a bathroom with a bathtub, a washstand and a mahogany towel rail draped with thick white towels.

  ‘Oh, miss. It’s lovely,’ Kitty said. ‘A proper bathroom.’

  ‘Don’t get too fond of it, Kitty,’ Georgiana told her. ‘We’ll stay for a week or two until we find our way around and then look about for something a little smaller and less expensive.’ And I must try to remember that Kitty is my help and not my servant!

  They both had a rest, then Georgiana put on her shoulder cape and her hat and they went down into the foyer. Kitty carried an umbrella, for the blue skies were clouding over, and they strolled out of the hotel to explore the streets of New York.

  ‘Folks is very friendly, Miss Gregory,’ Kitty remarked. She was very bright and chirpy and very excited at the newness of it all.

  Georgiana agreed. Men touched their hats as they passed and ladies inclined their heads. ‘I think they must know we have just come off a ship,’ she said. ‘We must have the stamp of Englishness on us. Though I understand that there are many English people here, in spite of it being a Dutch city originally.’

  But, as they explored, they realized that it was not only the English and Dutch who inhabited this city, but people from many nations, German, Italian, Irish and French. As they strayed down side streets, Indian, Mexican and Spanish men leaned in apparent idleness against doorways. There were also tenement buildings crowded together, with children sitting on the doorsteps, and Georgiana was reminded that, as in England, not all of the New York residents were affluent.

  ‘It’s a bit like home, Miss Gregory, isn’t it?’ Kitty said in a subdued voice. ‘There’s no getting away from poor folks, there’s even pigs rooting around amongst the rubbish.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right, Kitty,’ Georgiana agreed. She found she was rather despondent and maybe even a trifle homesick, as Mrs Burrows had said she might be. ‘Come along, we’ve seen enough for today. Let’s go back to the hotel for tea.’

  The hotel lounge was large and divided up into smaller areas by stands of exotic plants and flowers and tall Chinese vases. A piano stood in one corner and Georgiana looked at it longingly. One of the things she was missing was her music. She was an accomplished player, though she hadn’t a strong melodic voice. After they had tea in the hotel Kitty excused herself and said she would go upstairs and start unpacking the trunks. ‘Everything will be creased if I don’t. Do you think they’ll have an ironing room, Miss Gregory?’

  ‘I’m sure they will, Kitty. Just ask at the reception desk,’ and Georgiana smiled to herself over the fact that she had taken tea with her maid, something she would never have done at home in England.

  A woman approached her as she was idly watching people arriving and departing through the glass swing doors. She was perhaps in her early thirties and dressed in a yellow silk gown with a voluminous skirt and a wide straw hat trimmed with ribbons and flowers. ‘I beg your pardon.’ She spoke in a high drawling voice. ‘But I haven’t seen you here before. Are you newly arrived from England?’

  ‘I am.’ Georgiana smiled, glad to talk to someone. ‘Just this morning.’

  The woman held her gaze. ‘Then welcome. I am Mrs John Charlesworth. My husband and I live here at the Portland.’

  ‘Georgiana Gregory,’ Georgiana responded. ‘I’m from the east coast of England. Won’t you sit down?’ She indicated the chair nearest to her.

  Mrs Charlesworth sank into the chair and signalled to a bellboy. ‘Your husband, Mrs Gregory? He is presumably on business in New York?’

>   ‘I have no husband, Mrs Charlesworth.’

  ‘Oh!’ Mrs Charlesworth seemed taken aback but recovered enough to order coffee for them both, which Georgiana declined, explaining that she had just had tea. ‘Then you have a companion with you? I saw—’

  ‘My maid, or help as servants appear to be addressed here.’

  ‘Oh, don’t take any notice of that silly nonsense.’ Mrs Charlesworth waved a lazy hand in dismissal. ‘It’s only the clerks and domestics who don’t care to be addressed as servants. But we still call them that! Or at least the ladies do, I’m not sure about the gentlemen.’

  The bellboy brought her coffee and poured it. She took a sip, then asked, ‘So you must be visiting family? Is your home near London? It must have been terrible travelling alone on the ship with all those dreadful religious immigrants?’

  ‘I live a long way from London. The east coast of England,’ Georgiana repeated and knew her voice had grown sharp. ‘And the Mormons, if indeed that is who you mean, travel on separate ships.’

  ‘Well, they don’t stay here, thank goodness,’ Mrs Charlesworth continued. ‘They’ll be off on their trek to Utah, I expect. There are thousands of them, you know, and their leader Brigham Young has just been made a Governor!’

  ‘I know little about them,’ Georgiana replied briskly, ‘except that their faith appears to be genuine.’ She was wondering how she could best make her escape from this woman, when Mrs Charlesworth repeated her question of whether she was visiting family.

  ‘I am not,’ Georgiana replied. ‘I am intending to make a new life for myself in America.’

  Mrs Charlesworth stared at her. ‘But you must have some protection!’ she protested. ‘You won’t realize, coming from a small country, that you will be at the mercy of every racketeer and swindler in town! I will speak to my husband about what must be done.’

  ‘Please don’t, Mrs Charlesworth,’ Georgiana said with as much self-control as she could muster, though she was seething at the audacity of this woman, whom she had only just met, preparing to organize her life. ‘When these dreadful people of whom you speak hear that I have nothing worth stealing, then they will leave me alone and go on to richer pickings.’