First Shots.

Frog.

Nap Time.

Blue Dart Frog.

Looking for dinner.

Gorilla.

Hanging out.

Some of my first shots. Enjoy!

Chapter Three

Chapter Three.

Forgive me for all I have done.

I had been situated in Bath no longer than a week before I had decided that my inferior position had accompanied me on the trip. I’d seen little of the town and nothing of the country. Mr Greenwood only once accompanied Mrs Greenwood and I to the pump-room for afternoon tea. I had not really taken to the activity, though Mrs Greenwood constantly reminded me that it was not proper to dismiss one’s duty to society.

‘How will you meet eligible men indoors Miss Mooreson?’ she would admonish, ‘need I remind you that we have kindly brought you here to introduce you to civilised society’.

How did she expect me to enter into such society with my lack of intellect? What was I to say? I already felt the fool in my dowdy gowns whilst beautiful women circulated around the room in their elegant attire. I was sure that I was scorned and pitied by every set of eyes in Bath.

To do this day I can still feel the humiliation of the naive, inept and inexperienced little girl yearning for social acceptance. I knew that I had to establish myself as a respectable and intriguing woman if I were to be accepted into society. I saw only one way to do this. It was no longer a desire to belong but an absolute necessity. I was in turmoil. My loyalty to the Greenwood’s contradicted my need for self-worth. If I truly were to establish myself as an object of desire for possible suitors, I knew that my appearance would have to change. I know that my actions will be judged in the afterlife, but the lord is forgiving. He will see. The lord will see that my actions were justified. If I had not sinned, I could not have flourished. I would not have fulfilled the life plan he crafted for me and I would not have been blessed with my baby Jack. See, it was all for Jack. Everything is always for Jack. Where is he? Where is my baby? If I confess my sins, he will be with me. He will be with me again.

As the second week of my time in Bath began, I found that I could not hide from my inadequacy and made the decision that I would address the problem that very morning before breakfast. I made my excuses- I had told Mrs Greenwood I was feeling unwell and felt the air would help- and hastily made my way towards the town with great anticipation. A delicate mist lay across the streets and an eerie silence hung across the rooftops. The town was devoid of life as its residents reluctantly prepared to face the week ahead. I knew my location, a small boutique I’d spotted on my first visit to the town and headed straight to the door. Excitement, anticipation and fear ran through me. I’d like to say that I considered turning back. Changing my mind and making the right decision. I knew what I needed to do and I had come too far to reconsider. If I were to become the woman I wanted to be, this had to be done. Besides a sin for the good, was surely not a sin at all. Would you condemn a man for taking an extra slice of bread at lunch to feed his starving children? It would be wrong to criticise a woman telling a small lie and taking the blame to save her baby from a beating. I saw my actions as nothing worse than this. I was doing what I had to do to be accepted.

I’d made my choice as soon as I entered the boutique; a small pink satin hat with a white lace trim. Carefully removing the hat from the stand I looked around for observers. The shop was empty and I could not help but think that this was meant to happen. I would be free from accusation, no-one had seen me enter the boutique and besides, who would suppose a vicar’s daughter capable of stealing. For once my position as inferior served me well. I was not well known in Bath but those in my acquaintance knew me as nothing more than the innocent Shoreditch girl, daughter of Vicar Mooreson and ward of the respectable Greenwoods. With the hat concealed in my overcoat, I made my way to the exit foolishly preoccupied in the excitement the escapade instigated. I knew that I had been successful; the hat was mine and with it came so much possibility. Pushing the door just enough to squeeze my petite frame throughout without damaging my prize; I reversed into the street and straight into a nightmare. Turning to apologise to the unknown figure, I noticed the hat lying on the ground soiled by mud.

‘No. You idiot!’ I screamed ‘Look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined everything’.

‘You want to learn to hold your tongue young lady. That is no way to speak to a gentleman’

I was interested in his etiquette lessons. I was close to achieving all I’d ever wanted and it had been cruelly snatched from me. I considered running, crying and screaming but I just stood there. Staring at the ground. At the disappointment. Thinking that I had risked everything and achieved nothing. I wanted to hide away from the world and longed to be back in the security of the vicarage with my father’s arms around me. Everything had changed since my mother became ill. She’d selfishly taken my father from me and it was her doing that had led me to where I was. Anger overflowed inside me. I snatched up the hat from the floor, sighed and began to move in the direction of return to the Greenwood’s.

‘Pity, your father would be so disappointed to think you’re a thief, Christina’ the accuser bellowed after me.

‘How do you…’

I turned to confront my enemy and was greeted by a face I had become too familiarly acquainted with for all the wrong reasons. A face that had appeared in my life at the most critical time and the face that would follow me until the end of my days.

Mr Richard Lay.

The doctor.

The doctor will come. The doctor has taken everything from me. Where is my doctor now? With my mother. My father. Jack. The doctor is with my family. We will all be a family. All of us and the doctor. I will tell them Jack. I will tell them about the doctor.

‘Mr Lay. I didn’t expect to see you here. It’s not what it looks like, I promise’ I pleaded.

‘Really Christina? Because it appears that you have not paid for that hat’

‘I.. I. Oh please don’t tell my father Mr Lay. I didn’t mean any harm by it’

‘Mr Mooreson really should hear about this Christina. It is wrong to steal’ Mr Lay preached.

‘I know. I will never do it again. Please. I will do anything you ask, just don’t tell my father’.

Mr Lay looked at me inquisitively. It seemed he was enjoying watching me plead for his help. I was desperate, afraid and consequently vulnerable. With his thumb and index finger, the doctor smoothed over his moustache in a repetitive motion. After some time of silence and thought, he reached into his pocket, withdrew two papers and handed them to me.

‘Follow these instructions precisely’ Mr Lay began

‘You are to go back into this boutique and pay for the hat you have taken. Tell the owner that Doctor Richard Lay has a patient that desired the hat and ordered it for delivery. You, being a helpful and kind young lady agreed to collect and return the hat with the understanding it had been paid for. Upon return, you met with me and I informed you my patient is currently suffering with memory loss and the hat had not in fact been paid for. Therefore you have returned to pay the full cost.’

I felt so indebted to him for his understanding. It was difficult to believe that he cared about my reputation. As I reached the door, I turned just in time to see Mr Lay clearing his throat and adding one final request to his speech

‘Oh and Christina… buy yourself another hat. It would be a shame to waste all your effort. Besides I am sure you will look very pretty in one’ before heading off downtown in the direction of the Pump-room.

What did he mean by complimenting me? Was it possible that any man was that agreeable? I had not experienced this side of Mr Lay before. The only attention I’d previously received resulted in a beating from my father. I followed his instructions precisely, returning the original hat and money and selecting a blue replacement for myself to wear to tea that afternoon. When Mrs Greenwood questioned me on where I had found the money to purchase the hat, I simply replied ‘a gentleman brought it for me Mrs Greenwood’, for even she could not argue with that. I wore the hat to tea, to the Pump-room, on city walks and even on occasion to church. Mr Lay had given me the confidence and means I needed to become a true gentle woman in Bath.

I had not considered what Richard’s attendance in Bath had meant for my family. For a while I had forgotten that he had been charged with the care of my mother whilst she was unwell. It was not until my return to the vicarage that I heard of the death of my mother whilst I was away. Richard would have known, of course, yet his egotistic nature had not felt I needed to know this. For twenty years he would not accept that this act was cruel and inconsiderate. To allow me to continue in Bath with no knowledge of the loss of my mother. To sit back and watch me indulge in dances and galas whilst my father was at home alone overcome with grief. He would argue that he was protecting me from the pain. I know this was not the case. Now I know it was for his own selfish needs. For how could he seize my attention and ensnare me if I were engaged elsewhere? I will never forgive him for his heartless conquest.

It had been a week since my encounter with Mr Lay at the hat boutique and my affection for him had grown from mild interest to almost obsession. I would constantly ask if anyone had heard from or seen him around Bath and when I had heard there was a possibility he had retired from his lodgings in Bath to return to work, I admit I felt disappointed and abandoned. I longed so very much to see him, even just once and on my final scheduled night in Bath, my desire came true. I was saddened that my time in society had come to an end and on this particular night had not felt that attending the gala at the great halls was of much interest. Mrs Greenwood, however, insisted that we attend one final time to ‘wish our acquaintances good health’. I selected my finest gown, a white velvet evening gown with a lace trim, and made a particular effort to tie my hair with my favourite silk ribbons. Mrs Greenwood said that I looked ‘quite a beauty’, though I felt rather the opposite. Upon entering the gala hall I immediately spotted Mr Lay across the room dressed in a black silk waistcoat and accompanying blazer. I was overwhelmed with how handsome he looked and forgetting all polite manner, hastily made my way across the room in his direction. I did not know what I would say when I arrived by his side; in fact, I fear I did not mind if we stood there in silence. As I approached Mr Lay and his companion appeared to be talking excitedly and just seconds before I had anticipated that we would be reunited, Mr Lay turned around and smiled in my direction resulting in a nervous outbreak of nausea. I returned the smile and continued in his direction just as a petite blonde woman took him by the arm and delicately kissed him on the cheek. Mr Lay, now occupied by some other woman immediately turned to return the affection and taking her by the hand led the way to the dance floor. I could not understand the meaning of the slight. Had he forgotten our encounter the previous week and what was the meaning of his secrecy? Not a word had been heard about his engagement to this mysterious woman. I would not be ignored. I would not be replaced by some whore. I would make it known to Richard and to everybody in attendance that I was a respectable young lady and I did not deserve to be disregarded. Richard would see that he had made the wrong decision in refusing me. 

Chapter Two

Chapter Two.

I do believe I have lost my mind.

The doctor attended to my mother daily for the next two weeks. Though regular, his visits were always short and my presence in the household was rarely acknowledged. My fondness for Mr Lay’s professional countenance and playfully bad-mannered ignorance to my existence drew me to him in exciting new ways. I’d mistakenly taken his arrogance for flirtation and I began to wait in great anticipation for his visits despite their morbid nature. I had been tempted by the desires of the flesh.

My dear readers, I ask you watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak. The lord warns us so. It is too late for me to follow these wise verses, but it is not for you. Be not tempted by those serpents around you. Trust no-one but yourself. Rather, trust no-one. I have learnt not to even trust my own judgement.

My mother’s health deteriorated quickly and in that tragedy I felt another, more heart-breaking loss take form. My father, weary from the hardship of caring for my mother, began to follow in suit. I began to notice in him a sadness so destroying that not just his body, but his soul seemed to darken. Prayer had ceased as though it was pointless activity. Conversation was limited to a series of monotonous topics and my father began to spend extended periods of time in his study yearning for answers. The solitude drove me to take refuge in books and private study and it was here that my interest in science and biology began, much to my father’s dislike. As a man of God I could see the possibility of my future taking a medical route over a religious path pained him terribly.

By the time my sixteenth birthday arrived, I was so distanced from my parents that I spent most of the day in solitude in my chamber.  I’d not asked for anything from my parents for the occasion. It felt selfish to demand material luxuries when my mother was plagued with depression. I had in my possession a single letter that had arrived during the early hours of the afternoon in a seemingly mysterious fashion. I had not seen the manner in which the note had arrived and its external appearance offered no clue to its creator. The name, Miss C Mooreson, was written in a strictly clinical hand and I struggled to find any explanation for the presence of the letter at all.  In great anticipation, I tore open the document and read aloud to the unoccupied drawing room:

Miss Catherine Mooreson,

It has been brought to my attention that you are now of age to be introduced to society yet you appear to have no means or intention to do so in the present future.

In discussion with my dear Mrs Landley during church the week previous, we have both been guided to a unanimous conclusion; that you must accompany us to Bath for the season to announce your position in society.

You will take rooms with Mr Greenwood and I for a period of four complete weeks while my husband regains his health at the direction of his doctor.

A young girl in your position and sadly downcast situation can surely find no reason to object to our offer.

A coach will collect you from the vicarage in two days unless otherwise directed.

Yours expectantly

Mrs Georgina Greenwood

Although my father voiced much objection to the adventure even he, in his archaic ways, could not deny the benefits of the opportunity. The possibility the journey held outweighed any doubt my father may have held about my safety on the venture or concern behind the motive of the mysterious ladies of the congregation. It had been apparent to my father that my recent solitude had become the talk of the village and he had not shied away from the responsibility of my abandonment. I did not blame him for his distance from me, as on many occasion he had stated that I was ‘too alike my mother’ and as she gradually lost herself to depression my presence around my father was almost too much for him to handle. I believe it was this animosity that had provided my gateway to Bath and harmoniously to my ruin.

Two days following my sixteenth birthday the carriage arrived as promised. I was greeted with an overwhelming warmth and geniality; it seemed there was nothing the Greenwood’s would not do to assure my comfort on the journey. A young, tall and smartly dressed fellow jumped down from the carriage under the direction of Mr Greenwood. He was a handsome boy, no older than 18 years of age with dark hair and olive skin; the prospect of his company excited me and seemed only to enhance my eagerness to leave the vicarage and begin the passage to Bath. The nameless boy collected my cases, loaded the carriage and reclaimed his seat next to the elderly driver before Mrs Greenwood gestured for me to join her inside.

‘Come dear, we have a long journey and not long to do it’.

I was eager to please and for the first time since their arrival spoke directly to my benefactor.

‘Of course Mrs Greenwood’ I replied, with my eyes still fixed to the youth.

‘Well quickly girl. Pay little attention to Robert dear, there are far more appropriate suitors in Bath. He is a mere coach boy. Oh, Mr Greenwood; please, we really must make haste’.

Mrs Greenwood removed a small mirror from her purse and began to modify the position of her hat with great precision. I’d never been one for fashion, but the extravagance of this particular hat had caught my attention. Laced with pink satin and complimented by a single feather of a peacock; I still believe now it is the finest crafted hat I have ever laid eyes upon.

I am sure, by now, you wonder why I ponder on such material things as an elderly ladies hat. It is, you see, the admiration of this singular hat that led to my own hunger for the finer and more material things in life and consequently grew into jealousy towards any woman more established and prosperous than myself; there was no better place to feed this jealously than amongst the reputable ladies of Bath. Another lesson for you readers, jealousy will destroy your soul. It is James, a servant of our lord that teaches us that where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice. The lord speaks true.

As I boarded the coach my father approached from the vicarage carrying with him a small antique oaken box. His frail and skeletal frame offered him no support on his crossing to the vehicle and I found myself embarrassed by the reaction his appearance caused. Without hesitation, I climbed from the carriage, took hold of my father’s arm and guided him back to the doorway. He showed no resistance to my control and simple slid the box into my hand before releasing my grip and returning to the vicarage of his own accord.

Relieved I returned to the carriage. A silence that was so sorely uncomfortable lingered over the coach and any previous desire to be inside of it began to convert to dread.

After what seemed an age, Mr Greenwood finally spoke up:

‘Shall we?’ he proposed and with that the coach was in motion and travelling hastily away from the vicarage.

‘We will never reach Bath before dark now. I did so long to see Mrs Gardner this evening’.

Mrs Greenwood delivered her reply with a coldness I was yet to experience from her. It was clear to all involved that her sharpness had risen from her impatience with my father, if not from the sudden development of the agitation, the piercing stare in my direction that had accompanied the utterance could not be ignored. Particularly not by Mr Greenwood and whether in my defence or his own desire for peace, he did not hesitate in his retort.

‘Oh, do stop blabbering Mrs Greenwood, you may very well see her in the morning. Besides, I am sure Miss Mooreson is in no fit state to attend to company tonight. I would not be so opposed the rest and quiet myself’.

The remainder of the journey was spent in complete silence. Mrs Greenwood plainly refused to acknowledge the presence of her husband and in return he appeared to enjoy the solitude. Having no other interest (for the light of day had disappeared and the coach window offered no image to admire) I had taken out my father’s parting gift and having unlocked the box, revealed a small, red-leather-bound copy of the Holy Book. The book was old and delicate with pages of verse tumbling out alongside every page I drearily turned. I had felt a fatigue begin to conquer my body and as I slipped into a thoughtless sleep, my eyes rested on one single verse that lingered in view.

The daughter of any priest, if she profane herself by playing the whore, she profaneth her father: she shall be burnt with fire.