Alice Bennet's childhood Part 1

June 1807

“Such a lovely little girl, you are. Did you know,” Mother began, “that the easiest way to tell the difference between a girl and a grown lady is how she wears her hair? A young girl will wear it down while a grown lady will wear it up.”

Alice thought about this and realized that the only time she had seen mother’s hair down was if she was abed.

“Don’t squirm, dear,” her Mother intoned corrected from behind her. Mother maintained a firm grip on her hair so the braided strands would not be lost. “You’ll be free to go in a moment.”

Alice straightened, wishing to be obedient – she would be a lady soon and had to know how to sit still. Six is so close to being a lady, Alice thought. She should most definitely practice while she could as she knew her life would be dramatically different as a grown lady. Now she had James but she knew that would not always be so. She would marry and James would find a career and they would likely only see each other during holidays if travelled was a possibility, just as Mother only saw Aunt Esther during those times.

She knew she was fortunate to have a twin brother who also adored her as she adored him. She could see him, across the room, sitting in the rocking chair that remained in their nursery, his feet not yet long enough to reach the floor, with one of the picture books that had been a gift from their Godfather spread across his lap.

Mother finished braiding her hair into two long plaits on either side of her head. When she looked down at her nightgown front, she could see the ends of the golden colored braids curl upwards. 

Mother turned to return what had been her grandmother’s hair brush to the box stop. Baby Lucy sat on the floor at Alice’s feet, attempting to fit her hand and nightgown sleeve into her mouth, her cheeks pink, a dusting of dark brown hair on her round head. Alice smiled down at her and then mother pulled Lucy into her arms.

“Into bed now, please,” Mother said. “James, please return the book to the shelf.”

James did as he was asked and the twins crawled onto their respective beds, two identically sized beds, another gift from Godfather Pellew, placed right next to each other in the small nursery. James blew out the candle that rest on the small stool between their heads and the room fell dark, illuminated only by the candle in mother’s hand. The flame brightened her face – it was round in shape, her eyes tired but warm. A few strands of hair had slipped out of her mop cap, tight ringlet curls on the back of her neck and a gently swooping curl down the right side of her face.

The light caught Baby Lucy’s attention and she leaned out from Mother’s body to reach for it before Mother moved it further away and her face grew dimmer.

“Goodnight, my loves,” mother smiled, “don’t forget to say your prayers before you fall asleep.”

“Good night, Mother,” Alice and James rejoined in unison.

The door closed gently behind her, leaving Alice and James alone in the near complete darkness, brightened only slightly by the light of the moon coming in from the window. The fireplace had not been lit earlier in the evening because the day had been so warm.

“Alice?” James whispered, only a few feet away.

“Yes, James?”

“I bet Father will be impressed by how much farther I can roll the hoop than you,” James teased.

“He certainly will not. I’ll show him how you play unjustly because your legs are longer than mine are,” Alice rebutted. “And you wouldn’t win if Mother let me wear breeches like you.”

“Father will,” James said with a confidence that came despite how little they saw their father. They fell silent again and began to drift to sleep, having forgotten their prayers.

They were both sleeping soundly, and Baby Lucy had fallen asleep in her cradle, rocked by Mother’s foot, when there was a gentle knock on the front door. Mother hurried to the shawl she had removed earlier, wrapping it around her shoulders to cover her night gown. She opened the door cautiously and relief swept over her features, relaxing her figure greatly, when she recognized her husband in his Naval uniform.

Before she even had the opportunity to say anything, Arthur Bennet dropped his sea bag and swept Anne Bennet into a tight embrace. The ship’s surgeon was home from sea.

April 1808

When Father was home from sea, he left his uniform laying on small chair in the room he shared with Mother. He frequently needed to put it back on to meet with his captain or other commanding officers and underlings while they prepared their ship, the HMS Peacock, for its next voyage.

She and James would often wander into their parents’ bedroom to see it. It was a novelty because it meant Father’s presence and also because it represented his frequent departures. For James, however, it held another significance – his future career. As the son of a well-respected ship’s surgeon and the Godson of Commodore Baronet Edward Pellew, it was all but written into stone that James would follow his father into the Royal Navy.

One afternoon, James was bold enough to reach for the hat that hung from the back of the chair. Alice did not interrupt him, only watched in a kind of stunned amazement at his boldness. He slipped the hat onto his head and it fell forward over his face – his seven-year-old head too small to fit it. A bright grin spread across his face as he looked at Alice. They both chortled at each other before they heard their father’s footsteps in the sitting room and James hurriedly replaced the hat. Alice grabbed James hand and pulled him quickly from the room and down the hall to their nursery.

January 1809

After a day or so of long pains, gradually getting worse – a sign which Mother knew well – the midwife agreed that it was time for Mother to be abed. With care, and a few well-timed prayers, a fourth Bennet child would join them shortly. James, male and too old to sit the birthing room, sat with Lucy, now a wild three-years-old, in the parlor with Betsey, the midwife’s youngest daughter. Alice had been invited to take the honorable task of keeping a cool compress on Mother’s brow throughout.

She sat on the chair that had previously held Father’s uniform during his last visit, now empty, and focused on the task at hand, trying not to worry about all the possible outcomes. Even at a tender eight years, Alice knew that women frequently died during childbirth and that there were just as many sad outcomes for the babe.

Hours went past and Mother’s pains grew worse – the sounds she made to cope with the pain turned from a plaintive whine to a collection of pained gasps and poorly contained grunts. The midwife, Mrs. Bates, checked her and announced her to be very close.

Mother’s eyes were already tired, her golden hair pressed against her forehead where Alice had been placing the compress, but the set of her mouth was determined. Alice marveled at her. Even without the support of a husband and three other children to look after, Mother was determined to never appear weak.

It wasn’t long before everyone was moving very quickly and then there was the piercing cry of a new life entering the world and screaming at the unpleasant sensation of cold air.

Mrs. Bates’ older daughter was sent to fetch clean water and broth. The newborn was looked over quickly – “Another boy!” -  and wrapped in a collection of linens that had been warmed at the fireside.

Mother rested her head on the pillows behind her, a smile across her lips. The new baby, red faced and frustrated, was placed in the crook of her arm where Alice sat.  “Another brother, Alice,” she remarked, “How lovely.”

“Mother, can I name him?” Alice asked, fully believing that her mother would deny her. The midwife chuckled to herself, moving around mother’s legs. Mrs. Bates daughter returned. The baby turned his head in the linen folds, searching for Mother’s milk instinctively.

Mother didn’t answer, Alice thought it must have been because she was determining how to best answer her without making her feel meddlesome. Alice looked up from the baby to see that her mother’s face had fallen slack, her breathing shallow. Mrs. Bates noticed this at the same time. 

“Alice, dear, take the baby and move back further.”

Nervously, but gently, Alice pulled the small bundle of linen into her arms, cradling his head with the corner of her arm like she had seen mother do with Lucy. Mrs. Bates called out to her daughter to find the smelling salts quickly as she moved the pillows from under mother’s head to under mother’s legs.

Alice watched all of this from the corner of the room, unsure what was happening but with the sinking feeling in her stomach that something had gone very wrong. 

She glanced down at the baby, his mouth still searching among the linens. His tiny hand had found its way out of the folds was held close to his cheek and he turned his head towards it. As she watched him, it occurred to her that this tiny, helpless babe was her new brother and she silently welcomed him to the family. She touched his tiny hand and his fingers immediately wrapped around her larger finger. Also silently, she promised to always look out for him.

At that moment, Mrs. Bates heaved a sigh of relief and Alice looked up to see her mother raise her head from the bed, her eyes open, searching the room. “Rest, dear,” Mrs. Bates cautioned her, “You’ve got to make things easier on your body. The babe is fine – your Alice has him.”

She met mother’s eyes from the few short feet away that they were and Mother nodded to Mrs. Bates, signaling that she would be cooperative in resting.

“Alice, take the babe to the sitting room while we get your mother cleaned up,” Mrs. Bates ordered and her daughter offered a hand to help her from the chair, her new brother tucked firmly against her small chest. Alice smiled at the tiny boy as she brought him to meet his new siblings.

Elias would be a fine name if she could get Mother to agree to it.