Pakenham History : Joseph Alfred Hardcastle MP And Nether Hall

Part 3 - Winifred Hardcastle

6
Winifred Hardcastle's Diary, 1867

21 April 1867
Papa has made his speech on church rates and it will go into committee 6 May; and if Papa gets it thro', why I suppose it will be both honour, merit and luck.(50) And last not least, we are all learning German. A German lady, Miss Knipping (commonly called Fraülein), with a face like this [drawing] something only much younger and messier, but quite as round. As the object of my life until I find another is to improve my mind, I am glad of this and work tolerably hard when I have opportunity. Oh dear, I wish I knew more than I do.

(50)Winifred Hardcastle's Diary, National Library of Ireland, 21694/1.

27 April 1867
Evening Nether Hall. Went a delicious ride with Papa. I desire to be thankful for the privilege of being able to add a drop or two in that cup of my very dear father's life which contains his happiness.

15 May 1867
Writtle. Oh this is different to Pakenham. How my father loves being there and hates being here. Whether he seriously contemplates us now going there for good I do not know, or when or how, but he said something like that tonight after dinner; but whether this thought, that it would have been much nicer if these beautiful room and staircase had not been made here, comes or not, of this I am glad that, for now and henceforward, I know that my father will have a constant amusement, digression and change in remaking Nether Hall.

Winifred Hardcastle aged 7 - July 1854

26 May 1867, 4 Chesham Street(51)
My anticipations were right. In a long walk my father and I took, when we were staying at the Oaks, he asked me how I should like the business at Writtle to be given to –– (I will supply the name when it does not matter people knowing) and for us all to go for good to Nether Hall.(52) I said I should like it entirely, -- 's wife being the only person to whom I should not grudge Writtle; and indeed how could I grudge it to her whom I love so very much?

(51) Henry and Maria Hardcastle lived at 4 Chesham Street, Knightsbridge, very close to 7 Lowndes Street, the house belonging to Peter Frederic O'Malley, Winifred O'Malley's future father-in-law.
(52) Her brother-in-law, Thomas Usborne.

Well it does not take many words to say this but somehow it takes many thoughts thinking about it, but deciding; for I have nothing to do with that, but my thoughts will recur to it. As to business (I mean the brewery), Papa's income, the expenses which have always been laid out on us, I will say nothing here or indeed anywhere until it matters not who knows it; but, if ever this happens, it will be an event in our lives. Perhaps in a worldly sense it will be better, for really it is a far better situation and perhaps the county people will not snub us as I always fancy they do in Essex; but, however better it will be in the end (and I firmly believe it will be better), still it will be a wrench to leave the home and the place where I best remember my mother.

Sunday 2 June 1867, 4 Chesham Street
A very important event happened this evening. I sprinkled on Henry's head, when he was sitting on the balcony with Papa, some water out of my large sponge, and there was much too much in it, so it made him quite wet and broke up their pleasant evening. I do not think this joke much matters, but I would not offend Henry for the world, when he is so kind as to let me stay with him; but what makes me so sorry was Papa was really very grieved and angry. Now I really do think it was rather a small thing, and so simply done only in fun, that Papa need not have been so grieved, but he was and I don't know what it is to feel so anxious as he does during this change about things; but what he said this evening in his scolding, something about 'always scolding me'.

I know I scolded him yesterday and before when he was in the depths of despair, literally wishing he could die, just because the arrangement he was making had received a rebuff from the father of the person concerned; but we all said, how could he tell it would last. To be sure it was serious, but why wish he was dead? Yes, actually, literally wish he were dead with us three depending on him too. And so I scolded, but this I say in God's light:  I know I was wrong to scold. Who am I that I should scold my gentle father, and father too? I once almost got over this before and now, now, here I fell into it again. But I can and will will will will will not ever again. So help me God! Amen.

4 June 1867, 4 Chesham Street
Ascot Day
I cannot write much and hate writing so. What good do my wretched ideas do, resolved into intensity by writing? But I want to remember this evening when I talked with Henry after dinner about Writtle and us and things. Being here makes me feel what I was when I was young, brings up on the bad side: the arguing and quarrelling and rudeness etc, etc and on the good side the [unclear].

12 June 1867
This is my life. I practise every morning, then I write till lunch (sometimes as a great treat read). Then after lunch go in the carriage somewhere, calls or flower shows and pictures and concerts or something; and in the evening feel very much disappointed, we have so few invitations to dinner or houses; for that is what I hate. The hankering to go out.

June 1867
We generally have people sit and stare at us in churches and such places. I can quite understand staring at Mary and Emily, but staring at me I cannot and don't. As Miss Pyman says, I look bright and intelligent, but I am not handsome. I wish I was so long as it did not bring faults with it.(53)

(53) Mary Pyman was the Hardcastle children's governess

20 August 1867 before trip
During all that week Miss Pyman and Marie were at Writtle packing up all useful things to bring with us here, and other things to go to Nether Hall, for Alice and Thomas are settled at Writtle, Thomas having begun managing the business, not yet being a partner but, if he chooses, to become one in a year.(54)

Mary (Monkswell) 3rd daughter of Joseph Alfred Hardcastle
by John Collier, 1874

A great revolution has been at Writtle: hardly one person connected with us or the brewery but has been affected. Mrs Mason, Anne, William (footman) and Eliza have gone away. Poor old Mrs Mason!(55)Callingham is to remain at Nether Hall until we return.(56) John is to have a public house as soon as Thomas can find one for him. Clark is Thomas's coachman. Parnell with a man and boy under him are in the garden. The vicarage garden is given back to the Stacpooles, and all the cows, pigs and poultry at the farm given up; two or three cows only being kept under Parnell's care. Little Alfred (foolish as it may appear, I do pray God to keep that boy from sin and make him a useful and, above all, a Christian man) has a place at the brewery: gate-keeper to put down the name of everyone who comes out or in; and old Cameron is dismissed. Moss has the care of the brewery horses. Old Mr Jones has disgracefully given up his place to Acheson, a man of Mr Usborne's from Cork. Palmer is sent away. Williams and Woodward are the only other clerks, and Mr Brown has come out one of the best men in the whole business. He seems to have done his own work well and other people's besides. Old Mrs Ayton has all responsibility taken away from her, Alice taking all the poor people and sending over necessaries for Mrs Ayton only when she wants them.(57)

I may just add that money has been for years and still is in a very bad way. But if we pull through this year, we may be all right again in a year or two; but probably Chesham Street will have to be let next season. We shall probably remain abroad two winters. We must probably do so. Well so we left England on 24 August and crossed from London to Rotterdam.(58)

(54) Marie Dailly was Winifred Hardcastle's lady's maid.
(55) Mary Mason, the Hardcastles' cook at Writtle.
(56) Elizabeth Callingham became Mary Hardcastle's long-term lady's maid.
(57) Maryanne Ayton had been Joseph Alfred Hardcastle's nurse as a child.
(58) She was away, with her sisters Mary and Emily, in Saxony and Switzerland until July 1868.

Winifred Hardcastle's Room at Writtle

November 1867
Now for my room.(59)
First the carpet I know: very shabby, the one that was there when Mama had the room; the only original one in the house, grey ground with red diamonds on it. But even now I don't quite remember the paper, my own choice last year in Eaton Square, a pink on a white shiny ground, with a border, a swirl of red and white card; and the border only went round the top of the room, not over the doors. The paper looked very hazy, unless one saw it close, and was very effective. The curtains to the west window were white dimity touching the ground and looped up on a dark-brown curtain-pole and rings very difficult to pull; a white blind; a sash window divided into four with a very queer fastening, a piece of brass which shut up or down on the lower sash, and when down had another piece of brass fastening pushed over it into a groove the other side to keep it fastened. But that will probably always be there, now Papa will no longer, as he so often said he would, renovate all the front windows of the house. A white muslin blind on a brass rod and a sill about six inches broad, also painted, last spring year (1866), a brighter sort of yellow than formerly.

(59) Description of her room, written from memory while in Dresden, in her diary and dated 'November 1867'.

The other window (south) was made when we were at Cromer in 1864 (I think) or else in the spring when we were in Harley Street. I know it was soon after Alice was married. First, the curtains only came just below the window sill and were caught back with a loop. Always the first thing I saw in the morning was Ann fastening those curtains back. It was not a sash window, but this shape, the two lower parts only opening.(60) It too had a white blind and a brown curtain-rod.

(60) Four rectangles inside one upright rectangle drawn in diary.

Then the fire-place. The mantelpiece was of brown composition and an oval stove, black with an ornamental patent chimney door, up which the fire used to roar so brightly of a winter night. Oh how often I have seen it, when I have come to bed in the winter, roaring and sucking up the chimney. It was such a good stove. However, the fender was very narrow and the fire-irons had to be crossed one beyond the other. The hearthrug for many years was one of patchwork, made by Mrs Marden, which Alice and I in a fit of generosity bought for five shillings about ten years ago now. However, for the last two years that has been on its last legs in the servants' hall, so instead there was a very warm-feeling full rug, grey and a dull red, the pattern I forget. I always had the same coal scuttle and scoop, remarkable for both being so square. The end of the coal scuttle was this shape,(61) the scoop was also square and lived either in the scuttle or in the corner, which was rather black in consequence.

(61) Drawn.

That the room had been papered and painted, when we were in Eaton Square, I think I have already said. Now the things that stood in the mantelpiece. Two candlesticks, white china, with a little pattern of pink on them (bought by me at Mr Lockett's) stood at each end. In the middle, under the glass case, which originally contained a little filigree work cannon, was a little brazen woman, really a match-holder, at least the tub which stood by her was and at her feet, to take the matches in. Behind the candles stood against the wall two Japanese leaf screens (bought by Miss Pyman and me for a shilling each in London about the year 1865), with the picture of a Japan man on one and a Japan lady on the other. They had very strong handles, like bamboo, the stalk of the plant. Between the middle ornament and candle next the door was my and Emily's clock (bought at Stradlings at Marlow for 7s. 6d., August 1864), but it has not gone for the last year or more. The other side of the centre area stood the matchbox, which is like my powder box and tooth powder box (now broken and gone). Behind all these things stood six photographs. One of Miss Herbert originally taken at the Writtle fair years ago and since made carte de visite;(62) one of Aunt Priscilla with her head on her elbow, reading;(63) another of her sitting in a dress in long sleeves, taken about ten years ago; and two of old Cesar taken at Cromer; and one taken from a picture of our great grandmother, which Aunt Haldane had given Papa, I think.(64)

(62) Harriet Herbert had been the Hardcastle children's governess before Mary Pyman.
(63) Priscilla Hardcastle (1833-1920), née Hoare, the wife of Edward Hardcastle, Winifred Hardcastle's step-uncle.
(64) Emma Haldane (1800-1867), the youngest daughter of Joseph Alfred Hardcastle's grandfather, married to the leading Evangelical journalist and lawyer, Alexander Haldane (1880-1882)

Now for my pictures. Over the mantelpiece was a water-colour of Maria's (given to me when in Chesham Street this year), done at Rome from a copy of Mr Hare's: sheep in a pit in the Campagna, Rome in the distance. It is an oval picture but a square frame. Over the bookcase to the left of the door (coming in) were two photos (one belonging to Alice) of Henry with the Harrow eleven and in some Cambridge eleven. Over my chair, which stood between the little square table and the fireplace, was a photo of Grandpapa Fletcher in one of Radley's wooden frames.(65) Over my bed were two photos belonging to Alice, one of Guido's Saviour bearing His cross, the other Mary Magdalene at the cross, also by Guido. I fancy over the other bed was a water-colour, very badly done, by Freddie Mast, of a road going up to a cottage and a log of wood on it. That was on the side wall. Over the head of the bed was a photo of the New Court of Trinity College, Cambridge, which Henry gave either to me or Alice, but really I can't remember. (I think me though.) Then over the wash-handstand were four pictures arranged thus.(66)
No. 1 is a corresponding photo to above of Madonna alla Sedia. Nos 2 and 3 are photos taken by Mr Charles, son of Mr Edmund Buxton of Daresbury, Lancashire, and given to Mary and me at Manchester when we were there in 1865. There are two scenes in India, very beautiful photos. No. 4 is a bad photo of Thomas, taken when at Harrow, with a pug dog in his lap. (I hear that Alice has made my room her spare room, with a large bed facing the new window.) All these pictures are in narrow gilt frames.

For many months over my basin was stuck a list of German irregular verbs; but, as I never looked at them, they never did me any good. Now I think I have mentioned every fixture. Now for the furniture. There were two beds (in both of which I was popularly believed to have slept). One stood with the head against the closet, and was the one on which I did really sleep, and the other with the head in the corner.

I forgot in speaking of the pictures to mention the cupboard. It was made when Miss Herbert came (1857); that is had the door made, as always before white dimity curtains were hung before it. The door was deal, varnished, with a lock and key, no handle. Inside were two shelves, one near the bottom for boots and one near the top for boxes etc, on which an eau de Cologne bottle which Mr Freeman gave Alice and me when we to Paris at Easter lived for many years,(67) beside a great number of mysterious boxes into the mysteries of which I never inquired, as the cupboard was seldom opened since the position of the bed was changed in, I think, 1864, the year we went to Harley Street. There were pegs also to hang dresses.

(65) The Reverend Alexander Fletcher (1787-1860), the second husband of Frances Hardcastle's mother, Martha Lambirth, née English.
(66) Drawing of four pictures arranged north, east west and south.
(67) Francis Freeman, described in her by Winifred Hardcastle as 'a dear and trusted friend', Winifred Hardcastle's diary, 30 November 1868.

The bedstead I slept in and the other were exactly alike, of black iron with a head but no foot. My bed had a white counterpane over it, but the other a crochet one lined with pink-glazed calico. It had been made by a poor lame boy in Writtle. And next the door, on the left hand directly one came in, was a brown wood table with two flaps which hung down and a drawer which opened near the fire-place and never would open far without pulling the table out. It was always a rubbish drawer and used to contain old Valentine's letters, bits of paper and string and scores of useless things.

On the back against the wall my dressing case, which belonged first to Papa's mother then to Alice, then to me.(68) It contained some trifling jewelry and a few little things. On its right was a large, shallow, square box with a lovely picture of Como, I think, which contained sashes, ties, ribbons of all descriptions. On the left stood a white wood box containing white gloves. Under the table generally stood the red bonnet box, containing bonnets etc.

(68) Joseph Alfred Hardcastle's mother was Anne Cobb Hardcastle, née Hurry (1789-1815).

In the corner, between the table and wall, was a wicker high basket for dirty linen, made at my special request about the year 1860 by Ambrose down the yard. It had pink let in. The children also had one like it. On the other side of the fire-place was my favourite chair, where I always sat and read in the evening over the fire. Oh how comfortable that was! I also had a cushion-holder,(69) which Sophia once made me, just where my head went. The chair, like the other three in the room, was cane, the back and legs of round pieces of wood joined so.(70)

(69) Uncertain word.
(70) Drawn.

Winifred's Diary

Between the chair and my table was a small square one about a foot square on four legs, with a deep drawer which I always kept locked. It contained old manuscript books etc of Alice's and mine, and some old letters in a small division. It contained the two predecessors of this book. The table had two white dimity clothes bought for it by me and marked ‘Miss H.'s Room' very neatly. On it stood my dressing case and watch case too sometimes. My handkerchiefs, watch etc always slept there at night. Then my soft white comfortable bed, which needs, indeed could hardly have, description, so like is it to other beds.

Before the south window stood a small table with very awkward legs, so that it was never comfortable to sit at. It was of light mahogany, very much bleached by the sun and opened, at least shut up, in the middle. On it stood an inkstand which never contained ink, the bottles stood so unsafely in the stand. It was Mama's old inkstand and she always liked it so much. I don't think anything else usually stood on the table.

Then came the other bed in which Alice used to sleep and in which lady visitors (when intimate friends) were also allowed to sleep. It usually had a crochet counterpane with pink calico under on it. Then stood another chair, and, back to the west window, the toilette table of mahogany and a very nice one. There was a glass which stood on an erection containing three small drawers. The one on the right held pocket handkerchiefs; the middle one, since I went into mourning, my coloured jewelry in cotton wool; and the left one odds and ends: my leather purse, cards, homeopathic bottles etc, etc. All this stood on a table containing three drawers: that to the right brushes and combs (in Alice's time ornaments, little boxes etc.); middle drawer my gloves; left drawer my brushes and combs. There was an old music stool, with green worsted work covered, on which we always sat and it turned round very conveniently. In front of the table was a piece of India matting laid down, as Marie had quite worn the carpet away doing our hair. The back to it was also mahogany, with a marble slab and back.

The pattern of the earthenware was blue and white, and the jugs were large at the top. One of them had a chip in it which cut the third finger of my right hand when I was in the Saturday night bath about the year 1857, when I was eight. There were round marble slabs underneath, which were both quite discoloured pinkish because Pepper's saucer was always standing there.(71) A variety of bottles always stood in the corner, glycerine, etc, etc, and principally a bottle of my gargle. The wash-handstand is spotted with green from the splashes off it when being used by me.

(71) Pepper remained a favourite Hardcastle and O'Malley name for dogs. Winifred O'Malley's sister, Emily Graham (1852-1933) also had at least one dog called Pepper.

Then came the door in the dressing-room, which was made before the other way when we were in London 1866. Then stood a large mahogany wardrobe, which I need not describe. There were five drawers in it. The bottom contained white petticoats and such like. Next a linen drawer. Next a drawer which used to contain our outdoor things, and also which Pepper always jumped up when she heard it opened, but latterly all sorts: muffs, things to give away, woollen covers and wraps, and hats. Next all the nice mantles, jackets, cloaks and, I think, occasional dresses not used much. Next sleeves, Garibaldis, blouses and starched things. The two hanging places on both sides contained dresses.

Now I think I have described my room in everything except the books in the bookcase. Well, my favourites were never there, except religious ones and a few others. There were Ann Pratt, 3 vols; Footsteps of Nature (I think); a Botany by MacGillavery, Withering's Flowers of the Field; John's French and Herbert's Poems; In Memoriam; Keble; my old Bible; my, I may almost call it, old Bible-and-Prayerbook; Hymns for a Week and various other books.

Now I think I have entirely finished my room. I could say a great deal about what has been done and said but principally thought and felt in it, but I shall never forget that, at least not more than I forget anything else; and indeed I should be at a loss to write anything under that head again. Most of what has been written in my two former journal books was thought and written there. So goodbye to the tangible form and appearance and look, but I am ready to say goodbye. The only thought which will trouble, and which will always I expect whenever I have occasion to look back, is, 'Might I not have thought and said and done better things?' O God, give me grace that when, at the end of life, I look back on the world and its things as my old room, although I must feel this, owing to the infirmity of my flesh, I may not feel great grief in the thought. Now is the day. Now let me be up and doing and work.

***

7
Winifred Hardcastle's Diary, 1868

Thursday 26 March 1868
The first real taste of business in my life.  I had a letter from Mr Blood this morning telling me what my property is, which I shall come into when twenty-one, and telling me the principal thing to be then decided about it: viz whether what is now in the brewery shall remain there or not. It seems to me I shall have about £10,000 real property i.e. brewery; £7500 personal property, besides almost £1000 a year from the profits of the brewery. Well, whatever I have I know what I mean to do as soon as I have any amount to act with it exactly as I like: re-establish and continue our old school at Writtle in memory of our mother.

19 June 1868
Anniversary. Dust to dust.(72)   

(72) Winifred's mother, Frances Hardcastle, died on 14 June 1865. Her funeral, at Writtle, was on 19 June 1865

29 September 1868, Michaelmas Day
Nether Hall. On Sunday night came the blow at dinner. Well, I shan't forget what he said or how he said it. Monday was one of the most miserable days I ever spent in all my life. I stopped in bed to breakfast to add to my comforts with an awful cold; and concocted a letter to Mr Blood about the furniture; one to Papa (enclosed), which I never sent because misery no. 2 occurred, which was I had to put him into a rage because he wanted to go away and leave the Herschels as usual; but I am glad to say I succeeded, although I spoilt the good I did by being very disrespectful. I had reason for it, if ever one has reason for doing wrong, which one has never. Then misery no. 3 was Mary saying such an unkind thing to Alice and I flew into a passion with her and called oh such wrong hard names because she would not tell Alice she was sorry when she knew her [unclear word]-like words were making her cry so bitterly. This was all too much for for me, so I went up into the attic and confided my sorrow and sin in the ears of Him who hears.

8 October 1868
Nether Hall. Day after the Bury ball, famous for my carry on in a great flirtation with Edward O'Malley. Whether it will come to anything more or not I cannot tell. We are settling down.

24 October 1868
I must someday give an account of how the money matters go on. They are at present most confused. I can hardly explain the different factions. There are three sides. Uncle Edward's,(73) looking with a bright face on our prospects and sticking firmly to the opinion that I should have more than £11,500 for my share and that Thomas Usborne is a cormorant! Papa's that first before mentioning the matter he/you shall get so unbearably cross that you seem in your own eyes the hardest heart and also entirely wrong-headed; and then you should think nothing at all about it, or at any rate with next to no facts, and spend away on whatever you fancy you want, shutting your eyes to where it can come from; then the Henry and Thomas faction, gloomy and anxious, the first, honest, trusting in Thomas; the other – ah what? Time will shew. I won't say now for Alice's sake, whom I do and always shall love.

(73) Edward Hardcastle, a businessman and later MP, was Winifred's strong supporter.

I don't often write in this now. I hardly know why. We are settled down now but with the awful end hanging over my head of some day having another indefinite abroad. I wrote to Mr Blood the other day saying how much work was being employed here and wishing to be told if we were entering into the jaws of sin, in order to enter that Hades with my eyes open. He wrote back today 'under no circumstances whatever' was Papa justified in spending so much money now.

9 November 1868
I have always so much to say now that I wish to and I don't know whether I shall write in this book every night. I have a great deal to say about my business; and my affairs only seem to be in consideration. The only person whose advice I can follow is Uncle Edward's. Altho' I love Henry very much, and think and feel he means well, I don't think he is very, very clever. Papa will not think or do or say.

The great question is: is my share of the brewery property to remain a fifth share of that concern or is it to be bought out by the unfortunate Henry (borrowing £6000 for mine and intending to do the same for Mary's and Emily's) and the avaricious Thomas at £11,500 or £12,000? I won't sell. That is my present determination. However, we shall see what I do do. Then is my personal property £8000 to be invested in the floating capital of the brewery (Papa retiring and taking that amount out to help to pay his debts) and I receive one-fifth of the profits? Or is it to remain as it is – invested in mortgages and so forth? Time will show.

Sunday 9 November 1868
I had a talk with Papa this evening and wished to show him a letter of Henry's, which Henry had written to Uncle Edward in answer to a long one. Papa would not look at it; and, when Igot on to the subject of the sale of my share, he recommended me, just the same as Uncle Edward, not to sell. It seems to us all so unfair on Mary and Emily, if the brewery very much improves and we can become partners; and such a privation that we should not. But Thomas is a cormorant and I don't trust him a bit.

Tuesday 10 November 1868
Marie has just GIVEN ME WARNING. There are not many people whom I have known from my nearly first recollections so continuously as her. I think only Papa and my sisters, and yet now she, because I scolded her this morning for not speaking nicely to me (God knows she does not, and, if I am right, I have asked Him), and because she might get more wages and I don't give her any old clothes, is going.
Papa is now in the time of great need in business for final decision and wise action on my part. He is not my adviser, almost the opposer of my interests, and has shown himself, God forgive for saying it, not all one could wish in industry and force of purpose and many other things. My brother's interests are opposed to mine as it would appear by his account, and he is, instead of being my adviser and guardian, almost my opposer. And what is Alice? All I can say is the constant companion and bright sister of my childhood recollection has been the same in all this trouble as if no one had stood in her place.
Who is here now going to yield good fruit when I shall go to pluck the vintage of friendship of those oldest and nearest? I have mentioned only Mary and Emily, untried children at present.

Uncle Edward wrote to Papa today enclosing a copy of a letter to Henry, reiterating what he has stuck to about us from the very beginning – that I need not sell at present. Wait for five years; then, if we choose to enter partnership together, we can get profits as well as interest. He perseveres in saying to me 'Don't sell'.

Winifred Hardcastle

13 November 1868
The eve of my twenty-first birthday.(74) I had a short note from Uncle Edward returning the long letter from Mr Blood in answer to my question. 'What will happen if I refuse to sell?' Only reiterating his words to which he has stuck without once moving all the whole way through. It is not fair to Mary and Emily, much less to myself, to give up all possible share in the brewery, which we will have a perfect right to claim. I have not claimed it yet but I am quite ready to. Henry comes tomorrow or Monday (for the nomination). I wonder what he will say. Poor wretch. Fancy his borrowing in five years straight on end £18,000, and for next to nothing for himself and great detriment to us.

(74) Winifred Hardcastle was born on 14 November 1847 in Margaretting, Essex.

14 November 1868    
And not even mentioned; come and gone. Winifred aged twenty-one. Able now to do a great harm, an indifferent harm, or great good with regard to the settlement of my brewery share. Shall I, as Papa says, 'Sell and leave me with £750 a year maximum to live upon instead of £750 and £1500'; or shall I, as Henry says, 'Put me soon out of such anxious suspense and close the bargain which having been taken for granted for so long will probably be the accepted one'; which is not quite true, as no one could form any conclusive judgement till the profits of the year were clearly known, and then let Henry involve on himself that great debt. Or shall I, as Uncle Edward says, receive the rents until Emily is twenty-one; then, all together, claim shares in the brewery and receive in total about £1500 a year a piece instead of £800 or £900, allowing of course a certain sum for the maintenance of Nether Hall, not so very infra dig for Papa after all? However, a meeting is going to be held between Uncle Edward, Papa, Mr Blood and me when matters will be probably brought to a close.

Wednesday 18 November
Yesterday Papa was (pretty) triumphantly returned second at the poll. Mr Greene being 714; Papa 699; Mr Bunbury 590. All these numbers are a few below the result at the close. We were in Bury at Mr Smith's house for the nomination and election. The crowd was tame on Monday and rather drunk on Tuesday. Papa made a nice quick speech and much to his delight was proposed by Reverend Wraislaw.(75)

(75) Name uncertain.

Monday 23 November 1868
Last Friday Mr Blood came here and we talked for about two hours. Of course all he said was vague and intangible, except a few things. First he said, if you were my daughter, you should sell. Then Miss Pyman asked would she do if she were a young man. ‘Oh, dear no', said Mr Blood. He said in answer to point blank questions that my selling or not needs not be an alternative for Papa of £700 or £700 plus £1500 a year. Also that a partner other than Thomas could easily be found.
So yesterday, Sunday, I pinned Papa and made him answer this question: ‘If you were the only acting party, what would you do?' And he thenceforth explained a very clear plan that he should not give up to Henry and leave the business, but that he would much prefer going on with it, taking a working partner who would invest £10,000 and pay us rents, as he paid before to the trustees. Why this should not be, I don't know; so he wrote a letter which I sent in my name to Mr Blood, asking if that plan were practicable, as he and I would so much prefer it. I heard from Uncle Edward today saying, ‘My advice is stick to a five years' lease like mad or else sell for £14,000'.

Thursday 26 November 1868
Well. Curious how easily influenced I am but today I am all the other way. I had an hour's talk with Henry and he says positively he won't consider partnership, as it is unheard of a family like us going into partnership, and one working for the rest; and he won't consider a five years' lease, as he thinks it is no use building your hopes only to be knocked on the head at the end of five years. For unless now, with his wife and family, he makes money somehow, or somehow gets money to live upon, he cannot exist. He cannot live on £1000 a year; no more he can.

I asked Mr Freeman's advice. Would he have all his money in the brewery and get thereby £1300 or £1400 a year or have it right in hand and have £950 a year? He said he would undoubtedly have the latter, and he thought, considering that is enough and to spare for me, I ought to be magnanimous with regard to Henry, who is only in the same position as we are; no better off to speak of.
I wonder whether I shall ever find out that a woman's position in the world is to be compared to a man's. A woman can NEVER RISE. All improvements of any one thing (except her looks and manners) are alike shut: money, talents, industry, use.

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Winifred Hardcastle's Will

30 November 1868
This is the last will and testament of me, Emma Winifred Hardcastle, of Nether Hall in the county of Suffolk, spinster.(76) I leave and bequeath to my dear father all my estates real and personal with the rents, issues and profits thereof for his lifetime; after that to be settled on my brother Henry and left entirely in his hands to the disposal of the same. On my death, I leave my dear brother Henry sole executor of my affairs and beg that he will carry out these my wishes and on my death pay forth the following legacies:
To Mary Pyman for her life £50 a year.
To my three godchildren, Margaret Usborne, daughter of Thomas and Alice Usborne £99 19s. 0d.(77)
Beatrice Hardcastle, daughter of Edward and Priscilla Hardcastle, £99 19s. 0d.
To my dear Aunt Priscilla, who has always been to me as a mother, £99 19. 0d.; my old Bible given to me by my mother in 1855 (1 think) and all my manuscript possessions, including this book and all old letters.
To Elizabeth Callingham, housemaid in this family, £19 19s. 0d.
To Marie Dailly, lady's maid, £19 19s. 0d.
To Alfred Lindsell of Writtle £19 19s. 0d.
To Sarah Blighth of Writtle £19 19s. 0d.
To Ida Fleischer of Dresden, spinster, £99 19s. 0d.
To my dear sisters, Mary and Emily, all my possessions not money, including jewels, books etc, excepting my botany books, which I desire to be given to Emily Hardcastle, eldest daughter of Edward and Priscilla Hardcastle.
To Harriet Helen Herbert, of 88 Bishopsgate Street, EC, £99 19s. 0d.
To Mary Mason, formerly cook in this family, £19 19s. 0d.
To Francis Freeman, a dear and trusted friend, £99 19s. 0d., to buy his most favourite picture of the Madonna and Child in remembrance of my love for him.
To my friend Sophia Rodwell £10 10s. 0d. to buy a ring in remembrance of me.
To Priscilla Haldane, my cousin, £99 19s. 0d.
To my dear friend Bessie Parry my diamond ring with five diamonds.
I desire that a memorial window be put up in Writtle in remembrance of my mother, which was a thing I always meant to do.
To Louisa Allen, my old nurse £19 19s. 0d.(78)
I also desire that a sufficient sum, as my executor shall think, fit to be devoted to the starting of a 'village hospital' for the benefit of the poor of Writtle. It shall contain as many beds and be worked as much on the same principles as possible as that of Catherine, Lady Buxton of Colne House, Cromer.
 I desire also £50 a year of my fortune be devoted solely and exclusively to charitable purposes as my executor shall think fit.
This is my last will and testament and it will be found corresponding exactly to one drawn up in proper form, signed and witnesses, somewhere in my possession.
Emma Winifred Hardcastle
Nether Hall, Bury St Edmunds
30 November 1868

For all the legacies of £99 19s. 0d. read £100. I only put £99 19s. 0d. because I thought there was a legal duty on £100.

(76) Diary entry for 30 November 1868.
(77) Identity of third godchild unclear.
(78) Louisa Allen died in April 1870.

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Sunday 13 December 1868
4 Chesham Street
All is decided. Matters were brought to a close on Friday. I arrived here with Papa on Wednesday and on Thursday Papa, Henry and I had a long business talk at Pall Mall, and another at Uncle Haldane's chambers, whose strong advice was that I should sell my share for what it was worth. Then on Friday Mr Blood came and Papa and I had him to ourselves about half an hour; then Henry came and Mr Blood argued my side (of not selling). Then I observed the conversation flagging, so I said, 'Well, Mr Blood, I think it is only waste of time my deferring my decision so long'. I then asked him about the four courses into which it seems matters have resolved themselves.
1 - Going head and ears into partnership.
2 - Mr Hardcastle (senior)'s plan of payment of my rents and a division of the profits after all manner of things have been paid out of them (Thomas's salary of £1500 a year being the first!).
3 - My going on as I am now and receiving my rents and giving a lease.
4 - My selling my share.

As to the first, Henry and Thomas will not consent to, as it would be incredible my being partner in a smallish business like that and then, as soon as I married my husband, if he is cantankerous (which he probably will be), going down whenever he likes, turning over the accounts, having a finger in every pie. I must also bear the losses if there be any.

Secondly, as to the second plan, if all was done exactly as it is drawn out, in all probability (Mr Blood says) in some years I should only get for rents and profits £400 or £500 a year, and it would be all fluctuation and risk; and again what right have we (when you come to legal right) to claim any of the profits when none of our money is invested in the floating capital?

Thirdly, if I let my share remain as it is, Mr Blood told me distinctly I should get about £40 or £50 a year more than if I sold; also things would remain exactly as they are, as Thomas would not take a five years' lease with the risk and trouble of five years only to be turned out when it was over.

Fourthly, when all this had been talked over and explained by Mr Blood far better of course than I understand it, I said, 'Well I am the only stopping point now and it does not seem to me I shall derive any advantage from holding out, so I think I had better say at once that I sell my share'.

Then he told me how strongly he was of opinion that it was for the best thing I could do, and if I were his daughter he should insist upon it. Also he thinks that it improves my prospects when that wonderful, ever-looked for, perhaps never to appear ghost of the future comes and asks the Great Question. Entre nous, I wonder whether he ever will come. I think life for young women is made much too much for them to look for that as the climax and end of all things.

Why should not life be more to us as it is to young men? We have got a work for our brains, although I confess it with tears not so large nor so extensively useful; but he who finds out the two talents was one of his Lord's good and faithful servants, who entered into his joys. This is all parenthesis, but the next day I wrote to Mr Blood: 'I agree to sell my share at the price at which it is valued by Watney'.

The last part this I disapproved of, but Henry made me put it. So I am settled and one comfort is, if I am not growing, I am not becoming so by the more men get tipsy, altho' I don't call this a good argument. I have in round figures a property which will soon be all personal of £20,000: £7950 is already personal; £11,500 or £11,600 I shall get for my share. This will yield in round numbers £900, I suppose. Mr Blood has already paid £300 in my name in the Bury Bank.

16 December 1868, Writtle
Wonders. We have made it up in consequence of a letter not of apology (I have nought to apologise for) but requesting peace to Thomas, who no doubt sick of it was glad, so I am here for a night. Now I just want to register my opinion or mind with regard to Thomas's and Alice's behaviour. For it is pretty near over, and my conduct, except I have good reason like the present time, shall always be to Thomas strictly neutral. The only points of disagreement have been:
1 - The dining room furniture
2 - The bees!
3 - The business in general

Thomas has about £4000 a year, yet he has never helped us one atom. Alice has appeared hard but it is ASSETS = INFLUENCE, I am certain of it; and her natural indolence and stupidity, not vice. He, he will have his reward some day, is selfish, powerful, clever, indulgent in the highest degree; has no good points, I can see, but great cleverness; but for Alice's sake whom I have, I do and I always shall and must love as a sister PEACE; and above all, for Christ's sake, Blessed are the Peacemakers.

Usborne Family

But oh it is a bitter pill to have to submit to the [uncertain word] of present behaviour, nice and submissive and humble as it ought to be; and abuse of my power. I have done it because the Bible says forgive as thou wouldst be forgiven; because that's the difference between Christianity and all else. Oh how I should love to exalt my head, spurn Thomas with my heel, scorn, sneer and lash him with my tongue; blame his horrid behaviour; rolling in riches and wishing for more. Henry sees good in him. I can't now and may in the future, but it shall be now as a Christian, no other reason could make me. God grant I have been right. He knows I do not fear him nor poverty nor anything but WRONG.

I love Alice, but she has just bought herself a velvet dress for day wear; a new gingham. Thomas keeps five hunters (and hunts four or five days a week, yet Henry says devotes himself to the business). And Henry and Maria and we are finished for everything, have no money and owe lots. They have never helped us as far as I know one single hair's breadth. Well, we are not bound to them for anything at any rate. Oh, I am so awfully tired.

25 December 1868
Papa and Mrs Hardcastle are at Nether Hall; Henry and family at Collingwood; Alice and family at Writtle; me and Edward at Fern Hill.(79) Miss Pyman at the old Rodwells. Thus is scattered my last year's Xmas day party.

(79) Probably Fernhill, Clonakilty, Cork, a house associated with the Usborne family and Thomas Usborne's father, Thomas Masters Usborne (1811-1883).

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