Diana Cassandra Baldwin was born two years after the death of Jane Austen and two years before the death of Napoleon. Clearly she was a product of a romantic and heroic time. Thus it may be presumed her elopement to Gretna Green with her father's assistant apothecary Gerald was exciting and romantic. Unfortunately, Gerald drank some water in Glasgow and died four days into the marriage.
Our heroine did not, fortunately, abandon hope and fade away. We find her a decade and a half later, under the name Cassandra Match, with a modest fortune earned by honest trade, albeit in a disreputable locale. Timely information allowed her and a companion to escape becoming embroiled in possible criminal proceedings, and they have decided to try to improve their fortunes in Brighton. The challenge is, however, that women are legally limited in how they may own and manage property in Britain in the middle of the 19th century.
Excerpt:
In the Summer of 1851, Cassandra Match was engaged as manager by the Brighton haberdashery and drapery firm of Bartlett and Jones. Miss Match was thirty-two years old, and had grown up in Manchester, the daughter of an apothecary and his religiously pious wife. Indeed, her maternal grandparents held the vicarage of a Lancashire coal mining village.
Match was not her real name, though Cassandra was the middle name with which she was baptised. She was also not correctly addressed as Miss, since she had eloped at the age of 17 with the apothecary’s apprentice to Gretna Green. The drama pursuant to that elopement would, I am afraid, not add up to even a modest paragraph. The apothecary’s assistant was foolish enough to drink some water in Glasgow and promptly died of cholera, though it was not one of the notable years for that illness. Cassandra – we will use the name she has chosen – wrote to her parents and received by return of post a very short epistle saying that she was no longer their daughter and to not contact them again.
In the decade and a half between the untimely death of her freshly married husband and her arrival in Brighton in the Spring of 1851, Cassandra – under yet another name – had landed on her feet, more or less. She did not find Glasgow an attractive place to live, especially if one had no money. The most obvious potential for earning was, unfortunately, on her back rather than her feet. Having luckily avoided getting pregnant in her truncated marriage, she did not wish pregnancy nor disease, but she recognized that in port cities prostitution was a significant economic activity, and one available to a good proportion of young women having no other opportunities.
A short distance from Glasgow, however, the town of Greenock was becoming an important hub of shipping that avoided the awkward navigation of the Clyde, especially now steamboats were common. She repaired to Greenock and rented a room for a few days with her dwindling monies, using her time to observe and locate the town brothels. She selected one in an unassuming but well-maintained building and just before noon on a Tuesday knocked on the door and asked for an interview with the proprietress.
The madam was taken aback to be so approached. However, Cassandra was a nice-looking girl, and the madam thought she might appeal to her customers. However, Cassandra stated she had no wish to earn her keep in the usual brothel occupation, but could offer her services as a book-keeper, hostess, emergency seamstress and unofficial apothecary. As a girl, Cassandra had been fascinated by her father’s books and journals, including The Lancet for which he maintained a subscription. She had learned much from these sources, all of which had been kept secret from her parents, and in fact, from her short-lived husband.
That she claimed knowledge of drugs, potions and the diseases they purported to cure or at least ameliorate elicited some questions pertinent to the health of the girls in the brothel, and Cassandra was able to provide sufficient answers that she got trial employment. This employment included food and lodging – the madam had bought a pleasant house elsewhere, and was actually looking for someone to look after her interests. This was not revealed immediately, but when Cassandra proved an excellent custodian and manager of the brothel, as well as able to assist the girls in avoiding some of the negative aspects of the trade, the madam was most happy to give her the reins and take her retirement along with her cut of the steady profits.
All good things have a finite life, and a friendly constable who enjoyed the company of one of the girls gave Cassandra a timely warning of impending legal interruption of business. She called Mary, one of the women who had become the cook and general housekeeper, and asked her if she would like to accompany her. Then she called the women together and paid them off, packed two carpet bag valises and a large reticule, and left. Mary took a single, but somewhat larger carpet bag, including her favourite pot and two knives, one large and one small, that she favoured when cooking. Both ladies had the preponderance of their money secreted in their corsets. Five pound notes, folded in greaseproof paper, could replace some of the whalebone.
“Mary, I suggest we change our names. I will use the name Cassandra ....” She spotted a box of lucifers and added “Match. We will develop our histories while we make our escape.”
“Mary is common enough, so I’ll use McNair, my grandmother’s maiden name.”
By this time the two ladies were making their way to the docks at a very, very early hour of the morning. They did not take a hansom cab, but lugged their baggage – Cassandra’s reticule was on a long strap over right shoulder and under her left arm. The driver of a cab might remember them.
There were some modest boats whose captains sometimes frequented the brothel. Cassandra had had the foresight to know the names of several, and she and Mary soon found one that was getting ready to sail. Cassandra hailed it “Captain, may I urgently communicate with you?”
The captain swung himself onto the dock and in a few minutes Cassandra had negotiated a price to be conveyed to Troon. It was a bit out of the captain’s way, but Cassandra offered enough cash to make the detour worthwhile. The fifty miles or so was cold and a bit rough, but the two ladies stayed on the deck in the lee of the wheelhouse of the fishing boat, thereby avoiding the worst of seasickness.
Railway passenger service from Troon to Kilmarnock had opened a few years previously. From Kilmarnock the two ladies booked to London via Carlisle. They arrived in London tired and rather grimy from the trains. Sleeping cars were not yet a possibility. On the journey, they had agreed that their story would be that Miss Match had been the manageress of a private hotel for distressed gentlewomen, and Mrs. McNair (who in actuality had never been married, but would claim to be a widow) had been its housekeeper. It was not uncommon, however, for housekeepers to be referred to as if they were married or widows. They decided to locate this establishment in Falkirk rather than Greenock.
Given their arduous journey, they decided to take a two-night hiatus to recover their energies. Engaging a hansom, Miss Match asked to be driven to Brown’s Hotel. It would cost them a bit, but she felt it worthwhile to have some comfort and regain her energies.
Mary was a little intimidated by Brown’s, but Cassandra asked her to take note of the accoutrements and observe especially those that she felt were particularly likely to attract clients. Though Cassandra had not given Mary details of her plan, they had talked of offering well-appointed furnished apartments for rental in a sea-side or similar town easily accessible from London. Brighton was their first choice, and they intended to go there first, but Cassandra noted that Eastbourne or even Tunbridge Wells would be possible. However, Brighton had been the playground of the Prince Regent some years before and was now well-established as a resort. They would repair there in a couple of days. The intervening day they spent exploring Piccadilly, particularly the shop windows. Many notes were taken, but they only spent money on food and drink and, as a treat, a visit to a theatre for what was, unfortunately, a rather uninspiring melodrama.
