The Scandalous Sisterhood of Prickwillow Place

Text copyright © 2014 by Julie Berry

Illustrations copyright © 2014 by TK

Published by Roaring Brook Press

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data tk

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First edition 2014

Book design by Elizabeth Clark

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lyrics on page tk can be found in “’Tis Not Fine Feathers Make Fine Birds,” from
The Book of Popular Songs
, ed. By J. E. Carpenter. London: G. Routledge & Co., 1858.

For my own scandalous sisters, Sue, Jane, Beth, Sal, and Joanna, and all the sisters I’ve gained along the way

Persons Whom You Will
Not
Meet in This Narrative

RELATIONS AND AQUAINTANCES

OF THE
A
FOREMENTIONED
Y
OUNG
L
ADIES

M
RS
.
M
AYBELLE
P
RATLEY
, whose first act upon marrying Benson Pratley was to enroll his daughter, Roberta, at Saint Etheldreda’s School for Young Ladies in Ely, Cambridgeshire, forty miles from home. Mrs. Pratley believed firmly that a maiden so tall and gangly who was always tripping over her long feet, and possessing such a weak brain, needed intensive molding into young womanhood. The late Mrs. Pratley’s indulgent parenting had left Roberta soft, but the new Mrs. Pratley aimed to correct this. Saint Etheldreda’s School’s reputation for stern discipline and strict moral guidance satisfied Mrs. Pratley well. Never mind that anyone else who knew Dear Roberta could only describe her as adorably gentle and kind; Stepmother knew best.

M
RS.
L
LOYD
M
ARSHALL
, mother of Mary Jane Marshall, whose greatest fear was that her daughter might elope much too young and make a scandalous marriage with the wrong sort of man. Disgraceful Mary Jane had ways of escaping even her mother’s strictest supervision, and young men, particularly those of the young, reckless, penniless variety, buzzed about her like
f
lies round a honey pot. In the watchful of eye the headmistress of Saint Etheldreda’s School for Young Ladies, the anxious mother placed all her hopes.

L
EROY,
R
UPERT,
A
LEXANDER, AND
C
HESTERFIELD
B
OYLE
, the younger brothers of Dull Martha Boyle, who tormented her ceaselessly because it was so easy. Frogs appeared in her porridge. Mice scampered out from under her sheets. Her spectacles would go missing, time and again, only to resurface in the potato bin or the butter churn. To be fair, most boys believe their sisters are stupid. These young men were, one regrets to say, correct. At any rate, her former governess, if pressed, would concur, though she would add that Martha was a sweet, lovely girl with a gift for piano and the voice of an angel.

I
SABELLE
B
ROOKS
cousin to Alice Brooks. Isabelle ate candied nuts, fruit jellies, and petits fours from midmorning till teatime, then buttered toast with fig preserves and cheese croissants from teatime till supper. Yet with all this, and because there is no justice in the world, she never added an ounce to her slender, graceful figure and wore Paris’s latest dressmaking fashions to perfection. Their grandmamma held Isabelle up to Alice in comparison on a daily basis. The fact that Stout Alice, who tended toward poundage, managed not to hate Isabelle was a testament to her great heart and her remarkable self-control.

M
R.
M
AXIMILIAN
H
EATON
, prosperous mill owner in northern England, vice-chairman of the British Railway Committee, and father of Smooth Kitty Heaton. His wife died when their only child was four, leaving Mr. Heaton to anticipate no male heir to the great estate he built through his tireless industry. This was his one great sorrow. He boasted often that he’d never stood in a room with a man who was his equal at managing an enterprise. (Had he stood more often in a room with his daughter, he might have noticed a rival for his talents growing up right under his nose.) Supremely effective Mr. Heaton may have been, but not even the shareholders in his mill, who became wealthy men by aligning their financial stars with his, liked the man.

D
R.
M
ATTHEW
D
UDLEY
, London surgeon, and paternal uncle to Louise Dudley. He was admitted to Cambridge University on a scholarship to study medicine and later trained at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland. When his young niece, Louise, contracted smallpox at age eight, he attended her night and day, leading her safely to recovery, and became her idol and mentor forever. He encouraged her interest in science, chemistry, and medicine by supplying her with books and inviting her to lectures. He claimed she’d make a great physician. In fear of this prophecy coming true, when Pocked Louise turned 12 her parents confiscated her chemistry set and sent her to Saint Etheldreda’s School to learn ladylike arts rather than medical ones.

O
LD
J
IM
C
LITHEROW
, grave digger, of Newark-on-Trent, Nottinghamshire. He buried the dead at his parish church for forty years, and sometimes dug them back up again, if they had wedding rings or sturdy boots or lungs and livers worth a surgeon’s silver. One night, as he loaded a recently exhumed German widower onto his cart, he found young Miss Elinor Siever watching from behind a tree. Her pale face looked ghostly in the moonlight. He thought she was an avenging angel sent to punish him for grave robbing. Old Jim’s heart nearly gave out with shock. The young woman peered over his shoulder at the corpse of Hans Marx and reached out to touch the cold gray face of the dead. Old Jim Clitherow shooed Elinor Siever away, threw Hans Marx back where he belonged, shoveled dirt over him, and ran. That night he told the barkeep at the town pub, the Bubble and Brisket. When rumor of Dour Elinor’s nightly wanderings reached the ears of Mr. and Mrs. Siever, they enrolled her at Saint Etheldreda’s School for Young Ladies in Ely faster than you can say “necromancy.”

ENGLAND 1890

CHAPTER 1

Each Sunday afternoon at Saint Etheldreda’s School for Young Ladies on Prickwillow Road in Ely, Cambridgeshire, the seven enrolled young ladies were invited by custom to join Headmistress Constance Plackett while she entertained her younger brother, Mr. Aldous Godding, at the dinner table. The privilege of watching the headmistress and her regular Sunday guest consume the veal that they, the young ladies themselves, had prepared, more than compensated for the lack of sufficient veal for all the table to share. The girls had learned to be content with buttered bread and hot beans, Sundays upon end. Such self-denial would serve them well in their future callings as wives. This was Mr. Aldous Godding’s firm belief, and his sister, the widow Mrs. Plackett, with years of matrimonial experience behind her, could only agree.

On one particular Sunday evening in May, midway through the meal, Mrs. Plackett sopped her plate with her bread, took a bite of it, and let the morsel fall to the
f
loor, whilst her head lolled back upon her shoulders, and her eyes gazed blankly at the ceiling. She shuddered. She shook. She let out a choking cough, then fell silent.

“What’s the matter, Connie?” her brother demanded between mouthfuls. “Speak up, woman. It isn’t decent goggling about like that. Pass the pepper, Missy.” This he addressed to Disgraceful Mary Jane, who sat nearest to him, but he neither knew her name nor the source of her disgrace. All the young ladies were “Missy” to him.

Disgraceful Mary Jane passed the pepper. Mr. Godding used it liberally, ate a bite of veal, lay down his knife and fork, touched his beard with his napkin, and rose from his seat. He made his way around the table to where his sister sat, raised his arm to thump her back, then choked, clutched his throat, fell forward, and landed on the
f
loor with a thud that reverberated up the legs of the chairs upon which the seven young ladies sat.

“Dead, I imagine,” Dour Elinor observed.

Smooth Kitty slipped from her chair and went softly to the headmistress’s side. She plucked the spectacles off Dull Martha’s nose, polished them on her sleeve, then held them in front of Mrs. Plackett’s limp mouth. She watched and listened closely. The other girls hung poised for the verdict, their forks frozen in mid-bite.

Smooth Kitty, satisfied that no breath had fogged the glasses, nodded and placed them back on Dull Martha’s nose. “Dead as a kipper,” she pronounced.

“Eugh,” Dull Martha sputtered. “You made a dead person breathe on my glasses!”

Pocked Louise opened her mouth to correct Dull Martha, but Smooth Kitty shook her head slightly. Pocked Louise, the youngest of the girls, was accustomed to her older schoolmates bossing her. She kept still.

Dear Roberta covered her face with her hands. “But this is awful! Hadn’t we ought to call Doctor Snelling?”

“Bit late for that,” Dour Elinor responded. “Louise. Check the other one.”

Pocked Louise, the resident scientist, approached the fallen form of Mr. Aldous Godding cautiously. As his face was mashed against the
f
loor, it became clear to her that she must touch him in order to turn him over, a thought which wrinkled her pox-scarred nose into a fright of disgust.