I have a pair of late Victorian vases that my grandmother left me, but I know very little about them so I made up this story.
Carly had been left the vases by her favourite grandmother, who’d died when Carly was in her mid thirties. The pair, which were in perfect condition, depicted scenes of lovers in idyllic country house settings. They were on a dark green background and beautifully hand-painted with gilding around the edges. Carly really loved them, as they were the only treasures she had to remind her of happy days spent as a child at her Grandma’s house in Lincolnshire. She remembered seeing the vases on her grandparent’s high black mantelpiece and recalled looking deeply into the pictures and fantasising about the handsome Victorian couple depicted in the scenes..
The vases had travelled with Carly on various moves over the years when she had fled from her violent and abusive husband into another bad relationship with a compulsive gambler, who also turned out to be an alcoholic and a womaniser. Eventually she moved to another town and re-married, which also proved disastrous. Finally she’d come back to her home town to settle after meeting her partner and soul-mate Peter.
Unfortunately over the years Carly and Peter had very bad luck financially and had massive debts to contend with. Admittedly, neither of them were very good with money and having low paid, though rewarding jobs over the years, they’d not been able to accrue any savings or a decent pension to fall back on when they reached pensionable age. Carly, now sixty-five, had reluctantly given her job up due to severe arthritis in both hips and Peter who was nearly seventy, but still in good health, had two part-time jobs to keep them going and keep creditors off their back.
It had occurred to Carly to sell the vases to raise some much needed cash, but she was reluctant to do this for sentimental reasons. Their financial situation was getting desperate though and needs must, she thought. She knew that they could be worth as much as £2000. She discussed it with Peter and he suggested they sleep on it for a while before making any hasty decisions.
Over a century earlier...
Charlotte was awakened by the warm morning sun filtering through the latticed bedroom window of the large country house she shared with her husband Pierre. Her life was idyllic; she was twenty-one and in robust health. Her long fair tresses gleamed in the sunlight, framing her small and exquisitely beautiful features. The house was beautiful too and stood in acres of formal, expertly landscaped gardens, with box hedges neatly containing the charming flower beds. The heady scent of the rose gardens wafted through the windows on that June day in 1895. Nothing could spoil the peace and tranquillity of her perfect life - or so Charlotte thought. Pierre was the perfect husband, rich and good looking and so kind and gentle - and they were soon to be proud parents of their first child.
Unfortunately, the French-born Pierre was a gambling man, though he kept the secret well away from his wife. Charlotte assumed his long absences from home were due to lucrative business deals and commitments and did not dream of questioning him. At seven months pregnant she had more important things on her mind, like instructing the haberdashers on the fine soft furnishings for the nursery.
She had always been artistically inclined and had embroidered all the linen for the cradle and Pierre had commissioned a beautiful rocking horse to be completed for when the baby was older.
Charlotte’s personal maid Jessie, had laid out her emerald green velvet gown that had been made specially for the pregnancy and which suited her colouring. It went so well with the expensive jade necklace that Pierre had brought back from China a few years earlier for her birthday. Charlotte loved the cool feel of the green jade on her skin. After washing and dressing she went down to the ornately decorated dining room for breakfast. After her meal she retired to the elegant drawing room to carry on with her embroidery.
Later on that morning there was a loud and very persistent knocking on the large oak door. It was answered by Martha, who was head maid to Charlotte and Pierre. She was a stern, though handsome looking woman, who was very loyal to the family as were all the servants.
“There’s a policeman to see you Ma’am” She spoke in a whisper almost, to her apprehensive mistress. A policeman knocking on the door of the gentry was a very rare sight indeed, so she knew it had to be something of great importance.
“I’m afraid I have some very grave news for you Ma’am; please sit down and I will endeavour to explain what has happened. Your husband, Pierre Le Grande was found shot dead in his office this morning - by his own hand it appears. Apparently the tragedy involved heavy gambling debts that he was unable to pay. He left this letter addressed to you, but I’m afraid we had to open it as part of our investigations. I am so sorry to be the bearer of such tragic news”
Charlotte hesitantly reached out for the letter with a shaking hand and read the words that she would never forget till her dying day.
“ My dearest Charlotte, greatest love of my life. I hate to leave you and our innocent unborn child, who alas I will never know, but I cannot bear to live with the shame and disgrace that will now ensue. We are indeed ruined, due to my reckless business deals and gambling. I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me one day. Till we meet again - your loving husband, Pierre.”
Dropping the letter, Charlotte wept uncontrollably and suddenly became breathless with the terrible revelations and slumped into the arms of the vigilant policeman. Martha rushed to get the smelling salts and helped the trembling Charlotte to her bed when she came round from the faint. Billy Brice, one of the stable lads was sent to fetch the doctor. Luckily as Charlotte was a healthy young woman, she and the baby were fine and two months later she gave birth to a healthy baby boy and named him Peter - the English version of her husband’s name.
Eventually the big house had to be sold to pay off the debts and Charlotte had to move to a small cottage with just one servant - the loyal Martha. Life was hard for her and Peter, as she had inherited very little, but she began to make a reasonable living as a potter and artist - hand-painting various pieces. Later on she began to specialise in pairs of vases depicting Victorian lovers, which became very popular at that time.
Carly woke up with a start from the incredible dream she’d just had. Certainly the vases had been on her mind lately, but the dream had been so vivid she felt a kinship to all the people involved and it made her want to know more about the history of them. She did some extensive research on the internet and discovered the potter and artist’s name. She was amazed when she discovered it was Charlotte Le Grande, who it appeared was her great grandmother on her granddad's side. He had died when she was small so nothing was known about the family connection with Charlotte. A little more research of the family tree revealed everything that happened in Carly’s dream was absolutely true!
Needless to say the vases have remained in Carly’s family and for some reason their luck has changed for the better, with a small inheritance from Peter’s late uncle. Carly is certain when she glances at the vases, that the pretty fair-haired Victorian lady wearing the emerald dress in the hand-painted picture, is smiling at her!
Carly had been left the vases by her favourite grandmother, who’d died when Carly was in her mid thirties. The pair, which were in perfect condition, depicted scenes of lovers in idyllic country house settings. They were on a dark green background and beautifully hand-painted with gilding around the edges. Carly really loved them, as they were the only treasures she had to remind her of happy days spent as a child at her Grandma’s house in Lincolnshire. She remembered seeing the vases on her grandparent’s high black mantelpiece and recalled looking deeply into the pictures and fantasising about the handsome Victorian couple depicted in the scenes..
The vases had travelled with Carly on various moves over the years when she had fled from her violent and abusive husband into another bad relationship with a compulsive gambler, who also turned out to be an alcoholic and a womaniser. Eventually she moved to another town and re-married, which also proved disastrous. Finally she’d come back to her home town to settle after meeting her partner and soul-mate Peter.
Unfortunately over the years Carly and Peter had very bad luck financially and had massive debts to contend with. Admittedly, neither of them were very good with money and having low paid, though rewarding jobs over the years, they’d not been able to accrue any savings or a decent pension to fall back on when they reached pensionable age. Carly, now sixty-five, had reluctantly given her job up due to severe arthritis in both hips and Peter who was nearly seventy, but still in good health, had two part-time jobs to keep them going and keep creditors off their back.
It had occurred to Carly to sell the vases to raise some much needed cash, but she was reluctant to do this for sentimental reasons. Their financial situation was getting desperate though and needs must, she thought. She knew that they could be worth as much as £2000. She discussed it with Peter and he suggested they sleep on it for a while before making any hasty decisions.
Over a century earlier...
Charlotte was awakened by the warm morning sun filtering through the latticed bedroom window of the large country house she shared with her husband Pierre. Her life was idyllic; she was twenty-one and in robust health. Her long fair tresses gleamed in the sunlight, framing her small and exquisitely beautiful features. The house was beautiful too and stood in acres of formal, expertly landscaped gardens, with box hedges neatly containing the charming flower beds. The heady scent of the rose gardens wafted through the windows on that June day in 1895. Nothing could spoil the peace and tranquillity of her perfect life - or so Charlotte thought. Pierre was the perfect husband, rich and good looking and so kind and gentle - and they were soon to be proud parents of their first child.
Unfortunately, the French-born Pierre was a gambling man, though he kept the secret well away from his wife. Charlotte assumed his long absences from home were due to lucrative business deals and commitments and did not dream of questioning him. At seven months pregnant she had more important things on her mind, like instructing the haberdashers on the fine soft furnishings for the nursery.
She had always been artistically inclined and had embroidered all the linen for the cradle and Pierre had commissioned a beautiful rocking horse to be completed for when the baby was older.
Charlotte’s personal maid Jessie, had laid out her emerald green velvet gown that had been made specially for the pregnancy and which suited her colouring. It went so well with the expensive jade necklace that Pierre had brought back from China a few years earlier for her birthday. Charlotte loved the cool feel of the green jade on her skin. After washing and dressing she went down to the ornately decorated dining room for breakfast. After her meal she retired to the elegant drawing room to carry on with her embroidery.
Later on that morning there was a loud and very persistent knocking on the large oak door. It was answered by Martha, who was head maid to Charlotte and Pierre. She was a stern, though handsome looking woman, who was very loyal to the family as were all the servants.
“There’s a policeman to see you Ma’am” She spoke in a whisper almost, to her apprehensive mistress. A policeman knocking on the door of the gentry was a very rare sight indeed, so she knew it had to be something of great importance.
“I’m afraid I have some very grave news for you Ma’am; please sit down and I will endeavour to explain what has happened. Your husband, Pierre Le Grande was found shot dead in his office this morning - by his own hand it appears. Apparently the tragedy involved heavy gambling debts that he was unable to pay. He left this letter addressed to you, but I’m afraid we had to open it as part of our investigations. I am so sorry to be the bearer of such tragic news”
Charlotte hesitantly reached out for the letter with a shaking hand and read the words that she would never forget till her dying day.
“ My dearest Charlotte, greatest love of my life. I hate to leave you and our innocent unborn child, who alas I will never know, but I cannot bear to live with the shame and disgrace that will now ensue. We are indeed ruined, due to my reckless business deals and gambling. I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me one day. Till we meet again - your loving husband, Pierre.”
Dropping the letter, Charlotte wept uncontrollably and suddenly became breathless with the terrible revelations and slumped into the arms of the vigilant policeman. Martha rushed to get the smelling salts and helped the trembling Charlotte to her bed when she came round from the faint. Billy Brice, one of the stable lads was sent to fetch the doctor. Luckily as Charlotte was a healthy young woman, she and the baby were fine and two months later she gave birth to a healthy baby boy and named him Peter - the English version of her husband’s name.
Eventually the big house had to be sold to pay off the debts and Charlotte had to move to a small cottage with just one servant - the loyal Martha. Life was hard for her and Peter, as she had inherited very little, but she began to make a reasonable living as a potter and artist - hand-painting various pieces. Later on she began to specialise in pairs of vases depicting Victorian lovers, which became very popular at that time.
Carly woke up with a start from the incredible dream she’d just had. Certainly the vases had been on her mind lately, but the dream had been so vivid she felt a kinship to all the people involved and it made her want to know more about the history of them. She did some extensive research on the internet and discovered the potter and artist’s name. She was amazed when she discovered it was Charlotte Le Grande, who it appeared was her great grandmother on her granddad's side. He had died when she was small so nothing was known about the family connection with Charlotte. A little more research of the family tree revealed everything that happened in Carly’s dream was absolutely true!
Needless to say the vases have remained in Carly’s family and for some reason their luck has changed for the better, with a small inheritance from Peter’s late uncle. Carly is certain when she glances at the vases, that the pretty fair-haired Victorian lady wearing the emerald dress in the hand-painted picture, is smiling at her!
No comments:
Post a Comment