I was small for my age and of slight build, too pretty to be a boy and suffering because of that...

 
 
Duality

By Susan Brown
 

I would like to thank Miss Jane Austen for the inspiration for this novella, which is based on a time prior to that which is described in Pride And Prejudice and involves a few of the characters in that great work.

There was a time when I was not as I am now and I hope that by telling my strange story, I can help others as others have helped me.

“Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken.”
”• Jane Austen, Emma

---

 

As I sit here reading all the copious notes and latterly the diaries recalling that time of change and before, I wonder what it was that marked me out to be different. Perhaps it was He, in his infinite wisdom, who decided that my life would be as it was, or was it just a strange succession of chances that took me down the road of my strange life.

I believe that all of us have the chance to shape our own futures, no matter how humble a beginning one has, but it helps to have a certain amount of luck and good fortune to attain ones hearts desire

And so to my strange story. I would ask you, gentle reader to put aside any preconditioned ideas and notions regarding gender and to open your mind to accepting the facts as they are and not as society would sometimes wish them to be.

I was born in the year Eighteen Hundred and Two. I knew little of my true parents, as I understood that they had both been stricken with consumption. All I was told of them was that they were genteel but had no support from their family. I did not even know their names as those who knew, were sworn to secrecy.

I was never told why John and Harriett had agreed to take me on, but assumed that some financial recompense was put in hand to enable them to do so.

John and Harriet Digby therefor brought me up and although not by any means rich, they managed to look after me as well as all the other children that they had brought into this world.

We lived in Leicestershire near the town of Market Lowerbury. John Digby was a blacksmith, and a very good one indeed. Horses were brought to him from far and wide due to the skill and care that in which he carried out shoeing. If anything needed mending, it was known that his forge was the place to go to have the best work carried out. He, with the help of his sons, Benjamin and Arthur worked hard, long hours to keep up with the strong demand for their services.

There were three other boys, Mark, Luke and John jnr, who had flown the nest and worked on farms far and wide. John and Harriet had one daughter, Julia, who was in service up at the manor and of whom we saw little of. She was eighteen years old and very pretty. She used to mother me when I was very small and I loved here dearly. I was heartbroken when she went to work at the manor. I was by far the youngest child in the family at the age of thirteen. My name, by the way was George.

I was small for my age and of slight build, too pretty to be a boy and suffering because of that. Other village children, boys and girls used to pick on me for being to gentle in my ways and not able to stand up for myself. Indeed I was often mistaken for a girl and ridiculed for wearing boys clothes. I was a sickly child and was often abed for a number of ailments. If any illness was about, I was the one to get it. I had the mumps, measles, whooping cough and many a complaint of the belly. All this made things very hard for my adoptive parents, but they bore me no ill will for my lack of robustness and I, in turn, loved them dearly for their care of me.

The bills for the doctors must have been horrendously high, but never was there a complaint from my parents for the cost and I will never forget their kindness and obvious love for me.

As a family, I suppose that we were comparatively well off. Blacksmithing paid well and we lived as comfortably as one would expect having such a craftsman as John working his magic with metals. I was relatively happy, buoyed up by the love of my family and my unlucky health never brought me down to a level where I felt sorry for myself. I thanked The Lord for my good fortune each and every day and as for the other children in the village, I just kept out of the way and to some extent, I was soon forgotten by them.

My mother, who used to be a Sunday school teacher before marriage, taught all the children their letters and sums. She encouraged us all to read and write and we were one of the few families in our village where all, even I, were fairly competent scholars and we were lucky to have a small library of divers books where all were encouraged to read at our leisure. Not that there was much time for leisure as the boys were working with their father, all the hours that God gave and I was tasked with helping my mother around the house so that the men would come back to a cheerful, clean home with hot food on the table, as and when needed.

It was a standing joke, that I was more like a girl than a boy. In helping my mother, I often wore an apron similar to hers when helping around the house, as it was frowned upon to get ones clothes dirty unnecessarily.

Most boys, I was sure, would have balked a doing such demeaning women’s work, but I was different as I was always grateful that I was part of the family and I would do anything to help wherever I could and anyway, I secretly enjoyed the work which, to me, was much better than the very heavy labour undertaken by the men of the household.

It was the summer of the year Eighteen Hundred and Fifteen when my life changed for ever.

My step-father died.

It still hurts to this day when he died. There was an accident in the forge. Somehow a blade that he was working on snapped and in breaking, it sliced into his arm.

Benjamin and Arthur were out at the time fixing the wheel of a carriage that had broken in a lane some distance from the forge, so no one was there to help Father who evidently bled to death.

I will not dwell on that horrid time, where everything seemed to fall apart. After the funeral, Benjamin and Arthur were apprenticed to another blacksmith in the next village. They could not keep up our fathers business, because they lacked the skills and expertise.

Money grew very tight at that time and my mother found it hard to make ends meet, even though all the children tried to contribute to the upkeep of the house. Unfortunately, Lord Phillips of the manor owned the house and forge and as such we did not have any rights. In a very short space of time, my mother had been given notice to leave and then, despite entreaties from the parson and other well-wishers, we had no alternative but to leave the only home that I had ever known.

Mother and I stayed with a relative in Upper Lowerbury, a cousin, I think.Upper Lowerbury was a small town, about six miles from where we used to live, so it was no great distance for us to travel.

I think that the air must have been good to me, as I felt much better and stronger after moving to Lambton. However, my mothers cousin did not take to me, neither did her husband, who could not reconcile the fact that I appeared far too feminine for his liking and was not of their blood.

He was a strong man, a butcher, in fact and I tried to keep out of his way as much as possible. He frightened me and would get cross at the slightest thing. He hated the idea that I was happier in the kitchen than outside doing more manly things. My mothers cousin was a mousy woman and also in fear of her husband and I wondered where the love was in that marriage.

I had a room in the attic, which was cold and lacked any cheer. It is a wonder that I did not catch my death of cold as there was no fire present and I had to huddle in my nightshirt, under the covers at night during that severest of winters.

Of my mother Harriett, I have said little in this account. After the death of my father, she had withdrawn into herself, as I believed that she saw that her family had now been spit up after the loss of her beloved husband and our happy lives would never be the same again. She ate little and spent her days staring out of the window in her bedroom and scarcely spoke a word to anyone, although she always had a smile for me.

But there was something else…

Her health had suffered and it was of great concern that she seemed to wither away in front of me. Her other sons and her daughter visited very occasionally, but their work, to a large extent, kept them away.

One evening, my mothers’ cousin told me that my mother was calling for me.

‘Do not tire her, she is quite ill.’

I went to my mother and found her in bed; her face was almost as pale as the pillow her head was lying upon; her thin fingers tightly clutching the bedcovers.

‘George,’ she said, smiling weakly, ‘thank you for coming, my dear.’

‘What is it Mother?’ I asked.

‘You know that I have been unwell since your father has died?’

‘Yes Mother, but you look better…’

She smiled and shook her head slightly.

‘You and I both know that that is not true. Now not another word as I need to discuss your future.’

She reached for me and I held onto my mothers’ hand, which felt cold and clammy to the touch and wondered what she could be trying to tell me.

‘George; my time here is drawing to an end…no say nothing, I need to explain to you. I have lumps here.’

She pointed at one of her breasts.

‘These lumps are malignant and the doctor says that nothing can be done. I am in some pain, but the doctor has given some medicine to ease it a great deal, however the medicine makes me drowsy and I have no appetite. However, while I have still been able, I have been looking at your future. You must know that you cannot stay here and I would like to see you settled in a situation before I go to join your father.’

‘But Mother…’

‘Please let me speak George. I cannot go to my maker without trying to help you with your future. Your brother’s and sister all have work, for which they have a great future, but you have no prospects to speak of and we need to make sure that you are well taken care of.

‘We both know that you are totally unsuited to men’s labour. I would not see you put in a workhouse. You have helped me around the house for a long time and I know that you could do the job of a maid…I know, you are a boy, but face facts you may have a boys’ member, but you look so much like a girl, no one would question you. I feel that it is God’s will that you look and let us face it, act like a girl. I see no real boyish nature in you and never have.

‘You are gentle, have a kind nature, do not like rough boys games, have never acted in any way that indicated that you are a boy. The children of the village knew this and that was why you were treated so unfairly. Tell me truly, do you consider yourself a boy or girl. Be truthful now.’

I looked at her. The veil had been lifted from my eyes and I could see that I had been denying what I knew; that my mother was dying and that she was on her death bed. I could not lie to her and would not have done so anyway, as I had always been truthful to her.

I had always wondered why I had been cursed with the body that I had. Outwardly, I did look like a girl and it was only my male parts down below and that I wore boys’ clothes that gave lie to the fact that I was not as I appeared to be. I have to admit to observing the girls in my village and wondering what it would be like to be one of them.

I had also on many, many occasions asked God to change me into a real girl and not the in between thing that I now was.

So, I could not lie to my mother on her deathbed and I did not do so.

‘Mother, you know me more than anyone. I do feel as if there is something wrong with me. It goes against everything that I thought to be true. I have often thought that I was not a boy in the normal way and perhaps I was something in between a boy and a girl, but it goes against nature to think such thoughts even though I have prayed for me to be as I should be.’

‘It is difficult to go against all our teachings, but nature has a strange way of throwing up anomalies. It is God’s will and we should not question His purpose. You were put on this earth to be what you will be. Accept that you are the way you were intended to be. Perhaps it is a test of your true nature to go through such trials, but go through them you must.’

‘What are you saying Mother?’

She closed her eyes for a minute and I thought that perhaps she had gone from me, but she still breathed. Perhaps she was fatigued and had fallen to sleep.

I was going to leave her to rest but she then opened her eyes and smiled at me.

‘Forgive me George, I am so tired and it is sometimes hard to stay awake. Where was I? Oh yes.’

She took a deep breath and continued.

‘I have tried my hardest to find a position for you as a boy, but the work available would be too hard for you. I know your skills in helping me and so as a final throw of the dice, I wrote to your sister Julia. She is, of course, well aware of your somewhat unique situation and she too, like I, believes that you would not succeed in working as a boy, even if there was anyone who would be willing to take you on. As you know she works at the Manor. There is no one there who knows you and Julia has not spoken of us to anyone.

‘She has managed to get an interview for you with the housekeeper, Miss Gibbons. The housekeeper does not know that you are a boy. In the attic, in the room next to yours, there are some of Julia’s clothes from when she was about your size. Julia is coming this evening and will take you away. She comes to see me and has had permission from her employers to visit on compassionate grounds.

‘You and Julia shall stay overnight at an inn which has been booked for you. At the inn you will change into Julia’s old clothes and from there you will tomorrow continue on and be interviewed at the Manor. I have some little money still saved for you both, so that you can pay your expenses.

‘But Mother, you have little money…’

‘…and I cannot take it with me, so you shall have the benefit of it. Now George, I grow tired, but let me say finally to you that I love you very much and hope that you are able to be a credit to your father and me, God rest his soul. I realise that by presenting as a girl, you may feel that you are deceiving people and that would be considered sinful, but I truly believe that your heart and soul is that of a girl and that you should try to live your life as a girl and perhaps, God willing, a woman for as long as you can. Now Dear George, kiss me and leave me as I need to sleep.’

I did as I was asked and I left my Mother already asleep before I had left the room.

I felt numb at what had transpired. The awful knowledge that my darling Mother was dying overshadowed almost all of the other things she said about my future. Almost distractedly, I went upstairs to the attic and found Julia’s trunk. I dragged it to my room and then, leaving it aside unopened, I lay down on my bed and cried my heart out.

I awoke to a gentle shaking; rubbing my eyes, I sat up, and there was Julia.

‘Oh Julia,’ I cried as I arose and rushed into her arms.

We were both crying as we hung on to each other in our desperate unhappiness.

After some moments we sat on the bed, holding hands.

‘Oh Julia, I cannot leave Mother like this. It is as if I am deserting her.’

‘Dear George, I feel as I do, but you know Mama, she has a will of iron and she believes that you would be better off elsewhere, especially as Uncle William and Aunt Sophie have not taken to you. She has been told by the doctors that her illness could last several months yet and she does not want you to see her in even poorer health than she is now. We must do as she wishes and hope that you can gain a position at the manor.’

‘As a girl?’

‘Yes.’

‘D…do you think that I look like a girl?’

She considered me for a moment and then smiled.

‘Yes, I have always thought that there was something about you. You are far too pretty to have ever been a boy. I know that you have male parts, but that does not take away from the fact that you are as much of a girl in manners and deportment as any girl that I have ever seen. That is why I believe that there is no deception in what we are doing.

‘Perhaps when you grow older you will start to be less feminine and if, and I say if that happens, we will deal with it, but for the moment you are and will be treated as a girl. However Uncle William and Aunt Sophie know nothing of our plans and both Mama and I feel that it is best to keep them in the dark. The trunk, as far as they are concerned is for me and I will be taking you to a place where you might gain employment. That is all they need to know. To be honest, I regret to say that they do not care where you go and that works well for us.’

‘I worry about Mother being left here.’

‘Aunt Sophie, for all her faults, loves Mama and will take good care of her. She will keep in contact with me as to Mama’s condition and I will let you know of any change. Now George, get your clothes and belongings together. The carriage comes in an hour and I need to see Mama before we go.’

I said my goodbye to my mother and promised to write as soon as ever I could. It was hard not to cry in front of her, but I did so as I did not want our parting to be any more upsetting than it already was. To be honest, I do not think that she was fully conscious when I left her and I thought that perhaps, on reflection, that was a good thing.

I said goodbye to my uncle and aunt and my aunt had the goodness to kiss my cheek, but I could tell that there was no affection for me. After all, I was not a blood relative and that, to them, meant that I was not very important to them.

As the carriage took us away, I looked back at the house where my mother lay and I wondered if and when I would ever see her again.

We changed coaches twice on that journey. At some stage, Julia took out a long red cape and bonnet and bade me to put it on. I struggled to do so whilst the carriage swayed on the uneven road. I needed some help with tying the bow of the bonnet, but eventually, I sat opposite her and she was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

‘Well Georgiana, you look every bit the pretty girl that you are.’

‘Georgiana?’

‘Yes, it suits you, don’t you think?’

‘I…I think so. Will we get away with the deception?’

‘What deception?’

‘I am a boy, aren’t I?’

‘Are you?’

‘I don’t know what I am. Mother told me things that made me think. I have never been normal, have I Sister Dear?’

‘You have never been normal as a boy, as a girl though, that is a different story. Are you happy to do this?’

‘Dress and act as a girl?’

‘Yes.’

I looked down at the red cape, which, due to its size, covered me to my ankles. My longish hair was encased in a red bonnet and the ribbons tickled my neck as I pondered the question.

This was the first time that I had ever worn girls clothing, apart from the aprons that Mother used to dress me in whilst helping her around the house. Somehow, I felt more at peace with myself, although the tragedy of my father and mother were never far from my thoughts.

Looking up at my pretty sister, I smiled.

‘Yes Julia, I am happy to do this.

We had some food sent up to us, as we would be uncomfortable eating downstairs with others.

Once the young girl had left us, I took off the cloak and bonnet, as it was rather hot, what with the roaring log fire in the grate, and sat down to eat the slices of ham, beef and tongue with rough bread washed down with weak cider.

I think that we were both tired from our journey and upset at the health of our dear mother. We could not go to bed yet, however as Julia had to explain to me what was going to happen the next day.

‘Miss Gibbons is the housekeeper and second only to the butler, Mr Jacobson. Miss Gibbons normally hires the female staff and Mr Jacobson the male staff. His Lordship and her Ladyship leave these matters to them unless there is some pressing reason not to do so. I am an upstairs maid but the position that you will be trying to obtain is one of downstairs scullery maid and will report to the cook, Mrs Downing.

‘The scullery maid is lowly position and she does most of the menial tasks in the kitchen such as cleaning, washing, preparation of vegetables and such like. I know that you have been doing all these things for Mama, so that you have some experience of those jobs. When you are interviewed, tell the truth about your experiences, as Miss Gibbons will soon find you out if you lie to her or the cook. She will not ask you if you are a boy or girl as it is obvious that you are a girl and you will be dressed as one. Boys do not get jobs as scullery maids.’

‘Could I not work as a page or footman or something?’

‘Those jobs only come up rarely and are much sought after. Also Georgiana, due to your size and lack of muscle, you will find that you would not be looked on in a favourable light if you applied for such a position. You must agree that you do not readily look the part of a boy. Even sitting there in boys clothing, I find it hard to believe that you were ever a boy. Indeed, since I last saw you, your features have softened even more and your shape is more feminine. At some stage, we will have to consult a doctor and get an opinion, but doctors cost money, which we do not have and so we have to deal with things as best we can. Do you agree?’

I nodded and then yawned.

‘You are tired, and so am I. We have a long day tomorrow and we need to get up early so that we can prepare you for the interview. From now on we must treat you as Georgiana. George is no more. In the chest is a nightgown, you must put it on and then I will brush your hair out.’

The gown was much like the one I normally wore but with more lace and frills and of a finer, softer material. There was a cheerful fire in the room and so I did not get cold as I changed out of my boys clothes. It was nice to have my hair brushed by Julia and I nearly fell asleep as she worked on my tangles. I had always like to wear my hair long and as other boys sometimes did so as well, I thought that I was not too much out of place.

After saying my prayers, I joined my sister in bed and bade her good night. I knew that the next day would be a trying one for me and I hoped that my Mother would be proud of me and that her faith in me would be justified.

How I would fare as a girl I did not know, but I knew that I would have to try my hardest to be what I appeared, a young girl of nearly fourteen, hoping to obtain the position of scullery maid at The Manor.

---

 
To Be Continued?

Please leave comments and kudos, if you have time...thanks!

* The portrait is reputedly of Jane Austen at the age of 13, painted in 1789. The painter is unknown. I would like to think that Geogiana looks like this