chapter-1

Chapter 1 He first thing to tell you is that Cranford

was run by women. The women rented all the expensive houses. If a married couple came to

live in the town, somehow the gentleman disappeared. He was either frightened by being the only

man in the Cranford evening parties, or he was a soldier or a sailor who had to go away,

or a businessman who worked in the neighbouring town of Drumble, twenty miles away by train.

In short, the gentleman were never at Cranford. What could the gentleman do if they were there?

There was already a town doctor and the ladies of Cranford were able to do everything else themselves.

They looked after the gardens, they chased away little boys, they had opinions about important

topics, they had knowledge about everybody in town and they took care of each other when

they were in trouble. One of them once said to me, A man is so in the way in the house.

The Cranford ladies very rarely had disagreements, just enough so they did not get bored with

their lives, they preferred the old ways of living. They did not dress according to fashion

and wore simple and plain clothes. They also had strict rules for visiting. The ladies would

explain the rules to the young people who came to stay. Our friends have asked how you

are after your journey, my dear. They will give you a day to rest tomorrow, but the next

day they will come visit you, so be ready after twelve. From twelve to three are our calling

hours. After the friends visited, they would say,

It is the third day, my dear. You should return a call in the next three days and you should

never stay longer than a quarter of an hour. You must keep thinking about the time, my dear,

and you must leave on time. Because of this rule, during the visits, they never talked

about any interesting topics, everybody was busy thinking about the passing time. We spoke

in short sentences, made small talk, and left at the right time. I think some of the ladies

of Cranford were poor and had money problems, but they always hid them under a smiling face.

None of us spoke of money because people of high society did not talk about such things.

The Cranfordians were friendly and helped each other. One time Mrs. Forrester gave a party

in her tiny house, and her maid had to get the tea tray from under the sofa that the ladies

sat on. Everyone kept talking, and no one said a word about Mrs. Forrester living in a tiny

house and having only one servant. And Mrs. Forrester said she did not know what cakes

were on the tray, but in fact she knew, and we knew, and she knew that we knew, and we knew

that she knew that we knew that she had made the cakes herself that morning. The people

of Cranford thought it was vulgar, a popular word in Cranford, to have expensive food at

the evening parties. Mrs. Jamison would serve only bread and butter and biscuits, although

she was Lord Glenmaier's sister -in -law. Cranfordians thought that spending money was vulgar.

We felt peaceful and happy because we did not talk about not having money. I will never

forget our horror when Captain Brown came to live in Cranford and said he was poor, not

in a whisper to a close friend but in the street and in a loud voice. The ladies of

Cranford were already unhappy about the arrival of a gentleman. He was going to work

for a new railway in a neighbouring town. On top of all that, he was now talking openly

about being poor. They decided not to speak to him and not to visit him and his daughters.

People never spoke about poverty out loud. It was a word not to be heard by polite ears.

If we walked to or from a party, it was because the night was beautiful or the air was refreshing.

If we wore cotton instead of silk, it was because we preferred a washable material. By

doing that we could forget that we were not rich people. But somehow Captain Brown became

a respected man in Cranford. A year after he settled in the town, I heard my friends talk

about him in a positive way. Now he could visit them even before twelve o 'clock. Captain

Brown had been friendly and honest and was not ashamed of being poor. The Cranford ladies

were called to him for a while, but at last his friendliness won their hearts.

Captain Brown and his two daughters lived in a small house just outside the town. He was

over sixty at the time, but he was fit and strong and looked younger. His elder daughter

Miss Brown looked almost as old as him. She was probably forty and looked sick and pale.

Her sister Miss Jessie Brown was ten years younger and twenty times prettier. She had a

round face full of dimples. One time Miss Jenkins, who was mad at Captain Brown, I will

explain the reason later, said that Miss Jessie should stop having dimples and looking

like a child. Miss Jessie did have a childlike appearance with big blue eyes and red lips,

but I liked her face and so did everybody, and I do not think she could control her dimples.

I remember the first time I saw the Brown family in Cranford Church. The captain sang loudly

and happily. When they came out of church he smiled at everyone as he helped Miss Brown

to open her umbrella and waited patiently while she held up her dress to walk through

the wet roads. I wondered what the Cranford ladies did with Captain Brown at their card

parties. In the past we had been happy that there were no gentlemen who needed attention,

we had been relaxed and comfortable by ourselves and almost thought that it was vulgar to be

a man. During one of my visits to Cranford I was staying with my friend Miss Jenkins. When

she gave a party for me and invited the Browns I wondered how the evening would go. It was

the third week in November so it got dark about four o 'clock. The card tables had been

arranged, candles and clean packs of cards were put on each table. The fire was lit.

The maid had received her last directions and we stood there, dressed in our best, ready

to light the candles as soon as the first guest arrived. As the guests came they sat

down at the tables in groups of four. The tea trays had just been brought in when the

ladies. Miss Brown looked ill and depressed. Miss Jessie smiled. She was nearly as popular

as her father. The captain took care of everyone. He helped the maid by filling the empty cups

and serving bread and butter to the ladies. But while he paid attention to strangers he

also kept an eye on his elder daughter, who looked like she was in pain. I was sure that

she was ill. Miss Jessie could not play cards but she chatted with the ladies. Later she

sang a song and Miss Jenkins tried to beat time to the song. It was nice of Miss Jenkins

to do this because a short while ago she had been very annoyed by Miss Jessie. My mother's

brother is a shopkeeper in Edinburgh. Miss Jessie had said to Miss Poll, a shopkeeper's

niece. The honourable Mrs. Jamison was sitting at a table nearest Miss Jessie. What would she

think if she heard that? Miss Jenkins tried to stop Mrs. Jamison from hearing those words

by coughing loudly. But Miss Jessie repeated them and told Miss Poll she could get her the

knitting wool she needed. That is when Miss Jenkins asked for some music. So that is why

I say it was very nice of her to beat time to the song. At a quarter to nine the trays

appeared with biscuits and coffee. There was some conversation about cards and tricks.

Then Captain Brown started talking about books. Have you read any of the pickwick papers?

He asked. Yes, I have read them, said Miss Jenkins. She was the daughter of a rector of

Cranford. And because her father had a good library of religious books she thought she

knew a lot about books. And what do you think of them? asked Captain Brown. Aren't they very

good? I don't think they are as good as Dr. Johnson's work. But perhaps the writer is

young. If he continues to write and if he takes the great doctor for his model he may become

a better writer. But it is quite a different sort of thing, my dear Madam, said Captain

Brown. Just let me read you part of this month's episode. And he read a very funny pickwick

story. The one about the party which Sam Weller gave at Bath, some of the ladies laughed

out loud. I did not because Miss Jenkins sat there looking serious, and I was staying in

her house. When Captain Brown finished reading she asked me to bring Dr. Johnson's rasalas

from the book room. She read one of the long conversations between rasalas and his teacher.

When she ended she said, I hope you now understand why I think Dr. Johnson is a better writer.

The captain did not reply and drummed on the table. Dr. Johnson's style is a model for

beginners, said Miss Jenkins. I copied his style when I first started writing letters.

Your favourite writer should do the same. I would be very sorry if he copied a self -important

writing style, said Captain Brown. Miss Jenkins took this comment personally. She thought she

was a very good letter writer. She got up and slowly said, I prefer Dr. Johnson. Later Captain

Brown was sorry about what he had said. He went to stand near Miss Jenkins armchair, trying

to talk to her about a more pleasing subject, but she was still mad. The next day she made

that comment about Miss Jessie's dimples. If you lived in Cranford for a month, you would

learn everyone's daily habits. So I learned about the Browns in a very short time. It

The other thing I learned was the captain's endless kindness, which he showed in many

different ways. One Sunday, on the way from church, he had helped a poor old woman carry

the dinner she had picked up from the bakehouse. It was a wet day and she was having trouble

carrying it, so he took it from her hands and carried the baked meat and potatoes home

for her. People thought this was a very strange thing to do and he would be sorry about his

behaviour. But he was not. Miss Jenkins was still angry at Captain Brown for his comments

about her favourite writer, so she did not invite the Browns to her house very often.

But Miss Pole and Miss Jessie Brown had become good friends. So when I visited Miss Pole,

I saw the Browns more. I learned that Miss Brown was seriously ill. Sometimes she was in

a bad mood because of the pain, but Miss Jessie was very patient with her. Miss Brown used

to feel bad because her father and sister had to save money to get her the things she needed.

She wanted to do the same for them, but she could not. They showed her endless kindness.

That was when I understood the reason for Miss Jessie's childish ways. The Captain tried

to make peace with Miss Jenkins soon after the argument I told you about. He gave her a wooden

fire shovel that he had made. She thanked him coldly. After he left, she asked me to put

the shovel away. How could a gentleman prefer Mr. Dickens to Dr. Johnson? After this,

I left Cranford and went home to my father in Drumble. But I kept in touch with some of

the Cranford ladies who sent me news of the little town. Miss Pole wrote asking for some

knitting wool. Miss Jenkins's younger sister, Miss Matilda Jenkins, we called her Miss Matty,

wrote nice kind letters, rarely giving her own opinions but generally giving her sister's

opinions. Then there were the letters of Miss Deborah Jenkins herself. Her letters were formal

and grand like her. Here is a paragraph by her about Captain Brown. The honourable Mrs.

Jameson has just told me, as we were having a conversation, that Lord Malivara had visited

her. You cannot guess what brought his lordship to our little town. It was to see Captain Brown.

She told me that they had fought together in a war and Captain Brown had saved his life.

I asked the honourable Mrs. Jameson how he had saved his lordship's life, but she did not

know. I must tell you I was anxious to know how Captain Brown, not being wealthy, could

receive such an important guest. I learned that his lordship stayed at the hotel and had had

dinner twice at the Brown's house. My next visit to Cranford was in the summer. There had

been no births, deaths or marriages since I was there. Everybody lived in the same house

and wore the same old -fashioned clothes. The greatest news was that Miss Jenkins had bought

a new carpet. Miss Matty and I spent the afternoons covering the carpet with a newspaper to protect

it from the sunlight coming in from the window. And on the day Miss Jenkins gave a party, we

spent hours cutting bits of newspaper and covering the carpet to form little paths to protect

it from the guest's shoes. Captain Brown and Miss Jenkins were not very friendly. Miss Jenkins

always talked at the captain. He never replied, but he drummed with his fingers. Miss Jenkins

believed he was being rude to Dr. Johnson. It was clear that he preferred the writings

of Mr. Dickens. He used to walk through the streets reading Mr. Dickens' books, and one

time he ran against Miss Jenkins and almost knocked her down. The poor, brave captain. He

looked more tread and his clothes looked old and you said, but he seemed as bright

and cheerful as ever. But when I asked him about his daughter's health, he changed.

"'She is in a lot of pain,' he said. "'But we do what we can to make her comfortable.'

Miss Matty later told me that the captain and Miss Jessie had done everything possible.

They had brought a very famous doctor and every medical care was given whatever the cost.

"'I really think Miss Jessie is an angel,' said Miss Matty. She deals with Miss Brown's

bad mood and always puts on a bright face even when she has stayed up all night. My dear, if

you saw how much she does for her father and sister, you could never laugh at her childish

hair ribbons again. Next time I met Miss Jessie, I felt ashamed and I respected her even more.

She looked very tired and was tearful when she spoke about her sister.

"'The people of Cranford are so kind,' she said, as she tried to control the tears.

They keep sending nice food and the best vegetables. I feel thankful when I think about

their thoughtfulness.' Captain Brown visited one day to thank Miss Jenkins for many little

kindnesses which I did not know about. I realised that he had suddenly become an old

old man, his voice shaking and the lines on his face deeper. He sounded hopeless as he

spoke about his elder daughter.

"'I'm so happy we have Jessie,' he said twice. Then he got up, shook everyone's hands and left

the room. That afternoon we noticed a group of people in the street listening to a story

looking shocked. Miss Jenkins wondered what was happening, so she sent Jenny the maid to

find out. Jenny came back in tears.

"'Oh, ma 'am. Oh, Miss Jenkins, ma 'am. Captain Brown has been killed by the cruel railway.'

"'How? Where? Where? Good God,' said Miss Matty and rushed out into the street.

She came back with the man who was telling the story. Oh, say it is not true,' she

said, as she brought the man into the drawing -room. He stood there with his wet boots on the

new carpet and no one noticed.

"'It is true, ma 'am,' said the man. I saw it myself. The captain was reading a book,

waiting for the train. As the train was coming, a little child ran to her mother and got on

the railway line. The captain looked up and saw the child. He ran to the line and caught

her. But then he slipped and fell and the train hit him. Oh, ma 'am, it was terrible. The child

is all right, though. The poor captain would be glad to know that, ma 'am, wouldn't he?

"'I turned to Miss Jenkins. Her face was white. Matilda, bring me my bonnet,' she said to her

sister.

"'I must go to those girls. God forgive me if ever I spoke rudely to the captain.'

"'After she left, Miss Matty and I sat by the fire, talking in a low voice. We cried

quietly for a long time. When Miss Jenkins came home she did not feel like talking, so

we did not ask her many questions. She told us that Miss Jessie had fainted when she heard

the news. When she had come around she had asked Miss Poll and Miss Jenkins to go and sit

with her sister. Mr. Hoggins, the doctor, had come to check on Miss Brown. He had told them

that she would not live for long. Miss Jessie had decided not to tell her sister about the

terrible news of their father. I cannot upset her,' she had said, so I will tell her

that father was called away on railway business.

The next day we read the story in the newspaper. The brave gentleman was reading this month's

pickwick papers, it said. Miss Jenkins shook her head and said, poor dear silly man, the

day of the funeral Miss Jenkins went with Miss Jessie and Miss Poll, Miss Matty and I, looked

after Miss Brown. When she returned home Miss Jessie looked calmer and stronger. She took

off her black dress and came to the room trying to smile. She thanked us all. Miss Poll stayed

with her that night and we returned in the morning. But when we entered the room we realized

what was happening. Miss Brown was dying. She was speaking in a low voice. Miss Jessie was

kneeling with her face near her sister's. Oh Jessie, Jessie said the dying woman. How

selfish I have been. God forgive me. I have loved you very much but I have thought only

of myself. Hush love, hush,' said Miss Jessie sobbing. And my father, my dear father, God

give me strength to be patient. Jessie, tell my father how I wish to see him last and to ask

his forgiveness. He will never know how I loved him. He does know dearest,' said Miss Jessie,

she hesitated to continue. He has gone before you to his resting place. He knows how you

loved him. A strange look appeared on Miss Brown's face. She did not speak for some time,

then she said, but you will be alone Jessie. Tears rolled down Miss Jessie's face. A few

moments later Miss Brown lay calm and still. After the second funeral Miss Jenkins asked Miss

Jessie to stay with her. Miss Jessie had to give up the house anyway because she could not

reward the rent. She had an income of twenty pounds a year, but she could not live on that.

We talked about ways for her to make money. I can sew,' she said, and I like nursing. I

could also manage a house as a housekeeper, or I could become a saleswoman at a shop.

You will do no such thing,' said Miss Jenkins angrily. Then she brought some soup and waited

until Miss Jessie ate it. When she left Miss Jessie continued telling me about her plans.

Then she told me stories about her past. They were so interesting that I did not realise

how time had passed. Suddenly Miss Jenkins came in looking unusually excited.

Such a surprise. My dear Miss Jessie, such a surprise. I have a visitor downstairs,

someone you once knew. Miss Jessie's face went very white, then red. She looked anxiously

at Miss Jenkins. A gentleman, my dear, who wants to know if you will see him. Is it,

it is not,' said Miss Jessie.

This is his card,' said Miss Jenkins, giving it to Miss Jessie. She looked at me, making

a strange face.

May he come up?' she asked.

Oh yes, certainly,' said Miss Jessie. She picked up Miss Matty's knitting and tried to

look very busy. I could see how she was shaking.

Miss Jenkins rang the bell. When the maid answered, she told her to show major

Gordon upstairs. A tall, fine, honest looking man of forty walked in. He shook hands with

Miss Jessie, who kept looking down at the floor. Miss Jenkins asked me to go with her

and help with the marmalade jars in the storage room. Although Miss Jessie looked at me with

eyes begging me to stay, I could not refuse to do what Miss Jenkins asked me to do.

But we did not go to the storage room. We went to the dining room, and Miss Jenkins told me

what Major Gordon had told her. He had been in the army with Captain Brown, and he had

fallen in love with Miss Jessie, who was eighteen then. He had not told her about his feelings

for many years. Then he had inherited an estate in Scotland from his uncle, and he had asked

her to marry him. But she had refused because of her sister's illness. She was the only

one who could take care of her and her father. Major Gordon had left angrily and gone abroad,

believing that she was a cold -hearted person. He had been travelling in the east and was

on his way back home, when he read about Captain Brown's death in the paper.

Just then Miss Matty, who had returned from her walk, walked in, looking shocked.

Oh Deborah, she cried. There's a gentleman sitting in the drawing -room with his arm around Miss

Jessie.

There is nothing wrong with that, replied Miss Jenkins. Go away, Matilda, and mind your own

business. It was a double shock for Miss Matty to hear this from her sister, who had always

been the model of proper behaviour. She quietly left the room.

The last time I ever saw Miss Jenkins was many years after this. Miss Jessie was now Mrs. Gordon,

and she had kept in touch with her friends in Cranford. Miss Jenkins, Miss Matty, and Miss

Pole had been to visit her in Scotland and would tell me about her lovely house, her

husband, her dresses and her pretty dimples. The time I last saw her, Miss Jenkins was old

and weak. She did not have her strong mind anymore. Mrs. Gordon's daughter, Little Flora

Gordon, had come for a visit. When I came in, Miss Jenkins was lying on the sofa, and the

little girl was reading aloud to her.

"'Ah, my dear,' said Miss Jenkins, "'I have changed a lot. I can't see very well. If Flora

didn't read to me, I don't know what I would do all day. Did you ever read Dr. Johnson's

Rassalus? It's a wonderful book, and it's very good for Flora, much better than that strange

old book that killed poor Captain Brown, that book by Mr. Dickens.'