They say there is someone for everybody in this world. I have my doubts about that one, or else my somebody is very inconveniently living in a yurt in the higher reaches of the Himalayas and our paths will never cross. So it is with much curiosity that I am reading F.M. Mayor's The Third Miss Symons, my first of what I hope will be many Viragos this year. What happens when someone comes into the world not much loved or even particularly wanted by her family?
Henrietta is the third daughter of four. Maybe it is thanks to her temper (so her siblings and friends say), and she is ever so cross at times. Her mother is not fond of children and least of all of Henrietta. Her father thinks the children are in general a burden, especially when it ends up that there are seven of them. The Third Miss Symons was published in 1913, so really just on the very edge of the end of the Victorian era and maybe it's not so surprising really, since the cult of childhood has yet to take hold in the popular imagination.
What happens when you are overlooked, left on the shelf? You have the bad luck to have an elder sister who is jealous that you have a suitor at all, no matter how bland, who ends up sabotaging your only chance at married life (happy or not as long as you are not alone . . .) and he ends up marrying someone else. Well, that is as far as I have gotten in this short novel that follows one woman's life from birth to death. Etta, a misfit who lacks the talent or looks to be loved. According to the blurb this will ultimately be a story of empowerment, which gives me hope. But there are few signs so far of that, so I shall keep my optimism neatly tucked away for the moment.
When Henrietta's beau dumps her for her older sister (who then dumps him), Henrietta hopes to commiserate with her older brother, who is somewhat sympathetic . . . I found this passage very poignant? 'Sad' is more like it.
"It may seem strange that Henrietta should have spread broadcast a grief which most people would keep hidden in their own hearts. But it is one of the saddest things about lonely people, that, having no proper confidant, they tell to all and sundry what ought never to be told to more than one. When, however, the overmastering desire for sympathy had passed, words cannot express her regret that she had spoken. For years and years afterwards it would suddenly come upon her, 'I told him and he despised me,' and she would beat her foot on the floor with all her might, in a useless transport of remorse."
I guess that not sharing is keeping a stiff upper lip maybe? It's bad enough to feel unloved and alone but to not have a confidant is even more harsh to deal with. I wonder how her life will be resolved and how and if she will still find some fulfillment and contentment. I'll let you know how things work out for Henrietta. Of if you care to read along you can download a copy of the book at Girlebooks!