My current project is a piece on Mrs Gaskell.
When reading up on her life it appeared to be marked and punctuated by loss - yet descriptions of her show her as lively, gregarious and adventurous.
It seemed that she turned to writing when she was at her lowest points. I thought it would be interesting to set the story before she was established as a writer - in a time when she was "just" a mother and wife, looking after her three surviving daughters - and before her heartbreak of losing her yet to be born son.
In the 1700's Knutsford was one of the most populous and important towns in Cheshire. By the 1840's, it still had no railway, no canal system, and only small scale industry. Whilst the world around it was growing exponentially - it was staying largely the same. A place that Mrs Gaskell could return to and still recognize the streets and society and tempo of life - a world that she would want to share with her daughters who were growing up in industrialized Manchester. Later she would share these as the Cranford series in Charles Dickens magasine.
So, my story is a gentle drift through a sunny day - as Mrs Gaskell takes her family on a picnic at Tabley Old Hall...
First Page...
Mrs Elizabeth Gaskell woke up, but kept her eyes closed, listening. It was early and the air was cool on her face. The sun was not yet up, but soon it would be a glorious summer day.
The sounds of Knutsford drifted through her window. So quiet! Not like Manchester – with the rattle of carriages, clatter of clogs and the clang, clang, clang of the bell calling the hungry workers to the mills.
There was the gentle rustle of the trees in the Church yard next door and she could just make out the slow clip-clop of the cart horses making the first deliveries to the shops on the bottom street. Knutsford’s two streets ran along the steep hill behind the house – Princess street at the top and King street at the bottom, while the ground continued down to the marsh with its swaying reeds and willow trees.
Next to her Mr Gaskell, William, snored blissfully. He always slept so well when they visited the little town where Mrs Gaskell had lived as a young girl. From the next room she could hear the excited, hushed voices of her daughters. Marianne patiently helping her energetic younger sister Meta. Next to her, in the cradle, baby Flo was awake too, her podgy feet kicking the air.
They were staying with Dr Holland, Mrs Gaskell’s uncle. His large house had plenty of space and he loved having her stay. Much of her childhood had been spent happily playing with his two daughters – Lucy and Mary.
Today was the day of the summer picnic! Mrs Gaskell was as excited as the girls. She had made all the preparations – sending out the invitations to her friends, ordering the hampers of tasty food and asking Mr Wright and Pearl the little grey pony to be on hand to help with carrying the many items needed.