Temperance May: A Cautionary Tale

Temperance May was the third daughter of a third daughter. Her elder sisters, Gentility and Sincerity, had both married good, hardworking well positioned men. Temperance, like her mother,  had a pretty face, but was bossy, ill mannered and meddlesome. Like her mother before her, it had taken  a long time to find a suitor who was willing to marry such a vexatious woman.

Eventually, and much to her family’s relief, a match was found for Temperance. The third son of a third son; Jonathon Mercer worked in his father’s tailor’s shop. He wasn’t particularly bright but he stood to take over his father’s modest business (his brothers had both taken to the navy) and he loved Temperance with all his heart on sight.

Temperance was furious and screamed at her parents, much as her mother had screamed at her own,

“You’re useless! I deserve so much better than this!”

Jonathon’s father had soon found out his daughter-in-law’s  disagreeable nature and moved her to one the back rooms of his shop to sort pins and fold fabric with her husband. This kept her prying eyes busy and sheltered his customers from her poor manners and rude questions.

Temperance, as usual, was bitter and dissatisfied with her lot. She was angry at her parents for marrying her off to a poor idiot; she was angry with her in-laws for shutting her out of their business and she was angry with her husband for not demanding better for her,

“You’re useless!” She would scream at him, “I deserve so much better than you!”

One day as she sat seething in a storeroom sorting pins with her husband she looked, not for the first time, at the mannequin in the corner.  Temperance’s shrewd little mind ticked over. Her father-in-law’s business was popular and always busy; all the mannequins in the shop were used everyday. Except this one; it stood in the storeroom unused.

Why doesn’t your father use that mannequin?” she asked.

Poor brow-beaten Jonathon explained that the mannequin as only used once a year,

“For a special order.”

Temperance demanded to know what the special order was. Her husband explained that since he was a child, perhaps even before, his father had prepared a dress to fit the mannequin. Every year, on a particular night at the end of October, the mannequin was left fully dressed in the shop front window with the curtains drawn.

“And then what?” she asked.

“I don’t know” Jonathon replied. He went on to tell how the dress was never there the next morning but there was always a bag bulging with gold coins that his parents would carefully count into the safe.

Temperance’s eyes gleamed at the thought of gold.

“When will this dress be ready?” she snapped.

“Father will begin work on it in a week or two.”

Sure enough within a month Jonathon’s father had moved the mannequin from the storeroom into his private workroom. Bolts of fine fabric and delicate thread arrived which too disappeared into the master tailor’s room.

Temperance was dying of curiosity.

“Give me the key,” she demanded of her husband several time each week for weeks.

“No my sweet, I do not have the key. It is my father’s room”

“You’re useless!” she would scream, “I deserve so much better than you!”

Jonathon smoothed his wife’s ruffled feathers by showing her the family’s order books that stretched back to his Great-Grandfather’s business. Sure enough every year, in the last week of October, there was an order simply entered  ”FS”. In the very oldest book, the pages dusty and yellow aged there was an entry for a christening dress in the last week of October. The order was made out to The Family Sorensen.

“Who are the Sorensens?” she snapped at her husband. Jonathon wrung his hands together,

“I don’t know my love,” Before she could harangue him further he added, “I’ll ask Grandmother.”

Lydia Mercer was sharp-witted and quick. She was still able to help in the business and was in charge of the girls who produced the fine lace which Mercer’s were renowned for.

“Who wants to know?” she asked archly after her grandson had stuttered his question, “Temperance? Your wife? That girl is nothing but trouble. I told your father. You need to keep her in line before she brings you misfortune.”

Jonathon smiled weakly and shrugged in a defeated manner. His grandmother sighed and rolled her eyes.

“The Sorensons were a rich family who lived in the big house when I was a girl. Papa made clothes for them regularly. I remember they had a baby girl. Then I’m not sure, I think there was an accident. Papa never spoke of them again.”

“But Grandmother, why…”

The old woman cut him off sternly,

“That is all you and your meddling little wife need know. You watch her son. Mark my words, she’s trouble,” Lydia looked at her grandson and smiled sadly, “You deserve better than her.”