The Lady & the Lamplighter, part 1

Richmond, Surrey (Now part of London)

circa 1875

“Eugenie!” her mother called up the stairs. “Could you please come down? Lord Hargrave will be here soon, and you need to eat your breakfast.”

Eugenie grumbled and rubbed her eyes, feeling the soft curls of her hair brushing her palm as she rolled over in bed. If she ignored her mother too long, she would inevitably come up, throw open the curtains, and force her out of bed with cold water on her feet.

She knew she had one more “Eugenie!” before that happened.

A pit settled in her stomach at the thought of seeing Lord Gideon Hargrave. He was odious and always looked at her as if he wanted nothing more than to devour her. His wolfish grin, no, his entire wolfish face, was the subject of hushed giggles in ballrooms, whispers from girls who envied her luck at securing him.

But to Eugenie, it was no luck at all. She had heard of his reputation, and it frightened her.

She knew she was bound for a life of misery, married to that man. And yet there was nothing she could do to escape it.

She turned toward the small watch resting on her side table, just beside her glass of water. The time read six-thirty.

She groaned. This was an ungodly hour to be awake. The sun was beginning to peek behind the curtains, and Eugenie wanted nothing more than to roll over and return to the dream she'd been having.

In it, she was the happy wife of Edgar Merrick, the lamplighter in their neighborhood.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and a kind, thoughtful face. Despite the labor of his work, there was always a gentleness to him. In passing, he had once tipped his hat to her, and though the moment had lasted but a second, his gaze had lingered. It had not gone unnoticed.

She had seen that gaze upon her in ballrooms since her debut. And she wanted, no, longed for, him to look upon her like that for the rest of her life.

With a sudden urgency, she swung her legs out of bed and rushed to her window. Soon, he would be walking up the street to extinguish the lamps, and each morning and each evening, his presence was something she looked forward to.

Her mother scolded her for being in the garden while the lamps were being lit, but Eugenie found her excuses. Usually, something about needing fresh flowers. And during those moments, she caught snatches of conversation with Edgar, fleeting but dear.

Peeking behind the shade now, she saw him moving slowly up the street on his bicycle with his tools in a small wagon behind him.

Her heart sped up as she watched him work. Methodically, he put out each flame, his walk jaunty, lips moving with a familiar whistle.

That was one thing she’d learned about Edgar; he was a happy man. He didn’t seem to be scheming, manipulating, or constantly watching as her soon-to-be husband did.

Again, dread filled her stomach at the thought of seeing her fiancé. Of marrying him. She had no way out. And even if she did, how could she know whether Edgar thought of her the way she thought of him?

As if sensing eyes upon him, Edgar paused and turned. He looked straight up at her window. Eugenie darted back behind the curtain, heart thudding. After a few seconds, she peeked again. He was still there. And he smiled and lifted his cap in greeting.

Blushing, heart fluttering, she returned a shy wave, knowing full well her mother would be scandalized if she knew. A lady did not wave. And certainly not to someone from the working class.

But that was just it, Eugenie didn’t want to be a lady, not in the way society demanded. Oh, she liked the dresses and the parties, yes. But she wondered what it would be like to live as the other half lived. To know real purpose, real connection.

She wondered if Edgar had ever thought about living in a grand house like hers.

“Eugenie!” her mother called again, more desperate now. “Come down at once before I come up there with the water bucket!”

“Yes!” Eugenie called back.

She let the drape fall, the image of Edgar smiling up at her burned into her thoughts. It kept her elated while her mother fussed and fretted downstairs over her breakfast and attire, eager to impress Lord Hargrave.

“My lady, my lady!” Her mother’s maid came rushing in, breathless.

“What is it, Agatha?” her mother snapped. “Can’t you see we are preparing for a very important guest?”

Agatha hesitated, then blurted, “It’s Lord Hargrave...he’s run off! With Lady Radcliffe! They've eloped to Scotland!”

Eugenie’s stomach dropped.

Her mother’s face contorted in disbelief. “What?”

“I heard it straight from Lady Seraphina’s house,” Agatha continued breathlessly. “The milk boy, you know, the one who delivers here and there? The house is in a complete uproar.”

“Is it true?” Eugenie asked, barely able to keep the triumph from her voice.

If it was true, then the Lord himself had freed her.

Tess, her maid, who had been pinning her hair, paused mid-motion, staring at Agatha.

“I believe so, miss,” Agatha replied, her fingers twisting nervously.

“Find out at once,” her mother ordered. “If he’s truly gone off with Lady Radcliffe, we must confirm it.”

The girl bolted from the room.

Her mother began pacing, muttering to herself, her skirts rustling with every movement.

“It can’t be true,” she whispered. “We had an arrangement. He wouldn’t leave you, Eugenie. He wouldn’t leave us.”

She turned to her daughter, confusion and desperation plain on her face. Eugenie dared not hope. And yet… she did.

If Lord Hargrave had eloped, they would be disgraced, and she would be free.

Several moments passed. Then Agatha returned, cheeks flushed from exertion.

“Well?” her mother snapped.

“It’s true, ma’am. They’re gone. No one knows where, only that they left for Scotland.”

Her mother collapsed into the nearest chair. “Oh dear. Fetch me the brandy.”

“Mama… it’s not even seven!”

“Hush, Eugenie. This is horrible. How could he? And with her of all people!”

Eugenie had heard of Lady Radcliffe, but their paths rarely crossed. She knew she was a beautiful young woman who had an ambitious streak that was rumored to be quite ruthless.

“Maybe it was love,” Eugenie said quietly, struggling not to giggle.

Her mother glared. “This does not bode well. Who will marry you now that he’s deemed you undesirable?”

Eugenie looked down at her hands and said nothing because she could feel the smile pulling at her lips. She was free.

“Go to your room while I think. I need to speak with your father.”

Eugenie obeyed, Tess following close behind.

As they ascended the stairs, she whispered, “Maybe the lamplighter will make you an offer.”

Eugenie stopped, turning wide-eyed. “What did you say?”

“I notice things, miss. I’ve known you since you were six.”

“Please don’t tell Mama or Papa,” Eugenie begged.

“I won’t. But… I could arrange a meeting. If you’d like.”

Eugenie took her hand. “Could you?”

Tess nodded, and the two girls giggled like they were twelve again.

“Perhaps even today,” she said. “Let’s get you into something more suitable for a maid.”

“Oh, a disguise!” Eugenie’s voice rose in excitement, and she and Tess hurried up the stairs.

The scandal of the elopement would cause quite a stir. Her mother would be too distracted to keep a close eye on her.

That evening, she feigned a headache and skipped dinner. Tess met her behind the hedge, holding a basket of flowers.

“You’re sure I don’t look like myself?” Eugenie asked.

Tess’s eyes were wide. “You look like one of us, Miss. Truly.”

“No more 'miss.' Call me Hazel,” Eugenie had thought of a pseudonym while dressing in one of Tess's work dresses.

“I’ll try… Hazel. Come now, he’s just around the corner.”

And then there was Edgar, with his lamp lighting pole over one shoulder, ladder on the other, whistling as he approached. His bicycle and wagon were down the street. He crossed over to them.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Tess,” he said, recognizing her. “And who’s this?”

Eugenie and Edgar

“Oh, this is Hazel, a new maid in the household,” Tess replied.

He tipped his cap to Eugenie, who offered a modest curtsy.

“We’re delivering eggs and flowers,” Tess added.

“Mind if I walk with you? I’m lighting the lamps along the way.”

“Not at all,” Eugenie said.

As he turned to light the next lamp, she said, “I’ve always wanted to see how you do that.”

He grinned. “Nothing to it.”

“Now those flowers,” he added, glancing over, “aren't nearly as pretty as you.”

A giggle escaped before she could suppress it. She'd never had Edgar flirt with her when she was herself.

“If I thought the lady of that house wouldn’t count every bloom, I’d steal one for you.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Eugenie said.

“How long’ve you worked there?”

“I… just started.”

“I suppose you’ve heard the scandal?” he asked them both with a wink.

“Oh yes,” Tess chimed in. “Lord Hargrave and Lady Radcliffe.”

He nodded. “How’s Miss Eugenie holding up?”

“She’s… doing quite well, actually,” Eugenie found herself saying.

He glanced at her. “I thought she’d be crushed. Everyone said she was madly in love with him.”

Eugenie scoffed. “Hardly.”

He shared a look with Tess.

“Or so I’ve heard,” she added hastily. “Gossip gets around, after all.”

“Oh yes,” Tess said. “Miss Eugenie was shocked, but she never loved him. It was just family arrangements.”

“Never heard of a lady like that before. I thought they all wanted to move up in the world, and the missus definitely would have moved up. I've lit the lamps outside Lord Hargrave's." He gave a low whistle. "It's right along the Thames."

“She’s different,” Tess said. “She even wonders what it would be like to be one of us.”

He laughed, then scratched his chin. “You tell your lady she doesn’t want this life.”

“Would you like to meet her and tell her yourself?” Tess asked.

Eugenie gave her a look as her heart sped up. What would he think if he found out her true identity?

“Meet her? Why would she want to meet me?”

“Because…” Eugenie began. “She’s curious about things like this.”

He stepped back, studying her.

“Come stand under the light,” he said.

She did.

“Take off your cap.”

“Sir!” both young women said.

“Sorry, no offense,” he stepped back, holding up his hands.

“What’s your name?”

“You already know—” she began.

“No, I think it’s Miss Eugenie Fairfax.”

He stepped closer, peering into her face, the lamplight haloing him in a golden glow

“I knew it. I recognize your voice. And your hands. And your smile.”

“I just had to meet you, sir,” she said softly. “I’ve wanted to for some time.”

“Sir," he scoffed, then "you came out here... just to see me?” he asked, his voice low with disbelief.

Eugenie nodded, her breath catching. “We’ve only had brief conversations, I wanted to meet you properly, without the barrier of class.”

Behind her, Tess gave a very quiet cough and murmured, “I’ll keep watch,” before slipping a few paces away, disappearing just behind a trimmed hedge with the practiced ease of a girl who’d covered for her mistress more times than she could count.

He chuckled softly. “You make a very pretty maid.”

She could feel herself blushing as their eyes held. The world seemed to hush around them, the flicker of the gaslight above, the gentle rustle of bare branches, the distant sound of a carriage far off in the square.

“I never dared hope you might feel the same,” she added. “That you might have noticed me.”

Edgar’s hand twitched at his side, as though fighting the urge to reach for hers. “I noticed,” he said. “Every night and every morning. And every time I passed your window and told myself not to look. And you were engaged to Lord Hargrave.”

“I’m not now,” she said, smiling up at him, not believing this was happening.

“Eugenie,” he said her name like a secret on his tongue.

“Yes?” she whispered.

But before he could speak again, a sharp voice pierced the quiet.

“Eugenie?”

Both turned toward the sound. A lantern bobbed in the distance.

Her mother!

Her voice rang out through the night, closer now, sharp with suspicion and rising in pitch.

Eugenie’s breath caught. Edgar stepped back instinctively, eyes darting toward the bobbing light.

“I have to go,” she whispered, fingers clutching the basket of flowers tighter as she retreated into the shadows. “Tomorrow. Same time. Same lamp.”

He caught her gaze one last time. “I’ll be here.”

She turned to flee—

And then Tess appeared around the hedge, breathless and wide-eyed. She snatched the basket from Eugenie’s hand and whispered urgently, “Run. Back stairs. Now.”

Without another word, Eugenie hiked up her skirts and sprinted across the gravel, slippered feet silent on the stones. The lantern light was getting closer. Her mother’s voice now cut the air like a whip.

“Tess! What on earth are you doing out here? And who are you?” Eugenie knew she was talking to Edgar.

She turned and saw Tess drop into a quick curtsy, smoothing her skirts and steadying her voice.

"This is Mr. Merrick. He’s the lamp lighter; we grew up together,” Tess lied, although her voice stuttered.

“Ma’am,” she heard Edgar say to her mother, most likely tipping his cap. “Tess and I sometimes pass on our nightly duties.”

Her mother drew closer, frowning. “This is a very late hour, Tess. You ought to be inside. Where’s Eugenie?”

“Still in her room, ma’am, from her headache.”

The older woman narrowed her eyes. “And what are you doing with two baskets?”

Tess blinked, then smiled sweetly. “One for the drawing room. One for the table, ma’am.”

“Hmph.” Her mother lifted her lantern and swept it across the hedge, but Eugenie was well hidden.

Not daring to risk it any longer, though, Eugenie hurried across the lawn, flew up the servant’s stairs, heart pounding, skirts clutched in one hand. She reached her chamber just in time, tore off the dress, and flung herself onto her bed, wrapping her dressing gown about her as the corridor floorboards creaked outside.

She had just settled her curls around her shoulders when Tess slipped in, cheeks flushed.

“Well?” Eugenie whispered.

Tess grinned, locking the door behind her. “She bought it.”

The two girls collapsed into silent giggles; Eugenie’s hand pressed to her chest.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Come back next week for another installment or go to Thursday Chronicles for the whole series.

Teacake Tidbits - Historical Facts

1. Richmond as a Retreat for the Wealthy

By 1875, Richmond was well established as a genteel suburban retreat for the upper middle class and gentry who wanted to live outside of London’s bustle but close enough to remain connected. The expansion of the London & South Western Railway in the mid-19th century made commuting into the city easier, making Richmond a fashionable location for families like Eugenie’s to maintain social status without the cost or chaos of the capital.

2. Richmond Park and Royal Associations

Richmond Park, originally established by Charles I in the 1600s as a hunting ground, remained a place of aristocratic leisure into the late 19th century. By 1875, it was open to the public but still retained its royal prestige. Victorian ladies strolled along its paths or picnicked beneath the ancient oaks, and it was a known spot for subtle romantic meetings.

Gas Lighting and Lamplighters

By the 1870s, Richmond’s main roads and squares were lit by gaslamps, part of a wave of civic improvements. Lamplighters were public figures—often lower class but highly visible—tasked with lighting and dousing the lamps each evening and morning. They were paid by local parish councils and often assigned regular routes.