Retribution

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by Beverley Elphick


  I sat down, a little spark of hope rising. ‘Are you so sure that Martha is the one?’

  ‘Yes, I am sure. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced,’ she said emphatically, her lips pursed and determined.

  ‘Let me think on it and then I’ll decide what to do, without telling anyone!’

  ‘Don’t be foolish, Esther. You know who you can trust,’ she said, sternly. ‘Billy and John Elwood - keep them informed of everything you think of doing.’

  I nodded, realising that she was speaking sense.

  ‘There is one other thing, I feel guilty that I haven’t helped Mrs. Campbell find suitable lodgings. She has been to a few places but hasn’t found anywhere to suit her and Charlotte. ‘May I bring them round to meet you and Miss Wardle as you know so many people?’

  Mrs. Makepiece replied, ‘I think it would be better if we met them at the inn. I take it they still have a ladies’ lounge?’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure it’s called that but there is a room which the residents use for coffee and meetings. Anyway, it’s separate from the bar that is always full of loud men. Shall we call in on her tomorrow afternoon, then? I have to look after Freddie in the morning.’

  ‘Aye, lass, we’ll see what we can find for them.’

  I left a message for Mrs. Campbell and rode home on Flossy with Mrs. Makepiece’s comments at the front of my mind. Had we given up too easily? Had we been duped?

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  To Be Let, and entered upon immediately

  A good Dwelling house, situate in Southover near Lewes; consisting of a kitchen, hall, two parlours, three pantries, and a brew house, five chambers, two large garrets, two gardens, a barn, stable, coach house and a field about an acre of land adjoining late in the occupation of the Rev……………………

  Sussex Weekly Advertiser and Lewes Journal 1750/1806

  In the days after we searched for Beth at Martha’s, I kept trying to recollect all the details of that visit. Something had not been right but I didn’t know what it was. Every time I tried to direct my thoughts elsewhere, a flicker of doubt would nag at me, but it had no clarity. It was a ghost of thought that didn’t have body. I fretted endlessly over it.

  I received a letter from Prickship that irritated me. I didn’t want to think about anything other than Beth but here he was intruding on me. He wrote that he was going to move to Brighthelmstone to convalesce and asked if I would visit him there. No, I wouldn’t visit him; I had no interest in his attempts to draw me into his clutches. I feared he wanted to build on our previous friendship and might propose. Such a thought was repugnant to me and I desperately wished Dr. Grieve would come back to Lewes and me. He would know what to do; he would understand my frustration.

  I broke free of my unsatisfactory thoughts to focus my attention on Freddie, taking him to the nursery so we could play with the blocks the carpenter made for him. I built them up into a tower and his greatest delight was in then throwing them down; we repeated this over and over again, he never tired of it. Cecilia suggested that I go to visit my friends in Lewes in the hope that my spirits would revive and to let people, namely women nearing their birthing time, know that I am returned. I could see her thinking that if I got back into my midwifery I wouldn’t have time to worry so much. I saw through her plans and agreed, if only to make her feel better, knowing that nothing except Beth’s safe return would make me feel better.

  I walked into Lewes in the hope that the fresh air and wide skies would calm me. I wondered how Captain Campbell was faring without his wife, baby and Prickship to help him sail his ship to the Australias and whether Jones was missing me. I also wondered if my aunt was still causing trouble.

  Mrs. Makepiece had visitors and I was pleased to see Miss Wardle and Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins taking tea with her. My story was told again and in the telling I found I was not so cast down but reminded of how lucky I had been to survive such an ordeal. Whilst a fresh pot of tea was made, I brought the visitors right up to the present day by relating what had happened at Martha’s cottage and the other places we visited in our fruitless search for Beth.

  ‘Now you know as much as me,’ I finished, glumly. ‘But, tell me, how is Beth’s grandfather? I must seek him out, or perhaps you could tell him that I’d like to see him?’

  ‘Aye lass, he has taken all this very badly, and that wife of his is such a scold,’ said Mrs Makepiece. ‘He’ll be that pleased to see you again. He’ll take heart that if you have come back then Beth might do so, too.’

  There was a knock on the window and I saw Billy-alone standing outside, twisting his cap in his hands. ‘I’ll open it,’ I said. ‘I think it’s for me.’ I stepped outside.

  ‘What’s wrong Billy? You’re very pale.’

  ‘I’ve found young Coad, Esther,’ he whispered, ‘and he is in a bad way.’

  I didn’t wait to hear the details, just flew inside to make my apologies and fetch my wrap.

  ‘What’s happened?’ I asked as we turned down the steep cobbles of Keere Street.

  ‘Pot, as works with the Jenkins, found him all but dead in a ditch off the river.’

  ‘Where is he now, is he alright?’ My heart skipped with excitement that Job had been found.

  ‘We’ve taken him into Miss Wardle’s piggy house. It’s warm and cosy in there, ’n’ she never comes down,’ he said. ‘He’s been beaten, Miss, real bad, he’s black and blue and very cold. He would have been taken by the tide if Pot hadn’t spotted ’im. Did I do right to take him there?’

  ‘Aye, Billy, but we won’t mention it to anyone, at least until we find out what’s happened. You say Miss Wardle doesn’t venture down much?’

  ‘Na, she do know I take care of piggies, even though Polly is supposed to, and she leaves me to it. I collect the slops from outside the scullery. I don’t see her for days sometimes.’

  ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, but if someone has thrashed him and left him for dead, it might be as well to keep quiet until we find out who and why. Pot won’t talk, will he?’

  ‘Not if I tell him not to, Miss.’

  We made our way to Green Lane, which was the back entrance to Miss Wardle’s house on St. Martin’s Lane. We didn’t meet anyone so were able to slip inside the gate unnoticed.

  I knelt and entered the outhouse that had been Billy’s home since he escaped the poor house.

  ‘Miss Wardle is at Keere Street at the moment, Billy, so I think we can afford some light. Can you tie back the window covers and the door?’

  He went outside and lifted the heavy pigskin flaps and tied them with twine so the light flooded into the furthest reaches of the outhouse. The poor lad was curled up on the straw-covered floor. The piggie, whose bed it was, was outside rolling in a mud bath that Billy had made for her some time ago.

  ‘Let’s lift him up onto your pallet, so I can see a bit better.’ We both grunted as we tried to lift him, he was no lightweight.

  Job was, as Billy had said, black and blue as well as bloodied about his nose and mouth, but what worried me most was that he was deathly cold and had a pallor I had never seen in a living person. I slipped my hand inside his clothing to feel if there was any warmth. He groaned as my fingers found his armpit.

  ‘I think we have to warm him through first before we can look at what damage has been done. Have you any blankets or spare clothing, Billy?’

  ‘Aye, Miss,’ he nodded, ‘I ’ave one blanket for me bed, like, and I’ve got them clothes that Cilla got from her ma and wanted me to wear when the press gang came by. I never did wear them; I’m not dressing like a lassie for no-one.’

  I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered Cilla’s solution to Billy being pressed. As gently as I could, I removed all the boy’s wet and torn clothing, lightly chaffing his skin where there was no bruising. I dressed him in the clothes Billy gave me and wrapped the blanket
round him. His poor hands were bruised and bleeding but there was no broken skin other than on his face and hands, so I felt hopeful that he wasn’t bleeding where I couldn’t see.

  ‘He put up a fight, Billy – have you got a drop of clean water or ale?’

  ‘Aye, Miss, I alus keep some by, like, and I ’ave water from the well, I’ll fetch some.’

  ‘Drink up, Job, you’re safe now,’ I whispered to him when Billy came back.

  ‘Where am I?’ he muttered, struggling to form the words through his torn lips.

  ‘Billy-alone has taken you in. Who did this to you, lad?’ I said.

  ‘Bruvvers,’ he whispered.

  ‘Did you say your brothers?’

  He grunted, ‘Aye.’

  Then I asked the question that I was desperate to know the answer to. ‘Where is Beth, have they got her?’

  ‘Na.’

  ‘Tell me, please, where is she?’

  ‘In t’ forest.’

  ‘Is she with Martha?’

  I thought he nodded, and at that point I realised what it was that had been nagging at me. I sat back on my ankles, ignoring the twinge of pain in my leg. The little bed! If Martha was only minding the forester’s child occasionally when he was at work, she wouldn’t have owned a child’s bed, nor would there be a child’s washing on the line. It was surprising that there was a bed at all. Most poor families didn’t have beds either for themselves or their children. I looked back at Job but his eyes were flickering in and out of consciousness, so I pressed him no further.

  ‘Are you able to stay with him, Billy, for tonight at least?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll look out for him - there is room for both of us on the cot and I’ll help him warm up.’

  ‘I’ll come back tomorrow, Billy,’ I said. ‘If he warms up and you can keep giving him some water, I’ll bring him food from Mrs. Fisher’s kitchen and we can see if he is mending. I’ll come in the back way, so Miss Wardle doesn’t see me.’

  We stepped outside, and I pulled Billy away from the doorway.

  ‘Can you come with me to the forest, Billy, to Martha’s place - after we have seen to the lad tomorrow? I am sure Beth is there.’

  ‘Do you think she is safe? If the brothers ’ave done this, what else might they do?’

  ‘I don’t know but it sounds like they don’t know where she is either. He is a brave lad if he didn’t tell them despite the beating, or, perhaps they were just trying to stop Job from talking about their smuggling secrets. They are not very clever - they just do what their father says.’

  ‘Do you think they meant to kill him?’ Billy asked, disbelief in his voice. ‘Fancy leaving him there in a ditch full of water where the tide comes in. You wouldn’t think they would treat their own brother like that.’

  ‘I don’t know, I can’t put my mind into theirs. But it’s too late to go now. I’d never find the way, so if we go early tomorrow we might catch Martha and Chalky White out.’ I clutched Billy’s arm saying, ‘Don’t tell a soul, Billy, and ask Pot to keep quiet about finding Job.’

  He nodded but said anxiously, ‘Shouldn’t you tell the Elwoods?’

  ‘I’m not telling anyone, except you, Billy.’

  I barely slept a wink that night and was up before daybreak. I took some bread and scrape along with a dish of good jellied stock before leaving a scribbled note for Cecilia, saying that I had a hunch where Beth might be, promising that I would be back by four o’clock and wouldn’t do anything rash. I also explained that Billy was with me and hoped he wasn’t needed on the farm.

  I saddled Flossy quickly and quietly and was away to Lewes before the birds woke up. I pulled her up at the bottom of Keere Street and hurried up the cobbles to leave a note for Mrs. Makepiece which said, ‘If we don’t return by four o’clock, we have gone to Martha’s. Please do not raise the alarm until then.’ I knew Mrs. Makepiece would keep my counsel but Cecilia wouldn’t; she would have had Farmer Elwood charging after me. Billy and I would do this on our own, in total secrecy.

  Flossy was safely hitched and I crept into the piggy yard. Billy was waiting for me and the boy Coad was warmed through. He was breathing evenly as I lifted his head and got him to swallow the stock; it was cold but still tasty. I whispered in his ear, hoping he was sufficiently conscious to hear me, ‘I will be back later and see to your bruises. I don’t want you to get up or talk to anyone. Don’t go outside; you mustn’t let anyone see you. Eat this, and if you can manage there is some bread to dip. We’ll be back later.’

  He grunted with a slight nod of his head.

  We crept out of the garden and as we clambered onto Flossy’s broad back, I said, ‘I bet he is really hurting now, poor lad.’

  ‘Where we going, Esther?’

  ‘Near a place called Sheffield Park, beyond Chailey. It is a way, about ten miles, but I know how to get there.’

  We kept up a good pace, taking care not to be seen, always pulling off the track when we glimpsed other travellers. When we finally reached the wetland, we both got off Flossy. I hitched up my skirts and skipped from clump to clump of the coarse grass - I didn’t want to get my feet wet. Unencumbered by me, Flossy carefully picked her own way through but Billy wasn’t bothered as he didn’t have shoes anyway. When I thought we were near the cottage, I tethered Flossy and whispered to her to be quiet and not give us away. Billy had followed me closely through the woodland. Everything was quiet, too quiet, I thought, and wished the birds would start singing to cover any noise we might make as we approached the clearing. Smoke was rising fitfully from the chimney but otherwise there was no sign of life at all.

  ‘I think we must sit and wait to see if anyone comes out,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to blunder in until I know the husband is gone.’ Billy nodded, his face pale and tense as we squatted down amongst the scrub, trusting we could not be seen from the cottage or the regular track that led to it.

  The sun was well risen by now and it was uncommonly warm. Gradually the birds got used to us and piped up their notes as insects hovered and hummed all about us. I settled awkwardly on my haunches, wincing slightly as I did so, wishing that the door would open and Beth would run out; but as I pictured this in my mind, I heard voices. I touched Billy’s arm and pointed to the track that led away from the cottage and deeper into the woodland. I strained to pick out first two, then three different raised, angry voices, as the two elder Coad brothers appeared, pushing a third man before them. The man was old, much older than the Coads. I remembered them as boys, but these were grown to be thickset and tough like their odious father. My mouth dried as I looked through the brush at them, remembering their petty cruelties and nasty ways. I could see how different they were to their younger brother.

  They bullied the old man along, demanding to know if he had been hiding their brother and ‘the brat’. My heart quickened that they seemed to know we had been there before, looking for Beth. Mrs. Makepiece had been right; you can’t keep secrets.

  Surprisingly, the old man didn’t flinch at their bravado, even though they had the advantage of size and youth. He was a slight, stringy fellow and his physique was no match for theirs. As they got nearer the cottage, he shrugged them off and strode towards the door, shouting for his wife to come and show ‘these scoundrels’ that no-one was being hidden.

  Billy and I both held our breath, desperate to hear and see all that was going on. After a few minutes Martha appeared, wiping her hands on her apron. The two Coads pushed their way past Chalky White, for it must be the same, and manhandled Martha away from her own front door. They went inside, and we heard banging and crashing as they searched the little house. Their search took longer than ours but still they didn’t find anything. When they came out empty-handed, and I thanked God they were, they blustered some more threats and warnings of what would happen if the couple were found to have helped their snivelling brother and hidden the b
rat. They left, going back through the woods the way they had come.

  Still we sat peering as Chalky White went into his house with Martha trotting behind. I must have been holding my breath again, as I noticed that I felt quite faint with the fright of what might have been. After a while, he reappeared carrying a wood splitter and a long-handled axe before going back into the woodland. He walked quite normally and didn’t look to right or left, appearing to be neither bowed nor bothered by the Coads.

  We waited a while to be sure the coast was clear before we rose and started to edge towards the door which was standing partially open. My shadow must have appeared before me because as I reached to push it open, Martha jumped at me, pushing me out, trying to force the door closed. I jammed my boot in and suffered a jolt of pain. I leaned all my weight against her, forcing the door wide. I hissed, ‘Where is she? I know you’ve got her, where is she?’

  She saw me glance at the little, now empty, makeshift bed in the corner of the room and when I lifted my eyes to hers, I saw fear.

  ‘Leave us be,’ she cried, a note of terror in her voice. ‘You don’t know what he is capable of. We’ll all suffer if you don’t leave us be.’ With that she shoved me hard and I fell backwards. I was so shocked by her sudden strength that - with Billy dragging at my arm - I lost my footing as she bolted and barred the door against us. Beth was nowhere to be seen. Billy pulled me back to the cover of the trees and we dropped down again.

  ‘She ain’t there, Esther. They must have her hid elsewhere, or, someone else has her.’

  Tears coursed down my face as I rocked and rocked. ‘What’ll we do – what’ll we do, Billy? I can’t go on like this. I want to die if Beth isn’t with me.’

  ‘We go back and get the truth out of the boy, Esther. We won’t give up now,’ he said, his arm thrown protectively round me.

  Billy pushed me up onto Flossy and climbed up behind. He took the reins and as soon as we were away from the wet ground, kicked Flossy into a fast trot, all attempt at secrecy forgotten. My head was pounding and I still had tears in my eyes but we made good time, heading straight for the piggy house at Miss Wardle’s.

 

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