Passage of a Desolate Woman (#2, the Winds of Misery Victorian Romance) (A Family Saga Novel)

by Dorothy Green

  “Hello, pleased to meet you both. My name is Charlotte Sutterfield. I just arrived from the countryside, and I will be working at the factory. This is my first time in London,” Charlotte placed her carpet bag down on the empty bed.

  I was right, she is from the country. She does not know what she is in for with this factory life, but she will learn.

  “It'd be nice meeting you too miss. It will be nice to have someone to talk to again, since Jennifer don't talk much,” Mariah said.

  Jennifer did not object, and perhaps Mariah was trying to get her to speak up as she continued to mention how much Jennifer did not talk. But she was not going to take the bait, instead she buried her head in the pamphlet that Billy had published, reading the stories again.

  A few moments later, this new girl was walking out the door with Mariah, and Jennifer was glad for the solace. At least the new girl would keep Mariah busy, and she could be the quiet roommates once more.

  The next day, the new roommate was settled in, and Mariah took her under her wing, allowing Jennifer to go about her business. And today, her business was excitedly reading a letter from Katrina. Katrina did not write often, and since Jennifer had not send a letter with her new address, she had gone by her old place of lodging, the letter waited for.

  Now she tore it open, laying on her bed. Excited to escape from London life or just a few minutes and imagine what Katrina would say to her. Perhaps there was news of the Black Bandit, but that would be wishful thinking.

  Dear Jennifer, I am sorry to write to you under such circumstances. I hope that you are well. But it is my obligation to inform you that your brother Adam has grown ill. Do not be alarmed, for it is not too serious, or so Dr. Miller says. But he will need continuous care and medication in order to stay of good health. Your mother has asked me to write this letter and inform you that the medication cost half a shilling, and is needed on a monthly basis. For how long it is not known. Pray write and tell me how you are, and how you will proceed in this matter. Will you still return to us in March?

  Your loving friend, Katrina.

  “No, Adam...”

  * * *

  chapter

  2 4

  * * *

  May 1858

  Two years moved through Jennifer’s life like the wind on the Thames.

  She knew quite well that her plan had failed, her plan to be in London working out of factory for only the winter. But when she received news of Adam’s illness, she was chained to the London factory life forever. For she could not deny paying for his medication, anything to give him the health that was needed, to keep him alive. Jennifer knew that her heart could not handle the loss of her younger brother, not after losing Kevin as well.

  She wanted desperately to visit him, but missing a week of factory work meant she would be replaced by another worker. They had no patience for those that needed to leave, for a family illness or otherwise. Therefore she relied on monthly letters from Katrina to tell her of Adam’s well-being.

  Because she found herself in this new prison, her loathing for the rich that owns the factories became greater and greater still. Her involvement in the Labour party grew. She became a regular writer of articles in Billy's pamphlets, and found it to be a good outlet for her rage.

  She paid very little attention to her roommates Mariah and Charlotte, though they were agreeable to live with and allowed her to live her own life. It was hard for her to get close to new people, especially those that worked the factory life and could die of exhaustion any day. Therefore she only kept her close circle of those in the Labour Party and Rebecca.

  But every once in a while, she found her tongue slipping. Like when one of the owners of the factory, William Dawson, visited the factory floor and was all smiles and manners, ignoring the fact that he was profiting off the hard labour of these women and paying them a pittance, simply so that he could become richer. In that moment she let her tongue fly toward Charlotte and Mariah.

  “Scum, all of them, scum.” Jennifer spat the words out with hatred as she turned to watch the elegant Mr. William Dawson move toward the back of the factory.

  Jennifer continued, “Those rich men parade in here, as though they care nothing that their riches have come from stepping on the poor. They have more money than they need in a lifetime, and I am sure that bloke is no different.”

  “That’s not kind. He seemed a nice enough fellow to ask me how I do,” Mariah replied with a pout.

  Jennifer had become accustomed to seeing this pout, and with Mariah’s blonde hair and blue eyes she reminded her of Katrina. How she missed that happy and joyful friend.

  “Only to ease his conscience, Mariah. Is that not obvious to you? Do you know that the Factory Act of 1833 had to be passed to limit the work day of children aged 9 to 13 to eight hours a day? Heavens! They should not be working at all. Those that are 14 to 18 work 12 hours just as we do and we are grown women.” Jennifer turned her face so that her lodgemates would not see her eyes water as she thought of Kevin. That Act should have gone further and then he would still be alive... dear Kevin.

  “That may be so, Jennifer, but you have not seen what I’ve seen. I’d be grateful for what I have right now. Before I came to be with Mrs. Wilcox I was in a proper workhouse and it be horrid. Where I’d be before this, the women, children, and men all be in different living and working areas in a big workhouse as big as this factory be. That mean even for a family, they be split up and not allowed to see or talk, they’d be. You come in and first thing they do is strip you naked and scrub you something harsh with scalding water. Then you wear a uniform for the rest of your days, eat bland poor food and work yourself to the bone, scrubbing that workhouse and more. Twas a horrid thing. I tell you I take what we have now any day of the week, I would,” Mariah’s voice was louder.

  Jennifer did not respond as she too had seen horrid things and in the moment restrained the tears that wanted to flow from her eyes. But Mariah indeed was right in this matter, she was grateful to be in this factory where children did not work at all.

  * * *

  Another month passed and Jennifer found herself growing bitter. This was not like her, but this is what London factory life had taken from her. Rebecca was right - London takes from you. She wished she would have headed that warning. Why did I not stay in Cottered and look for work in some other way? I thought London would be a quick fix.

  She had no energy to do anything except go to Labour meetings, and found Sunday outings to be less and less enjoyable. Jennifer was careful not to spend the money she had stashed in her carpet bag. One day it would take her home with enough money to supply Adam with medication for a year and give her time to find a way to support her family.

  That Sunday, Jennifer prepared for another Labour meeting while Charlotte and Mariah prepared for their usual Sunday walk.

  “Quite right they be putting you in such a position. You deserve it,” Mariah proudly declared to Charlotte. For, much to Jennifer’s jealousy, Charlotte had been moved to a higher position in the office off site of the factory. It was a very agreeable position indeed, one that Jennifer thought should rightfully be hers.

  “It ain't right. I can read and write too, you know,” Jennifer blurted out while she braided her red hair over her shoulder.

  “Yes, but perhaps it be your sourness that stopped you from getting the position. Charlotte is very agreeable,” Mariah defended her friend.

  Jennifer released a huff of annoyance to her response, mostly because perhaps Mariah was right in that notion. Charlotte was more agreeable in company, while Jennifer’s broken heart left her miserable company. But it was not always so.

  Adding insult to injury, Charlotte tried to calm Jennifer.

  “I am sure that your time will come too, Jennifer. Would you like to come out today with Mariah and I? We are to catch a street play and get some sweets. Perhaps a stroll by the Thames as well.”

  The mention of the sweet shop made Jennifer’s eyes water o
ver. The rage inside of her bubbled.

  “No, I have a meeting to go to. You two have fun on the streets of London, acting like everything is just plain alright in the world,” Her anger vibrated her voice as she grabbed her black shawl and stomped out. She was disgusted with these two! How could they continue to live as though all was as right as rain when children were dying in factories just a mere few blocks over?

  Jennifer met Rebecca outside, and together they walked to the Labour Party meeting.

  “Is all alright with you, Jennifer? You have not said a word on the walk.” Rebecca asked.

  “I apologise. I was just reminded of something earlier by my lodge mates, and have been set into a mood. It will pass. I just wish there was something more I could do besides writing for the Labour Party. We need to take more action. It has been two years, and still the conditions have not changed, especially for children.”

  “I understand. Funny you should mention such a thing, for Billy told me yesterday that he might have a task for you, and it is not writing. I believe he's going to tell you after the meeting.”

  “Oh, is that so? I'm eager to hear what he has to say, then,” Jennifer said.

  In that moment, Billy jumped up on the table, and greeted those gathered. He had grown more attractive over the years, and his leadership skills were quite sharp. Everyone grew quiet when he began to speak. Jennifer listened intently, savoring every word, for it did make her feel better. After speaking with Charlotte and Mariah, who seem to care nothing at all of the conditions, she acquired much satisfaction from hearing those that thought in the same manner as she.”

  After the meeting, Billy made his usual routine of walking through the crowd, shaking hands and listening to people. It was partly why participants continue to come. They enjoyed his personal touch; he was on the same level as they were, and that meant very much to people.

  “Billy, I have told Jennifer that you wish to speak with her.”

  “Yes, I do. Both Timothy and I have a proposition. But we can't speak of it here. Meet at the Whitechapel tavern, I will be on my way shortly. Timothy is outside dealing with some business. Will you do me that favor of meeting with me?” He looked intently at Jennifer.

  “Yes, I will. We shall go now and wait,”

  “Excellent.”

  Jennifer and Rebecca walked out into the busy Street, and Jennifer had butterflies in her stomach, complete excitement over what this proposition might be. She was ready to take action. Things had to change.

  * * *

  chapter

  2 5

  * * *

  Jennifer waited with much excitement as she sat in a booth next to Rebecca.

  “Here he comes,” Rebecca said, as she looked toward the door.

  “And he has Timothy with him,” Jennifer whispered. For she did not at all like Timothy, the redheaded man that had gone to meet Jacob, possibly. He was a man that was very quiet and kept to himself, but it seemed that he was an outlaw of sorts, and though she had experience with an outlaw, she found this man to be somewhat frightful.

  “Jennifer, thanks for meeting with us. We have a proposition. Your work writing the articles have has been priceless, but we want to take it a step further with the publishing.”

  “You do? You wish me to write something else?” Jennifer asked.

  “No, but we do wish you to help us and what we want to publish next.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “You mentioned in a previous meeting, that you suspect your floor manager Mr. Evans to be somehow taking wages from workers. You mentioned that he spoke of a 10-hour day to the owner of the factory, and not the 12.”

  “Yes, that is correct. When one of the owners, William Dawson, came to visit. But what does that have to do with publishing?” She asked.

  “We want to publish the paperwork that shows this. Put it out on the streets for everyone to see that it is not just the owners, but also the factory for managers that make a profit off of the exhausted working conditions of people.”

  Jennifer gasped. “You want me to steal the books?”

  “No. Not exactly. We want you to open the back door to us, Timothy and I. Show us where the office is, and we will steal the book. All you have to do is walk by, open the door, and let us in. Then you can go back to your work and no one will notice. That is all you have to do.”

  Jennifer's green eyes grew wide. This was very serious. If she was caught, she would lose her job, and possibly be put in jail. Then Adam would have no one to support his medication needs.

  “I cannot do that. I apologise. There is too much on the line for me. I need that wage for my family. I cannot put it in jeopardy again. This factory is my work, and though I am not happy about it, I actually do need it, my younger brother needs it. He is very ill.”

  “There was another that was very ill. Had the factory conditions changed, he would be alive. Do this for Kevin, do it in loving memory of him. Do it for all of those children that will follow his same path, if we publish this, it could start an investigation and end the horrid working conditions. There would be outrage all over London.” Billy said in his motivating way. He was very persuasive and charismatic. Jennifer felt the fire burning inside of her as soon as he mentioned Kevin. She had failed to help change the conditions of the factory, and two years later the factory of Mr. Clark was still using children for Labour.

  “It is just opening the door Rebecca, nothing more. It will be as quick as the wind.” Rebecca said. Rebecca had always been very agreeable with anything that Billy asked for, and Jennifer wondered if she had a bit of a crush on Billy. For who could not; he was very charismatic, and attractive.

  “Just opening the door?” Jennifer said.

  “Yes, then we will expose the Miller, Lewis, Rice, Huntley & Dawson factory for what it is,” Billy said.

  Jennifer looked at Billy. He was very hopeful, all his hopes relied on her. Then she looked to Timothy, a devious smile came across his face. She did not trust this man, but she trusted Billy, he had always had the best interest of the people in mind.

  “All right, I will look into it to see if it is even possible. I am not saying yes just now, but I will look to see if the back door is anywhere convenient to the office of Mr. Evans. That is where you will find the books. Too, he must be away from his office, perhaps on his lunch hour. I will look into it.”

  Billy slammed his fist on the table. “Excellent! I knew I could count on you! You are a true warrior of the people, Jennifer! You will make a difference. I promise you that!”

  Jennifer smiled. She rather enjoyed his approval. Hearing that she would make a difference felt very good indeed.

  “Wine here!” he shouted. They celebrated with a pint of wine and thoughts of rebellion. Jennifer felt that she was over her head, but she was in deep.

  * * *

  June

  The day arrived quickly, and Jennifer could not shake the feeling of nervousness. It is just to collect papers, and nothing else.”

  She walked to the back door of the factory; it was time. Everything they had planned in the last few weeks was coming to fruition, right in this moment. Just a few minutes, just swing the door open, make sure they catch the door, and walk away. That is all that you need to do, and it will change everything.

  Scanning the factory as she walked to the back door of the first floor, she wondered if anyone would notice she did not work on this particular floor. She worked on the third floor, seated next to Mariah. That was where she should be. But the back door was on the first floor and so too was the office of Mr. Evans.

  No one was watching; the loud sound of the machines covered any sound of her footsteps, or the rusty noise that the door made as she pushed it open just a crack.

  “Jennifer. Good, good.” Billy pushed his head in through the crack, and looked behind him. Timothy and another man were with him; one that she had never seen before. Did they not think that more than one man, would be noticed? This was folly.


  Before Jennifer could object, they pushed their way in, and quietly closed the door behind them.

  “The office is that way, be quick.” Jennifer turned to head back to the staircase, but as she did so Billy tugged on her sleeve. There was a very dark look on his face.

  “Billy, what do you do?”

  But he did not answer her. Instead he grabbed her shoulders while Timothy opened the door, and they pushed her outside into the alley, and closed the door.

  Jennifer stood in that alley in shock. What had just happened? She pulled on the door, but it locked from the inside, preventing anyone from just entry. She could not bang on the door, not without get them getting caught. Who would anyone hear her over the machines anyway? What in God's name is happening?”

  Jennifer continued to pull on the door, trying every which way to open it. There was only one thing she could do, run down the alley and go around to the front. The guard at the door would see that she had left, but that did not matter. They were up to no good and she needed to know what this was.

  She turned to run down the alley, but as she did so the vague sound of shouting and screaming reached her ears. It was muffled through the brick walls, and the humming of the sewing machines gradually came to a stop. She stood at the end of the alley, allowing her ears to tell her what was happening.

  “Fire! Fire!” Someone shouted from inside.

  Her eyes grew ride with terror. “Oh Billy, what have you done?”

  She turned back toward the door. In a flash, Billy, Timothy, and the third man ran out of the door, as fast as may be.

  “What did you do? This was not what we...”

  But before she could complete her answer, Timothy picked her up by the waist, and carried her, running with her as they ran away from the factory, down the street and into an alley.

  The shouts of “fire!” erupted into the entire borough as people ran in every direction. This was a disaster.