Susie nodded meekly as Nanny crossed to pull the bell rope at the side of the fire. Soon, they heard the sound of the butler’s footsteps on the stairs.
‘Here she is, Mr Peters, all ready to be shown off,’ Nanny told him.
Mr Peters inclined his head and swept Susie into his arms. Then, without uttering so much as a single word, he walked out of the room and carried her down the stairs, although she really couldn’t see why it was necessary. She would have been quite capable of walking. However, she didn’t dare complain. Her leg was still stinging from the sharp slap Nanny had given her and she didn’t fancy another one if she could avoid it. As they descended the stairs her eyes grew rounder as she stared at the luxurious surroundings. This house was like the castle in a fairy-story book about a princess that her real mam had read to her.
As soon as they reached the hallway, Alicia came racing out of a doorway. ‘Oh, do bring her in here, Peters. My visitors are so looking forward to meeting her.’
‘Certainly, ma’am.’ The man followed her into what Susie was later to discover was the drawing room and gently sat her down on a big wing chair to one side of the fireplace, before bowing and backing from the room. Opposite the chair, on a little red velvet sofa with spindly gold legs, sat two elderly ladies staring at her.
‘Suzanne, sweetheart. Say hello to Miss Timson and Lady Arcourt; they’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.’
Susie thought of refusing but she remembered the nanny waiting for her upstairs so she muttered, ‘Hello.’
The older of the two women, who was wearing the biggest hat Susie had ever seen, peered at her through a pair of pince-nez spectacles.
‘She’s a pretty little thing, I’ll give you that, Alicia,’ she said. ‘And I do so admire you for giving a home to such a poor little waif. I just hope she shows you the gratitude you deserve.’
Despite Nanny’s threat, Susie glared at her, but Alicia appeared not to notice.
‘Oh, Matthew and I feel that we are the lucky ones to have found her,’ she trilled. ‘When we visited the workhouse and I saw her I just knew instantly that she was the one for us.’
Lady Arcourt frowned before asking, ‘What were you doing in Nuneaton anyway? Surely you could have chosen a child from a nice orphanage closer to home?’
‘Matthew had to go there on business, and we stayed with friends,’ Alicia explained. ‘So just on a whim I decided to visit the workhouse. I was told by the lady of the house where we were staying that a number of the children there had been rehomed so I just went on the off-chance really, and there she was. Of course, she was very, very poorly and we weren’t even sure she would survive, but I knew somehow that I had to take that chance. I truly believe it was fate that took me to the workhouse door that day. If I hadn’t gone, she might not have survived, so really it was lucky for both of us.’
She reached out and tenderly stroked Susie’s cheek and the child was forced to admit to herself that she was very kind. But even so she yearned to be back with her family and she decided she would tell the kind lady so as soon as the visitors had left.
Just then, a maid in a starched white cap and a pretty white apron wheeled a tea trolley in and Susie’s eyes grew round. The teapot looked as if it was made of solid silver and the tiny china cups and saucers, which were decorated with tiny roses, were so delicate that Susie could almost see right through them. There was also a three-tier stand filled with tiny pastries and cakes and suddenly Susie felt hungry for the first time since she had become ill.
‘Shall I pour for you, ma’am?’ the young maid enquired, as Alicia watched Susie eyeing the cakes with a twinkle in her eye.
‘Yes please, Millie. And you could perhaps pour some milk for Miss Suzanne and give her a plate so that she might help herself to some cakes.’
This was a far cry from the rather bland diet Nanny had kept her on up in the nursery and Susie made the most of it, much to the disgust of the visitors.
‘Really, Alicia, my dear, I’m not at all sure that the child should be eating so many sweet things. It’s so bad for her teeth,’ Miss Timson pointed out primly.
Alicia merely laughed. ‘Oh, I’m sure a few treats now and then won’t hurt.’
The older woman sniffed her disapproval. ‘Then on your own head be it. Personally, I think you should start as you mean to go on. Children pick up bad habits so quickly and you are very new to parenting.’
‘I’m quite aware of that,’ Alicia answered with a smile at Susie. ‘But I’m sure that we’re going to do very well with each other.’
Susie gave a cautious smile in return. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad living here after all? Just until she could go back to her family, that was.
Chapter Eight
Long after Opal had left, Henry King strode up and down the room, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He had lost his wife some two years ago in childbirth. The child, a boy, had also died, and with him Henry’s hopes of ever becoming a father. Since then, Henry had paid for his pleasure when he felt the need to, despite the fact that widows had flocked to him like bees to honey. None of them had ever held the least appeal for him, though. Henry was a wealthy, well-respected member of the community and he knew that most of them only wanted him for his money and the respect that would be their due as his wife.
But there was something about the young girl who had come pleading for her brother that had touched a chord in him. Admittedly she was little more than a child at present and many years his junior, but that was how he liked them, and he could sense that within a few years she would blossom into a beauty. She was clearly very poor, too, but her hair had shone and, though her clothes were shabby, they were clean and as respectable as she had been able to make them.
He found himself picturing her in a fine gown with her hair stylishly dressed, and for the first time in many a long day he wondered what it would be like to be married again. His first wife, Marianne, had come from a very respectable family, but within months of his marriage he had realised that they had little in common. All Marianne could talk about was the latest fashions or who had called for afternoon tea and Henry had soon tired of her. But Opal . . . despite the fact that she had come to plead her brother’s case, there had been a proud lift to her chin and an intelligent gleam in her eye that had appealed to him.
He could imagine her small firm breasts and her satin skin under his touch, and he shook his head as if to rid it of thoughts of her. It was ridiculous to even consider wedding her; she probably couldn’t even read and write, and what would people say when it became known that he was consorting with a young woman of her class?
Crossing to the bell pull at the side of the fireplace, he yanked on it. When Mrs Wood appeared in the doorway, he barked, ‘Tea if you please.’
‘Certainly, Mr King.’
She backed out of the room and hurried away to the kitchen to place his order, wondering what the young woman who had just left might have said to him to put him in such a bad mood.
Opal meanwhile was trudging towards the cottage with a heavy heart. Mr King had told her that Charlie’s case would be heard within the week, but at the moment a week seemed like a lifetime. Removing the money Charlie had given her from her pocket, she stared down at the few coins. If she was very careful she might just about be able to feed herself for a week, but once that was gone she would either have to find a job or admit herself to the workhouse. After what had happened to Jack and Susie there she shuddered at the thought, and waves of grief washed over her – but, once again, she straightened her back. She wasn’t beaten yet, not by a long shot! She must try to believe that Charlie would walk free and then together they would try to build some sort of a life for themselves. Holding tight to that thought, she moved on.
Six days later, as Opal was placing some of the wood she had collected from the nearby copse on the fire, she heard the sound of a horse approaching. Standing up, she smoothed her drab skirt and crossed to the window, just in time to see Magistr
ate King climbing down from the saddle. She was shocked to see him there. What on earth could he want? Hastily she smoothed her hair and when he knocked on the door, she straightened her back and went to answer it.
‘Mr King, do come in,’ she said, for all the world as if she was inviting him into a stately home. She might be poor, but she still had her pride.
‘Thank you, my dear.’ He removed his hat and stepped past her, then paused to take in the surroundings.
The room was little more than a hovel and yet he noted that it was as clean as anyone could possibly make it. The floor was swept and the table in the centre of the room had been scrubbed until the wood was almost white. The bed that stood against one wall was neatly made too, and faded curtains hung at the window. The place was disgusting, but she clearly did her best, which made her even more attractive in his eyes.
‘I came to tell you that your brother will be appearing before myself and the other magistrates tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock,’ he informed her.
Opal clasped her hands together so that he wouldn’t see how they had begun to shake. ‘I see,’ she said eventually. ‘Thank you for informing me.’
He smiled. ‘I did tell you I would, and I always keep my promises.’
At that moment the kettle began to hiss on the fire and Opal blushed. She had been about to make some tea and it seemed rude not to offer him a cup when he had come all this way.
‘I, er, was just about to make some tea. Would you like a cup?’
‘Oh, yes please.’
She nodded towards one of the chairs at the side of the table and busied herself preparing the teapot and cups and saucers.
Eventually, when she had filled his cup with the last of her tea, she dared to ask, ‘So, what do you think will happen to Charlie?’
He took a long swig of his drink and instantly regretted it. This tea tasted nothing like the expensive brand he was used to, although he would not say that to her as he didn’t want to upset her.
‘I have already had a word with my fellow magistrates,’ he told her solemnly. ‘And I have told them that I have no wish to press charges.’
Her face lit up, and once again he was struck by how pretty she was. ‘Oh, thank you, sir, thank you, I—’
He held up his hand to stop her flow of words. ‘Unfortunately, because the case has already been put forward, it will have to be heard,’ he explained. ‘But I have every hope that now the other magistrates are aware that I don’t wish to proceed with the charges they will be lenient with the sentencing. At this stage it is all I can do.’
‘Oh . . . I see.’ The lovely smile was gone again and she gulped to hide her disappointment. She had hoped that if he dropped the charges, Charlie would be released – but clearly this wasn’t going to happen now.
He smiled kindly at her and she began to wonder if she might have misjudged him. He had done his best, after all.
‘Well . . . thank you for that,’ she said quietly as she lifted her cup and took a dainty sip from it. ‘I did try to see Charlie again when I called into the police station yesterday, but they wouldn’t allow me to.’ A thought occurred to her then and she asked hopefully, ‘I don’t suppose you would be allowed to see him, would you? Or at least deliver a note to him?’
‘A note?’ He looked vaguely surprised.
‘From me. Just to tell him that I will be there tomorrow to offer my support.’
‘Oh . . . so you can write then?’
Her chin came up as she looked at him indignantly. ‘Of course I can write. Our parents were very keen for us to have an education and we all attended the local school until we were each of an age to begin work.’
Hiding his surprise, he smiled. ‘In that case I shall be delighted to do that for you, my dear.’
She rose and crossed to the dresser, returning with a small, shabby writing case that contained a quantity of cheap paper and envelopes, a nib pen, a small bottle of ink and a blotting pad. After dipping the pen in the ink she wrote:
My dear Charlie,
Rest assured I am convinced of your innocence and shall be there tomorrow to hopefully see you released a free man. Then perhaps we can put this whole sorry incident behind us and concentrate on finding Susie.
With much love,
Your sister, Opal
Henry King remained silent, noting the tidiness of her handwriting. She placed the note in an envelope and, after addressing it to Charlie, she handed it to him with a grateful smile.
‘Thank you, sir,’ she told him, as he tucked it into the top pocket of his smart overcoat. ‘I am most grateful for your help.’
Taking this as his cue to leave, he rose reluctantly – for he could quite happily have sat there all day watching her, despite the shabby surroundings. ‘You are most welcome, my dear,’ he assured her. Then, placing his hat back on, he strode across the small room to the door where he paused to say, ‘Until tomorrow then? Let us hope for a good outcome for your brother.’
She inclined her head and watched as he rode away, feeling almost light-headed with relief; at last it looked as if there was something to hope for again.
After returning his horse to the groom in the stables at the back of his house in Swan Lane, Henry King walked the short distance into town. He called into the police station with instructions to deliver Opal’s note to her brother, then made his way to the Bull Inn in the marketplace where the visiting magistrates were staying. An idea had occurred to him and now, after seeing Opal again, he was keen to set it in motion.
‘Ah, James,’ he greeted a portly gentleman with a handlebar moustache and a ruddy complexion who was sitting at a table enjoying a jug of ale. ‘You’re just the person I was hoping to see.’
‘Come and join me, Henry,’ the man said, raising his hand for the landlord to bring more ale. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Actually, it’s quite a delicate matter.’ Henry removed his hat and joined him at the table. ‘The thing is, you will be sentencing a young man tomorrow at the court. His name is Charlie Sharp; the young devil tried to steal my wallet in the marketplace some days ago. Caught red-handed he was, and of course he denies it. But the thing is, because it was my wallet that he tried to steal, I would rather it be you that passed sentence. What I want to ask you is . . . could you see to it that he goes a long way away . . . for a long time?’
He fumbled in his wallet and discreetly pushed a crisp bank note across the table; it was quickly pocketed by the other man, who winked and tapped the side of his nose. ‘You just leave it with me, Henry.’ He grinned, and as the landlord approached with two more jugs brimming with ale, they went on to talk of other things.
The next day, Opal rose early. After washing herself from top to toe as she did every morning, she dressed in her Sunday best skirt and blouse. After brushing her hair until it shone, she tied it into a thick plait that hung down her back. Finally, she wrapped the shawl that Charlie had bought her for Christmas about her shoulders and set off in the chilly morning for the town.
She arrived at the courthouse early, and after taking a seat was forced to sit through several other prisoners’ cases before at last Charlie was led into the room. The breath caught in her throat as she saw that his hands were chained. He looked pale and thin, but he managed a smile when he saw her, which brought tears springing to her eyes.
She trained her eyes on Magistrate King, but he behaved very professionally and avoided looking at her as Charlie’s case was read out. The magistrates then adjourned to another room to consider the verdict, and when they returned the large gentleman with the big moustache sitting beside Henry King stared at Charlie solemnly.
‘Stealing is a heinous offence,’ he stated gravely. ‘And although my colleague Magistrate King has declined to press charges, I feel that this cannot go unpunished. There have been too many cases of theft in this town over the last few months and so, Charlie Sharp, I intend to make an example of you. You shall be taken from here and placed on
a ship and transported to the penal colony in New South Wales in Australia, where you will serve seven years hard labour. When you have served your sentence, you will be free to either return to England or make a new life for yourself there.’
Charlie’s mouth fell open with shock, and a ripple ran through the court as Opal leaped to her feet.
‘No!’ she shouted, as tears spilled down her cheeks. But already two burly policemen were leading Charlie away, so lifting her skirts she ran from the room and down to the prison cart that had brought him there from the jail.
‘I’m so sorry, Opal,’ Charlie said brokenly when he appeared, flanked on either side by the officers. They instantly began to haul him into the back of the cart. ‘Just take care of yourself now . . . and remember, it’s not forever . . . I’ll be back one day . . . I promise!’
‘No, no,’ she cried in deep distress, but already they were urging the horses on and she could only watch helplessly as the cart containing her brother was driven away.
Chapter Nine
Opal had no idea how long she stood there with tears streaming down her cold cheeks, but eventually a gentle hand on her arm made her glance up into the eyes of Magistrate King.
‘I’m so sorry, my dear,’ he said sorrowfully. ‘I didn’t press charges, as you heard, but I’m afraid that my colleagues felt the crime could not go unpunished.’
‘I-it’s . . . not your . . . f-fault,’ she sobbed. ‘You did what you could for him and I . . . I am grateful for that. G-goodness knows how long they might have given him if you had decided to press charges.’ Something occurred to her then and, looking up at him, she gabbled hopefully, ‘Will I be allowed to see him before he goes?’
The Winter Promise Page 6