He shook his head, his expression solemn. ‘I am afraid not. He will already be on his way to a prison close to the ship where he will be held until it sails,’ he told her, and the sobs started again. Her whole world had fallen apart in such a short space of time that she could hardly take it in.
‘Look, why don’t you let me take you home?’ he offered sympathetically. ‘My carriage will be here any minute and it’s no trouble, I assure you.’
Opal’s initial reaction was to refuse the offer. But then she supposed that what had happened wasn’t really his fault. He had tried to help by not pressing charges against Charlie, after all.
‘Very well,’ she said dully, as a smart carriage pulled by two matching black stallions drew to a halt beside them.
‘Here we are then; in you go.’ He helped her up the step, and she sank back miserably against the smart leather seats as he placed a thick travelling rug across her knees. Soon the carriage was rattling across the cobblestones. Opal had never been in a carriage before, but today she was so bereft that she barely even noticed the luxurious interior as she thought of Charlie’s fate. Magistrate King’s voice suddenly brought her thoughts back to the present.
‘. . . I was saying, my dear . . .’
‘Oh . . . sorry, I was miles away.’
‘I’ve been thinking that I might just have a proposition to put to you that could be beneficial to us both.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘If you’re referring to the job as a laundry maid that you offered me, I would be happy to accept it.’ She really had no choice; it was that or the workhouse.
He shook his head. ‘Actually, I have realised that you would be quite unsuited to such a position. You are far too intelligent to be wasted washing dirty laundry. However, I do have another idea that might appeal to you more.’
‘Oh?’ Opal found that she was interested despite herself – unless he was going to suggest something improper, in which case she had resigned herself to entering the workhouse.
‘The thing is,’ he went on, choosing his words carefully. ‘My mother is becoming rather frail and is not able to get out and about as much as she used to. She has a rather splendid house on the outskirts of town in Red Deeps. She has servants, of course, but although her body is frail, her mind is still very alert, so I have been thinking of employing a companion for her, someone who could read to her and listen to her. I know she enjoys the company of young people. In fact, it is one of my biggest regrets that my late wife and I were never able to give her any grandchildren. Do you think this is a position that you might consider?’
Opal was so shocked that she could only stare at him open-mouthed for a moment. And then she glanced down at her shabby clothes and gave a wry grin. ‘I hardly think that I am the class of person your mother would want around her,’ she quietly pointed out.
He shook his head. Could she have known it, he was very aware of her past. He had made sure of that.
‘I am quite sure that you could hold your own in any company,’ he assured her. ‘And you would, of course, be supplied with suitable clothes. It would also be a live-in position, so you would be safe and earning a salary. What do you think of the idea?’
Shocked, Opal shook her head. ‘I . . . don’t quite know what to think,’ she admitted. ‘I shall have to consider it.’
‘Of course.’ He gave her a gracious smile, and for the rest of the journey she sat staring from the window, thinking on all that had happened and his proposition. Eventually, the horses drew to a halt, and when the driver opened the door he told Mr King, ‘I’m afraid the horses can’t go any further, sir. The carriage would never go over that field.’
‘It’s all right,’ Opal said hastily, casting the blanket aside and rising. ‘The cottage isn’t far from here. Thank you.’
‘Would you like me to escort you the rest of the way?’ Henry asked solicitously.
She shook her head. ‘No, thank you, sir. I prefer to go the rest of the way on my own.’
‘Very well – but you will think on what I suggested?’
When she nodded, he smiled with satisfaction. ‘Good. Then I will wish you good day, my dear. You know where to find me should you wish to take me up on my offer.’
With another nod she got out of the carriage, and stood for some time watching it disappear into the distance. Then, wearily, she turned and made her way back to the empty cottage.
The carriage had gone only a short distance when it came to a row of tumbledown terraced houses and Henry shouted to the driver, ‘Stop here, Brown!’
Once Henry was out on the lane, the driver enquired, ‘Shall I wait for you, sir?’
‘No, I shall make my own way home from here, drive on,’ Henry told the driver, and as the carriage pulled away, he hurried towards one of the houses. It paid to have criminal friends sometimes, even if he was a magistrate, and right now he had a little job that he wanted doing.
The fire was out when Opal reached the cottage. It looked cold and bleak and, without Charlie, very empty. Dropping on to the nearest chair, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed broken-heartedly.
Eventually, as darkness was falling, she roused herself enough to light the fire and get out the small amount of bread she had left, which she smeared with dripping. She had no appetite whatsoever, but she knew she must stay strong if she was to find a job and keep herself. It looked like it would be many years until Charlie returned, and somehow she would have to survive.
Already she had decided not to take up Magistrate King’s job offer. Jobs like that were not for the likes of simple working-class people like her. People might say she was trying to get above her station, and she was secretly afraid that if she wasn’t satisfactory she might find herself out on her ear, which meant she would have to find some other means of keeping herself. She was prepared to do anything – washing, ironing, cleaning – but she also knew that even jobs like that were hard to come by.
She boiled the kettle, only to find that she had used the last of the tea leaves, so her meagre meal was washed down with water. As she began to prepare for bed, she became aware of a noise outside – but before she could get to the window to check what it was, the curtains suddenly blew in as the glass imploded and scattered across the floor.
She screamed as she stared down at a large rock, as a voice shouted, ‘Clear off, yer rotten scum. We don’t want the likes o’ thievin’ bastards an’ their kin around ’ere!’
Flying across to the door, she shot the bolt and pressed her back against it, her heart thudding wildly. It sounded like there were two or three people at least out there, and she knew that if they managed to break in she would stand no chance against them. Hurrying to the fireplace, she picked up the poker and shouted, ‘Go away and leave me alone. We’ve done no one any harm!’ They were brave words, but inside she was quaking with terror. And then the other window smashed, the glass scattering into the room, and she screamed again as she stood there helpless.
‘That’ll show yer what we think o’ thieves,’ the voice shouted again. ‘An’ we’ll be back, so be warned!’
Slowly, the voices receded into the distance. Opal stood for a while, staring wide-eyed at the door as the wind whistled through the broken windows. When she was sure they had gone, she stuffed the tiny broken leaded panes with anything she could put her hand on to try and stop the draughts.
Eventually, she huddled down fully clothed on the bed, shaking with fear; she had never felt more alone and her ears strained for the sound of the men coming back, until at last she dropped into an exhausted sleep.
The next morning, Opal set off bright and early to try and find a job. Even the cottage didn’t feel safe anymore, and she was glad to get away from it. But even though she tried every shop and house that she came to, there was no work to be found. Eventually, she came to the pawnbroker and, with tears in her eyes, she stared into the grimy window. The only thing of worth she had left now was her mother’s thin, gold wedding band.
She had worn it about her neck on a piece of string since the day her mother died and it was her most cherished possession – but common sense told her that she had to eat.
She pushed open the door and looked around. The interior of the shop was a hotchpotch of goods and each surface was piled high with everything from clothes to household goods. Behind the counter stood a small man, who appeared to be almost as far around as he was high. She gave a wry smile; he certainly didn’t know what it was like to go hungry by the looks of him. Opal fingered the ring regretfully.
‘So, what can I be doin’ fer you this cold an’ frosty mornin’?’ the man enquired, peering at her through a pair of gold prince-nez spectacles that were perched on the end of his nose.
‘I, er, was wondering how much you would give me for this. It was my mother’s,’ Opal told him, as she untied the string and slipped the ring from it.
He took it from her and, after examining it through an eyeglass, he snorted. ‘Huh! These are ten a penny,’ he told her. ‘I can give yer a shillin’ fer it.’
‘A shilling! Is that all?’ Opal gasped in horror.
He shrugged. ‘Take it or leave it, dearie! Makes no difference to me. I’ve a drawer full of ’em.’
Opal snatched it back and with her head held high she sailed out of the shop. I’d rather starve than let it go for that, she thought fiercely.
But as the day passed and her stomach began to rumble ominously, she felt less sure. Although once again she had asked everywhere, there was no work to be found.
Finally, she went to the crowded marketplace, and found a shop doorway where she could shelter until the light began to fade and the stallholders began to pack up their wares. She had noticed that they threw away any damaged or bruised fruit and vegetables beneath the stalls and soon she was nipping between them, snatching up anything she could find that was edible. Then, with her last penny, she bought a day-old loaf that the baker let her have for half the price of a fresh one, before beginning the long walk home.
Once outside the cottage, she glanced nervously about to ensure she was alone before entering quickly. It was cold and draughty, so she lit the fire before sorting through her pockets to see what she had managed to collect. There was a bruised turnip, two misshapen potatoes and a winter cabbage – the leaves of which were turning brown – as well as a very squashed apple.
She quickly peeled and chopped the vegetables, poured water from the kettle into the pan and boiled them in a saucepan over the fire. The meal would be bland, but she was so hungry that she would have eaten anything. She went to fill the kettle at the pump over the sink and was surprised when no water trickled out of it. After venturing outside, she discovered that someone had yanked the pipe out of the wall and broken it beyond repair, and she felt her stomach clench with fear. It must have been done by the people who had broken the windows the night before, she thought, her heart hammering as she peered nervously into the darkness, listening for any sound, terrified the men would return. After standing shivering for a few moments, she went back in and bolted the door behind her.
When the vegetables were cooked she ate them, her eyes trained fearfully on the door. With her meal finished, she blew out the candle and climbed into bed, but sleep wouldn’t come as she lay straining her ears for any sound outside the cottage.
It wasn’t long before she heard a commotion again. Nerves stretched to breaking point, she hurried to the fireplace and lifted the poker in her shaking hands.
‘Still ’ere are yer, scum?’ a threatening voice shouted, as whoever it was began to pound on the door.
‘G-go away!’ she shrieked as panic took hold of her. ‘I’ve done you no harm!’
‘We don’t want the likes o’ you an’ yer thievin’ brother round ’ere,’ the voice shot back. ‘Just make sure as you ain’t ’ere tomorrow when we come back, else it’ll be the worse fer you! This is yer last warnin’!’
There was silence then, but it was a long time before Opal dared to return to her bed, and dawn was breaking before she finally fell into a troubled doze.
She was eating the rest of the boiled vegetables early the next morning when a horse’s hooves sounded on the grass outside; instantly she was on her guard again as she lifted the poker and faced the door. Seconds later, someone knocked on it and she held her breath for a moment before shouting, ‘Go away and leave me alone . . . do you hear me?’
‘Miss Sharp . . . Opal, it’s me, Henry King. Are you all right in there?’
Relief ran through her as she hurriedly fumbled with the lock on the door and, without stopping to think, she threw herself into his arms.
‘My dear girl, whatever is the matter?’ he asked solicitously as he savoured the feel of her warm flesh against his.
‘P-people have been coming . . . at night,’ she told him through her tears. ‘Th-they broke the windows and told me I wasn’t wanted around here.’
‘Goodness me. Now come and sit down for a moment – you’re all of a shake. Never fear, you are quite safe while I’m here.’
Opal did as she was told as she falteringly told him about the unwelcome visitors.
He stared at her sympathetically, his face a mask of concern. ‘It sounds to me like it really isn’t safe for you to be here,’ he told her gently. ‘Won’t you at least agree to come and meet my mother? I’m sure you would be much safer living with her.’
Opal thought on his words for a few minutes, before nodding her head miserably. With no prospect of work here and no safety, it really did appear that there was no option open to her now except the workhouse; and after what had happened to Susie and Jack, as well as seeing the poor, wretched people who lived there when she’d stood outside its forbidding walls for all those weeks, she had no wish to go there.
‘Very well,’ she answered dully, staring at the floor and so not noticing the gleam that momentarily lit his eyes.
‘Excellent. I shall go immediately and return with the carriage. There’s no time like the present and you clearly aren’t safe here. As soon as I am gone I want you to lock the door behind me and don’t open it again until I come back. And don’t worry, if you don’t like my mother, you will be under no obligation to take the post.’ He got up and strode towards the door.
‘Th-thank you.’ She sniffed, wondering why he was being so good to her.
He was back within the hour, by which time Opal had made herself look as presentable as she could.
‘The carriage is down the lane waiting for us,’ he explained, offering her his arm. Realising that she had no choice, Opal took it, relieved to be leaving this place, but feeling unaccountably nervous. After everything that had happened to her family over the past few months, she no longer believed that life could have any good in store for her.
Chapter Ten
‘You look as if you’re frozen through, my dear,’ Henry said worriedly once they were settled in the carriage. ‘And have you eaten today?’
‘A little,’ she told him in a small voice.
He tutted. ‘As soon as we get to my mother’s, you must go to her cook and get a good meal inside you,’ he insisted. With a little grin he went on, ‘And don’t be put off by my mother’s attitude. She can appear quite frosty until you get to know her, but she has a kind heart. Although she doesn’t suffer fools gladly, which is why I feel that you and she might get on.’
Opal stared miserably from the window as the fine carriage rattled along. It was a bitterly cold, rainy day and her feet were so frozen that she had lost all feeling in them. Eventually, they turned into two high gates on the hill overlooking Griff Hollows.
‘This is Hollow’s House, my mother’s residence,’ he informed her, as he saw the look of surprise on her face. She clearly hadn’t expected anything quite as grand as this. The drive was long and tree-lined, and when the house came into view, her eyes stretched wide. It was almost a mansion, with a turreted roof and numerous windows overlooking the sweeping drive. There were three steep steps leadin
g up to two stout oak-studded doors and the walls were covered in climbing ivy.
‘It’s very big,’ she squeaked.
He laughed. ‘Nothing but the best for my mother. My father was a very wealthy man, and when he died he left her very well provided for. This is where I was brought up and I can remember them hosting some wonderful balls and parties here.’
The carriage drew up in front of the steps, and Henry climbed down and offered his hand as she cautiously followed him, feeling a little like a fish out of water.
‘Come along, my dear. And don’t look so frightened; she doesn’t bite,’ he encouraged.
He yanked on a bell to the side of the door and it was opened by a small maid in a navy dress over which she wore a cap and apron trimmed with broderie anglaise.
‘Good morning, sir,’ she greeted Henry, bobbing her knee and glancing curiously at Opal. ‘The mistress is in the day room.’
‘Excellent. I shall go to see her immediately. Meanwhile, Nancy, would you take my guest through to Cook and ask her to rustle her up some breakfast?’
‘Of course, sir.’ The maid gave a little curtsey again and, after an encouraging nod from Henry, Opal followed her along the enormous hallway. She had thought Henry’s house was grand but it was nothing compared to this one, and once again she wondered how she could possibly fit in here.
‘So who’s this then?’ a plump, rosy-faced woman asked with a frown when Nancy led her into the biggest kitchen Opal had ever seen.
‘Mr King told me to bring her through, Cook, and said I was to tell you to give her some breakfast.’
‘Did he now? Well, I reckon I can manage that. There’s some sausage an’ bacon left. And I could fry you an egg an’ all. How does that sound, me dear?’ Her voice had softened now and Opal felt herself relax a little.
‘It sounds lovely . . . thank you,’ she answered shyly as the warmth of the room wrapped around her like a cloak.
The Winter Promise Page 7