by Hazel Aitken
She hurried out but the door had hardly closed when it re-opened and Dr Lisle’s dark head appeared. “Are you fit to talk, Hannah?”
“I can try. My face and head hurt.”
“I examined the injuries whilst you lay under Mr Lawson’s counter. He sent for me. Bruising, bleeding and swelling. How did you come by them?” He drew the wicker chair closer to the bed and sat down.
“I was abducted, pushed into a carriage and hit across the face and head. My assailant was a gentleman. Believe that if you will, Dr Lisle.”
“That is one thing he was not.”
“He spoke with an educated accent, he smelt of expensive cologne or pomade, and he had a fob watch, well a chain, anyway. Not that I could see it but my fingers caught in it. I’ll tell you the whole story, of course I will, but there’s a very young girl in jeopardy in the house next to Mrs Wilson’s. You know, at Next-Door-Nellie’s.”
“I told you to keep away.” He sounded furiously angry.
“I was taken there. Oh, here’s Mrs Stannard.”
“And just in time, I’d say. Miss Morley is in no state to be harangued,” came that woman’s scolding tone as the doctor rose from the chair. She placed a mug of fragrant steaming chocolate on a bedside table and heaved Hannah up the bed, exposing her bare arms and revealing clusters of spots within areas of redness.
“Fleabites if I’m not mistaken. Oh, for goodness’ sake, Hannah. Don’t get coy with me,” as she tried to snuggle down again. “I am well used to seeing arms, legs and everything else. May I suggest Mrs Stannard remains whilst you tell us your story”
“When she’s had her chocolate and not before.” The mug was pushed under Hannah’s nose and the matron sat on the end of the bed. “Do sit down, doctor. This is no time to stand on ceremony.”
With careful attention to detail, Hannah relived the terrors of the previous night and when she spoke in quiet jerky tones of the disposal of the small white body in the sulphurous waters of the river, Mrs Stannard’s blue eyes opened wide with horror and shock.
“So they killed the baby?” she said breathily.
“I don’t know,” whispered Hannah. “I heard the cry of a new-born infant which grew stronger and then, nothing. It was cut off. And something awful was happening the other side of the wall; groans, whimpers and panicky whispers, and then there was the girl who was pushed in with me…she talked a lot, about her family finding somewhere for her to have the baby. It could be farmed out, she said, if a fee was paid and regular payments agreed. She seemed to think pregnancies could be terminated, again for a fee.”
“She’s almost certainly correct but a successful prosecution is hard to come by. And even if a baby’s body is dredged up, we cannot prove conclusively how the death occurred, and if we did who was the perpetrator.”
“It’s all hopeless,” Hannah felt a sob breaking and Dr Lisle took her hand.
“Perhaps not. Leave this to me, and Mrs Stannard…may I suggest Hannah is provided with a hot bath and a zinc oxide salve to stop the itch of those nasty bites.”
“Of course. I have just the thing.” She turned to Hannah. “We shall bring a bath and hot water and clean clothes, although you may wish to remain in bed for a while. This is the room you are to share with Sairin Williams; you remember, don’t you? Later, Mr Gidley will speak with you.”
Clean again, hair washed and nails scrubbed, Hannah thought with gratitude of the drink sodden rough sleeper who may unknowingly have saved her life. Wearing clothes and shawl lent by the matron, she left the room and walked across one of the exercise yards, empty owing to the snow underfoot and the piercing wind, and entered the main building.
Agnes Blair accosted her, the self-appointed housekeeper agog with news; bad news as usual which seemed to fascinate and she thrived on the telling. “Aye, it’s a sad auld world. The carter wis here. Tells me another wee bairn found in the river. I daresay folk cannae afford a funeral so they rid themselves o’ the burden like it wis rubbish. No’ the first time and no’ the last. Agnes kens it weel.”
“Where?” Hannah asked sharply. “Where did this happen?” Agnes seemed to look at her properly for the first time.
“In the name o’ goodness, lassie, what you been up tae?”
“I was attacked, but I’m all right. Tell me, where was the baby found?”
“Less than a mile frae the centre o’ the city. Doon by the big mill. Attacked were ye? Puir lassie. It’s a wicked world, so it is. I ken that weel.”
It could be connected, thought Hannah. That little body could be the one I saw dumped last night.
“Ye look awfie bad. Where were ye attacked? Near here, wis it?”
“That’s right, Agnes. Now I must hurry so excuse me.” She wasn’t going to give away too much information.
Mr Gidley greeted her with concern and kindness. “My dear lass, come in, sit down and rest awhile. Mrs Stannard has told me everything and it is shocking, quite terrible. The doctor has gone to make further investigations. Acquainted with a few men in our police service, so he says. Now, come to the fire.”
He was like a kind old mother hen, thought Hannah and liked him the better for it. Unless she was very mistaken, he was good to the core.
Seated behind his desk once more, he reached for the leather-bound volume he had unearthed a day or so earlier, the early records of the past decade. “I’m rather proud of my detective work, Miss Morley. He pulled a marker from the pages and opened at an entry recorded ten years earlier.”
“I invite you to read this.” There was an edge of excitement in his voice. He pushed the oversized book across the desk and she lifted it onto her knee. “See here, Admissions. Go on, read it aloud and you’ll see what I’m getting at.”
Hannah glanced at the entry which held no particular meaning.
17th October, 1850. At six o’clock in the evening admitted by the porter, mother and daughter. The woman in poor physical condition after sleeping rough for some time in farm barns and hedgerows. Name given as Helena Rae. Age 22.
18th October, 1850 Death – Helena Rae aged 22. Admitted previous day. Died 4 o’clock in the morning.
Admission: Leah Rae, aged 2. No known living relatives. Placed in children’s ward.
“I may seem very dull, Mr Gidley, but for the life of me I cannot make sense of this.”
“Read it aloud, lass. Read the last bit aloud.” He stood up and came around from behind the desk.
“Leah Rae! Don’t you see? This could be the child Leary!”
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Chapter Seventeen
“Good heavens! You could be right. How extraordinary and how clever of you, Mr Gidley.”
“I could be wrong, but the age may be right and Leary, the girl you call Rosa, appears older than she believes herself to be and has known no other home but the workhouse. Of course, I may be jumping to conclusions.”
“It feels right though, doesn’t it? I think you may very well be correct it but it doesn’t tell us why someone tried to abduct the girl. Unless it is because she is attractive and therefore vulnerable to the attentions of evil-minded men and women.”
“Quite, quite. Well, we shall see. Meantime, a few of the women are minding your class and that of Miss Phipps until you are recovered. May I suggest you rest as much as possible after your ordeal? We can rely on the doctor to make all necessary enquiries.”
*****
Hannah lay on the bed in the room she was to share with the Welsh girl and slept on and off as the bright light of day gave way to the dimness of fading light and finally darkness. At some point someone had entered the room and covered her with a light woollen blanket, and she awoke refreshed and strengthened, her aching head considerably improved.
A rapping on the door brought her fully awake and Agnes Blair put her head around it. “Carter’s brought your bits and pieces, lassie. Yer baggage is oot here. Attacked, were ye?”
“I told you, Agnes. Yes, a nasty man hit m
e.” It was like speaking to a young child and now that she was beginning to know the old woman better, she realised that at times her mind worked in the same way. Then, another thought crossed her mind. “Have you been here a long time? Did you ever know a child named Leah Rae?”
A strange haunted expression flickered across the lined features followed by one of puzzlement.
“I ken the name, leastways I think I dae, but I have nae been here for long years if that’s whit ye mean. I wis appointed housekeeper,” she ended proudly and Hannah knew the conversation had entered the realms of fantasy.
Later, having dragged her trunk into the room, she tidied her hair pulling the glossy dark strands into a smooth knot, patted the creases from a blue woollen dress and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders before walking across to the main building where girls and women had gathered for their evening meal. Feeling hungry, she sat with her class and having momentarily forgotten her bruised and swollen face, was startled by a number of stares, both interested and sympathetic.
“Did you fall, miss?” This from Fran Noone, and Hannah decided a brief version of the truth was required because rumours were bound to circulate.
“I was attacked by a ruffian when on my way home.”
“Pity it wasn’t Miss Phipps,” remarked one of her class and some of the girls hid smiles and peeked at one another to gauge reactions to such a daring comment.
“She’s still ill,” went on Fran, “and she’ll be mad as a caged rat when she gets back. Those women who took over today went through the cupboard and looked at her things. And we’ve used up all the paper that guardian brought us. Mind you, she didn’t care when he took our work to look at it. We know what her name is. It’s Martha!” Fran looked at Hannah. “Martha Phipps, ’orrible, en’t it?”
“It’s no worse than most,” was the murmured reply as Hannah decided that she must restore order the next day no matter how she felt. She must also make contact with the Websters and write to her mother. Tiredness swept over her; it would take a while to recover and there seemed too much to do.
Following a meal of broth thickened with barley, and additional milk for the younger children, Mrs Stannard signalled that Hannah was to accompany her to Mr Gidley’s office where Dr Lisle stood in front of the log fire, lines of weariness on his face, his shoulders drooping. Her heart went out to him and her smile was sympathetic.
He moved from the heat and she and Mrs Stannard seated themselves in the chairs he indicated. Mr Gidley entered, less ebullient than usual, his expression one of concentrated concern. Seated behind his desk he seemed diminished in some way, an air of unaccustomed gloom surrounding him.
“Ladies, the doctor here has told me a harrowing tale. Miss Morley has already played a part in it and been through the mill herself, so to speak. We’re going to put our heads together and pool our knowledge, isn’t that right, Dr Lisle? Though I fail to see how this place has a connection with what’s the name… Blackfrairs something or other.”
Dr Lisle took a deep breath and leaned back in the chair he had taken. “Let’s remind ourselves briefly and then I’ll inform you of today’s events. Following Hannah’s night of terror and subsequent adventures…not least hiding behind a flea infested, drink sodden rough sleeper…and her merciful escape, I visited the house accompanied by an acquaintance who is in the police service.” Hannah leaned forward, eager to catch every word. "I required a reliable witness and who better?
“What did you find?” She was unable to restrain herself. “Did you get Nellie and the others?”
“We didn’t get anyone, except a poor young girl, alone and in the last stages of labour. She’ll be cared for and the child.” He answered her unspoken question, adding, “Her testimony will be useful. The others appeared to have left. We searched and made some distressing discoveries. I fear someone may have suffered a severe blood loss last evening. There were indications of cleaning, some scrubbing and mopping, maybe, but the haemorrhage had obviously been considerable and cracks in the floorboards bore testimony. I am sorry, ladies.”
Mrs Stannard bridled. “Dr Lisle, as a medical man, you must be aware that women are made of sterner stuff than most men give us credit for, and without wishing to be indelicate you will know that we are more familiar with the sight of…”
Poor Mr Gidley is the colour of a ripe plum, thought Hannah and felt very sorry for him. “What may have happened to the woman I heard in labour and the one who almost certainly haemorrhaged?” she asked quickly. “Were they whisked away? They’d be in no state.”
“Carried into a carriage that waited outside, is my guess. There were a lot of footprints and scuffles in the snow. Think back, Hannah, to the night of thick fog when a vehicle waited. What exactly happened that night?”
“Not much. There was an air of controlled haste, of urgency.” She tried to visualise the scene again, the sense of alarm experienced, the compelling need to make sure she remained invisible.
“I think someone said, ‘Get her in,’ and then, ‘Lift her up.’”
"Did you hear a woman’s voice?
“Sounds were muffled so I wasn’t sure, but those words were definitely spoken by a man.”
“So, someone unconscious or even dead might have been pushed into the carriage.”
“That’s absolutely horrible, but I suppose so.” Despite the heat of the fire, she shuddered.
Dr Lisle’s shapely hands gesticulated as he said, “Here is what I think has been happening. The woman Nellie and her accomplice, probably the uncouth person you talked about earlier, have been running an illegal business. You’ve heard what happened today but there has to be more. Possibly some babies were farmed out and a few enquiries may solve that mystery, but what if no-one was willing to pay for a child’s upkeep? What if no-one was to profit?”
He left the question hanging in the air and Mr Gidley mopped his brow with a large handkerchief that had seen better days. “It happens, we know it does,” he murmured unhappily.
“So Sal may have blurted out the truth. She had seen something,” whispered Hannah, visions of a rough hand placed over a tiny mouth or pressure applied to a fragile neck. Unspeakable images filled her mind. Mrs Stannard, so bold a few moments before, looked sick. Mr Gidley now clasped his hands together as if in prayer.
“I am sure she did. Then there were times you and your mother saw the child in the backyard, obviously whilst things were happening in the house. I suspect she became a danger, maybe tried to escape and was followed. I don’t suppose we shall ever know.”
“Any more than we know who she was or how long she had been there,” remarked Mrs Stannard. “I doubt she was a workhouse child; why would women involved in their line of business risk taking in a child and having her about the place?”
“She may have been the natural child of one of the women, but who inflicted the fatal injury we may never know. But we shall find the women, be sure of that.” There was silence for a full half minute broken by Hannah.
“Maybe the woman I glimpsed at Sal’s funeral was her natural mother…” she mused before turning to the master. “Let us tell the others about your detection work, Mr Gidley. About Rosa, that is Leary, and how that isn’t her name at all.”
“Whoa! Think on, Miss Morley. We shall all be in a fine muddle if we go too fast. It’s this way, we have been trying to discover something of the other child’s past and I may have stumbled on something.” His tone was self-deprecating. “Though, I could be fooling myself and Miss Morley too.”
“Well, don’t tease us, Mr Gidley,” Mrs Stannard sounded almost light-hearted and Hannah noticed the fond look she cast in his direction.
“Have a look for yourselves.” He unearthed the records of ten years earlier, and she and the doctor pored over the relevant page.
“Well, I never did! It seems possible to me. You are very clever, Mr Gidley. Very clever indeed. What do you say, Dr Lisle?”
“It needs some thought, but it is possible. I believe
there’s a prominent local family who own an estate some miles off and have another fine place further north. Not Rae, but something like it. Yes, got it! Stuart-Rae.”
“Are you suggesting there’s a connection, doctor? It seems highly unlikely.” The matron glanced sharply at him.
“Apologies, I digress. I recall the name only because the elderly landowner was killed whilst out hunting a year or so ago. I recall Mr Meredith mentioning it.”
“He should know, he moves in such circles, I am told.” Mrs Stannard’s tone was dry and disapproving.
Hannah gave a deep sigh and attention focussed on her again. “What worries me is that I am sure I was abducted because of a connection with Rosa. The man kept asking me for her whereabouts. It’s Rosa they want, whoever they are; but why was I taken to Next-Door-Nellie?”
“Could it be we’ve all been missing the point? Oh, dear me.” Mr Gidley’s handkerchief was in use again.
“There’s something else.” Hannah looked around at the company. “After the blow to my head, I said the first thing that came to mind when asked about Rosa. I lied and said she was staying near Longwell. That’s where my mother is and I’m very afraid for her. She may be in danger. I need to see her. In fact, I must.”
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Chapter Eighteen
“Tomorrow morning, Elias Williams will take you to Longwell,” Mrs Stannard announced later. “He is in a hurry to collect materials from someone out that way. I don’t know the ins and outs of it, but we are lending him a horse and trap, and if you accompany him you may spend an hour or two with your mother and your mind will be eased. Sairin, his daughter, will be with him.”
It was later when she entered the bedroom that she met the attractive twelve-year-old, a slight child with whom conversation was difficult. Her shyness was crippling and Hannah felt it kinder to refrain from questions, so busied herself brushing her hair and preparing for bed before huddling beneath a pile of blankets. If the child noticed Hannah’s bruised face, she made no comment.