The Orphans of Ardwick

by Emma Hornby

  Bar Miss Josephine, of the family she’d seen nothing. Miss Lucy, to shield her from any unpleasantness, had been kept out of the way in her grandfather’s room. What Mr Philip was feeling, thinking, whether he was suspicious of his wife’s involvement, Pip didn’t know; she had seen nothing of him so could gauge no clue. As for the woman herself …

  Tabby – who until a replacement was acquired now found the housemaid’s duties heaped atop her own already heavy workload – had been summoned by Caroline earlier and told to inform Cook that the lady was to take dinner in her room today and would require a tray. Until then, she was busy reading and was not to be disturbed.

  Reading! How her blackened mind was able to settle on such frivolities, Pip was at a loss to understand. Hadn’t she a single ounce of moral decency? Mind, did she even have to ask herself that? The woman had a touch of Lucifer himself in her, it was clear.

  Having calmed Josephine who, shaken by the day’s drama, had taken longer to settle than usual, Pip finally crawled into bed shortly after midnight. She lay staring at the ceiling for an age, mind too wrought with anxiety for sleep.

  One thing above all else overrode: what was to be done about Caroline? Simon had said do nothing, not yet. When? Had he a solution to all this? But what?

  As she normally did in times of trouble, Pip closed her eyes and envisioned her mother’s smile and gentle gaze. Snippets of memory, which the passage of time hadn’t yet spirited away, played in her mind and she sighed with a yearning of such intensity it hurt. They were all she had left, now, of that too-short piece of her lifetime. She cherished them, would for ever. And as she drifted to sleep, her mother’s voice, reciting one of her many comforting passages from the Bible, cradled her on her descent, bringing a feeling of ease to the heaviness in her heart and feeding her soul with hope:

  ‘Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee …’

  And she trusted that, somehow, all would be well.

  Chapter 16

  FOR THE BETTER part of the afternoon, Pip had whizzed through Bracken House like a bee with an itch. To and fro between Miss Josephine’s quarters fetching this and the other for her mistress who, jittery with excitement, had struggled to decide between the vast array of dresses and shoes and matching jewels … up and down the stairs for numerous cups of fresh tea in her favourite china cup to calm her nerves … back and forth to the window to scan the street for Mr Sutton-Shaw’s anticipated arrival … She was exhausted. But pleased, aye – glad, too – for the upcoming event had broken the stifling gloom that had held the household in its grasp for the past few days.

  This morning had seen the birth of a brand new year, and Pip had welcomed it with open arms. She hoped 1861 would fetch more certainty and happiness than the last twelve months she’d gladly left behind. She’d been quietly delighted when Miss Josephine, unsure whether it would be right and proper to press ahead with the engagement dinner today owing to recent circumstances, had finally been persuaded by the master. Her mistress needed this; they all did. It had been something to look forward to, to lift their minds from the darkness for a few short hours. Also, if all went to plan, the chance to dream of the bright future awaiting them in the yet undecided new dwelling. And she prayed hourly it would be theirs for real, and soon. Leaving the badness of this place behind couldn’t come fast enough.

  Already, Hardman seemed but a distant memory. For varying reasons, no one mentioned her if they could help it, yet her aura lingered and a solemnity touched every corner and crevice, filling the air and those who breathed it still with quiet unease. However, the coming of this fresh dawn had, to everyone’s private relief it seemed, shifted the mood for the better.

  Still, Pip had seen nothing of the Goldthorpes. Her position kept her in this room for most of each day. When she had ventured beyond the door, with her mistress’s permission, to snatch a moment with the others in the kitchen, she’d encountered not a soul on the outward or return journey. Neither had any of the family visited Josephine’s room. Whether they had on the occasions she’d been downstairs, Pip couldn’t say. But Miss Lucy aside, who she missed and worried over frequently, she was glad of it, particularly Caroline’s absence. How she’d feel upon seeing the poisonous piece next, she didn’t know. The thought filled her with angry shame and terror in equal measures.

  She’d confided to Simon only yesterday that keeping her silence about what she was now convinced was murder was slowly eating away at her moral fibre. She had a constant taste of bitter sickness in her throat with the knowledge that she’d done nothing and uttered less, had allowed that murderess to get away with her wicked deed completely. Again, he’d told her to do and say nothing yet. Getting anyone to listen to her suspicions would be difficult enough, believing them more so, she knew, so Pip did as the lad requested, though it pained her physically. Hardman deserved justice, she did, despite her faults. Caroline had to be punished.

  According to Simon, Mr Philip looked to be punishing himself enough for the pair of them. The night following the housemaid’s death, he’d heard the stumbling drunk master’s son let himself into his dead lover’s room. What Simon was certain were muffled sobs had carried through the wall for some minutes, then the gentleman had left as quickly as he’d come. Had he wanted to feel close to Hardman? Had he really felt something for this one, this time? Surprisingly, it appeared so.

  ‘Well, Pip? Will I do?’

  Snapped back to the present, she glanced across the room. A small gasp escaped her. ‘Eeh, Miss Josephine …’

  Finally, she’d decided upon a plain but striking outfit in soft rose. Her hair she’d dressed in unborn buds of the same flower. Bright-faced with anticipation, her cheeks held the same hue. She looked radiant.

  ‘Do you think Alexander will approve?’ the lady asked, a quaver of uncertainty in her tone. Her breathing was heavy, her eyes wide.

  ‘He’d have to be daft, dumb and blind not to. Now then, deep breaths,’ she murmured as Josephine’s head began bobbing softly with her shaking. Despite her recent claim that she was almost well for good again, Pip knew she’d been wise not to encourage the assumption and thus raise her hopes too much. Time is what it would take. Patience, too. There was no fast fix.

  ‘I, I’m trying, truly I am …’

  ‘Sit down a moment.’ Pip helped her to a chair. Frowning worriedly, she made her own steady breathing louder as a guide to encourage the woman to reach the same speed. Her nerves were getting the better of her, she was beginning to panic. If Pip couldn’t help her regain control, Miss Josephine would get herself into a state and refuse to attend the dinner; that wouldn’t do anyone any good, especially herself.

  ‘What if the meal doesn’t go to plan? Perhaps Mabel has forgotten something, or the table hasn’t been set correctly? Or, or …?’

  ‘Have I to slip down and check, Miss Josephine?’ Pip offered, knowing the lady was fretting unnecessarily – large, elaborate meal or not, Cook was a master at her job – but willing to do anything if it curbed her anxiety.

  ‘That would put my mind at ease. Would you?’

  ‘Course, aye.’

  ‘Thank you, dear girl.’

  ‘You’ll be all right till I return?’

  Reaching for a handkerchief to dab away perspiration from her upper lip, Josephine nodded. Pip hurried from the room.

  Her toes had barely touched the bottom stair when a knock came at the front door ahead of her. Leaning around the wide banister, she glanced along the hall. No sound or sign of movement. She took a few steps and stood, unsure what to do. The caller was surely Mr Sutton-Shaw – he was due any time now. Another rap sounded and when again no one appeared to answer it, she moved towards the door. She didn’t know if she’d get into trouble for greeting visitors but surely it was better than leaving them perishing from the cold on the step? Tentatively, she turned the handle.

  The wave of shock that struck her full force wh
en gazing upon the man who was revealed almost choked her. To say he was surprised, too, was putting it mildly. They could only stare, wide-eyed, at one another for some seconds.

  When her legs threatened to buckle, she made to slam the door shut but he wedged his shoe in the opening and thrust his face into hers, hissing, ‘What the hell are you, you young slum-mole, doing here at Bracken House?’

  Pip opened her mouth but her scream never reached her lips – grabbing handfuls of her bodice, the man who regularly visited her nightmares pushed her before him in a tottering dance. When they reached the study, he released her with one hand to thrust the door open and hauled her, gasping with terror, into the room. Kicking the door shut, he shoved her from him towards the large desk by the window, which she hit her hip against, the shot of pain knocking the breath from her. Before she could make a dash for the door, he was looming over her once more.

  She whimpered. ‘Nay, please—!’

  ‘Everywhere I turn lately you seem to be there.’ Grasping her arm, he twisted it painfully up her back. ‘What is your game? Who the devil are you?’

  ‘Ah! I didn’t hear you arrive, old boy …’ Entering by sheer chance, Philip halted in the study doorway. His greeting dying, he frowned in confused surprise at the scene before him.

  Pip went weak with relief. ‘Oh! Mr Philip, please help me—!’

  ‘What is this? Alexander?’

  The name seemed to career from wall to wall before crashing through her brain. God above, no … What fresh hell was this? It wasn’t – couldn’t be – true!

  With some reluctance, the man who had targeted Mack that day with depravity in mind, whom she’d helped another young innocent fend off only days ago, released her with a curl of his lip. He turned cold eyes to his friend. ‘You mean to say you know this parasite?’

  ‘Pip? Why, she’s Josephine’s new find.’ Philip moved further into the room. Ever so slightly, his eyes softened at her distress. ‘Is there something I should know? What has the child done?’

  ‘Oh, Mr Philip, your friend is bad, he is, he—!’

  ‘Silence!’ Alexander Sutton-Shaw barked. ‘You utter a word of any of this to upset your mistress and so help me, you’ll rue the day you ever crossed my path. Now, get out.’ He flicked his head to the door.

  The fight left Pip on a drawn-out breath. A miserable tear escaped and splashed to her cheek. With a last look at Mr Philip who, still frowning, quickly glanced away, the last of her spirit sank. What was the point? Her voice meant nothing, nothing. It was finished, all of it. The future was as good as dead. Lord, why? She turned and walked slowly from the room.

  Her tread took her in the direction of the kitchen but she’d taken no more than a few steps when a familiar voice called her name. As if in a trance, her soul heavy with devastation, she paused. ‘Yes, Miss Josephine?’ she murmured.

  ‘Pip, dear, did you speak with Mabel? Is everything running smoothly?’

  ‘Oh, I … Aye, all’s well.’

  The woman turned her around to peer at her. ‘Alas, you don’t seem to be. Whatever is wrong?’

  The strength it took not to pour out the terrible, terrible truth, beg her mistress to believe her, to evict the man behind that door from the house, their lives, pained her physically. It would devastate Josephine. It would break her heart, her health along with it. She was besotted with the swine.

  But surely, I can’t stand back and do nothing, see her marry someone such as him? she agonised. And Josephine was expecting her and the lads to work for them afterwards, to dwell in the same house … Oh, why was danger and hatred at every turn? She was sick and tired of it! And she was weary with concealing the truth of wrongdoings.

  Simon. She needed to speak with him. He’d know what to do.

  She brought to her mouth what she reckoned was a convincing smile. ‘Nowt’s afoot, Miss Josephine. Don’t fret. Mr Sutton-Shaw’s just arrived.’ The name tasted bitter on her tongue. She breathed deeply. ‘You enjoy your evening. I’ll be close by should you need me.’

  A slow and blissful smile, which it hurt Pip to witness, caressed the woman’s lips. She was calmer, now, than she’d been upstairs; it was clear she was determined that nothing would spoil this night. Pip would have been delighted at her strength any other time; now, her happiness felt tainted. She watched the woman she’d come to think a great deal of head for the drawing room with what she just knew were bright eyes and an excited smile. Heart breaking, she continued to the kitchen.

  The room was a hive of activity. Cook and Tabby were flitting about like a pair of blind chickens as they put the finishing touches to a dinner befitting a small army. Pip didn’t even recognise half the dishes – whatever their names, each looked magnificent. They had worked their fingers to the bone to make today as special as they could. Pip’s heart sank yet again.

  ‘Ah, lass!’ Cook caught sight of her as she made to slope past towards Simon at the table. ‘Eeh, you’ve arrived at the right time, aye.’ She puffed at a tendril of damp hair stuck to her brow. ‘I’m fagged, I am. According to Albert, we’ve a new housemaid joining us the morrow – it can’t come quick enough! Until then, we could use your help, here, the night if you’re for lending it.’ Without waiting for an answer, she turned to the scullery maid. ‘Change your apron, tidy your hair and cap, then announce to that lot the grub’s ready, lovey. Quick, now, afore it grows cowd.’

  ‘What do you want me to do, Cook?’ asked Pip when the girl had disappeared. The answer made her blood run cold:

  ‘Help carry these dishes through to the hungry mob, will thee?’

  Enter the dining room, where he was? Caroline, too? Oh, could this day get any worse …? But what choice had she? She couldn’t very well refuse outright and her jumbled mind could think up no adequate excuse.

  When Tabby returned, Pip swallowed hard. Taking the girl’s lead, she picked up the platter that Cook indicated and, heart hammering, followed her from the room.

  As well as Alexander and the Goldthorpes, some half a dozen others turned as one as they stepped inside the spacious, beautifully furnished room. The next moment, seeing they were no one of much significance, the guests resumed their conversations. Lowering her head quickly so as not to accidentally make eye contact with one of her betters, which was frowned upon for servants to do – and certainly not wishing to catch the stare of two in particular – Pip stuck close to the scullery maid.

  They placed their loads on to the highly polished table, stunningly set with a china service, vases of fresh flowers and gold candelabra, bright silver cutlery winking in the flames’ glow. Noiselessly, they disappeared to fetch in the next batch. This time when they returned, Pip caught Miss Josephine’s eye, and her mistress gave a subtle smile. Appearing the picture of serenity, much to Pip’s relief, she looked like an angel from heaven, beautiful in the soft light and rosy-cheeked from the effects of the rich-coloured wine she was sipping from a crystal glass.

  Warmth flowed through her on seeing her mistress happy and at ease. Then she remembered what type of man had brought it about and her shoulders slumped. Blast him. Oh, she had to tell her, she had to … She glanced his way – and was startled to see him looking right back at her with an expression of such contempt that her hands began to shake. Quickly, she turned her attention to the dish, fearful she would drop it.

  But her efforts were in vain. As she passed Caroline’s chair, her foot caught on something and time seemed to stand still. She could only watch in complete horror as the platter flew from her hands, clattering across the wooden floor and sending food flying in all directions. She tumbled to the ground after it, landing heavily against the wall.

  Dumb silence struck the room. Miss Josephine recovered first. Jumping from her seat, she hurried to Pip’s side and, taking her elbow, helped her to her knees. ‘Dear girl! Are you all right?’

  ‘Aye, yes. So … so very sorry, I …’ Cheeks aflame, she peeped around at the guests. Catching sight of Caroline and her sickenin
gly smug smile, furious tears sprang to her eyes.

  She’d put her foot out. She’d tripped her. She’d done it on purpose, to humiliate her, and she was loving every second of it. Alexander’s soft snort showed he approved wholeheartedly.

  Pip’s legs itched to run at them both and vent her emotion with her fists – a fact that both shocked and incensed her even more. Never in her life had she known a temper such as this. She was gentle natured, could likely count on one hand the times she’d so much as raised her voice to another soul. Now, the struggle to dampen down her burning hatred of these two scared her. What had they done to her? She barely recognised herself. The yearning for revenge planted itself in her mind and she was powerless to shake it.

  Tabby, who had been gazing across open-mouthed, now rushed over, put her arm across Pip’s shoulders and shepherded her to the door. ‘I’ve got her, Miss Josephine,’ she told the lady, adding with a sweeping glance at the others, ‘Sorry, very sorry. I’ll clear that up right away.’ With a gentle push, she sent Pip out, mouthing, ‘Go on to the kitchen and recover yourself. I’ll see to these lot.’

  The door clicked shut in her face. Alone in the hall, she stood staring at the dark wood for a few seconds, breathing deeply. When she reached the kitchen and admitted to Cook what had taken place, the woman, recovering from her shock, brushed aside her apologies and motioned to the pot on the table. ‘By, you’re as pale as a pound of tripe. Sit thee down and take a sup. Eeh, did you ever hear the like; what a to-do! And my poor baked haddock – all that wasted effort, and for nowt. Ay well. It’s my fault really, shouldn’t have put you to waiting on, but were desperate, like. Don’t fret, no one’ll cast blame on thee. Put it from your mind. Accidents will happen.’

  Pip gripped the mug’s handle until her knuckles turned white. Gazing into the fire, she sipped at the hot brew without tasting it.

  ‘So? What really occurred?’

  Swivelling her eyes to Simon at his murmured question, Pip felt the fire in her veins subside a little and a lump lodged in her throat. Tears threatened again and she averted her gaze. ‘Meet me here, in the kitchen later on, when the house are abed,’ she whispered flatly.