The beginning of the week brought about a meeting which Sam Shrike could never have imagined. They were bringing in the heavy machinery to get ready to sink the bore into the new brine seam, when Charlie Sheridan arrived on site to oversee the works.
Fifty hostile pairs of eyes stared as he dismounted and walked up and down the diggings:
“Sam Shrike?”
“Ower there, sir!” Sam had been detailed by the foreman to supervise the levelling off of the ground. He looked up from his work into the staring blue eyes of Sheridan.
He didn’t take off his cap but stared back. Sheridan thumbed in the direction of the foreman’s hut.
“I want a word with you, Shrike. It shouldn’t take long.” Sam hesitated but had no option. The man was master and he dared do nothing in reason to cross him.
He followed Charlie into the wooden structure, very conscious of his dirty face and blackened hands. The other, dressed immaculately in bottle green coat and well-cut breeches, was sitting down at the makeshift table.
As Charlie settled himself Sam was preparing himself to be told he had no place with Strettons, being a reminder to Sheridan of his misdemeanour. It would be a disaster for the Shrike family but, inside, there was still some comfort as he knew Mr Caleb would overrule this puppy in Sam’s favour.
The salter was full of contempt for Sheridan as he waited. His master looked up and, if Sam hadn’t known his real character, he would have judged those eyes, honest.
“Well, Sam, you’ve come over to us after all. How’s Sally?”
Sam’s mouth opened in surprise. The last thing he expected was Sheridan’s inquiring after Sal’s health. He pulled himself together. The rogue wouldn’t catch him off guard that way.
“Aye, Mr Sheridan. I’ve come over because I’ve mouths to feed. But unwillingly.” He waited for the outburst but none came.
“And Sally?” repeated Charlie.
“Why are you askin’ after my sister? You know well how she is!” accused Sam.
“And that is why I’m asking you, man. Although --” Sheridan looked down at the table, then up again, “-- although we have had our differences in the past, I - should like to make amends --” Sam stared at him uncomprehending “-- for the evil I have done Sally. It’s not in my nature to hurt.” Sam stood quite still, trying to work it out.
What was going on? He studied the young master’s face. It was bruised alright. He’d taken some punishment! And then it began to make sense. Mr Caleb had had it out with him. Frightened him to death! Sam was glad for it, though he’d yearned to do it himself.
“If you say so.” There was no way Sam could be civil to the man.
“I do and - therefore, I’ve a proposition to make you, Shrike. If this had happened to your Sally by any other man, what would you have asked?” Sam took a step nearer the table, clenching his fists.
“I’d have asked what any natural brother or father would; that the lad married her honestly.”
“Married, eh,” replied Charles Sheridan, staring in front of him.
“The decent thing, but only if the lass was well and willing. There be no shotguns in our family, Mr Sheridan; and if there were then mayhap ye wouldn’t be sittin’ there so safely now. ’Twas a terrible thing you did to our Sal. She and I used to set in that stable without a care in the world! She wouldn’t go near there now for anythin’. D’ye know that?”
Sam was very close to Charlie and he could see the fear in the blackguard’s eyes, “But if ye’re willin’ to make amends, I’ll put it to our Sal and see what she says.” He moved back, fearful of the violent feelings Charlie Sheridan brought up in him.
“So be it, Shrike,” said Charlie. “And - I am willing to do something for your family too.” Sam thought what a beating Caleb Vyne must’ve given his half-brother! “This spring we have found! The engineer says it’s deeper than first thought. The boring could be a lengthy business.
“On account of your Sally, I’m willing to give you the job on the bore for - twice the usual pay,” he continued.
“The dangerous job, you mean?” asked Sam, his heart accelerating. “How deep will ye go, Master Sheridan?”
“As deep as it takes, man. Are you afraid?” Sam shook his head.
“No more afraid than any other man with hunger in his belly. Oh, I will take yer offer for the sake of my family, but I’d have been happier if it had been offered by a master with his worker’s true interest at heart.” Sheridan flushed as she stood up.
“It will be my last offer to you, Shrike. And my last admission of repentance. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it, but not with a glad heart. And, if our Sal says she will have nothing from you, then I shall abide by her wishes. You understand.” There was no way that Sam intended to grovel before the man. To him, salt men had always been gentlemen and this one was not of that breed.
He also knew in his heart what his sister would say. And he was the one to pay the price for Sheridan’s repentance! Working close to the bore could be very dangerous indeed, hence the high price.
If the brine broke through and up the bore, a worker could be flung up in the air and maimed for life, if not have the life taken from him. But the pay - that was another matter.
Sam’s face was whiter now and not only from crusted salt. He wondered what Caleb would have said if he’d known what Charlie had offered. But he wasn’t going to, as the Shrikes needed the extra and Sam wanted no more charity from Strettons, even if it was Mr Caleb who dispensed it!
*
Charles rode past the coalyard late in the evening when the tired workers had gone home.
In the pitch dark he quietly led his own horse inside the condemned stable and prepared to let himself down into the little room he’d discovered, which had been first, an excellent place from which to spy upon Sally Shrike and second, a hiding place for Miss Lydia.
After her fainting fit, he had taken the whisky flask and poured it in her mouth. It had done the trick. The fall and the drink had put her out for hours.
It had been a capital idea to place her in there. The noise of the distant machinery would have strangled her screams. In any case, she’d be so hungry and thirsty she’d comply with any wish of his, however ignoble - and he still had to decide what was the best to do with her... He knew that he couldn’t keep her a prisoner forever, and he was sure that, finally, she would agree to a compromise.
Charlie still had it in mind that his efforts in persuading her on his behalf would be successful.
What young lady would want the world to know she’d been ravished by a young man whom she’d taken a fancy to? And who would believe a girl as high-spirited and self-willed as Lydia not to be rash enough to take a shine to Charlie Sheridan? A young woman who wandered alone in the park unchaperoned and rode where she would?
He was quite au fait with the story of her mother’s sojourn in London, having gleaned it from local sources.
She’d been a wild young thing herself by all accounts and taken off at nineteen with thirty-five year old Bertram Annesley without either parents’ consent. A love match they said to cover their crime!
Like mother like daughter, thought Charlie as he removed the grating, leading to the feed chamber, if it hadn’t been for her mother dying and her aunt’s failing health, the heiress would have still been in London living the high life!
Indeed, her abduction could be construed as an elopement. Although he had not interfered with her, he would let her think so. Doubtless, Miss Annesley was a virgin and had had little experience of men. He would tell her what he wanted her to know and she would do as he said!
*
Lydia had been in the dark so long that she screamed out loud for help when she saw light coming through the slatted trapdoor, followed by a man’s body.
She had imagined her ordeal was at an end but, when he dropped through into the room, she went quiet and, shrinking back, stared at Charlie with horrified reproach in her eyes, puffed up from
tears.
“The eyes speak for you, ma’am,” he said, putting down the lantern on the table, adjusting his coat and swiftly scanning her body with his. He went over to her and she tried to escape him, pressing herself against the wall.
“Devil, you devil,” cried Lydia wildly but her voice broke in a crack. He pulled her back onto the straw mattress then smiled down at her.
“Devil I may be but would you care for a nip?” He pulled out a silver hip flask and held it to Lydia’s lips. She spluttered at the hot spirit. Retched! “There! That’s brought colour to your cheeks. You have a fondness for strong drink.” She beat at his chest in anger. He held her off.
“Yes, ma’am, you took your whip to me yesterday, did you not?” asked Charlie, holding her tight.
“You brute. Let me go. I’ll have you hanged for this!” cried Lydia. “Where am I? Have you no pity?”
“I have in a tolerable amount. This was the nearest place to bring you, which was safe for both our purpose!”
“You call it safe?” Lydia’s eyes blazed in her white face.
“Yes, safe with me,” said Charlie. She stared at him in horror. “If we’re to be married, then we must know each other’s vices.”
“Married?” she cried.
“United. I mentioned the idea earlier. That was when you picked up the whip. Remember? Causing the mare to bolt!” She could only stare at him in horror. The thought of marriage to someone like Charlie Sheridan was pure degradation. “You’re staring, Lydia. You find me handsome then?”
“Repulsive,” cried Lydia with a shudder. “You’re mad!” She had scarcely felt ill in her life, now she was sick in the stomach.
“You didn’t think so after I brought you here?” said Charlie in a silky voice. “Why you held on to me with your arms and allowed me the most marvellous freedoms. I would say you were the one out of your mind..” She couldn’t speak. He continued, “And, yet, I had hopes.”
“Hopes?” Her voice was dull. Had he touched her? Probed her innocent body with those ugly blue eyes? And what else? It was too horrible to think about! If only she had never met him?
“Hopes that we may be more than friends. I, for one, will never speak of how we behaved but --” he paused, “-- it could be a scandal if folk were to know we spent the night alone here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you no watch, Miss Annesley? The night hours passed and we were alone together. As lovers.”
“No, it’s not true. I would have known,” cried Lydia.
“I think you did,” answered Charlie suavely, “for, you were only almost out of your mind when you allowed me to bring you here and caress you. We drank --”
“Stop,” cried poor Lydia, thinking of the taste in her mouth, “I don’t believe you. I was out of my senses. I remember nothing.”
“What a pity, Miss Lydia; but it was a very pretty scene which I shall always remember,” he answered smiling. Lydia turned over on the straw sack and sobbed. “I have food for you, ma’am.” She didn’t reply. Charlie stood up. She continued to lie still. “Then you won’t have it.” Not a sound except a muffled sobbing.
He looked down at the motionless figure of the girl he’d desired since he met her in the park.
“Crying will do you no good, Miss Annesley. What’s done is done! I suggest you think on what I’ve said and have an answer ready for me when I return. I won’t leave you food, but I’ve brought you a bottle of water. No more strong drink, ma’am, it’s no good for the female constitution!”
Suddenly, Lydia was up and, with cries of pain and frustration, was hitting out at him for all she was worth. He held her at arm’s length, grinning!
“That’s better,” laughed Charlie Sheridan. “I like my women with spirit. Caleb saw it too, didn’t he? Yesterday. Outside the Mill!”
“Caleb?”
“Aye, my damned half-brother. And what did he tell you about me?”
“Enough to realise every word was true!” replied Lydia hotly. She’d had enough of caterwauling. If she lost heart now, she’d be done for!
“And you saw that trollop, Sally Shrike. Yes, ma’am, don’t look so white. I was following you all afternoon. Whatever the female told you wasn’t near the truth. She’s a confirmed liar.”
“And she’s with child!” shouted Lydia.
“Bold words for a young lady!” sneered Charlie. “And she has charged it on me. Oh, no, I shan’t take that blame. But, like the good young master I am, she and her bastard will be provided for one way or another!”
“I know all you’re saying is lies!” pursued Lydia courageously. “And you won’t keep me here much longer. My aunt will find me. I know everyone in Upwych will be looking for me.” She dared not mention Caleb Vyne unless the monster standing before her did him some harm.
“And they will find you,” she added. “And run you down. You’re not going to break my spirit and -” she was breathing heavily now with pain and exhaustion, “- whatever you’ve done to me you’ll pay for. I don’t know what that is in spite of your foul lies, but I know I’m innocent.” She was gasping as she continued.
“If you’d put your dirty hands on me I would never, never have submitted to you if you were the last man on earth, Charlie Sheridan!”
She fell back on the straw sack as Charlie lashed out in fury, striking her on the cheek!
He could see she meant it and that she had no intention of changing her mind. But he couldn’t let her go. Not now! He’d give her some more time to think. When she was hungry enough, she’d come to her senses.
Charles, for all his villainy, was suddenly realising what he’d done. Once more his lust had got the better of him and, this time, it wasn’t to be satisfied. His plan wasn’t working! He’d have to think of something else and quickly!
However, at that moment, staring at the bruised cheek and the terrified eyes, he felt no desire for Miss Annesley at all.
She withdrew her hand from her cheek and stared back haughtily:
“You cannot keep me here forever,” she said. “Someone will find me. Come to your senses and let me go. If you do --” she swallowed with difficulty, controlling the panic in her voice, “-- I’ll give you some time to get away from here, to make your escape. If only you let me go.” She was clutching at any means of escape - before he murdered her!
“Would you indeed, ma’am?” he laughed. “Well, I’ll think on your offer,” he added with a sneer. “But, I tell you, Miss Annesley, I have other plans for you, now I have tasted your beauty.” He was close and she shrank away. He straightened his jacket and riding stock.
“I offered you food,” he went on, “and you refused it. See what Monday evening brings and how you feel then! Perhaps you may have seen sense!”
“Are you leaving me a light?” Lydia cried, conscious that without his lantern, she would be in the dark again.
“A match maybe,” he said. “But one and only one. So don’t waste it. Nor your candle!” Taking a box from his jacket, he withdrew a single stalk and laid it on the table.
Keeping her head, Lydia realised that once Charles Sheridan withdrew, she wouldn’t be able to see to light her candle. He laughed as she struck the match against the candlestick with trembling fingers and it flamed first time!
“Well done, Miss Annesley, but how long will it last? Not until morning! Now think on what I’ve said. United, we could do much. Otherwise --” he shrugged.
She watched him, hate in her eyes. As he was pulling himself up and through the slatted trapdoor, she was imagining herself with a pistol, shooting him through the heart. But then she would be as bad as he!
As his ugly face peered down at her, looking up, she cried, “At least tell me where I am. And think of what I said! If you let me go --” Her words were curtailed as the trapdoor thudded in place. Panic rose in her once more. How long would he keep her under the floor? If she didn’t agree, would he murder her? She heard his hateful voice.
“You’re in the c
ondemned stable.”
She shivered. What did he mean? What was it? Where was it? She had to keep up her spirits, not let go. Somehow she must try and outwit him - even if it meant agreeing to his terms now and reneging later.
But what would he do to her if she consented? Indeed, what had he done already. She looked down at her torn and blackened dress. Surely she would have known if he’d ravished her? The thought of what he’d said and Charles Sheridan’s vile length on her body, made her retch...
As Lydia stared at her pathetic half-burnt candle, all she could do now was blot out her mind to him and concentrate on the hope that, again, someone would discover her prison and release her.
CHAPTER 11
There were folks in Upwych who’d been eagerly waiting for Monday to dawn, but Sally Shrike wasn’t one of them. As she stumbled out the back to the privy to be sick, clutching her shawl about her, she wondered why she had been made to suffer so.
The privy was a small brick building with a wooden seat which opened over a bucket. The latter hadn’t been emptied on Sunday and was full of excrement, the sight of which turned Sally’s stomach even more, making her heave over and over again until the tears came...
Understandably, she could face no breakfast in the shape of bread, but she took some milk. Her mother and Sam were ready for work already and Sally begged to go, but one look at her face confirmed her state.
Therefore, she was to be left alone while John, Tim and Mary went to their charity school down the Vynes. Sam was hoping that they’d learn something there before they were swept into the factory like the rest.
Mrs Shrike took the baby and Tommy, the youngest brother, to work with her. The baby would be looked after by a child, only a few years older, who, herself, was tied to a post by a string so she couldn’t wander off nor become entangled in the salt works machinery.
But Tommy was old enough to run errands for the men and, Dobson, the foreman especially. Tommy and Jemmy Yarwood, thick as pigs in muck, were running round all day, which kept them out of mischief.
However, now the brine flow had ceased at Annesley Works, those who’d elected to stay or been forced because of their physical condition, had been found a variety of jobs to do, financed by money personally from Miss Elizabeth Annesley and Lord George Tulham in the name of the missing heiress.
The Price of Beauty Page 17