The Street Orphans

by Mary Wood

  ‘It – it isn’t possible. Ruth, he died from injuries he sustained: a bang on the—’

  ‘Aye, done by me. Then we put him back in the carriage and pushed it over and set about saving your ma.’

  Rising from his haunches, he looked up at Amy. Ruth looked up, too. Poor Amy, her anguish wasn’t deserved. I’ve brought it down on her. The moment I smashed that young earl to death, I brought everything down on them all . . . Elsie’s death, and the lads being sent away, never to return, and Amy shoved in that cesspit of a workhouse. I deserve to die, and I know now that is what I want.

  In a few strides the Earl was climbing the stairs to the public gallery. ‘Amy – Amy, I must speak with you. Go down those steps on the other side and through the door on the left. It is the lawyer’s chamber. I will meet you there.’

  Once in the chamber, he asked in a voice that didn’t hold aggression, as he had no intention of frightening her, ‘Now, Amy, tell me – and I want the truth of it – everything that happened. Tell me: did Ruth kill my brother?’

  As he listened, he knew it was a true account. It hurt his heart that his loving brother should have come to such an end, and at the hands of the woman he himself loved.

  ‘She had to, M’Lord. She had to, as he was going to send us all to the gallows. And we hadn’t done wrong. We were only there because our Ruth could never have made it over the tops. He threatened to shoot us an’ all. Ruth only did it to save us, and she didn’t mean for him to die. She wanted to knock him out, then we could get away. Ruth said if we had got away, we would have sent help up to them. She’d have left a note at the police station. It hurt her. It hurt her bad that he died.’

  ‘It was self-defence! Thank God. I know Bertram. He had a hatred in him for the poor. He couldn’t bear them within miles of him, and threatened to shoot them if they were. Even as a lad, he would take me to the field next to the one where the peasants worked and we’d hide in a tree with our game-guns. He would frighten me as he aimed at the heads of those bending over the crops and pretended to pull the trigger. He would have done what you said.’ Oh, Bertram. Bertram, in the end you met your own death at the hand of one of them. And well deserved. You must have terrified them. They’d just lost their mother and only had Ruth, a poor cripple, to protect them. She did what she had to do. She took your life to save those of her siblings and her own. For me, that is reason enough.

  The door opened and, bleary-eyed, Cotram walked in. The Earl had to use all his effort not to bawl him out. ‘Sir, you are late. There have been some disastrous developments. Amy, go to your sister. No one will stop you. I need to talk to Mr Cotram. He is Ruth’s lawyer. Tell Ruth all is well. Tell her I know, and I believe, she had to kill in self-defence. Go on, tell her. Cotram, are you ready?’

  ‘Yes, I have checked in, so there isn’t much time. I have been told the judge is angry at the delay already. I’m sorry, M’Lord.’

  ‘Never mind that. Listen . . .’

  The proceedings went on around Ruth without touching her. She had been stopped from pleading guilty, as she had intended, at the desperate request of Amy, but she had no intention of defending herself and hoped everything would go against her. She just wanted to die. It would be good to do so knowing that the Earl realized the truth of all that had happened, and that he didn’t hold her to blame.

  ‘Call Mrs McNaught of Pradley.’

  It went on and on. Call this one, call that one. Each telling one lie after another, damning her. If only they knew they were helping her. Even Ruth’s pain eased as her body took on a numbness that shrouded her from all that could harm her. There was to be no further harm. She was leaving this world, one way or another. There is nothing surer than that.

  28

  Katrina

  Making a Stand

  ‘Mama, I have to go to Frederick’s side. This cannot go on. Lord Frederick is doing the only thing he can. He is being true to himself. I must do that, too. I must release him from the marriage, if that is what he wishes, and settle on him an amount that he can go forward with. And I need to help him in his quest to save this girl that he loves. I betrayed him with a man I thought I loved. Now I can show loyalty to him, as the man I truly love.’

  ‘Katrina, it isn’t the done thing. If this woman is his mistress, then you should be discreet about it.’

  ‘It is a bit late to teach discretion, Veronica,’ said Lady Eleonore. ‘I am still very cross with you for not dealing with this vital aspect of a woman’s role as a wife in our society, when schooling your daughters. If you had, none of this would be happening – except my son’s efforts to help this girl, of course, whom I know is not his mistress . . . Oh, I know, Katrina, it suits you to think she is, and to be forgiving of him. It appeases your own conscience, but that is all the merit there is in the accusation. Frederick is an honourable man and, even if he did love the girl, he wouldn’t do anything other than he is: helping her to get through this and seeing that she has a good future.’

  ‘I know, Lady Eleonore, and it isn’t what I think. I just want to help him, that’s all. Well, and to get his forgiveness. And surely my being with him will stop any gossip. There are those who are beginning to believe Lord Bellinger, and some of the snippets in the news-sheet are outraged at it all and could make life very difficult for him. The Queen even—’

  ‘Queen Victoria should know the truth by now. I have friends at court whom I have told everything to. Yes, everything. They are very discreet, but they will gossip about it with the Queen, which is exactly what I wanted. I doubt Lord Bellinger will ever have an audience with her, or be anywhere near anything that she attends. I am sure the Queen is watching this case very closely, and I think you are right, Katrina: you should go to him. It will look good that you are standing by him. In his last message Frederick said the trial had run for two days and would be in session again tomorrow. I believe there is only the girl’s testimony to come, as she wasn’t well enough to give it.’

  ‘Is it a good thing it’s lasted so long?’

  ‘It is, Mama. It means that a lot of evidence has been heard.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. This is a proper trial, not like some when, if the defendant is poor, they don’t even have a say,’ Lady Eleonore said. ‘This girl has a lawyer, and Frederick hired a man to dig into everything. There are others being arrested for what happened to her previously. Frederick thinks it looks good for her, but he is worried sick about tomorrow. He says the girl has resigned herself to her own death, that she sees it as a way out. She believes she will never have any peace from the torment that got her where she is. I feel so responsible, as does Frederick. Those children should never have been arrested. They helped all they could, when we had the accident. The new police force is over-zealous, not to mention too costly.’

  ‘If that is the case, I will go immediately to Frederick,’ Katrina responded. ‘Mama, can you stay here a little longer? I don’t want Marcia to be at your home whilst I stay there. It will take me a long time to forgive her for what she has done.’

  ‘Do you think you should travel? I mean, what if you are pregnant?’

  ‘Is there any doubt? Can there be, Mama? I thought that—’

  ‘Yes, yes, dear. Oh, I do wish you girls wouldn’t talk so openly about things of that nature. It is embarrassing.’

  ‘Oh, Mama! How am I supposed to know anything if I am not told? How did you know? Did you just guess it all?’

  ‘No, I – I, well, your father knew everything. He told me, his class . . . I mean . . . Anyway, I also had Eleonore as a friend.’

  ‘Yes, and I am French, and we French are not so stuffy about it all. I had a lot to unlearn, to fit into the English society, but I did so. I can never understand you English being so prudish about such a natural thing. Of course it is possible you are not pregnant, Katrina. You could have missed your monthly for several reasons, but it is not probable. I would say, from the way you have taken to that side of human nature, that you must be very carefu
l or you will have babies by the dozen, and by as many fathers.’

  ‘Eleonore!’

  ‘Well, it is true. And good luck to the girl. I was the same – couldn’t get enough – but I had my tricks. I will tell you about them, Katrina. In fact I have a duty to do so, otherwise our family will be constantly embroiled in scandal.’

  Katrina wanted to laugh at this. Lady Eleonore was a madam sometimes, but so down-to-earth and understanding. She could never think that Eleonore was, or might be still, a woman who would lie back and think of England – or, in her case, France. No, she was a woman of the same ilk as herself: passionate and capable of reaching great heights, when she was with a man she wanted to be with. Now her mother, she wasn’t so sure about. Maybe she and Daddy had got along in their own way, but . . . Oh, I must stop thinking about such things. The very thought of her mother and father doing it was embarrassing; and besides, thinking about anything of that nature wasn’t good for her, as she missed Frederick so. They had only been together in that way so few times, but when they had— Oh God, it was all a mess. She had messed up something that was the most beautiful thing in her life.

  ‘Katrina, why have you come?’ The coldness of Frederick’s remark sliced her heart.

  ‘I have told you.’

  ‘I know, but it is all too much for me to deal with at the moment. The last day of the trial begins in half an hour. I have to go, but I cannot think of not being there.’

  ‘I will come with you.’

  ‘No! Good God, what on earth are you thinking of? It is no place for a lady!’

  ‘Well, I don’t believe I am a lady, Frederick. I am a woman, that is all. And my husband is the subject of gossipmongers when he least deserves to be. I want to show I am solidly with you on this, that I know all about it. Besides, I too want to help Ruth Dovecote. This is a ridiculous charge, and we women should stand shoulder-to-shoulder.’

  ‘I should applaud you. That was a good speech. As for the rest of what you have told me, though it sickens me, you are my wife and will remain so. We will think of the child you are carrying as our child. I am its father. As for the way we conduct our lives in the future, I do not know as yet how we will do that. It may suit us both to have affairs. We will work it out between us. But this is not the time, and I wish you hadn’t come.’

  The words sounded cruel, but to Katrina they were a joy to hear. So he does intend to carry on being my husband? Well, that would make things easier. The affair thing – no. She would fight that every way she could. At least he would never have her consent to do so, and she didn’t think he would enjoy doing it in a clandestine way. It just wasn’t him. ‘I am happy you intend to stay with me, Frederick. Thank you. As you say, the terms we will have to settle. For now, Ruth Dovecote is more important, and I am coming. Whether you give me a lift or I come in my own carriage, you will not stop me.’

  ‘Good Lord! Oh, very well. You can come with me. But I want no reaction to anything I might do.’

  What he might do, she couldn’t imagine. But a small part of the hurt inside her melted. I think I won a small victory there. But, girl, she told herself, don’t for one minute think the battle is won. There is a long way to go. The main thing was that she was ready for the fight. She’d fight until the end of the world for Frederick. Her love for him was that strong.

  The courthouse held no shocks for Katrina. She had imagined it being worse than it was. The cold of the place struck her most. Pulling her shawl around her neck, she looked up at the high ceiling. A streak of autumn sunlight came through the skylight, but it held no warmth and did little to lighten the dingy mustard-coloured room. The smell of paraffin lamps and of the sweaty bodies in the public gallery tinged her nostrils, but didn’t overly bother her. The atmosphere held tension and filled her with a strange anticipation, to the point where she felt akin to the knitting ladies who attended the beheadings in France, during the Revolution.

  France. Would they ever get to visit there? Or would Frederick go on his own to complete an ambition he had had for so long, to visit all the places his mother’s family once owned? Still, this wasn’t the right time to think of lost honeymoons. The clanging of gates below and the sound of the rattling of chains told her they were bringing the girl up.

  It was shocking that they should put Ruth in irons. As she understood it, there was no possibility of her escaping. The girl could hardly walk, or so she had been told. When Ruth appeared, being carried by a warden, this was confirmed. When the warden turned at the top of the stairs, Ruth looked straight up towards Frederick. Her expression registered shock as her eyes moved on from Frederick.

  She is looking directly at me. Now what do I do? I don’t want my appearance here to upset her, not least because that will confirm Frederick as being correct when he said I should not attend!

  The moment held awkwardness, but the thought occurred to her that maybe a smile of encouragement might ease the situation for the girl, and let her know she was there to support her, not condemn her. The girl didn’t smile back, but some of the stiffness went out of Frederick and he gave Katrina a grateful glance. Small titbit, but I feel better for Frederick’s reaction.

  As the warden sat the girl down on the bench in the dock, Katrina was able to get a better look at her. Painfully thin and with dark, sunken skin under her eyes, she looked desperately ill and a pitiful sight, but one that held a waif-like beauty. Something in Katrina wanted to go down and take the girl in her arms and give her comfort. A big part of her prayed the girl would not send herself to the gallows. A lot depended on her testimony. Frederick had said on the way here that Ruth still held a death-wish and wanted her life over. He had a plan, though – something he’d arranged that he hoped and prayed would change Ruth’s mind.

  His ‘something’ now appeared, in the shape of an old lady. The distinct squeak of bathchair wheels announced her arrival. Frederick sat up and looked over the balcony, his countenance one of hope. Ruth gasped. Frederick turned and whispered, ‘Mrs Nora Bottomless.’ The lady was someone very important to Ruth, he’d explained, but although he had told Katrina about her, he’d declined to explain the connection. He’d seemed almost gruff about it, for some reason.

  Katrina watched, fascinated, as the old woman and Ruth stared at each other, then a powerful voice, as if from a much stronger woman, came from Mrs Bottomless. ‘Ruth, lass: live for me and for Josh. I need you, and Josh needs you to take care of me.’

  The warden spoke to Ruth, obviously warning her about talking, so she didn’t answer, but a young girl’s voice came from behind Katrina. ‘And live for me, Ruth. I need you.’ Turning, she saw it was Amy. Katrina didn’t know her well, of course, but she had interviewed her as a prospective nanny and had found her pleasing, though her accent and command of the English language left a lot to be desired and needed correcting.

  Whilst she tried to catch Amy’s eye to offer a smile of comfort, another voice had her turning round. The chap on the other side of Frederick, whom she understood to be Haydon Green, Frederick’s investigator, had spoken. ‘And I do, Ruth. I need you.’ At this, Frederick turned sharply towards Haydon, but didn’t say anything.

  For a moment the tension in the room rose, especially in herself as she willed Frederick not to say anything. The girl was now staring at him, and he had turned back towards her and held her gaze.

  Katrina could feel her cheeks warming. Please don’t let him speak. I don’t think I can stand the indignity. A head appearing at the top of the stairs caught their attention. Lord Bellinger! Oh God, no. No . . .

  ‘Excuse me.’ This Bellinger said to the man who had spoken to Ruth. The man got up and gave his seat to Bellinger. ‘Freddie, my boy, and Katrina. Well, this is pleasant. I heard you were here and that you, Frederick, have been attending the trial every day? I thought I would join you. Been quite a high-profile event. Reported in the news, and your comings and goings noted by all. What’s it all about then?’

  ‘What this is about is justice
for an innocent girl. It is not a side-show, Lord Bellinger.’

  ‘Uh-oh, you’re cross with me over something. Sorry, old friend. Whatever it is, I’ll make amends.’

  ‘Not this time, you won’t. I want nothing more to do with you.’

  ‘All stand.’ This, from a self-important man who had come through a side-door on what Katrina was now thinking of as ‘the stage’, stopped the appalling conversation.

  The judge entered, his wig immaculate, his cloak of the finest satin and his medals of office gleaming as they caught in the flicker of the lamps. Katrina held her breath. How would this day end? Please, God, not with her and Frederick further estranged; and not with the outcome that Ruth desired.

  After a brief summary, Ruth heard her name. She was the one being called now. The warden lifted her and carried her forward. On giving her name, a hissing started up above her. The judge called, ‘Order’ and the silence was immediate.

  ‘Ruth Dovecote, do you believe you have special powers?’

  ‘No, Sir.’

  The prosecutor who’d asked this had a pompous attitude that she’d only seen him use with those who spoke for her: a man from the prison hospital, the warden who had helped her, the Earl and Haydon Green. None of them had been intimidated by the prosecutor and all had stood firm.

  ‘How, then, do you account for two boys suffering grave illness after you cursed them, and one man dying?’

  ‘I can’t, Sir.’

  ‘So you are not denying that you cursed them then?’

  ‘Not cursed, but I hated them for what they did to me.’

  ‘I say that is a curse, and a curse can give such fear of the likes of you that it can cause death!’

  ‘M’Lord, may I say that my learned friend is suggesting that hating someone who does wrong by you is tantamount to a curse; and, further, he is suggesting that a curse can maim or kill. I say that is poppycock. How can a curse cause the pox such as the boys in question fell victim to? I have cursed you, M’Lord – yes, I confess I have, on many occasions when you have ruled against me, but you are still in good health, are you not?’