The Street Orphans

by Mary Wood

  ‘What! You told him that? But how did you know . . . I – I didn’t visit her. I was going to, but . . . Anyway, none of this is your business. What are you really doing here, Marcia? Is this part of the game you play? Are you trying to trap me?’

  Her tears came again. ‘No. I’m not lying – look.’ She lifted her blouse, making sure he had a peep of her ample breasts.

  Frederick gasped at the sight of the bruising covering her upper body.

  ‘And my back is bruised, as well as . . . Well, he – he spanked me, not in a playful, sensual way, but in a way that hurt me very much.’

  ‘Oh, my dear, I don’t know what to think. On the one hand, you present as a vulnerable woman; and on the other, as a conniving bitch. I’m sorry, but you do, Marcia. And you have done ever since Katrina and I got together. You’re a mystery to me.’

  ‘I was horrid at first, because I loved you. You know that. I was jealous, but then Bellinger has driven my actions since. He recognized my nature and he has forced me to try and make you look bad in my father’s eyes. He wants all that Daddy has got. If I refused, he beat me. He – he has even made me follow you. He said he was certain that you were having an affair, and that we needed more proof. Oh, Frederick, I can’t take any more.’

  ‘You don’t have to. Where is Bellinger now – how did you get away?’

  Not telling Frederick the truth about how she’d knocked Bellinger out, Marcia told him that she’d left when he fell asleep.

  ‘Well, you can’t go back there. I’ll book you a room and—’

  ‘No, I must go back. I have to plan. Running away now isn’t the answer. Now that I know you will help me, I will put everything in place. Besides, I cannot let my father suffer any more shocks just yet.’

  ‘But what if Bellinger hurts you again?’

  ‘He won’t, at least not for a while. He’s always remorseful and attentive afterwards. I have to handle this in the right way. I’m scared of his reaction if I just leave. I need to put a lot of things in place, and then I need to be somewhere he won’t think of looking. He’ll never guess, in a hundred years, that I would go to you. Once I am safely in your home, I can see a lawyer.’

  Back in her own home, Marcia was filled with glee as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Her body held the memory of Frederick holding her gently to him once more and apologizing for having misjudged her, and for not realizing what was going on. He’d told her that she must send a messenger if she needed him, as he was leaving for home the next day.

  Perfect. Just perfect. I’m a clever girl – a very clever girl.

  36

  Amy & Ruth

  A Surprise Visitor

  ‘These are worrying times, Ruth. We need to invest more of your money to keep us going. That way, I think we could survive for a couple of years. The merchants are taking advantage of the supply situation. Raw cotton is twice the price it was. Exports are getting more difficult, as most bought from us because of our cheap prices and we haven’t half the orders now that we had. Then there’s the lowering of sales here at home. Wholesale prices are being cut to the bone. It’s like we’re working for nothing to keep the workforce in jobs.’

  ‘I can’t give me mind to it, Amy, love. Me heart’s that heavy with me grief for George and thinking of our Seth’s plight. I’ve to leave it to you to decide.’

  ‘Eeh, Ruth, lass. You’ve to be strong. My heart’s breaking an’ all, but I keep going, and you must, too. We’ve got through a lot of bad times, and we know that sticking together and taking a day at a time helps.’

  When she was upset, Amy often forgot to keep up her nice way of speaking that she’d learned from the elocution lessons she had attended in the Earl’s employ, and lapsed into her natural northern accent. Ruth liked to hear it; it felt good. Like she had her old sister back. Not that having a posh voice had changed Amy. And neither had her responsibilities, which were a heavy burden for a young woman; though what she lacked in age, Amy made up for in intelligence, and she fared well. Ruth was proud of her.

  Amy had grown into a bonny lass. Her hair, which had been the bane of her life, now hung in neat ringlets, held back by a mother-of-pearl clip, though achieving this meant that she looked a funny sight in the rags she wore her curls in at night.

  Ruth and Amy were sitting in what they called their parlour, but the toffs would call a withdrawing room. They both loved this room and had chosen the furniture and colour scheme together. The rich-looking but cosy sofas in soft silver-greys, with cushions filled with feathers, were Amy’s choice. The occasional furniture and a deep oak cabinet holding beautiful ornaments had been chosen by Ruth. They gave the room elegance. Amy had guided her, as she had seen such a room in the Arkwrights’ house when she was nanny to Lady Katrina’s child, and had wanted to make this one similar.

  The walls they had covered in silver-grey silk, and the carpet set everything off, with its royal-blue colour with a pattern of sweeping grey pampas grass woven through it. Never had Ruth dreamed that she would sit in such a room, let alone own one. And yet it all seemed to fit her and Amy. They spent hours in here. Often with Ruth sitting at the grand piano in the corner, playing classical tunes, while Amy read a book or did some beautiful embroidery – one of the many skills that had been part of her tutoring to become a teacher. Ruth often wondered if Amy regretted not going on with that career. But then the schoolroom she’d set up for the workers’ children was a joy to her, and she could often be found taking one of the lessons, if she had time on her hands.

  There hadn’t been much call for the charity work that the Earl had organized and that Amy loved to help with, though the need for it was increasing again, with the numbers now out of work. And it seemed likely that she and Amy would be putting more folk out on their backsides. Eeh, what am I thinking, but what else can we do?

  ‘You’re quiet, Ruth. Are you all right?’

  ‘Aye, but I’ve a couple of things on me mind. Both are tugging at me heart.’ She hadn’t told Amy about her encounter with the Earl, afraid that voicing it would taint the episode, as it was difficult to describe how it happened without it sounding sordid – happening, as it did, so soon after Lady Katrina’s passing. But now she felt the need to unburden herself. When she’d finished telling the story, Amy was aghast, but not for the reason Ruth thought she would be.

  ‘You mean, he actually said he loved you? Eeh, our Ruth.’

  ‘I knaw. I never expected it, but now I don’t knaw what to make of it. It’s unsettled me.’

  ‘But you should be joyous.’

  ‘I am, but I’m also afraid that’s not the all of it.’ She told Amy about Lady Bellinger and her threats. ‘And then, a couple of days ago, the Earl delivered a note to me, telling me that he was going back to his home in Northallerton. He left an address and asked me to visit him now and again. He said he needed time, but hoped we could rekindle the feeling we both knew we had for one another.’

  ‘But that’s wonderful. Oh, Ruth, you should be happy. I know it’s sad that Lady Katrina and her babby died – I loved her very much. And I know she and the Earl were happy, so he must be grieving badly. But this shows that although he loved his wife and made her a good husband, he never forgot you.’

  ‘That’s just it. What kind of man is he? I mean, he could have done just as he liked, for his class get away with owt. But he chose to abandon me, and to marry another because she was rich.’

  ‘Eeh, Ruth. The Earl was already betrothed to Lady Katrina when he met you. That isn’t something he could have got out of. And I think he was just as torn, as he did love Katrina. And, you know, he had to take on a great deal. He had to leave you behind, and forgive Katrina and take her child as his own.’

  ‘What are you on about, our Amy? Are you saying as Lady Katrina had an affair?’

  ‘I am. And with the worst one she could have . . .’ Ruth listened in amazement to what Amy told her. ‘It was during a furious row, going on between Lady Katrina and her sister, that
I heard it, Ruth.’

  Ruth shuddered with fear as she listened to the cruel words spoken by Lady Bellinger to her own flesh and blood: ‘Don’t think for a moment that you and Frederick are ever going to get your hands on Daddy’s money. Your child is my husband’s bastard, and you know it. You only have to look at her and your wedding-night debauchery stares you in the face. Well, I’m going to make sure that Daddy knows. I’m just waiting for Frederick to fall out of favour. And he will. The tug of the heart is stronger than loyalty, and you know – and I know – where your husband’s heart lies. Haven’t you noticed how that witch is gaining in wealth? You don’t think for one minute that she’s done that on her own, do you?’

  ‘Oh, our Amy. I can’t believe it. That woman frightens me.’

  ‘She’s a nasty piece.’

  ‘Poor Lady Katrina. To have such a threat hanging over her.’

  ‘Aye, and I reckon that’s what made her miscarry her second babby. That night, she fainted and began to bleed. There wasn’t a nicer person, Ruth. Lady Katrina were lovely. Talk amongst the staff had always been that it was Lord Bellinger who took her on her wedding night, and not the Earl. But I’d never listen to the tales, so I don’t know why it was said. But I have to admit, the child does look like Lord Bellinger. And especially like his sister, who came to visit once. But, you know, the Earl loved that little girl and treated her as his own, so that says sommat about him, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Aye, it does. I were daft to doubt him. Oh, Amy, he’s in a bad place.’ Ruth told Amy more of what the Earl had said in his note about how he had been cut off by the Arkwrights.

  ‘Eeh, Ruth, the way them lot go on. That Lord and Lady Bellinger are underhand, and are trying to grow their empire at everyone’s expense. Though there are rumours that they’re failing and, if they’re true, that could make them even more dangerous.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking the same. She could make trouble for us. We’re to be on our guard, Amy.’

  ‘We are, I agree. But how we will know what they intend – if anything – I do not know. Now, what was the other matter? You said you had a couple of things playing on your mind, Ruth.’

  ‘Aye, I have, Amy love. What d’yer think of us closing the factory? Just until the troubles in America are over. And then me and you could go to Australia and bring our Seth and his family back and—’

  Amy’s look of complete shock stopped Ruth from continuing. A silence fell. Ruth waited, not wanting to push for an answer. She knew Amy needed time to absorb this. Amy never made snap decisions, unlike herself.

  When Amy did speak, the guilt Ruth already felt about her proposal deepened. ‘If we did that, Ruth, we’d put the rest of our loyal workforce out of work. Eeh, Ruth, it’s been difficult as it is, making the cuts we’ve had to. The number of homeless folk is growing by the day. I’ve seen to it that the charity work started by the Earl has begun to thrive again, and that the hungry are fed, as much as we can. But to put more out. No, I can’t do it. I suggest we carry on as we are. I can manage with . . . I – I mean. Oh, anyroad, the civil war can’t go on forever.’

  Martha Bardacre, a motherly figure who took care of the house and cared deeply for the sisters’ welfare, came through the door at that moment. ‘We’ve got a visitor!’ Her tone held excitement. ‘Eeh, me lasses, you’ll never guess who it is.’

  ‘Give us a clue at least.’

  ‘She sings like a bird, Amy.’

  Amy jumped up and hugged her. ‘Eeh, Martha, you had me going there. Where is she? Is she all right?’

  ‘I am, Amy. Hello, you two.’ Lettie breezed through the door. ‘I’m reet as rain, me lasses. Eeh, don’t get up, Ruth. Come here, me Amy.’

  As Ruth watched the joy of Amy and Lettie’s reunion, her troubles seemed to halve. Just taking in the sight of Lettie, in her long purple frock with a red feathered boa around her neck and red boots, got her smiling and wondering if Lettie had become colour-blind or if this was the way they dressed in London. Because it wasn’t just her clothes. Lettie’s hair was piled high and clipped back into a bunch of ringlets, and her face was painted with rouge. Though she’d have said Lettie was a mite too thin.

  When the pair finally parted, Lettie had left traces of her red lipstick all over Amy’s face. Ruth laughed out loud, but then found herself spitting Lettie’s feathers out of her mouth, as Lettie bent over her and enclosed her in her arms.

  ‘It’s wonderful to see thee, Lettie. More wonderful than you can imagine! Me and Amy have a lot to tell you. Sit down, and I’ll get Martha to fetch us some tea and cakes.’

  ‘Eeh, bugger the tea and cakes, haven’t you any whisky? By, I could down a reet good swallow of that.’

  This caused alarm in Ruth. It wasn’t the whisky, but the way Lettie had said she needed one, as if her life depended on it. Something was amiss.

  ‘Are you really all right, Lettie? Has something happened? Your last letter said that you were doing so well.’

  Lettie sank down onto the sofa next to Ruth. Her eyes filled with tears and her head shook. ‘It’s all over, I – I have—’ A spasm of coughing seized her. Her hand rummaged in her bag, and the handkerchief she pulled out and put to her mouth was blood-stained.

  37

  Marcia

  Sowing the Seeds of Vengeance

  There was so much to do, so much to accomplish, but, Marcia thought, no time in which to achieve it all.

  Her urgency stemmed from the need to strike whilst she had the upper hand. Lord Bellinger was putty in her hands. His remorse seemed genuine, though she suspected his motive was fear of losing the prospect of taking over all that Marcia’s father had; this was his only hope of surviving in business and keeping his position in society. He’d even given up his mistresses, paid them off and closed the houses he kept for them. A triumph, indeed, for Marcia. But there was another reason that she knew she must act – and act now.

  Dropping onto her knees the embroidery she’d been pretending to be engaged in, she looked over at her husband. Already dressed to go out, Simon was sitting in his usual chair next to the fireside. He was about to pay a visit to their bank manager, and had been telling her how his worries weighed heavily on him. Not that she cared unduly. The only thing that mattered to her was to complete what she felt she had almost accomplished – getting deeper into Frederick’s affections. For that, she needed that witch out of the way; and now was her opportunity to gain Simon’s help.

  ‘Simon, we need to move fast. Daddy is softening up. He spoke to me this afternoon about whether he’d been too harsh on Frederick. He said he had a conscience about the fellow. And that Katrina wouldn’t have wanted him to act as he had done, as she herself had forgiven Frederick his feelings for that witch, and Frederick had forgiven Katrina for her indiscretion with you. Daddy actually asked me if I would write to Frederick asking him to come for a visit, to sort everything out. God, if that happens, Simon, we are lost.’

  ‘And how do you propose to stop it happening? What wicked scheme are you conjuring up?’

  ‘I have a letter from Frederick.’ The letter was the last thing she wanted to share with Bellinger, and yet it was a gift.

  Over the last two months she had been writing to Frederick, keeping alive the friendship that had stemmed from her visit to him on the night Bellinger attacked her.

  Bellinger’s look of surprise, and then anger, unnerved Marcia. ‘A letter? Why should Frederick write to you. You were arch-enemies.’

  ‘And still are, but I use everything to my advantage. Your despicable attack on me didn’t break me, as it would have most women of my upbringing, but instead gave me a weapon to wheedle myself back into Frederick’s affections.’

  ‘What! How? My God, if you’ve told him, I’ll—’

  ‘What? Hit me again? Subject me to the vile humiliation you carried out that night? Just you try it. And this time I won’t go to Frederick, but to Daddy. Now, stop being a fool and listen. My ploy worked. Frederick has opened up his heart to
me – and in writing. He wants me to approve of him having that bloody Dovecote girl over for a visit to his house. It’s valuable evidence that will cement Father’s hatred of him, and give me the chance to get Daddy finally to do something about changing his will.’

  ‘Uh, I have as much chance of marrying Queen Victoria as you have of accomplishing that! Your stupid father is holding guilt about breaking his promise to Katrina, and you bloody well put me right out of favour by telling him that I fathered Katrina’s first child. What were you thinking of? I’ve done everything for you. Everything!’

  Anger caused his voice to rise. Marcia knew she had to calm him. She needed her revenge on Simon just as much as she needed to rid herself of that blasted witch. Only then could she go to Frederick, with everyone who stood in her way dealt with, and with Daddy’s money coming to them. Her plan was a good one, but she needed Bellinger’s help to carry it all through.

  ‘You’re not out of favour. You need to stop this attitude you have towards Father. I have smoothed all of it over. I’ve convinced Daddy that you were two young people who thought themselves in love and used the forgiveness that Frederick showed Katrina, and the way he took your child as his own and loved her. Trouble is, I have done too good a job of getting you back into a good light. Daddy now thinks he was wrong about Frederick keeping up an affair with the witch during his marriage, as he thinks that if it were so, Frederick wouldn’t have shut himself away, as he has done. I can change that opinion. I plan to go weeping to Daddy to tell him that I too have forgiven Frederick and have been trying to support him – when Frederick shatters all that by asking me to help him nurture his relationship with that vile woman!’

  Bellinger’s expression changed. ‘Go on: so far you are making sense, but why do we have to destroy the witch? What will that accomplish? Surely, if we leave well alone, Frederick will blot his own copybook by taking up with her?’

  Marcia knew this and had to think quickly. Nothing must stand in her way, and the witch did.