by Dilly Court
Sarah thought quickly. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘You’d be safer staying here where the others can keep an eye on you.’
‘I don’t care what Mr Moorcroft said. I’m going to make sure that Boxer is being looked after and then I’ll go to the lodgings and pack up Grey’s things.’
‘You really are sweet on that chap, aren’t you?’
‘Don’t be daft, Nettie. He’s like a brother to me. I told you that.’
‘I can’t stand around arguing, but you’d better let Mrs Burgess know where you’re going this time. She was worried sick when you took off like that.’
‘All right, I will. Wait for me, Nettie. I won’t be long.’ Sarah hurried off to tell Cook and found her sitting by the range with her cap askew and her cheeks suspiciously red. She greeted her with a tipsy smile. ‘So there you are, love. We was wondering where you’d got to.’
Betty looked up from the stone sink. ‘Have you come to help us, Sarah? Me hands is red raw from washing all those dishes.’
Dorcas stopped piling dirty plates onto the wooden draining board, turning to Sarah with an angry scowl. ‘You should be doing this, my girl. You need to pay for your bed and board.’
‘I’m sorry, Dorcas. But I’ve been trying to find us somewhere to go when Trigg evicts us tomorrow.’
‘He won’t,’ Dorcas said flatly. ‘We’re going to lock ourselves in. Franz will save us.’
‘He won’t be able to stop the bailiffs from coming in. Whether we like it or not, Trigg’s the legal owner and he’s got rights.’
Cook hiccuped loudly. ‘Pour me another sherry wine, Dorcas. I need something to keep me spirits up.’
Dorcas snatched the bottle from the table and put it on the mantelshelf out of Cook’s reach. ‘You’ve imbibed enough today, Mrs Burgess. You should have a nap and sleep it off.’
‘I never had no sherry wine,’ Betty moaned, splashing greasy water onto the floor.
‘You’re daft enough when you’re sober,’ Dorcas said acidly. ‘Lord help us if you was swipey. Get on with the washing up, or you’ll feel the back of my hand.’
Sarah made a hasty exit.
Nettie was staring into the mirror adjusting her colourful bonnet decorated with ostrich feathers. She gave Sarah a sheepish grin. ‘Sorry, but I can’t stand mourning garb. It don’t do nothing for me.’
‘You wore it to the funeral and that’s what matters.’ Sarah opened the front door half expecting to see Trigg standing on the step, but there was only a pigeon strutting about pecking up crumbs left by the mourners. ‘Come on, Nettie. Stop titivating or we’ll never get there.’
Nettie flounced out of the house. ‘We’ll have to walk to Cable Street to catch an omnibus. A cab ride would be nice but I ain’t got the necessary, have you?’
Sarah shook her head. She had just enough money to pay her bus fare, and that would leave her with tuppence for a baked potato and a cup of tea which would be her supper. ‘At least it’s stopped raining,’ she said, glancing up at the streaks of blue sky in between the pot-bellied clouds. ‘I don’t think I could stand being soaked twice in a day.’
Nettie started off along the street swinging her reticule and tossing her head so that the plumes on her bonnet waved like pennants in the breeze. ‘You should try for a job in the theatre. You could sell programmes or show people to their seats. I’m sure I could persuade the manager to take you on. He’s a personal friend of mine.’ She waltzed off with Sarah hurrying to keep pace.
They parted outside the theatre and Sarah went straight to the mews where Boxer was housed in a dilapidated stable along with several other work horses. It was obvious that some of the owners shared the accommodation, as there were piles of grubby blankets in the stalls and oddments of tattered clothing. Meals must have been eaten and discarded as there were rat droppings everywhere, and the smell of horse dung laced with ammonia caught the back of her throat, making her retch.
Boxer whinnied in greeting and rubbed his head against her shoulder, pushing her against the wall as if pleading with her to take him from such a dreadful place. His water bucket was empty and there was no hay in the manger. Sarah was horrified and she knew that Grey would be furious if he found out that the stableman had neglected his duties despite payment in advance.
There was no one about to help her but on further exploration she found bales of hay and straw in the loft, which must have been intended as feed and bedding for the animals. It was obvious from the state of the stables below that the stall had not been mucked out for days and the horses had remained unfed. Perhaps the stableman intended to make a profit by selling the bales, or maybe the owners had not paid for the upkeep of their beasts. Whatever the reason she was disgusted to find Boxer existing in such dire conditions.
She heaved a couple of bales down the rickety wooden steps and, looping her skirts above her ankles, she began mucking out the stall. By the time she had finished she was hot, tired and hungry but at least Boxer was well cared for. She gave generous amounts of hay to the other hungry animals before leaving. ‘I’ll be back first thing in the morning,’ she whispered, giving Boxer a final pat. His lustrous brown eyes gleamed as though he had understood and he pawed the ground, whickering softly.
It was growing dark by the time she reached Wych Street, having stopped to purchase a baked potato and a cup of tea from a street vendor before making her way to the lodging house. She did not relish the thought of a night alone in the cold, dark room, but she was too exhausted to contemplate walking to Wellclose Square, even though the thought of a warm bed and a hot meal was tempting. She had blisters on her heels that had burst and were throbbing painfully and her whole body ached. She let herself into the building and crept along the passageway to the room at the back of the house, but as she drew closer she saw a thin shred of light beneath the closed door. She could hear movement inside the room. For a moment she thought that Grey had been released from prison and had returned, but even as she placed her hand on the doorknob she felt the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. She hesitated, cocking her head on one side at the sound of heavy footsteps as if someone was walking towards the door. She turned and ran.
That night she slept on the straw beside Boxer, and despite the drunken snores of the stableman and the vagrants who crept in from the cold she did not wake up until dawn. She slipped the horse collar over Boxer’s head and led him out into the yard, taking care not to disturb the other occupants. She had a quick wash in ice-cold water at the pump before tackling the difficult task of harnessing Boxer to the cart. She had never tried this on her own, but Boxer was a patient animal and eventually, after several failed attempts, she succeeded in putting him between the shafts.
The streets were coming alive as people went about their daily business and the road was crowded with horse-drawn vehicles, market stalls and pedestrians taking their lives in their hands by scurrying from one side to the other. She was shouted at by costermongers, cabbies and carters as she drove through the city, but somehow she managed to arrive in Wellclose Square without mishap, although she had learned a few new swear words on the way. Her legs were shaking as she climbed down from the driver’s seat but she stopped to pat Boxer and praise him for his efforts. He nuzzled her hand and she rewarded him with a nosebag filled with hay. ‘Good boy,’ she said, giving him a final pat. ‘You’ve done well.’
She glanced up and down the street to make sure that neither Trigg nor his ruffians were loitering nearby, and seeing no one more suspicious than a nanny pushing a perambulator into the gardens, she was about to go down the area steps when the front door opened and Moorcroft appeared on the top step. ‘Where have you been, Sarah?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Dorcas tells me that you didn’t return last night.’
She was suddenly conscious of her dishevelled appearance. Her mourning gown was creased and stained where the rainwater had left pale streaks in the black dye. She had put on her bonnet without the benefit of a mirror and her hair hung loo
se about her shoulders. She knew she must look a sight and she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. ‘There was someone in Grey’s room, and I was afraid it might be Trigg, so I slept in the stables with Boxer.’
‘I warned you against such an action, Sarah.’ His stern gaze softened. ‘Come inside, my dear. You look exhausted.’ He turned to Dorcas, who was standing in the hallway regarding Sarah with her lips folded into a thin line of disapproval. ‘Perhaps we could have some tea and toast in the parlour, please, Dorcas. I want to speak to Sarah.’
‘Certainly, sir.’ She stared pointedly at Sarah’s crumpled clothing. ‘You’d best go upstairs and tidy yourself before the mistress sees you. We may be locked in the house but there’s no need to let our standards drop.’
Sarah glanced anxiously at Moorcroft but he nodded his approval. ‘I’ll wait for you in the parlour, my dear.’
‘Don’t loiter,’ Dorcas muttered, taking Sarah by the shoulders and propelling her towards the staircase.
Sarah changed into the black linsey-woolsey skirt and white cambric blouse that had once belonged to Dorcas but were now too small for her, although she insisted that they had shrunk in the wash. She brushed her hair and secured it in a coil at the nape of her neck. The garments were shabby but at least they were clean and did not smell of the stables and she did not have the time to worry about her looks. Satisfied that she could do no more, she ran downstairs, slowing her pace as she reached the parlour where she found Moorcroft sitting by the fire.
He looked up and smiled. ‘Come and sit down, Sarah.’
She settled in the chair on the opposite side of the hearth. ‘I know you told me to leave it until today, but I went to fetch the horse and cart, sir. The servants think they can stay here no matter what, but I thought if we go now we could take some of Mrs Arbuthnot’s things.’
‘I agree, Sarah. Trigg might have purchased the property but that doesn’t entitle him to the contents, which presumably belong to Mrs Arbuthnot.’
‘I think so, sir.’
‘I wanted to speak to the good lady, but Dorcas tells me that she is indisposed and it’s not surprising, given the circumstances.’
‘She is very upset, sir.’
‘Understandably so.’
‘You have something to tell me, Mr Moorcroft. Is it good news? Have you raised the money to get Grey out of prison?’
‘Don’t worry about that, Sarah. It’s all in hand.’ He leaned towards her, lowering his voice. ‘This is a delicate matter and one that I must stress must be kept strictly between us. I don’t want Mrs Arbuthnot to be bothered with the knowledge I am going to impart to you.’
‘I can keep a secret, sir.’
‘What I am about to tell you is strictly against my principles as a lawyer, but I want to help you and the good lady who has been so cruelly cheated of her home.’
Sensing that they were not alone, Sarah turned her head and saw Mrs Arbuthnot standing in the doorway. ‘Who are you, sir? And what is it that you are afraid to say to my face?’
Moorcroft rose to his feet. ‘I beg your pardon, madam. I was informed that you were indisposed and unable to see me.’
‘I am quite well, thank you,’ Mrs Arbuthnot said coldly. ‘And I want to know what is going on. Why are you all whispering behind my back? I’m not a child.’
‘It’s my doing, ma’am.’ Sarah leapt to her feet. ‘Mr Moorcroft is a solicitor. We met by chance yesterday and he has been trying to help us.’
‘I am still the mistress in this house, Sarah. I decide who should handle my affairs, and I don’t think I should trust a man who admits to putting aside his principles.’
Moorcroft bowed his head. ‘I apologise for any offence my actions may have caused, but I hate injustice and it’s obvious that you have been badly done by. If you will just hear me out maybe I can convince you that I am sincere in my wish to help.’
With obvious reluctance, Sophia Arbuthnot took a seat. ‘I’m listening.’
Moorcroft was about to speak when Dorcas burst into the room. ‘You got to come right away, madam. They’re hammering on the door like they mean to break it down. I dunno what to do.’
Chapter Fourteen
DORCAS PUT HER lips to the keyhole. ‘Go away, you brutes. Leave us alone.’
‘Open up or we’ll call the police. This property belongs to Mr Thaddeus Trigg.’
Sarah covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a hysterical giggle. ‘Thaddeus,’ she whispered.
Dorcas nudged her in the ribs. ‘Shut up. It’s not funny.’
Mrs Arbuthnot had come up behind them. She tapped Dorcas on the shoulder. ‘Out of the way, Dorcas. I’ll deal with this.’
‘Don’t open the door, ma’am,’ Dorcas said urgently. ‘They’ll attack us poor defenceless females.’
‘Nonsense,’ Mrs Arbuthnot said, pushing her aside. ‘I want to see the title deeds in Trigg’s name before I let him take my home. That’s right, isn’t it, Mr Moorcroft?’
‘I would certainly say so, ma’am. But these men are not used to dealing with ladies like you. Would you allow me to speak to them?’
The hammering on the door increased and she backed away. ‘Perhaps it might help. But I won’t leave until it’s absolutely necessary. I refuse to be bullied, Mr Moorcroft.’
‘You are very brave, ma’am.’ He turned to Dorcas. ‘Keep the door closed. I’ll go out though the tradesmen’s entrance. They won’t be expecting that.’
‘I’ll show you the way, sir.’ Dorcas fled in the direction of the back stairs and Moorcroft followed at a slower pace.
Sarah gazed anxiously at Mrs Arbuthnot. ‘Come and sit down, ma’am. Leave it to Mr Moorcroft. I’m sure he’ll make them see sense.’
‘Thank you, my dear. I will sit down. It’s been a very trying time, but I won’t give in to grief or hysteria. My dear husband protected me from everything during his lifetime but I am stronger than he gave me credit for.’
‘I’m sure you are, ma’am.’ Sarah led her unprotesting to the parlour and seated her by the fire. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Thank you. That would be nice.’ Mrs Arbuthnot sat back in the chair and closed her eyes. ‘I dare not imagine what will happen to us all if we have to leave this house.’
Sarah hesitated in the doorway. ‘Have you any relatives you could depend upon, ma’am?’
‘No one, Sarah. All dead and gone, every last one of them.’
‘You have me, ma’am. You took me in when I was a nipper and I’ll stand by you.’
‘You are a good girl and you deserve a better life than one of servitude.’
‘I’ll fetch the tea. You rest there and let Mr Moorcroft sort things out. He’s a good man.’ Sarah closed the door softly behind her as she left the room. The hammering had ceased and the house was suddenly and eerily silent. She made her way down the back stairs to the kitchen.
Cook was standing by the area door brandishing a copper-bottomed saucepan and Dorcas stood behind her with a rolling pin in her hand. Betty was curled up on the floor with a blanket over her head but no one seemed to notice. Sarah went over to her and lifted her to her feet. ‘It’s all right, Betty. No one is going to harm you.’
‘Bad men, miss. There are bad men out there and they hurt girls. They do nasty things to them and beat them if they cry. I knows it for certain.’
‘Mr Moorcroft will send them away. He’s a lawyer and he won’t let them do anything to hurt you.’
‘If you say so, miss.’
‘Good girl. Sit quietly in the corner and I’ll give you a piece of cake.’
‘Don’t pander to her,’ Dorcas said crossly. ‘She’ll do anything for something sweet. She’s not such a fool as she makes out.’
Betty began to sniffle and Cook stepped outside into the area, banging the saucepan with a wooden spoon. ‘I’ll soon sort ’em out.’
‘No!’ Sarah and Dorcas cried in unison as they dragged her into the relative safety of the kitchen and slammed the door.<
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‘Leave it to Mr Moorcroft,’ Sarah said breathlessly. ‘He’s got the law on his side and he knows what to say.’ She cocked her head on one side. ‘It’s gone quiet out there.’
Moments later they saw Moorcroft descending the area steps. Sarah ran to open the door. ‘Have they gone, sir?’
He entered the kitchen, pausing to wipe beads of sweat from his brow. ‘I managed to convince them that we needed to see proof of ownership. It buys us a little time, that’s all.’
Cook uttered a low moan. ‘Where will I find another position at my age? I’ll end up in the workhouse with the idiot girl.’
Taking her by the shoulders Dorcas gave her a sharp shake. ‘Stop that, or you’ll start Betty off again. None of us are going to come out of this smelling of roses. I should have married Wally and not set me cap at the sugar baker. I’ll end up an old maid, doomed to spend the rest of me life in service.’
‘None of this is her fault, Dorcas.’ Sarah slipped between them and helped Cook to her chair by the range. ‘Let Mr Moorcroft have his say. He’s trying to help.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Moorcroft said warily. ‘But please don’t give way to despair yet, ladies. I’m going to speak to Mrs Arbuthnot and see what we can do.’ He beckoned to Sarah. ‘Come with me, my dear. And bring the sal volatile if you have any to hand.’
Dorcas reached up to take a small brown bottle from the dresser. ‘A whiff of this would bring anyone round unless they was dead.’ She plucked her shawl from a peg near the door. ‘I’m going to get help.’
Moorcroft frowned. ‘The police won’t be able to interfere in a civil case unless there is violence.’
She wrapped the shawl around her head. ‘Who said anything about the cops? Franz and his mates will see off Trigg’s bullies.’ She was out of the door and tearing up the area steps before anyone could stop her.
‘I was hoping to settle this without resorting to violence,’ Moorcroft said with a sigh. ‘Let’s hope that firebrand doesn’t start a riot.’