by Cathy Sharp
‘But what if they come here and search?’ she said and whimpered as he struck the side of her head. Her eyes were large and accusing as she looked at him. ‘I have sold children but you have done much worse and I will not hang for you.’
‘Be quiet, you fool!’ He rounded on her and struck her several times about the face and head, making her shriek and cower in fear. ‘Whatever I have done, you played your part and do not forget it. If they hang me you will hang too – for I’ll make certain you’re implicated in it all.’
Mistress Brent stared after him with resentful eyes as he left the room. When they’d first come here she’d thought it would be a good life, but he’d made it all go bad. She hated him and yet she feared to leave him. Walter was a violent man and he would never let her go because what she knew could hang him. She went to the little washstand in the corner of her room and bathed her face in cold water. There would be a bruise, which she would struggle to cover with powder and rouge.
She was frightened of the man who had come to investigate them, but even more terrified of her husband. If he thought she had betrayed him, he would not hesitate to kill her as he had those others … It crossed her mind that she might throw herself on Mr Stoneham’s mercy, confess her part and tell all in return for indemnity, but she could not bring herself to do it. Even if she was not imprisoned, she would never again find herself in a position of trust and plenty. She would be poor and homeless and the thought of ending her days in a workhouse like this terrified her.
No, she must remain silent as Walter bid her. Perhaps this Mr Stoneham would become bored and return to wherever he had come from …
Toby Rattan was waiting for Arthur when he returned to the inn later that day. Arthur greeted his closest friend warmly and shook his hand. The younger son of a lord, Toby had helped him with his charitable work many times and he had a feeling he was going to need his assistance before he was finished here.
‘It was good of you to come straight down, Toby.’
‘I came as soon as I got your note.’ Toby arched his brows wickedly. ‘How is it that you manage to get into a scrape whenever I am not with you?’
‘It must be fate,’ Arthur said, and laughed. ‘Would you believe it – I come fresh from having overseen a child delivered to the local chain-maker’s wife.’
‘Good grief!’ Toby looked thunderstruck. ‘You never cease to amaze me. Now tell me what is behind all this and what you were doing in that poor woman’s bedchamber in the first place.’
‘I went in search of a workhouse child I’d been told had been sold to the chain-maker.’
‘Ah, I might have known it would have something to do with a workhouse!’ Toby nodded in perfect understanding. ‘Pray tell me more. It was damned boring in London without you so I may as well give you a hand. What is going on down here?’
‘You stupid little wretch!’ Mistress Brent struck the child in a fury, sending her sprawling to the floor. She stood over the trembling girl and glared at her. ‘Get up and stop looking at me as if I were a two-headed monster. If you do not obey the rules, you will be punished.’
Florrie watched as Sophie scrambled to her feet and stood trembling before the mistress, expecting another blow and all because she had dared to ask for a second piece of bread at breakfast.
‘Get out of my sight or I will thrash you!’ Mistress Brent said, and the small child ran down the corridor and out of sight.
Florrie hesitated and then stepped forward. ‘That was not necessary, mistress. The child was given only a scrap of bread for her breakfast and she was hungry.’
‘She is a greedy glutton – and you had best mind your tongue, Florrie, or I may rescind your privileges.’
‘You do not own me,’ Florrie said and raised her eyes to meet those of her furious mistress. She was not sure where the courage to defy Norma Brent had come from, but she was no longer afraid of her. ‘I could find work elsewhere, as you well know. I stayed here because it suited me – but you sent Bella away and now you mistreat Sophie. You should be more careful, Mistress Brent. Inquiries are being made concerning you and the master – and some of us know things that you would not wish spoken of!’
‘How dare you threaten me!’ Mistress Brent raised her hand as if to strike Florrie, her eyes glittering with fury. ‘You would find it hard to live outside these walls, Florrie – and if you wish to leave you owe money for your keep.’
Florrie refused to back down and continued to face her. There had been a time when she feared the mistress, the more so because she had not thought she could manage to live outside these walls, but since Bella had been sent away, Florrie had begun to realise how much she hated her life here and these people who ruled the inmates with harsh cruelty. Of course there were rules; there had to be, for the workhouse was there to ease the plight of the destitute – but when run by corrupt and greedy masters like the Brents it became a place of suffering and sometimes worse.
‘I have earned my keep – as any magistrate would testify.’
Mistress Brent lowered her gaze before the accusation in Florrie’s. ‘You will be a fool if you leave here,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll give you six months before you return here or to another such institution.’
Florrie did not answer her. Much depended on whether or not Lady Rowntree would give her a position in her household. Mr Stoneham had promised to see what he could do to help her – but how much reliance could she place on a man she did not know? If she left here without a position secured she would have nothing to live on until she could find work. She’d been given a few small gifts of money by Lady Rowntree when she was particularly pleased with her work, but the money she earned was taken by Mistress Brent to pay her keep. Like the other inmates Florrie was entitled to a few pennies each week for her work, but she knew that she earned many guineas for the mistress of the workhouse by her exquisite needlework. Surely she could earn enough to keep herself? But she would need help to set up her own little establishment, unless Lady Rowntree would take her on, so it would take courage to actually leave here.
Florrie was thoughtful after her encounter with Mistress Brent. She had threatened her with exposure and it was not only the beatings she inflicted on children and vulnerable old people who had nowhere else to go that she could speak of – there was the mystery of the missing boy. Except that it was not a mystery to Florrie. She knew exactly what had happened to young Arthur Meaks and where he was – and she thought that if Mr Stoneham kept his word to her, she would tell him what she knew. Florrie had hoped he would return, though she knew where to go to find him; it was just whether or not she had the courage to leave the security of these walls that had been her home for so long.
The young woman paused as she entered the inn’s private parlour. Toby stood and inclined his head. Although not as tall as Arthur Stoneham, he was lean and strong-looking, his hair light, his eyes hazel green and his complexion clear. His smile was meant to put her at her ease.
‘I believe you are Mr Stoneham’s friend, sir?’ she said.
‘Toby Rattan,’ he said. ‘Arthur told me that your name is Meg?’
‘I do not truly know it is, sir – but the name seemed to mean something to me and I do not wish to be called by the name they gave me.’
Something in her eyes touched Toby’s heart. He was filled with a sudden fierce anger against the people who had hurt her, both those at the workhouse and the others who had brought her down. He was also aware of a desire to protect her. In that moment Toby knew that he would stay here and help Arthur sort out the nest of vipers at the workhouse, but also that he would help discover who had taken Meg’s child – and when he did, he would bring it back to her.
‘Meg is a pretty name and it suits you,’ Toby said. ‘Arthur is a good man – and between us we shall leave no stone unturned in seeking the child you bore.’
‘He saved my life and you are kind,’ Meg said and blushed because the way he smiled at her made her feel safe and warm. ‘I was luc
ky that Mr Stoneham found me.’
‘He has asked me to help him. We shall not allow this injustice to go unanswered, Meg. Believe me, if your babe lives then we shall find her.’
Meg nodded and gave him her hand. ‘I thank you, Mr Rattan, and I pray that God will help you in your search.’
Toby kissed her hand gently.
‘I am honoured to serve you,’ he said. ‘Arthur has gone to meet someone but he will be back shortly. I give you my word, both Arthur and I will make certain that in future you are protected and cared for.’
Her shy smile made Toby smile in response. She was lovely and, he believed, innocent of all guile. Her story must be a tragic one and he was determined to discover it.
‘It was very good of you to see me,’ Arthur said when he was shown into Lady Rowntree’s elegant parlour. Its shades of green, rose and cream had a faded, restful aura and suited the beautiful woman in her later years. ‘Forgive me for intruding this way but it is important.’
Lady Rowntree smiled. In her day she had been a great beauty, the toast of London drawing rooms, and she still retained the elegance of manner and English-rose complexion that had once had the men vying for her hand. ‘Mr Stoneham, we have met on various occasions and I know you to be a man of humanitarian principles which accord with those of my family.’
‘I thank you – that is high praise,’ Arthur said and went forward to bow over her hand. ‘I know it was your family that endowed the Sculfield workhouse.’
Lady Rowntree frowned. ‘Have you come to ask for someone to be admitted?’
‘No, Lady Rowntree, I come to tell you of injustice – and I believe ill-management on the part of the mistress and master there.’
Lady Rowntree sighed and nodded, showing no sign of outrage or surprise at the accusation. ‘Then I shall hear you, for I have sensed that things were not right for some time past. When I visit, the children are always well-dressed and all say they are fed and happy, but last time I saw fear in some of their eyes and it made me unsure but my husband is unwell, and I fear he may not recover, and I was afraid to stir up something I suspected might be deeply unpleasant.’
‘Then I may speak frankly?’
‘Of course. Please, do sit down – may I ring for refreshments?’
‘I thank you, no. I have breakfasted not long since.’ Arthur sat down on one of the beautiful mahogany sabre-leg chairs so that he was on her level and she did not need to look up at him. ‘I am sorry that your husband is unwell, ma’am. It is not the time to be worrying you – but it has come to my attention that Mistress Brent is unfit to be a warden of the workhouse. I have not as yet met her husband but she is a liar and a bully. I have been told that she steals the children of unfortunate women driven to have their babies within her walls. I cannot say that she is paid, for I have no proof but I suspect it.’
‘Why else would she do it?’ Lady Rowntree looked sad. ‘When she and her husband were employed, we made it clear that we wished the house to be run on compassionate lines. Naturally, there must be rules, but no woman should be forced to give up her babe without her consent – and I personally instructed that there should only be a physical beating if it was necessary in extreme cases of violence.’
Arthur nodded, because it was what he would have expected of a philanthropic woman. ‘Then you would not agree with vulnerable girls being beaten for no reason – and given to masters who may work them to death?’
‘Certainly not!’ She looked shocked. ‘Violent men must sometimes be restrained for they would take advantage and cause trouble for others – but I do not see why a child should ever be beaten. There are other ways to discipline them, if need be.’
He smiled, reassured. ‘Then we are in accord, my lady. I know a girl of eleven was recently sent to the local chain-maker’s establishment, perhaps in the hope that she might be worked until she was exhausted, for many such children have died in such places. As it happens, in this case the man gave her to his wife who was then expecting and has recently had a child – but it makes me wonder what has happened to other children. I should like your permission to inspect the house and grounds – and examine the records.’
Lady Rowntree hesitated momentarily, and then inclined her head. ‘Yes, I believe that must be the way to proceed. My husband and I are the chief guardians but others have made donations and must be told of any wrongdoing – and an investigation will provide the truth. I would not cast Master and Mistress Brent off without proof.’
‘You are fair, ma’am, and I cannot disagree with you, though I sense that we shall uncover far more evil than we can yet imagine.’
A little shiver ran through her. ‘Yes, I fear you may …’ She hesitated uncertainly and then lifted her head in resolution. ‘Look for proof of what happened to a boy named Arthur Meaks. My husband had thought of taking him for a stable boy but the child disappeared last autumn. I was told that he had been sent to a master in Yarmouth because he had professed an interest in the sea – and when I asked for more details I was promised Master Brent would send them to me. However, he has not done so and may believe my personal troubles have made me forget.’ She sighed. ‘Had my husband not been so ill I should have pressed them more but I could not summon the will to do it.’
‘The name of Arthur Meaks has been mentioned to me previously,’ Arthur said. ‘Someone told me the master intended to punish him for trying to run away and no one has seen him since, which seems suspicious.’
Lady Rowntree shivered. ‘You suspect foul play, do you not?’
‘Yes, my lady. I make no accusations yet, but I fear it may be the case. Others of like mind and I are trying to make these institutions more accountable than in the past for we know that many bad things have happened.’
‘We appointed the master and mistress with the best intentions,’ Lady Rowntree said and her hands trembled, the valuable diamonds sparkling on her fingers. ‘I believe they think themselves safe, because my husband is no longer the strong man he once was …’ She took a deep breath, then, ‘May I ask you to discover the truth and do whatever is necessary, Mr Stoneham? I will sign any power of attorney you need in relation to the governance of the workhouse, giving you complete authority.’
‘Thank you,’ Arthur said. ‘I will have something drawn up and call on you again. I think you are very wise.’ He rose to leave. ‘I wish your husband a speedy recovery.’
‘I fear my husband will not see another year out,’ she said sadly, ‘but I have great hopes for my daughter who is to be married soon.’
Arthur inclined his head and turned to leave, then remembered. ‘I believe you think well of the seamstress Florrie’s work?’
Lady Rowntree looked surprised. ‘Yes, she does the most delicate embroidery – why do you ask?’
‘She told me that she wishes to leave the workhouse but is nervous of finding enough work to support herself.’
‘Tell her she may come to me and live in here. I can always find work for a woman of her talent – and I am sure my friends might like to take advantage of her services sometimes.’
‘She was once dismissed on a false tale of theft and fears you might think ill of her.’
Lady Rowntree shook her head. ‘I know what happened and do not believe her a thief, for her mistress at that time was a petty, spiteful woman.’ She held out her hand. ‘I thank you for calling on me, sir – and please tell Florrie to come to me as soon as she wishes.’
Arthur kissed her hand, bowed and left her. He would still have investigated the master and mistress of the workhouse if Lady Rowntree had not been so cooperative, but her consent made his task so much easier. He intended to seize all the records going back to the Brents’ arrival years before and to have a team of men he trusted search the house and the grounds.
CHAPTER 6
‘Can yer not keep the brat quiet for a while?’ Karl glared at his wife as his son screamed yet again. ‘Is there to be no peace in my house? Where is the girl I gave yer – does she shir
k her work? I’ll give her a thrashing; that will teach her to put her back into it.’
‘Bella works hard all day,’ Annie said and looked at him resentfully. ‘I do not know what I should do without her – those nephews of yours are always hungry and always dirty. We are forever washing their clothes and we have your son to care for now.’
‘At least you got one thing right,’ Karl said and his expression softened as she picked up his son and put him to her breast. The child sucked lustily, his cries silenced for a time. Bella came in from the scullery carrying a basket piled high with shirts, breeches, napkins and towels. She set the basket down and put two flatirons on the range to heat.
‘I think little Karl has soiled himself,’ Annie said to the girl and held him out to her. ‘Take him in the scullery and change him. I have to start on the baking or we’ll have no bread for supper – and then I have to make the cream cheese and butter.’
Karl kept two milking cows and four pigs in pens behind the cottage. Besides all the work of the house and feeding three grown men, the two women had to feed the animals, milk the cows twice a day and muck out their pens. Bella did not have the knack of bringing milk from the cows and so Annie continued her work in the dairy, even though she was only four days up from her bed. That left most of the housework, washing and ironing to Bella – and since little Karl was very good with her, she usually changed his cloths and cleaned his bottom. Thus far she had kept it free from rashes, but he was always hungry and his mother’s milk hardly seemed enough for him.
‘Do you think baby would take a little cow’s milk?’ Bella asked when the child’s father had gone back to work after eating a chunk of bread and cheese with pickles and drinking a mug of fresh-brewed beer. Besides her other work, Annie was expected to make her own beer, for her husband preferred it to that which the local inn sold.
‘I don’t know,’ Annie said and sighed. ‘I’m sore where he’s sucked me dry. Mayhap my milk is not rich enough for him.’