The Winter Orphan

by Cathy Sharp

  Crawling under her coverlet, Bella shivered in the darkness. She must be up early and give the bread dough its second proving and then bake a loaf for their breakfast, because if there was nothing to eat they would surely beat her.

  Hetty stood looking out of the window at the top of the stairs. She thought that she’d seen a movement outside a few moments ago, but since then she had not seen anything more. Was someone lurking out there? Perhaps one of the inmates had gone out into the workhouse gardens? Yet that seemed unlikely for most were elderly or children. Very few of those who lived here now were both healthy and strong. Men forced to enter during the winter months because of near starvation left as soon as there was work in the spring and took their families with them, so only the orphans and the elderly were forced to remain.

  She considered going outside to investigate and then decided against it. If someone unpleasant was lurking there she could be attacked. It would be more sensible to walk round the house and make sure all the windows and doors were locked.

  After checking all the main doors and the windows downstairs, Hetty walked back to the landing. She thought she’d probably been mistaken and was about to retire when someone approached her.

  ‘It’s only me, Mistress Hetty.’

  ‘Is there a problem, Marta? Could you not sleep?’

  ‘I thought I heard something downstairs.’

  ‘I was checking all the doors and windows. It is all safe,’ Hetty said and smiled at her.

  ‘I thought …’ Marta hesitated. ‘You will think me a foolish woman, mistress – but I thought I caught sight of the old master through the window earlier this evening.’

  ‘No, I do not think you foolish. I saw a shadow in the garden and that is why I went to investigate downstairs. If you ever see anything like that again, please tell me – though I do not know why he would risk coming back here. He must know that he is wanted for murder as well as other crimes.’

  ‘He is an evil man, mistress. He may have money hidden here somewhere – money that he had no chance to retrieve before your friend Mr Stoneham threw him out.’

  ‘Yes, that is possible,’ Hetty said. ‘Everywhere is shut up downstairs but you should all make sure that the doors of your bedchambers are well locked for the night.’

  ‘Yes, mistress. I will check the children’s dorms are locked and tell the others to be careful.’

  Hetty nodded. It was an uncomfortable feeling to know that Master Brent or his equally evil wife might be lurking about, especially as they knew the building so well. Hetty could not help wishing that either Arthur or his friend Toby were sleeping here. Hetty had not thought she needed protection here, but now she wished that Arthur would return sooner than later.

  Arthur paid his shot at the Newmarket inn and left. He had done all he’d intended here and though there was no conclusive proof that Bella’s mother had been Katharine’s sister, he believed that he had likely solved the riddle of Marianne’s disappearance and that Bella was the niece of the woman he’d loved and wished to marry. Though Katharine was lost to him and he still grieved for her, the emptiness had begun to lift.

  Bathsheba had told him he should take the girl Bella and care for her. Strangely, she was not much younger than Eliza, the girl he believed his own daughter but did not feel he could claim as yet though he longed to. Taking Bella into his home would compensate a little for that, and he was certain that Nana, Katharine’s elderly nurse, would welcome the chance to care for a child believed to be Marianne’s daughter. And he could hire a governess for Bella, to teach the child her letters. He frowned. If Bella was the product of a brutal rape, it would be best kept from her. She need be told only that her mother had died giving birth to her. Still, he wasn’t certain that living in a grand London house would be the best thing for Bella … He must give this more thought.

  Arthur had brought his gig to Newmarket and his groom, Kent, had sat beside him as he drove down, but he’d given the man his new horse to take to his country estate in Sussex and was driving himself back to Sculfield. He was thoughtful as he clicked his long whip. He would be glad when he reached the inn. It was time he fetched Bella from her brutal master in the village of Fornham and he wanted to see how Hetty was faring at the workhouse.

  Did he ask too much of her friendship? She had a life in London and friends. At Sculfield there was no one but Toby and he was tied up with helping Meg, for whom he had swiftly developed a fondness.

  Arthur frowned as he thought of the young woman he’d plucked from the jaws of death. He had been able to give her problem little thought thus far. Meg had been badly treated and he was not sure what he could do to help her find her lost babe, but he must try. Surely someone would know something? The agents he’d set to looking must find a clue of sorts …

  He was suddenly aware that one of his two horses had pulled up sharply and brought the vehicle to a halt. Getting down to investigate, he saw that it had gone lame and would need to be led very slowly to the nearest hostelry. Arthur was both proud and careful of his horses and he would not ruin them by pushing them. He would unharness them both, leave his curricle here by the side of the road and lead them. It was the only way to avoid pain for the horse and perhaps permanent damage.

  He looked up at the sky. The hour was wearing on and it would be growing dark by the time he arrived …

  CHAPTER 12

  Three women came to the chain-maker’s house to prepare Annie for burial soon after Karl and his nephews had left. Bella had managed to cut herself a slice of bread with some dripping after they’d eaten and she’d drunk a cup of tea. Before he left, her master had told her that the cart would bring provisions for some weeks and she was to see them packed into the pantry.

  Bella nodded and agreed that she would. She had still not decided whether or not she was going to risk a return to the workhouse when the women arrived. She took them up to her mistress and they demanded hot water and towels to wash her and clean linen to bind her. Bella heated the water and gave them one of the older sheets. She left them to their work. Now might be a good time to run, but just as she was deciding, the cart came. The delivery man had brought sacks of flour, yeast, vegetables, butter, cooking fat, eggs, milk, cheese, a large bag of raisins and mixed peel, also a whole ham, bacon, chops and stewing meat and various flavourings.

  ‘I’ve brought what Annie ordered each week but multiplied four times ’cos he said he wanted enough fer the month.’

  Bella nodded and showed him where to put the things in the larder, filling the shelves. Besides the food there were three barrels of beer, something Annie had never ordered.

  The women came down from laying out Annie while the grocer’s man was filling the shelves. They took their leave with a brief nod, not one of them asking Bella if she was all right. Soon after that the delivery man drove away with an empty cart.

  Bella hesitated and then started peeling vegetables. She decided to make pies and a big stew of the beef and mutton for it would keep better cooked in the cool pantry, and spent the rest of the day cooking. Karl did not come back for anything midday and when she had the pies cooling she fried all the pork chops. They would serve as cold lunches for the men and the ham and bacon would be saved for later in the month. Karl had purchased too much fresh meat for she knew if she had not cooked it all it would start to go off in a few days.

  Once all the fresh meat was dealt with, Bella sat down and ate a piece of bread with a tiny piece of cheese from the new block. It tasted lovely because it was very fresh but by the end of the month it would be getting stale. Karl had thought it simpler to order everything at once – and when he discovered his mistake, Bella hoped to be far away.

  She had decided that she would stay until Annie was buried, because it wouldn’t be right to leave her alone in the house. It could only be a day or two and then she would go. Where she would go was something Bella had not yet fully considered, for she knew no other life except the workhouse and did not wish to return there for K
arl would only fetch her back, but the thought of tramping the roads looking for work terrified her. Yet for now she could not worry about the future. She had done her work and was so tired that she went upstairs to lie down for a few minutes …

  Bella woke to a rough hand shaking her. She was pulled violently from the bed to the floor and lay there quaking as she looked up at Karl. He was furiously angry and as she tried to rise he kicked her in the side and she fell back.

  ‘You wicked, wasteful girl,’ he yelled. ‘Cooking all the food that was supposed to last us most of the month …’

  ‘The fresh meat would not have kept,’ Bella said defensively, looking up at him. ‘My mistress bought fresh every couple of days so I worked hard to preserve it.’

  Karl glared at her, his anger simmering but perhaps seeing some reason in what she said. ‘All those chops – why did you cook them?’

  ‘So that you could take them to work with bread and pickles. The cheese and ham will last longer.’

  ‘Stupid girl,’ Karl said but his anger was cooling. ‘Come and heat the pie through and serve the vegetables!’

  Bella scurried to do his bidding. Their plates were piled high with pastry, meat in gravy, potatoes, pudding and some carrots. She’d partially cooked them earlier and they took minutes to finish. Karl’s nephews grumbled that the pastry was hard and the potatoes lumpy, but they cleared their plates. The elder one went into the pantry and picked up a cold pork chop, munching it as he returned and looking pleased. Karl scowled at him.

  ‘They are for the rest of the week. Haven’t you had enough?’

  ‘I’m hungry,’ Basil grumbled. ‘There was no afters.’

  Karl looked at Bella. Perhaps he saw that she was weary. ‘You demand too much. The girl is learning. She has done well enough for a first time managing alone.’

  Bella blinked hard. His praise was slight but he had protected her from the other men’s spite.

  ‘I will try to make afters tomorrow, sir.’

  ‘A sponge pudding or some stewed apples and custard,’ he said. ‘There are apples in the loft if you look.’

  Bella nodded.

  ‘Wash these dishes and go to bed,’ her master bid her. ‘Tomorrow you must clean the house for the next day they will take Annie to the church – and her father will come here to see her leave. If you know how to make a cake and some sandwiches do so. I shall bring him back afterwards for beer and food.’

  ‘I will try, master.’

  Bella felt as if she were falling asleep on her feet but she managed to keep going until she had washed the pots and pans and the dishes. She tidied the kitchen and left the table set with plates and mugs for the morning. There was bread in the pantry and the cold meat; she would not have to rise so early to bake next day.

  When Bella closed and wedged her door shut that night she was so weary she fell into the bed and went straight to sleep. She did not dream but lay like one dead until the crowing of the cock woke her.

  Arthur’s thoughts would not let him rest. He rose from an uncomfortable bed at the inn, dressed and went down to the parlour. A candle burned and a maid was clearing cinders from the grate. It wanted at least two hours until first light and as the young girl looked at him in fright and then fled with her bucket, he was aware of the hard life so many were forced to live. He had been born to privilege and wealth, but most worked all their lives and died worn out and exhausted, sometimes in a workhouse. Those too proud or independent to enter such a place often died of starvation by the wayside, having lost their homes when they became too old to serve a master. The system of tied cottages worked well for landowners, providing shelter for their workers, but it left the old vulnerable and often homeless. Arthur and others like him were able to help only a few and until there was social reform nothing would change, particularly for the children of the poor who were forced to work when they ought to have been at school or playing. That focused his thoughts once more on the child who had occupied them for most of the night.

  Feeling on edge, he left the inn and went outside for a stroll in the cool air. He would look in on his horses to make sure they were well cared for and then ask the landlord for an early breakfast. He had decided he would return to the workhouse and ask Hetty’s advice on what she thought right for Bella. Yes, Hetty would give him good advice, she always did. The thought made him feel lighter and he was suddenly impatient to see and speak to her.

  He found his horses in the stable and stroked their soft noses, then left to return to the inn with a new purpose in his stride and because he was busy with his own thoughts of the future, he did not hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late. Alerted by a slight noise, he turned sharply but the cosh hit him between the eyes and he was felled with one blow. A shout came from a short distance away, as the shadowy figure bent over his body, searching his greatcoat pockets.

  Afterwards, Arthur would learn that it was the head groom arriving for work at the inn who had saved him from further injury but that would not be for some days. When they carried him into the inn and put him to bed, he was unconscious and the doctor was summoned to a man they feared might not live …

  Hetty slept fitfully, dreaming of dangerous intruders and dead children buried in unhallowed graves. When she rose to face the day she was tired and a shadow seemed to hang over her.

  How long would it be before Arthur returned? She did not object to the work here and felt sympathy for many of the inmates, but she was uneasy. The elderly men and women who resided in the house had been unsettled by the discovery of the murdered children and some of them looked at her with fearful eyes, as if they thought they might be blamed for the tragic happenings here. The children were subdued and even though Hetty spoke kindly to them, they scurried away if they could rather than face her.

  ‘It’s not you they fear, mistress,’ Marta told her. ‘They think the old mistress will return and punish them.’

  ‘Mistress Brent would be arrested if she came here,’ Hetty had told her confidently, but she was on edge, restless. She had seen something moving in the gardens late the previous evening and she wished that Arthur or Toby were close, because the man who had been master here was an evil and violent rogue and she knew he would not hesitate to attack her if she opposed him.

  If both she and Marta had heard something, then it was likely the intruder had been Master Brent and she could only suppose that he was looking for something that had been left behind when Arthur threw him out. He would return, she was sure …

  ‘Mistress Hetty!’ She turned as Aggie hobbled towards her. ‘I’ve remembered something.’

  ‘Aggie.’ Hetty smiled as the elderly woman reached her. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I know who took that baby,’ Aggie said and her eyes were bright with pleasure because she had remembered something that had eluded her. ‘They came here together and mistress showed them round the dorms. Her name was Sarah Fawcett and her husband Harold was a rich merchant – they came from a place just outside Newmarket, a small village I think they said – but I do not recall its name.’

  ‘How do you know it was they who took Meg’s child?’

  ‘I heard them say they would pay two hundred pounds for a girl and three for a boy and mistress looked pleased with herself. I saw her counting gold sovereigns one morning after the babe was born – I swear there were two hundred of them on her desk.’ Aggie gave a little cackle of delight. ‘She was angry with me for entering without knocking and swept the money into a black velvet purse.’

  Hetty nodded and thanked her and Aggie walked away, chuckling to herself because she was pleased to have been of help. Her words were not proof of any wrongdoing on the part of the former wardens and would not convict Mistress Brent, but they showed Hetty the probability of truth.

  She decided to send word to the inn and ask Toby to call on her at once. She could tell him of her concern that Master Brent had been searching the grounds for something and give him the news concerning Meg’s c
hild. If he wished, he could send agents to look for the couple who lived in a village near Newmarket – a rich merchant and his wife by the names of Harold and Sarah Fawcett. It should not be too difficult to discover where they lived and to confront them with the truth.

  CHAPTER 13

  ‘Hetty thinks that she may have discovered who bought your child,’ Toby said and reached for Meg’s hand as she gasped, her face white and strained. He saw the look of eager hope and his heart filled with love for her and the need to give her happiness. ‘I have the names of a couple who paid Mistress Brent a visit. It came from an elderly woman with an unreliable memory so you must not set your hopes too high – but I shall drive there at once and discover what I can.’

  ‘Let me come with you, please,’ Meg begged him, her eyes large and bright with tears.

  ‘It would be too distressing for you,’ Toby said firmly. ‘I shall recover the babe if it is your child, Meg dearest. You must trust me – please.’

  For a moment rebellion flared in her eyes but then she nodded. ‘I do trust you – but bring my babe back to me, I beg you.’

  ‘I promise I shall do all I can,’ Toby said. He took her hands, looking into her face. ‘I want you to stay with Hetty at the workhouse while I’m away. She needs a little help and company and I am sending my groom Hobbs with you. He will be there to protect you, Meg. Arthur has been too long absent and Hetty is anxious. If I am to investigate these allegations she needs our help.’

  Meg hesitated, clearly wanting to argue but instead, she inclined her head. ‘I shall do as you ask, because I know that I am lucky to be alive. If it were not for you and Arthur I might be dead – and if I lived it would be without hope.’