The Winter Orphan

by Cathy Sharp

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Bella said meekly. She was cold and frightened because she could see no softness or kindness in this man, but Polly had told her he was a decent master and so she must accept that and believe it. He could not be worse than Karl and the master and mistress of her former place.

  ‘Very well, girl, there is no need to be frightened if you behave,’ Mr Thomas said and took her arm. His grip was firm but not harsh and he did not hurt her. He guided her to a wagon, which was piled with sacks of produce and pushed her up on to the seat beside the driving position, then climbed up beside her. A moment later a youth of perhaps fourteen sprinted up and jumped on to the wagon.

  ‘Beg pardon, sir,’ he said. ‘Master Baker delayed me and gave me a message for yer.’ He glanced at Bella and smirked in a knowing way, inching up to her so that his knee pressed against hers.

  ‘Well, what was it then, Sidney?’

  ‘He said to tell you the flour yer asked for will be in tomorrow and he will deliver it in the afternoon since it was not here for yer today.’

  ‘Good, thank you, Sidney. You have done well and I shall not forget it.’ He motioned towards Bella. ‘This is a new inmate. Her name is Bella and I have been told she has a neat hand at sewing – but we shall see.’

  ‘Florrie taught me and she did fine needlework,’ Bella said in a whisper. ‘And I was learning to cook until my mistress died.’

  ‘Then you have two trades and will be kept busy,’ her new master said and nodded. ‘If you do well we shall not need to look for a place for you outside the workhouse just yet. Farmer Green was not sure of your age, girl – how many summers have you?’

  ‘I think this comin’ summer will be my twelfth,’ Bella said uncertainly. ‘I do not know for certain for no one ever told me …’

  ‘I think you look older than eleven,’ Master Thomas said. ‘If you do not know when you were born we shall pick a day for you and on that day you will be thirteen.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Bella said obediently. It did not matter to her for one day was as good as another and if she was twelve or thirteen made no difference to her. ‘I only wish to be safe …’

  Something made her look at Sidney as she spoke and the gleam in his eyes sent a chill down her spine. There was something menacing in his gaze that made her anxious and when she felt him pinch her arm she stifled her cry for if she made a fuss or told the master, she was certain Sidney would punish her.

  Her throat was tight and she felt tears burn behind her eyes. Had she escaped the bullies in Karl’s house only to become the prey of another? But perhaps she would not often meet Sidney, because the boys were separated from the girls in the workhouse and she need only endure his looks and little nips until they reached their destination.

  She saw the large, grim-looking stone building as the wagon began to slow down. It was situated some three miles or so from the town of Alton but not in complete isolation, because there was a farm just down the road and a smattering of cottages. Women stood at their doors gossiping and shaking mats, and when the wagon approached the farm, Sidney jumped down and waved to Mr Thomas before running towards the gate of a field where some sheep grazed.

  ‘Does Sidney not live in the workhouse, sir?’ Bella asked, feeling relief as he disappeared from sight.

  ‘He lived with us until he was twelve,’ the master said, ‘but then he was apprenticed to the farmer. He accompanies me to market sometimes. I take goods in for his master and he helps me load my supplies.’

  Bella nodded, feeling better as she realised she might never have to see or speak to the young farm labourer again. However, she was apprehensive as the tall iron gates of the workhouse were opened by an elderly man who touched his forelock to the master when they drove into the grounds.

  There was a short drive at the end of which stood the house. Its windows looked grey and dark and there was only one man working in the beds of shrubs to either side. He was wearing the uniform of the workhouse, dark-blue trousers, and a lighter shade of blue for his shirt, and a black jacket with a cap pulled low over his brow. His clothes looked well-worn and his boots had holes in the uppers where his toes poked through.

  Mr Thomas ignored him and drove round to the back entrance. Here, several men were working at various jobs and the noise of hammers breaking stone was loud. All the men paused in their work as the master got down and told Bella to jump. He beckoned to two of the men who wore red trustee badges and told them to unload the stores, and then looked at Bella.

  ‘Come in, girl. Your mistress will see to you now; behave for her and you will have no need to see me again until I sign you out, and that will be next summer when we find a good position for you …’

  Bella was silent because there was nothing she could say. He was her master until he found a position for her and she had little chance of escaping for the walls were high and the gates securely locked and watched.

  She followed him into the kitchen where the smell of soup cooking made her aware that it was some hours since she had eaten. She thought of the good food she’d been given in Polly’s kitchen and knew that she would get nothing like that here.

  ‘Ah, Mistress Thomas,’ the master said, addressing a tall, thin woman. She was dressed all in black with a high frill around her neck. The severity of her clothing did not suit her and she looked pale, almost ill, dark shadows beneath her eyes. ‘Here is another inmate for you. Bella sews and she cooks so you may find her more useful than many.’

  Pale-grey eyes looked at Bella without interest but she nodded her acceptance. ‘You are small but you look strong. We need help in the kitchen for Martha died last week and as yet I have no one to take her place.’

  ‘I have worked in the kitchen and the sewing room. I was learning to cook and I can stitch neatly,’ Bella said hopefully, because there were far worse jobs she might be given. ‘I will work hard, mistress.’

  ‘Very well, you shall begin here and then we shall see,’ Mistress Thomas said. ‘Did you manage to buy all you need, husband?’

  ‘All but the flour, which should come tomorrow,’ he said.

  The pair moved away, leaving Bella to stand looking about her. It was a big kitchen with two black ranges side by side. Pots were bubbling on both and she could smell bread baking in the oven and her mouth watered. Three women were working, preparing vegetables, one of them stirring the large cooking pot over the heat. Bella’s stomach rumbled and she wondered how long it would be before she was fed.

  ‘Hungry, girl?’ The woman who spoke wore a turban over her greasy hair but it escaped in wisps and clung to her sweating brow. She brushed it away, eyeing Bella with interest. ‘Reckon yer can cook, do yer?’

  ‘A little,’ Bella said. ‘I was learning from my mistress but she became ill after her babe was born – and then she died.’

  ‘Poor woman,’ Cook said. ‘I’ll bet they worked yer half to death.’

  ‘Yes, it was hard,’ Bella admitted. ‘But while my mistress lived I was safe.’

  Cook nodded and pulled a wry face. ‘Men! They are mostly all alike and not to be trusted – but the master here is better than most. He only gets his whip out if one of the men or boys defies him. We don’t get much decent to eat, mind, but the bread is good, because I make it and the soup has more than bones in it. The men get bread and cheese for their supper but we usually get bread and dripping, soup or stew at midday, and porridge in the mornings.’

  Bella nodded. It was as she’d expected and much as she’d been fed for most of her life, but Annie and Polly had both given her a taste of better food and she thought longingly of her breakfasts in the big farm kitchen.

  ‘Work hard while yer wiv me and I’ll see yer right,’ Cook said and winked. ‘There’s scraps from the master’s table come our way and I don’t go short. Do yer share and I’ll look after yer.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Bella said. Cook was a big woman and she smelled strongly of onions and sweat, but she was not unkind and for the first time Bella began to
feel easier. She had escaped from Karl and his brutish nephews and provided they did not find her and demand her back she would be safe – for a while at least.

  ‘What did you do to her to make Bella run away?’ Arthur asked when he cornered the chain-maker in his works. It was noisy, dirty and incredibly hot inside the forge, great furnaces belching out heat and smoke as the men women and children toiled, the noise of hammers against metal chain deafening at times, and he felt pity for those who worked there because the work was relentless. Even the men were paid by weight and it took a long time to bend the really thick iron to make strong links. ‘You must have done something, for she was content to work for your wife.’

  ‘The brat was sullen and insolent, especially after Annie died. She was almost useless in the kitchen but I did nothing to harm her. She was my property, mine to chastise as I saw fit, though I held my hand.’

  ‘She was not your property!’ Arthur said. ‘If you have killed her I shall see you behind bars for it.’

  ‘I didn’t touch the brat. She ran off the day after Annie was buried and I’ve no idea where she went. My nephew has taken a wife and she cooks for us now so if I find that little bitch I’ll put her to the chains.’

  ‘She will not return to you!’

  ‘Then I’ll have compensation for her.’

  ‘You paid ten sovereigns, I believe.’ Arthur threw a leather purse on to the desk, which was covered with stained papers, bits of wood, pencils and an inkwell. ‘There is fifteen in the purse – take it and be glad I don’t have you arrested for potential murder!’

  Karl glared at him but picked up the purse and opened it, looking at the gold coins within. ‘Take the brat then if yer can find her – only God knows where she went, unless it was back to the workhouse, though they say not.’

  ‘No, she did not go there, and who can blame her after the way she was treated?’ Arthur frowned. ‘I should have taken her with me the last time I was here – but I shall find her, never fear.’

  ‘Good riddance! She was of little use or value. I should have taken a woman to care for my wife. She might yet have been here …’

  Arthur gave him a look of disgust and left. He would have to search for Bella and he had no idea where she might have gone. She had no family or friend outside the workhouse, and he knew she had not returned there. He could only pray that she had found shelter and did not lie dead by the side of the road.

  Walking away from the chain-maker’s works, Arthur shook his head. If he succeeded in finding the child, he must find a home for her. And having reflected long and hard, despite what Bathsheba had said it could not be with him, for although his servants might be kind enough, they would offer her no real love and certainly not that safety of knowing you belonged. Arthur had spent much of his childhood in a house where the upper servants were left to care for him and he would not condemn a child to that well-meaning indifference.

  He would need to speak to Hetty about what was best for Bella. She herself had borne a child out of wedlock and had her child brought up by another and then at a school – but Bella could not read, could write only her name. He shook his head.

  So many of the children brought up in workhouses had little schooling and therefore small chance of finding respectable work other than hard labour. He had been thinking that his next charitable venture might be to set up a school for young lads who had little hope in life. If they could be taught a skilled trade then they had a chance to make something of their lives. And perhaps something of the sort could be done for girls? That might be the way forward for Bella – it would depend on what he found when he caught up with her.

  Why couldn’t she have told him the truth when he’d asked if she was being properly treated at the chain-maker’s house? If she’d told him she was fearful of her master, he might have seen her to safety without all this chasing about. Yet in truth he ought to have known and found her another place.

  In all honesty, Arthur had had enough of searching these past years. Perhaps it would be enough to have his agents look for the girl … No, he would speak to Hetty first and hear what she had to say. He must also speak to Lady Rowntree and discover if she had found new wardens for her workhouse.

  ‘I doubt if she can be far away,’ Arthur said later that evening as he dined with Hetty at the inn. The landlady had cooked chicken in a rich wine sauce with sautéed potatoes and greens, followed by a trifle that pleased Hetty’s sweet tooth and some good cheese and fresh bread. ‘I shall make some inquiries, but if she proves elusive then I must set agents to discover what has happened to her, for it is time I was back in London. Cousin Matthew tends to my business as my secretary but I cannot leave it all to him.’

  ‘Yes, of course you must go,’ Hetty agreed. ‘I know very little of Bella, but Meg says she is a good girl and kind and everyone here liked her. I just want to know that she is safe!’

  ‘Karl swears she ran from him for no good reason and he was so angry I tend to believe him.’ Arthur hesitated, then, ‘What should I do with the girl when she is found? If she is Marianne’s daughter I would not see her condemned to the life in a workhouse.’

  ‘She could come to me in London,’ Hetty suggested. ‘I believe that Katharine and Marianne’s old nurse, Nana, would love her for Marianne’s sake. She is happy enough living with me, but to have a child of Marianne’s to care for would delight her.’

  ‘You will soon need a bigger house!’ Arthur said and frowned. ‘What of your own daughter? Do you never wish that she lived with you?’

  Hetty smiled and shook her head. ‘She is clever and she can sing beautifully as well as embroider and sew. She wishes to be a school teacher when she is old enough – and the headmistress of the boarding school I sent her to has asked if she will stay on as a pupil teacher when she is sixteen. Mrs Sinclair is very fond of Stella and constantly sends me lovely letters extolling her virtues. Stella loves her and where she lives and I am inclined to allow her to remain there if she wishes.’

  ‘If you had a home of your own – away from the refuge – you could bring her up as a young lady and see her marry well.’

  ‘I could not afford for her to enter society,’ Hetty said a little wistfully. ‘It is a sweet dream but she is better off where she is, I think.’

  ‘You might not be able to afford it but I could, Hetty.’

  Hetty stared at him in astonishment but then shook her head. ‘You are generous, Arthur, but I could not accept so much from you.’

  Arthur moved forward impulsively. Hetty was a good, honest, compassionate woman and he had the greatest respect and affection for her. He spoke without truly thinking what he said.

  ‘You could if we were married.’

  Hetty gasped, her face turning pale as she gripped the arms of her chair. ‘You jest, my friend! I could never be your wife – I am not worthy.’

  ‘Oh Hetty, what you did in the past you did out of necessity,’ Arthur said. ‘It does not weigh with me nor ever will. You have always been a good friend to me and I am very fond of you, Hetty …’

  Hetty was silent, then she smiled, stood, crossed the room and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. ‘Do you think that fondness could be enough for me, my dearest of friends? I thank you for the offer, which I know was well meant – but I shall not deprive you of the chance to find true love, Arthur.’

  He shook his head. ‘I have loved and lost twice,’ he said soberly. ‘I should like the comfort of a wife to keep me company and offer me affection and love – but I am not sure I could give my heart a third time.’ As he spoke, he began to realise that it would be more than just a comfort to him to make her his wife. She was his friend, the woman he relied on – and far more to him than he had realised before this moment.

  ‘I have loved but once,’ Hetty said, ‘and I will only marry if I find that love returned.’

  ‘Perhaps one day you may change your mind,’ Arthur said. ‘We might do much together to help others, Hetty. I pray you think about it.’ />
  She smiled but said no more and he turned away. Something in her eyes told him he had hurt her, though he had not meant to; the words had come from somewhere but he had not planned them. Yet now that they were said he realised that her answer had meant more to him than he had realised. However, to pursue it now would only make her uncomfortable and so he changed the subject.

  ‘You will wish to return to London soon, Hetty?’

  ‘I would not leave you in the lurch,’ she said but spoke stiffly.

  ‘I shall speak to Lady Rowntree tomorrow and see how the matter of a new mistress fares,’ he said. ‘You should be released soon and able to go back to London.’

  She made no answer and shortly afterwards intimated that she wished to leave. Arthur accompanied her back to the workhouse and left her in her comfortable sitting room before going out to speak to Hobbs in the drive.

  ‘Have you seen anything untoward?’

  ‘No, sir,’ the groom replied. ‘Mayhap the ladies were simply nervous – it would not surprise me after what was found here.’

  ‘I think everyone is uneasy. I have been wondering if it might be best to find places elsewhere for those that remain.’ The idea came to him just at that moment. ‘I have nowhere that could hold them all but I could look for a house that might suit …’ He was about to turn away when Hobbs detained him.

  ‘I know of someone who would gladly take the position of master in any house you endowed, sir.’

  Arthur paused and looked at him questioningly. ‘Speak then, for I think this place will always haunt those forced to live here – and though I cannot dictate what Lady Rowntree will do, I could offer the inmates a choice, to leave or stay.’

  ‘I think they would all choose to leave, sir,’ Hobbs said. ‘The thing is, my cousin was the headmaster of a school for boys which was recently closed down because the man who had endowed it lost his money through bad business and gambling. Ted is looking for a new place – and his wife could care for the girls and women for she was once a lady’s maid and has some skill in the care of invalids.’