by Cathy Sharp
‘I’ll make sure the children all have hot drinks and settle for the night,’ she promised and Arthur smiled, because she was a caring girl and eager to be of use. He thanked her and she ran off to the kitchen.
‘I shall see you tomorrow evening, my love,’ Arthur told Hetty before she left. ‘Hobbs will see you safely there and George and his wife Betty are good people. I knew at once that they would suit my purpose. You will like them …’
‘How will you manage the rest of the children?’ she asked anxiously.
‘I think they are all falling asleep on their feet and I can see little to worry about,’ he said and kissed her softly on the lips. ‘In a few hours you will all be reunited and this upheaval will be a thing of the past. George and Betty will be there to help settle their charges and in a few days you and I may return to London.’
‘You will be glad, no doubt?’ Hetty’s eyes held a spark of amusement.
Arthur laughed. ‘It has all taken longer than I expected,’ he admitted. ‘I little thought when I first came across Meg, almost dead in the snow that night, that I should remain here so long.’
‘And you are happy that Bella is Marianne’s daughter?’ Hetty looked at him intently.
‘As convinced as I can be after so many years – but we shall tell her together and allow her to decide what she wishes to do …’
‘Given her choice I believe she would return to the farm and Polly,’ Hetty said, ‘but once you tell her that her mother was a gentlewoman …’
‘It must wait until we have time – and you must go.’
Hetty laughed and took her leave. Arthur felt a pang of loss as he watched her climb into the carriage. His feelings for her had taken him by surprise but now he knew that he could never bear to lose her.
Perhaps it was thoughts of Hetty that kept him sleepless or mayhap the lumpy sofa, but Arthur was up before first light. He went through to the kitchen and found a jug of cool cider. He was hungry but there was only porridge, which Marta would cook for breakfast, or yesterday’s bread. He’d arranged for food to be brought from the village to sustain the children on the journey to their new home but it was too early for that to arrive so he broke a piece of bread and ate it.
Feeling restless, Arthur went to the doorway and looked out. It was going to be a nice day by the look of that sky. There was dew on the grass and a hush in the air, broken only by a bird trilling in the garden. His thoughts turned to Bella.
He had thought the young girl would be happy enough with Polly, who loved her, and he had been willing to pay them to keep her – but would Katharine have been content to see her niece reared as a farmer’s child? He doubted it. In London, she could learn to be a young lady. Arthur came to a decision. He would take both her and Hannah into his care. They would go to school for a while and then Hannah could become a teacher as she wished, and Bella would live with Hetty and him and become whatever she wished.
Once the move was finished, Arthur would offer her the alternatives. He thought that perhaps if he took Bella and Hannah into his care, he might also find the right moment to offer the same choice to Eliza – though he knew she was happy as Miss Edith’s assistant, learning to be an apothecary and proving her intelligence and the caring nature she had inherited from her mother. Sarah had been a sweet, gentle woman and he owed it to her to make sure that Eliza was safe.
He had waited long enough, Arthur realised, as the children came pouring downstairs, eager to begin the new day, excitement in their faces and raised voices. They went off to break their fast happily and then to help – or hinder – the last of the packing. Watching them, listening to their laughter, he felt a content he had scarcely known for many years.
He had given them this chance of a new life and already the change in the children, who had been pale, subdued and frightened was worth every penny he had spent. Arthur knew that he had chosen the right life for him and this venture would not be the end of his efforts to ease the suffering of men, women and children who, unlike him, had not been born to wealth and comfort.
CHAPTER 22
Arthur rode with the small convoy making its way to the manor. The sun came out from behind a bank of thick cloud and the children sang and played games, eating the good food that had been prepared for them. When the innkeeper’s wife Sally had been told what such large quantities of food were needed for, she had outdone herself, making savoury pies and fruit tarts and fresh-baked rolls filled with cheese and her delicious pickles. To the children of Sculfield workhouse, it was the food of the gods, and they truly felt they were in Heaven. It was the best holiday of their young lives and they cared not that their progress was slow, some of them running beside the wagons for a while before climbing up to sprawl in the scented hay. It was an adventure and they wished it might go on forever, their laughter rang out again and again as the carts trundled towards a new life for them all.
At midday, the horses were allowed to rest by a stream and the children played games on the bank, racing up and down in so much excitement that poor Marta was worn out trying to keep them in order. Arthur advised her to relax and eat her own share of the good food and when one of the smaller children fell in the river to the accompaniment of shrill screams and cries, he plunged in and yanked him out by his collar and Marta pounced on the boy, clucking over him like a mother hen.
Arthur contemplated the likely ruin of one of his favourite pairs of riding boots and emptied the water out of them ruefully. Yet watching as everyone settled down to finish the food and clear up before the start of the second half of their journey, he found himself laughing easily, relaxed in their company.
It was like having a huge family, something he had never enjoyed. He wondered how anyone given the privilege of caring for children and elder folk like these could use them harshly and looked inquiringly at one of the older men as he sat beside him on the bank.
‘I mind the time when I could’ve done that, sir,’ he said and touched his forelock respectfully. ‘Takes me too long to get up once I’m down now to be of much use in an emergency – but I’m a farmer and I hope you’ll have a use for me when we get to this here manor, me lord.’
‘What is your name, sir?’ Arthur asked. ‘And I’m not a lord, you know.’
‘Tom, sir. I know you be not a lord but what you’ve done for us – well, ’tis like the knights of old, and the tales my granny told of chivalry and lords …’
Arthur smiled in amusement. ‘Well, Tom, my name is Arthur – and I’m sure we can find any amount of work for you at the manor, though you are entitled to rest at your time of life. I daresay you worked hard long enough when you were younger.’
‘I did, Arthur, until the agues got me and I was no more use to my master so they put me in the workhouse.’ Tom’s eyes twinkled. ‘I knew you was him – Arthur of legend and his knights what went around doin’ good works.’ He chuckled as Arthur responded with a shout of laughter. ‘Good with horses I be – but I can milk a cow or look after pigs and hens. Too old to do much hard labour but I’d rather work outdoors than sew sacks.’
‘I’m hoping there will be small tasks for all those who wish it, even those like you, Tom, who cannot be expected to labour in the fields. I shall bring craftsmen to the manor and they will teach the young a trade – but I hope that we shall be self-sufficient in basic foods once we’re up and running. We shall keep a few cows, pigs, sheep and hens – you know what I mean, Tom. You’ve lived on your own produce all your life. We’ve plenty of land and can employ men to till our fields and do the heavy labour, but I hope our folk will grow the fruit and vegetables in the kitchen gardens.’
‘It will be much like it was not so very long ago, before all the mad rush to the towns,’ Tom said. ‘I mind my great-grandfather spoke of the good old days – and he said it was the golden age, afore all them trains and the mills and factories. Folk worked on the land then or at a trade, but now ’tis all smoke and noise and dirt.’
‘Yes, though sometimes crops fai
led and pestilence destroyed livestock and people alike, and in the cold winters folk starved,’ Arthur said. ‘I think we may overcome some of that, Tom – but it is an experiment that can only work if everyone wants it to. I hope for a better life for you all. God willing, it will happen.’
‘You’ve made it better already,’ Tom told him and nodded at the others. ‘I reckon they’re gettin’ ready to move, Arthur – and I might need a hand up from this ’ere bank!’
Arthur laughed then stood and offered his hand, giving the elderly man a haul to his feet. Tom thanked him, nodded and went off to help load the things they’d used back on to the wagons.
Turning his head, Arthur saw that Hannah was looking at him adoringly again. His prompt plunge into the river to rescue the young lad had been heroic in her eyes and he sighed inwardly. She was a nice little thing and Bella’s friend, and he wanted to do the best he could for her, but the sooner she understood that he would be marrying Hetty the better, because at the moment she thought herself falling in love with him.
The new wardens, George and Betty, had spent a few days at the manor preparing things, and although the arrival of some of their inmates and half the goods and chattels had upset the order, Arthur could already see that his instructions had been carried out. The men’s and older boys’ bedchambers were in one wing and the women and younger children were in another.
However, unlike the workhouses, here there were also communal rooms where the men and women, girls and boys could spend time together after the work of the day was done. At the moment there were no married couples or families residing at the manor – that was something for the future.
Even amongst the old folk, the atmosphere was much lighter now that the people were away from the gloomy old building where so many terrible things had happened. At first it was all noise, mess and bustle as the wagons were unloaded and the farmers stayed to eat and rest their horses before starting their journey home. They had arranged to stay overnight at an inn nearby to break their journey and thanked Arthur for securing rooms and paying the cost of their stay. They had been more than eight hours on the road since leaving Sculfield but everyone had enjoyed themselves, for time meant nothing to country folk when money was to be earned, gold that would stand them in good stead even if the harvest was poor that year.
‘It has been a pleasure working for you, sir,’ one of them said. ‘Anytime you need a man and wagon you ask for Alfie Brown and he’s your man.’
They clearly felt it had been a holiday, away from the back-breaking hard slog of their everyday lives. Arthur gave them some more beer for their journey and they left in high good humour, waving their caps to the children who called out and thanked them.
‘You survived in one piece then,’ Hetty said teasingly as Arthur went back inside the manor, and found her talking with Bella and Hannah in the hall. Bella took Hannah off to see the room they would be using while they stayed there. ‘I am told you saved a child from drowning on the way here.’
Arthur gave a short laugh. ‘Hardly that. I only got wet up to my backside and he was only in there seconds before I yanked him out – hardly heroic, Hetty.’
‘Hannah found it so!’ Her eyes teased him and he shook his head at her, reaching out to pull her close to him. ‘I think she likes you, Arthur …’
‘Jealous?’ he asked huskily and kissed her passionately. ‘I want only you, my love.’
Hetty moved away from him, her cheeks warm. ‘This is a wonderful place, Arthur. You said it was charming and I understood you had big plans – but I never dreamed it would be so beautiful. I went for a walk to the lake this morning …’
‘Yes, the view from there is lovely,’ Arthur agreed, his eyes on her face. She had surprised him, for he thought her most at home in London. ‘I have a beautiful country estate, not unlike this but larger …’ His gaze intensified. ‘Do you not prefer the town, Hetty?’
‘Me?’ She seemed surprised. ‘Perhaps sometimes, but …’ She shook her head. ‘I am full of fanciful ideas since I came here, Arthur.’ She walked away to the window to look out as George, the warden, entered the room.
‘Ah, Mr Stoneham,’ he said. ‘I wanted to tell you – we have a candidate for our first craftsman. He came to me yesterday and asked if he could have one of the larger barns. He is a cooper and his landlord recently doubled the price of his workshop rent, thereby putting him out of work. When I told him the rent here was based on what he could afford, plus some time given to training youngsters and helping out when it was harvest time, he begged to be our first tenant and I told him to return today and speak with you. He is waiting in the kitchen.’
‘Then I shall come at once,’ Arthur said and sent Hetty an apologetic smile. ‘We shall speak later.’ He joined his employee. ‘You are at liberty to call me Arthur, George, for I hope we shall be friends and that this is the start of a long and rewarding friendship.’ Then, glancing over his shoulder, Arthur saw that there was a wistful expression on Hetty’s face as she looked out of the window.
Hetty turned to an empty room. The sun was still shining in at the window but some of the sparkle had gone and she knew that it was Arthur – he brought so much energy and purpose to all he did. He was such a busy, important man and much sought after in London society, though he seldom attended the larger society events, preferring an intimate dinner with close friends. However, he had several influential acquaintances, a great many charitable projects, art galleries he patronised, and a life he enjoyed – and he wanted Hetty to share it.
She loved Arthur and wanted to be his wife more than she could ever say, but could she be the wife he needed? His house was one of the most admired in London’s fashionable quarter, rich with silks and gleaming wood and the glitter of precious objects in French cabinets. Hetty enjoyed pretty things but to be mistress of all that …? Her eyes swept the large, comfortable sitting room and the slightly shabby drapes at the windows, the sofas that had worn into shapeless comfort, their faded shades of rose, gold and deep-emerald greens muted into softer hues. Now this was a room she could happily be mistress of … She heard laughter and then a group of young children burst into the room carrying something. They stopped as they saw her and looked hesitant, a little uncertain.
‘What have you got there?’ she asked and a little girl called Millie came forward with a tiny rabbit in her arms.
‘We found ’im in the garden, miss.’
‘He looks very young to leave his mother,’ Hetty said. ‘I think he might be lonely, don’t you, Millie? Shall we take him back where you found him? There are lots of little animals here for you to see – some you can pet but rabbits don’t really like to be in the house.’
She ushered the children from the room and they took her out to where they had found the rabbit at the back of the house. Hetty bade them put it down and it shrank to the ground for a moment in fear and then went loping off.
‘Will it find its mother now, miss?’ one of the boys asked and Hetty smiled.
‘Yes, I should think so, Georgie. I don’t suppose any of you have seen animals like that before?’ They all shook their heads. ‘Well, here you will have hens to feed and ducks – and there will be babies. You children will learn to collect the eggs and that can be fun. Shall we go and see if there are any now?’
Hetty took them off on an egg hunt, explaining that hens often laid their eggs in the strangest places. She told them how she had collected the eggs for her mother when she was a child living in the country and kept them all amused and happy. By the time they went in for supper, they had found three eggs and the children had begun to learn how very different their lives would be here at the manor. They would still have their jobs to do, because the manor must run by everyone’s efforts, but they would also have time to run and play outside and become healthy and strong in the fresh air, boys and girls mixing together.
Millie slid her hand shyly into hers. ‘Will you stay here with us, Miss Hetty?’
‘You have Master G
eorge and Mistress Betty now to look after you, and they will be kind,’ Hetty told her. ‘Perhaps I can visit sometimes, but you will be so busy and happy you won’t miss me.’
‘Yes we will,’ a chorus of voices said and Hetty felt unexpected tears sting her eyes.
She turned to see that Arthur was standing in the doorway watching them. Hetty smiled as she moved towards him, surrounded by a cluster of happy children.
‘Enjoying yourselves?’ he asked and nodded as they all thanked him.
‘We want Miss Hetty to stay with us,’ one little boy said. ‘She’s like my mother used ter be afore she died of the fever.’
‘Miss Hetty will visit you sometimes,’ Arthur said and frowned. ‘Off you go, then. Miss Mary and Marta are waiting to get you your tea. Oh, and children, this is your home now and you will have many privileges you did not have at the old workhouse.’
‘Is it still a workhouse, sir?’ one of the boys asked.
Arthur was silent for a moment. ‘Sort of, Charlie, because we all have to work to make it pay – but we shall call it the manor and I want it to feel like a home where you can learn good things. When you are older you will choose what you wish to do with your life. None of you will be sold to a master. You will all learn a trade and jobs will be found for you when the time comes.’
‘Thank you for answering me proper, sir,’ the lad said and grinned as he ran off. ‘I ain’t never ’ad a real ’ome!’
‘That was well done, Arthur. The children were not sure what was expected of them now.’ Hetty smiled as she followed him through to the parlour where they had spoken earlier. ‘Did all go well with your visitor?’
Arthur nodded and looked pleased. ‘Very well, I’m glad to say. We have our first craftsman – and a cooper is very traditional. I believe we shall get some more unusual crafts as time passes, and I hope to build some more cottages for married couples who can manage to support themselves if they have a little help. I should like the boys to learn carpentry, boot making and other leather crafts. Pottery is an idea I’ve had and I’m keen to try it myself, but we should need a kiln for that …’