by Cathy Sharp
CHAPTER 14
In the days and weeks that followed, Eliza often wondered if she was dreaming. After the years of despair in the workhouse and the horror of what had happened the last time she’d been sold to a master, Eliza could not believe what was happening now. She’d been given a room to herself, a room that was as big as the butcher’s wife had slept in; it was furnished with a comfortable bed, a chest of drawers for her clothes and a chair and table where she could sit and practise her letters. Eliza was learning to write and to reckon numbers, because Miss Richards wanted her to, and Eliza studied hard for she would have done anything to please her mistress.
She now had three dresses hanging from hooks on the wall. Two for every day and one for Sunday best. They had been Miss Edith’s when she was Eliza’s age and were made of lovely material in a pale blue, a navy blue with a white collar and long sleeves with cuffs, and a dark green heavy material for Sunday. Eliza’s feet did not fit into any of the shoes Miss Edith had saved, so the very next morning she took Eliza to the market and purchased two pairs of sensible black boots with shiny buttons and a pretty pair of house slippers. She had also given Eliza underwear and some cotton stockings to wear so that the new boots did not rub the skin on her feet.
Every day, Miss Edith worked in her big kitchen, making mixtures and pills to help people with common complaints; there was a green minty liquid for wind and indigestion, pills for bad breath, pills or mixtures for headaches, for hay fever, also stomach upsets and sickness. She made creams and lotions for various skin conditions and lotions to keep the complexion clear of spots as well as many other things that would take stains from a dress without spoiling it or lift a water mark from wood, as well as poisons to kill rats and pests. She also made the potion that Maggie Jackson had asked for when Eliza first came to the shop.
‘It helps constipation,’ Miss Edith told her. ‘I believe if taken in large quantities it might cause a woman to lose a child in the early stages of pregnancy – so be very careful who you sell it to, Eliza. If you are ever left in charge of the shop, you must always take great care what you dispense. This mixture is an emetic and that is it’s only use, do you understand? If we sold it for any other purpose we might be in trouble with the law.’
‘Yes, Miss Edith.’ Eliza nodded, because she remembered that her employer had been very reluctant to sell it to Maggie, and yet she had done so because Eliza had seen her give it to the woman and warn her.
‘You must be very careful, Maggie,’ she’d told her. ‘In small doses this relieves chronic constipation but in large doses it could be dangerous for women who are with child.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ve got chronic constipation all right.’ She’d laughed, paid over her shilling and gone out grinning.
Eliza knew that Miss Edith worried about selling the medicine to Maggie. She’d shaken her head over it, looking at Eliza as if to excuse herself.
‘What should I do when she is in trouble? Her employer’s wife would turn her out on to the streets if she carried the child to full term. She has nowhere to go and no one to care for her. What else can I do, Eliza?’
‘Maggie knows the risks she runs,’ Eliza said because she could see it troubled Miss Edith. ‘If forced to bear the child, she would only end up selling herself on the streets or perhaps in the workhouse, and she could die in childbed, as so many women do.’
‘Yes, that is what I tell myself,’ Miss Edith said. ‘Now, Eliza, I have done my work for the morning. I want you to read this list for me – and to learn not only the words, but what they mean.’
‘What are they?’ Eliza asked looking at the long list. She realised that she’d seen some of them on the jars in the shop. ‘These are the names of ingredients you use.’
‘Can you read them?’
‘I can remember shapes and I recognise them,’ Eliza said, ‘but I want to learn to read and write properly, Miss Edith.’
‘Good, that is excellent, Eliza. We will begin with this list and you will copy them out in your own hand. I shall say them, and you may repeat them after me.’
‘Feverfew … mint …’ She began to read down the long list. ‘Mercury … zinc … arsenic …’ She took a pencil and underlined it. ‘This one is very important, Eliza, because it is poison. Never forget that. We only sell very small portions of it, never more than an ounce, and the customers have to sign their names in our book. It is used for many things, killing pests is what most people buy it for but we must never sell too much in case it is used for murder.’
Eliza nodded. She wrote the name out six times so that she could recognise it at once and would not mistake it for antinomy or something else beginning with the same letter.
‘You learn quickly,’ Miss Edith said. ‘I can see you will be an excellent pupil, Eliza, and of much help to me in my work. And now, since you’ve worked so hard, you can help me prepare our meal for the evening – and then we shall have a little music.’
Eliza nodded and smiled. Miss Edith played the pianoforte in the evenings and she was allowed to sit and listen. The music she played had been a revelation to Eliza and Miss Edith had promised that they would go to a concert in the church at Christmas.
‘I do not care for the halls of music, which are common, vulgar places,’ she’d told Eliza. ‘Sometimes the theatres give concerts which we may attend, but that is expensive and a rare treat – the church is free for all, and we may give what we can afford in the collection.’
Eliza nodded. She knew that her employer lived frugally, not out of meanness, but because she did not make a great deal of money from her shop. She did have some money put by for a rainy day, in a secret place in the cupboard in the corner of the kitchen which she didn’t think Eliza knew about, but usually she had a few coins in the metal box on the mantel and that was eked out to last her the week.
‘Yes, Miss Edith, it will be a treat to hear the carols. Sometimes, I was allowed to go with the others but often the privilege was withdrawn as a punishment.’
‘I am sorry you were treated so harshly, Eliza – and before Christmas we shall go shopping together. I shall buy a few treats for us and you shall choose something you like from the market.’
Eliza could not believe what she was hearing. Miss Edith had already given her so much and now she was to receive a gift as well? It was too good to be true and she wondered when she would wake up and find herself back in the hell of the workhouse laundry.
‘I want Christmas to be a happy occasion for our guests,’ Arthur told Ruth as he gave her twelve gold sovereigns. ‘This is to buy special food and small treats for your ladies. I shall provide some small gifts for them so there is no need for you to stretch your budget. Miss Ross is going to help me choose what is most suitable – and she wishes to make some small contributions herself.’ He hesitated, then, ‘She would like to provide a hamper of food and to join us here on Christmas Eve for a supper – do you think you could provide something, Ruth?’
‘Yes, of course, sir. Cook will make some warming soup and we’ll have a cold meal of ham, pickles and fresh bread, and perhaps some potatoes cooked in their jackets. We can have some fancy bits and pieces as well; mince pies, chocolate truffles made with almonds, and little sweet comfits, for Cook be happy to make them if she has the ingredients.’
‘Yes, that sounds exactly right,’ Arthur said. ‘It will be an informal meal, one that we can all enjoy – and I know Miss Ross has gifts for everyone.’
‘She be a kind lady, sir. A lady after yer own heart.’ She smiled knowingly at him, but he shook his head.
‘Miss Ross is far above me,’ Arthur said and laughed softly. ‘I could never aspire to match her goodness – but I do my best to be honest and decent and that must suffice.’
‘Well, me and Cook think you’m the best,’ she said and folded her arms over her chest.
‘I’m only sorry that I have not been able to trace Eliza for you,’ he said. ‘I had hoped to have news of her before this
, but Miss Simpkins is adamant that she knows nothing of her.’
The smile died from Ruth’s face. ‘I fear for her, sir. If she be on the streets in this bitter weather she could die – and if that woman has sold her again, she could be anywhere. Even in the whorehouse.’
‘Surely she would not dare to do such a thing? I know that you suffered at Miss Simpkins hands – and I should like to dismiss her – but some of the Board members believe that she is a good warden and think that I misjudge her. If I had proof of wrong doing – but her brother refuses to condemn her and no one else will speak out against her.’
‘Aye, sir, I know,’ Ruth said. ‘But they are afraid of her – afraid of being starved and beaten.’
‘Well, we are having a special meal for the inmates on the day before Christmas Eve. While I am there I shall see if some cider and ale will loosen tongues – and if I find anything, Miss Simpkins shall feel the full force of the law. I promise you.’
‘Make her tell you what she’s done with Eliza, sir. I don’t believe she’s just disappeared.’
‘Unfortunately, many children do every year,’ Arthur said sadly. ‘Children run away and are never seen again. Some of them are taken into brothels, some die of starvation and their bodies are buried in a pauper’s grave – others just never turn up.’
‘Yes, sir, I know – but I keep praying Eliza be not one of them. I love that girl and I’d give my own life for her.’
He shook his head. ‘I blame myself, Ruth. I should have done something that day she was in your care. I should have taken you both away then, but such interference is frowned on. The workhouse is an institution that many feel does a wonderful job of keeping vagrants from our streets and preventing more deaths.’
‘The workhouse is a sentence of living death,’ Ruth said and set her mouth grimly. ‘Well-meaning folk send us there, but they have no idea what hell it is for those who are not strong enough to endure it. I’ve seen the way the old folk just wither away and die – and I’m never goin’ back.’
‘I did not know when I first met you what I know now,’ Arthur said. ‘I was one of those who believed we were doing our best for unfortunate people who would otherwise starve. I know better now, because of what you’ve told me – and I promise I will never give up looking for Eliza.’ He smiled at her. ‘You taught her to be strong – and I feel that she will survive whatever fate has thrown at her.’
‘I’ve been asked for some special merchandise.’ The man looked craftily at Joan Simpkins that night three weeks before Christmas. ‘My customer will pay well – and he would willingly take more than one.’
Joan’s eyes gleamed with avarice. ‘I have three ready at the moment – and there will be another three soon, but I dare not send too many at once lest it is noticed. There is to be a special meal for the inmates this Christmas and the children are to receive a small gift paid for by the governors. I have been asked for a list of names and ages so that suitable gifts may be purchased.’
‘Will their interference never cease?’ her visitor snarled. ‘That wretched man and his friends are ruining my business.’
‘And mine – but you shall have three of the girls. Their ages are thirteen, fifteen and sixteen; all are of an age to be sent out to work and their absence will not be noticed.’
‘Well, they will suit most of my clients,’ Drake said, ‘but my special client wants them younger – eleven or twelve at most and he prefers them much younger if he can get them.’
Joan pulled a face of disgust. ‘Even I would hesitate to sell a girl under eleven,’ she said. ‘For such a favour as that I would want as much as fifty guineas. If it were discovered, I would be instantly dismissed – I might be imprisoned.’
‘It’s risky, especially after the recent campaigns in parliament and the newssheets,’ he agreed. ‘I’ve told him we want more money because of the risk and he promised that he would pay a hundred guineas for a young, fresh girl, especially if she was fair and pretty.’
‘Very well.’ Joan frowned, but she was tingling with excitement at the thought of so much to be earned. ‘There are no girls like that here at the moment. The three I will let you take are dark and skinny little things, but they are innocent and should please most of your clients.’
‘Keep my special client’s request in mind,’ he said. ‘When can I take the other girls?’
‘A week on Tuesday is our best chance. I shall tell them they have been chosen to work in a lady’s house and you may collect them at four. My brother will be out that day and it is better if he does not see – but I want payment first.’
‘Here …’ Drake took the money from his pocket and put it down on the table. The gold coins glittered in the light of her lamp. ‘It doesn’t matter about their clothes, because we shall give them something to wear – but make sure they’re clean and healthy.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Joan said. ‘Now you’d best go before someone comes.’
She smiled as she scooped up the money and locked it away in her drawer. Her brother would be out, and he took little notice of the women’s side. No one was going to bother about three workhouse orphans, who had neither mother nor father to miss them. Her pile of money was growing. If she could find a pretty child to sell to Drake’s special customer, she would be able to leave this place and set herself up for life …
Outside in the corridor, Molly turned and fled before the door opened and Joan’s visitor left. She did not wish to be caught listening to Mistress Simpkins’ conversations, but her eyes gleamed with excitement at the news she’d overheard. That evil woman was up to her tricks again, but this time Molly intended to do something about it – her time in the workhouse had paid off and it was her chance for revenge at last!
CHAPTER 15
‘You’ve been with me nearly two months now, Eliza,’ Edith Richards told her when they started work that morning. ‘Things have turned out better than I imagined, for I did not expect you to learn your letters so quickly or that you would be clever with figures.’
‘Ruth told me I had a good memory,’ Eliza said, smiling at the woman she had come to trust almost as much as she’d once trusted Ruth. Every day with Miss Edith had been a pleasure, marred only because she did not know what had happened to her friends. ‘She could reckon figures in her head but she could not write much more than her name unless she copied it, though she could read very slowly. The rector taught me my name and Tucker taught me place names. Perhaps that is why I have learned quickly from you.’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Miss Edith agreed. ‘I wish you had been given a proper education from the start, Eliza. It was very unfair to you, for you are an intelligent girl.’
‘I think I am luckier than most, Miss Edith. Most employers would not treat me as kindly as you do.’
Miss Edith merely shook her head and told her to fetch the pestle and mortar. She began to grind herbs and berries together, explaining each step as she did so and naming the healing herbs as rosemary, juniper and mint amongst many others. Each time a preparation was strained and decanted into a small bottle, a label was stuck on and the cure for which it was intended written in capital letters.
Mint was one of the main ingredients in a cure for a burning in the chest, caused, Miss Edith said, by eating too much fat. It was a failing rich people indulged in too often and it made their digestions uneasy, especially at night when they were prone to consuming several courses of rich food.
‘In ancient times women sometimes used incantations when preparing cures; certain herbs and berries had to be gathered at a particular time of the night or morning, some with the dew on them. It was rituals like these that led to many women being named as witches, though of course that was all nonsense,’ she told Eliza.
‘Some of the women in the workhouse spoke of witches and black magic that ill-wished folk,’ Eliza said. ‘Ruth said ’twas nonsense and spite.’
‘Yes, and so it was,’ Edith agreed. ‘It was nonsense, Eliza, not ’twas, my dear. Your
speech is improving but you lapse when you think of the workhouse. I’ve told you, you shall never return there. Now, fetch me the tincture of belladonna, for I need one drop of it in my preparation. Too much could kill – it is one of the poisons of which I told you – but it can also help when someone is suffering from terrible toothache and cannot sleep for it induces slumber, but it must never be given in larger doses.’
‘How do you remember all these things?’ Eliza asked. ‘You’re so clever, Miss Edith, and I want to be just like you.’
‘For that you may have to go to a special school when you are older. I suppose that you ought to go to school now, but I prefer to teach you myself. At school they do not allow you to open your mind – and I was educated by my own father. He was a clever man, as I have told you. Papa studied as a chemist and passed many exams, but he always believed in the power of herbs and natural things.’ She looked up as Eliza passed her a large stone jar of honey. ‘Yes, I need honey to sweeten the bitterness of the herbs – how did you know that, Eliza?’
‘Because you told me so yesterday and the day before.’ Eliza grinned at her. ‘It is easy to learn from you, Miss Edith. If I went to school I should not learn half so much for I should be there but a few hours – and I am here all day with you.’
‘When I brought you here I thought to rescue you from the harshness of your surroundings, but now I wonder if I have been fair to you, keeping you here as my companion, making you work with me …’
‘Please do not send me away,’ Eliza begged. ‘I love being with you, Miss Edith. I want to learn everything so that one day I can do all the things you do.’
A thin smile touched Edith’s lips. ‘Well, I doubt I shall have anyone harassing me, demanding that you attend school, Eliza. When you are older you will know as much as I can teach you, and perhaps it is enough. I have made a good life for myself and there is no reason why you should not do the same.’
‘It is all I want,’ Eliza declared fervently. ‘I’d die if you sent me back there.’