by Cathy Sharp
One of the children came up to Eliza; she was sucking her thumb and her face was dirty, dried snot about her nostrils, and her eyes stuck with pus that she kept rubbing at. Great scabs covered half of her face and her hands and she was crying.
‘Has yer got anythin’ ter eat?’ she asked and Eliza shook her head, but then remembered that she was still clutching the stolen loaf of bread. The constable had not bothered to take it away from her.
‘Yes, have this,’ she said, and pulled it out from beneath her shawl, where it had lodged. The child snatched at it and ran off into a corner but she was immediately surrounded by women and children, all grabbing at the loaf and trying to take it from her, punching, kicking and screaming until all the bread had been thrust into hungry mouths.
Eliza watched in horror. She’d known hardship and hunger in the workhouse and on the streets but she’d never experienced the kind of starvation that would make women steal bread from a child that needed it so badly. Turning away from the sight that made her want to weep, Eliza tried to shut out the sounds of fighting and screaming. If she’d known what would happen, she would have broken the bread into small pieces and distributed it, but she could never have known what wretches like these were capable of.
She hugged herself and thought about Joe. He would be so worried when he got back to the stables and found her gone. Would he think that she’d run off and deserted him, or would he realise that something like this had happened? Would he come looking for her? Hope flared in her, but she knew that Joe could not help her. Even if he came to the prison and told them that she was living with him, and innocent, they would not believe him. She’d been branded a thief and no one would listen …
Eliza had not realised how bad prison could be; the stench of unwashed bodies, the mould of ages encrusted on thick stone walls, and human waste created a thick miasma that polluted the air and choked her nostrils. If she was shut up with people like this for months she thought that she would either die or lose her senses.
‘You say she did not come when you called to her?’ Joe looked at Ostler’s wife and frowned. ‘Eliza promised she would come up to the house and help you today. I can’t understand it. She knows I’ll be back by now and I wanted to tell her my news. Pa is coming out this weekend and we’re goin’ orf to Ireland straight away.’
‘My husband shall miss ’e, Joe,’ Mrs Ostler said and shook her head. ‘And I be sorry you’m be goin’ – but you’ll be glad to be with yer family.’
‘Eliza was to come with us. Pa said he would take her and she’d be one of us – be my woman when she be full grown.’
‘Well, maybe she didn’t want that,’ Ostler’s wife said with a little shrug. ‘Else she wouldn’t ’ave run orf the way she ’ave.’
Joe shook his head impatiently. ‘You don’t understand. There’s a bond between us and she do love me – and we be ’appy together. I reckon she’m be gone ter see a friend of hers. She’ll be back soon enough.’
‘Aye, she’ll be back fer ’er her supper,’ Mrs Ostler said shaking her head as Joe walked off to do his chores for the night. She reckoned the girl had gone off for reasons of her own and Joe would see no more of her.
Joe was uneasy as he worked steadily until the light was gone, feeding, watering and grooming the horses, and his heart was heavy when he stopped to wash in the water butt and eat the supper of cold meat, pickles and bread he’d brought for them. Where was Eliza? He was certain she would not stay out this long without some reason – someone had caught her, but who?
Was it that witch from the workhouse or the butcher or … no, it would not be that Miss Edith, because Eliza loved her and she could not love a wicked person.
Joe made up his mind that in the morning he would do his work and then go to look for her. He had only a few days before his father was released and Jez couldn’t wait to shake the dust of London from his feet. He would not want to wait to look for a girl who was not of their people.
Joe had to find her before it was too late …
‘I am looking for a girl,’ Joan said when asked her business. ‘I am Mistress Simpkins, and I have the care of all the females at the workhouse in Farthing Lane. One of my girls ran away from her mistress and she has asked me to look for her.’ She gave the jailer a simpering smile. ‘The girl I am looking for has pale hair and is thirteen years old.’
The man looked at her through narrowed eyes, chewed and then spat tobacco juice at her feet. ‘Ain’t no girls like that ’ere,’ he said. ‘Be orf wiv yer. Jed knows your sort – you’re after a girl fer yer whorehouse.’
Joan bristled indignantly. ‘How dare you? I am a respectable woman and I am looking for a girl who has run away from her mistress.’
The man stared at her in disbelief and spat again; this time his spittle landed on her shoe and she stared at him in disgust. About to turn away, she heard a noise and saw a door open and several bedraggled women and children were thrust through it. Joan watched in frustration as they were shepherded down the corridor towards a door marked courtroom 2.
Suddenly, one of the girls turned her head and looked back and Joan’s heart jerked and raced with excitement. It was Eliza! She looked different, taller, her face brown as if she had spent time in the open air and much healthier than when Joan had last seen her, but it was her. Of course she must be nearly fourteen now but she was still slight for her age and dressed in rags might look younger – besides, her hair looked like a golden halo, even though it was tangled and windblown. Major Cartwright and his friends would pay well for such a beauty.
Instinct made her follow the little convoy into the large courtroom. Three magistrates had taken their places at the bench and a hush fell before the trials began. Women were brought before the justices and accused of soliciting for vile acts of prostitution, of vagrancy and of theft. The first four were condemned to three years in prison and were sent down, wailing and protesting their innocence. Then three children were pushed forward and accused of begging and vagrancy, and the magistrate said that they would be dealt with leniently.
‘These children will be sent to the workhouse in Shoreditch,’ he said, and they were taken away, no doubt to be collected by the master of that institution.
Joan cursed, because two of the children were girls and would have been worth a few pounds to her, but the girl she was most interested in had now been brought forward. She was the last and the magistrate had taken out his watch, clearly bored with the proceedings.
‘What is the charge against this girl?’ he asked.
‘She stole a loaf of bread,’ the constable said.
‘No, I didn’t!’ Eliza spoke up, shocking everyone. ‘I was on my way to visit a friend when I saw the riot. A loaf was thrust at me but I did not steal it. I work at the stables at Friars Court—’
‘Silence!’ the magistrate roared. ‘You were not asked to speak.’
‘But I am innocent,’ Eliza protested. ‘They say I’m a thief, but I have no need to steal—’
‘Silence that child,’ the magistrate roared, and the constable gripped Eliza’s arm and hissed at her. She looked at him angrily, but her face was white and she said nothing.
‘Is there anyone here to speak for this child?’ the magistrate asked and looked about him.
It was Joan Simpkins’ chance. She leapt to her feet and raised her hand. ‘May I have permission to speak, sir?’
‘Are you the mother of this disgraceful girl?’
‘No, sir; I’m Mistress Joan Simpkins and I am warden of the workhouse in Farthing Lane, Whitechapel. This girl is Eliza Jones and I raised her from a babe. Last year I placed her with a mistress but she ran away from her. I believe her mistress would take her back and if your lordship would place the girl in my care, I will guarantee that she will not be brought before these courts again.’
‘Have you proof of your identity, madam?’ The magistrate looked at her intently.
‘Not with me, sir, but I can bring proof in to you later today.
’
‘Then I sentence the girl to a month’s hard labour – unless you return to collect her by three this afternoon.’
‘No, I have work at the stables,’ Eliza protested, but the constable tightened his grip on her arm.
The magistrate looked down his long nose at Eliza. ‘You may think yourself fortunate that Mistress Simpkins was here to speak for you, girl. Had that not been the case I should not have hesitated to sentence you to six months in prison.’
Joan cursed beneath her breath but there was nothing more she could do. And unless she could prove her identity in time, the major would have to wait another month for the girl, but it could not be helped. She watched as Eliza was taken away, still protesting and trying to break away from the man who held her.
Eliza sat in the dark cell into which the only light came from a tiny barred window high above and tried not to weep. She had already been told that she would be transported to prison that afternoon at three and that the work would be truly hard.
‘You’ll be set to it as soon as you arrive,’ one of the other women convicted that day told her. ‘It’s scrubbin’ floors in the mornin’ and sewin’ sacks or canvas sails all afternoon. They give us gruel and bread twice a day, but if the bastards take a dislike ter yer they miss yer out on purpose, and they hit you with short sticks if they feel like it. I swore I’d never go back inside.’
‘Then why have you?’ Eliza asked.
‘It weren’t my choosin’,’ the woman said. ‘My old man forced me to rob the punter what paid fer me. He told me ter wait till he slept and then steal ’is purse, so I did – only the so and so weren’t asleep and he roused the watch.’
Eliza nodded, understanding what had not been said. The woman had a black eye and would have been mistreated by the man she called her husband.
‘I’m Clara,’ she told Eliza. ‘You’ll be fresh meat fer them inside – best stick close to me and I’ll look out fer yer – but yer’ll ’ave ter pay me. Give some of yer food …’
Eliza nodded, feeling miserable. The threat of prison was like a black cloud and she was close to tears when her name was called and a warder beckoned to her. She rose and walked towards him, shivering as he caught her arm.
‘Yer wanted,’ he said in answer to her look of inquiry, but Eliza couldn’t answer him.
When she saw Joan Simpkins waiting for her, a smile of triumph in her eyes, Eliza felt no relief. She thought that prison might even have been better than being returned to the care of this woman.
Eliza was pushed towards her and Joan Simpkins took a length of twine from her bag, tied one end around Eliza’s wrist and the other to her belt and nodded her satisfaction.
‘Come along, Eliza,’ she said. ‘I shall return you to Miss Edith …’
Eliza stared at her in silence as she pushed her ahead of her. She remained silent until they had left the court, thinking over what the magistrate had said to her.
‘Will Miss Edith really take me back?’ she asked at last.
Joan Simpkins looked at her, an unpleasant smile on her face. ‘We shall just have to see, shan’t we? You are a difficult girl, Eliza. You have caused me more trouble than most. I have never been quite sure what to do with you.’
‘You sold me to that butcher and you knew what kind of a man he was,’ Eliza said resentfully. ‘I think you sell all the children in your care if someone will buy them.’
‘I see that your time away from my care has not improved your manners or your tongue,’ Joan Simpkins said. ‘I am still your mistress, Eliza, and if I choose to discipline you, there is no one to stop me.’
Eliza stopped walking and looked at her proudly. ‘You’re a hateful, wicked woman, that’s what you are – and there’s no justice for people like us. It’s a crime to be poor. You can go to prison for stealing a loaf – but no one will give you work so what else can you do if you’re hungry but steal? All of those women and children were condemned with no thought for the reason for what had brought them so low.’
Joan looked at her through narrowed eyes, surprised at her spirited response. Few women in her care would or could have spoken to her in such a reasoned manner. ‘That is what the workhouse is there for – to provide a place for those too lazy or idle to work. We discipline those who would prey on the good nature of others, teach them to be good citizens and then, if they pass the test, we give them the chance to leave and work for their living.’
‘You and your kind don’t care about anyone,’ Eliza said. ‘Miss Edith is better than you and I’m sorry I ran away from her, but I thought …’ She faltered, as if she were hiding something, Joan Simpkins thought.
‘Ah yes, why did you run away, Eliza? Miss Richards would not tell me – but she is a foolish woman and soft. I see that I did wrong in giving you the chance of a better life. She deserves better than an insolent wretch like you. No, I must think of something else for you, Eliza.’
‘Where are we going?’ Eliza realised that they were not headed towards Miss Edith’s shop. ‘I won’t go back to the workhouse – I won’t!’ She tugged at the twine binding her to Joan, but it was strong and she could not break it.
‘Do not worry.’ Joan smiled in triumph. ‘You will not be long beneath my roof – I have other plans for you. This time you will go to a master who will not let you run away. This time you will learn to do as you’re told …’
CHAPTER 26
‘Thank you, Mr Brand, you have done well,’ Arthur said to the man standing opposite him in his library. The candles were flickering and the fire had burned low. Outside, the wind was howling and he thought it had begun to rain. ‘My own inquiries had come to naught. You are certain that Eliza has been taken to the workhouse?’
‘Yes, sir, I followed them to be certain. I had traced them to a stable yard in Friar’s Court – the gypsy boy and the girl you wish to find. They have been working there; the boy is good with horses and the girl helps the ostler’s wife and sometimes sweeps out the stable.’
‘She was arrested for theft, you say?’ Arthur arched his brows. ‘Did you see what happened?’
‘I arrived at the market as she was being taken off by the constable. From what I heard she was accused of stealing a loaf from a baker’s stall. She denied it when she was brought before the magistrate and said she had work at the stables, which I knew to be true. I was about to speak out when this woman leapt up said the girl had run away from her mistress and claimed her.’
‘You did not speak out in the girl’s defence?’ Arthur frowned.
‘No, sir, forgive me, I did not. My calling being what it is, I am not popular with officers of the law, who consider me a nuisance because I interfere with their work – so I thought it best to follow and see what happened and then tell you.’
‘Very well,’ Arthur said and tossed him a purse. ‘You have done your job – keep yourself in readiness as I may have other work for you. There is a woman I need you to find – if she is living …’
‘Whatever you wish, sir. I am always at your service.’
Arthur smiled, saving his curses for when he was alone. The man might have saved him a deal of work had he spoken up for Eliza at the magistrates’ court, but he supposed his excuse for not speaking out was valid.
He took the gold pocket watch from his waistcoat and glanced at the time; it was late, past midnight, for his agent had been waiting hours to speak with him as Arthur had only recently returned from dining with Katharine and her aunt. From what Katharine had been able to tell him, Arthur was fully convinced that Eliza was his daughter and he intended to take care of her – and to see that Joan Simpkins was punished for her treatment of the girl. However, it would cause too much of a stir to arrive at the workhouse and demand to speak to Eliza at this hour. He would go first thing in the morning.
Eliza was not put in with the other women and children. Mistress Simpkins locked her into a tiny room with just a mattress and a chair to sit on. She went away and left Eliza alone for what seemed like
hours, before returning with a cup of milk and some bread in the middle of the night.
‘It would not suit me to starve you,’ she said. ‘Behave yourself and I shall not beat you, Eliza. Remember that I could take you back where I found you. You know your fate then, I think?’
Eliza nodded. She was angry, but common sense told her to drink and eat, because stubbornness would not win her freedom. She was determined to be free again. Eliza had run away before and she did not see why she could not do it again.
‘Good. I see you have decided to be sensible, Eliza. When you’ve eaten, I shall take you to the bath house and you will wash yourself and your hair. You will put on the clothes I give you, and use the oil I shall provide on your skin. It smells pleasant – and I daresay you would like to be rid of the stink of the prison, wouldn’t you, Eliza?’
Eliza stared at her, and then inclined her head. There was only one reason the mistress would be kind to her and it was not a good one. She intended to sell her again – and Eliza knew enough of the world now to guess her probable fate. Miss Edith had warned her not to talk to strange men in the market – and more than one man had tried to abuse her. She would be shut up in one of those houses where men took their pleasure of women who were unable to refuse them. Molly had lived in such a place for many years, though now she was free to come and go as she pleased, and that was because she pleased Master Simpkins.
Molly would help her if she knew, but Mistress Simpkins was being careful to keep her presence in the workhouse a secret. She must be afraid that someone would stop her – and that could only be her brother. Ruth had always spoken of the master as being better than his sister – but he could not help her even if he would, because his sister would make sure that he did not know Eliza was here beneath his roof.
Escape from the workhouse was rare. Joe had managed it and one or two others over the years, but Eliza was being guarded and Mistress Simpkins would catch her if she tried to slip away to the cellar. Joe had told her there was a way out, but she had to reach the cellar first.