The Girl in the Ragged Shawl

by Cathy Sharp

  As she washed and clothed herself in the worn-out child’s dress she’d been given, Eliza’s mind was too busy to wonder why she’d been given something that was too small for her. It was too difficult to escape from this place so she must wait until they were outside again – perhaps when they arrived at the house to which she was to be taken.

  The perfumed oil provided for her was strong and Eliza used the merest drop; she thought it best to obey her mistress. Mistress Simpkins might decide to beat her into submission if she resisted.

  It was only just light as they left the workhouse. Her mistress was taking no chances of being seen and having her plans thwarted. Once again, Eliza was bound by a thin twine, which she knew she could not break. So there was no possibility of escape on the journey to her new prison.

  She made no attempt to pull away for there was no point in struggling when she was securely bound. She looked about her as they walked, seeking some way of escape but nothing presented itself – and then she saw him watching her. Joe had come looking for her! A surge of relief went through her, lifting her spirits. Eliza pointed to her waist, indicating the twine that bound her. She saw Joe nod and put a finger to his lips and inclined her head. Was Joe intending to try and free her or merely to follow? All she could do was stay alert and wait.

  Joe saw them emerge from the workhouse side gate. He had been wondering whether to enter through the tunnel he’d dug to escape when he saw them leave and knew that the old witch had made Eliza her prisoner. His immediate desire was to rush at them, cut the cord that bound Eliza and run away, but it looked too strong to cut quickly and he thought it was too risky. Even as he decided he must try, someone caught his arm and he turned to find himself staring into the face of a woman he vaguely recognised from his brief stay in the workhouse.

  ‘You’re Molly,’ he said after a moment. ‘Mistress’s got Eliza and she’s takin’ her somewhere – she’ll sell her to a cruel master again.’

  ‘Yes,’ Molly agreed. ‘She has made a bargain with someone – a man who wants to use Eliza for his evil purposes.’

  ‘We have to stop her,’ Joe said fiercely, prepared to attack the witch with his knife, to wound or kill her if necessary.

  ‘No,’ Molly warned. ‘Eliza be her ward and we might both end up in prison and Eliza would still be sold. I know someone who can stop her – but I need you to follow and watch where they go, though I know where Mistress went last night. I must find Mr Stoneham and let him know what is happening. He will say what must be done.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ Joe looked at her, not sure whether to believe her.

  ‘I watch what mistress does and I reckon I know who she be about to sell Eliza to – and believe me, you don’t want that to ’appen. I’ll bring Mr Stoneham to the house she visited the last night, but if I am not there by ten o’clock at the latest, meet me by the market and tell me where Eliza has been taken.’

  ‘But—’ Joe wanted to protest, because he thought they could free Eliza together.

  ‘If we stop her this time, she’ll do it again,’ Molly said. ‘She must be caught in the act; so go on, follow them, or we may lose them.’

  Joe nodded and set off in pursuit of Eliza. When she noticed him and pointed to the twine about her waist his heart nearly broke to see the look of appeal in her eyes. She was hoping he would rescue her and he was tempted to ignore Molly’s warnings and attack the woman who had so ill-treated Eliza and others. Yet he knew that if he harmed her bodily there would be such a hue and cry. If they were caught they would both go to prison – or worse. Joe knew that his father needed him and he would soon be free. He was torn between his longing to free Eliza and his fear that it might end badly, so he put his finger to his lips and smiled at his friend, trying to tell her that all would be well. Eliza trusted him; she must know that he would find a way of helping her – and perhaps Molly was right. Only a man of standing could stop this evil woman from carrying out her evil trade; he must be patient and bide his time.

  Eliza looked at him again and he nodded. She inclined her head and then very deliberately she winked.

  Joe’s heart swelled with pride and love. His Eliza was so brave. She understood that there was a plan to save her and she was not afraid. Joe followed, not close enough for the old witch to catch sight of him but near enough so that he would not lose them in the labyrinth of dirty lanes and ancient filthy courts that Mistress Simpkins led them through. It was obvious that she was not taking a direct route lest someone was following, yet she had not noticed him, Joe was sure.

  At last they paused outside a large but neglected-looking house at the end of one of the ancient courts; this rookery of slums was the haunt of rogues and thieves and even the constables stayed clear of them. From what Joe could see, most of the other houses were abandoned, and one was boarded at the windows. Mistress Simpkins knocked at the door and waited. A man opened the door almost at once and nodded at her and she entered, pushing Eliza in front of her. Eliza turned and threw a desperate look in Joe’s direction; he nodded to her and mouthed the words: ‘Soon. We’ll come soon …’

  Joe was on thorns once the door was closed. Had he done the right thing? Should he have cut Eliza’s cord and trusted to their speed of foot to outrun the mistress of the workhouse? If anything happened to her in that house Joe thought that he would never forgive himself. For a moment he thought of pounding on the door and demanding to be let in, but what then? No he must simply wait and trust that Molly would bring help.

  Eliza’s courage had carried her thus far, but once the door closed behind them, a chill seized her and she started trembling, her teeth chattering as though she was cold. The large hall was dark and had bars on the only window she could see, and the air smelled strange, making her stomach clench with fear. What was that smell? It was rather like the scent in a church when the priest burned incense.

  The man who had let them in had left immediately, disappearing up a flight of steep stairs, and for a few minutes she and Mistress Simpkins were alone. Eliza felt as if she were in a nightmare, as if this could not be real. Then she heard the sound of heavy feet and a large man entered the room. He was dressed in a long loose gown which was made of brightly coloured silk embossed with patterns of a mythical animal, and clung to his bulky body where it was tied loosely in the middle. He wore a turban around his head, strings of beads hung from his neck, and his feet were bare. He had long feet and the toes curled at the ends with yellowed nails. The strange scent Eliza had noticed was much stronger now and seemed to waft about him – and his eyes were staring at her hungrily. She felt the vomit rise in her throat; she knew what that look meant.

  ‘She is just what we want,’ he said and his fat body shook with laughter beneath the loose gown. Eliza felt a surge of revulsion and hatred for this creature. How dare he look at her that way! ‘You have done well, dear lady. She is well worth what I promised you.’

  He handed over a heavy purse. Mistress Simpkins opened it and tipped some of the coins into her hand. Eliza saw the gleam of gold and an answering gleam of avarice in the woman’s eyes. How evil she was! Selling innocent children for her profit, uncaring of what happened to them. Eliza wished that something bad would happen to her. Joe had seemed to tell her that rescue was coming, but Eliza was very afraid. She thought the fat man was wearing nothing but his robe and the thought of what he meant to do to her made her feel ill. She turned suddenly and vomited on the dark red carpet.

  ‘What have you given her?’ the man accused angrily. ‘Is she sick?’

  ‘She was perfectly all right when we came in,’ Mistress Simpkins said and frowned. ‘It’s that awful stink in here – what is it?’

  ‘Opium,’ the man said and laughed softly. ‘She will grow used to it in time. Untie her and go – I will come to you when we need more merchandise.’

  Mistress Simpkins hesitated for a moment and Eliza wondered at the odd expression in her eyes – but in a moment it had gone and she released Eliza from
her bonds, turned, walked to the door, opened it and went out.

  The door was not locked! Eliza’s mind seized on the information even as her thoughts spun furiously. Only that door stood between her and freedom.

  ‘Now, at last, we shall enjoy ourselves, my little one,’ the man said in a voice that resembled a cat’s purring. Anger was stronger than fear now. He was evil and he had no right to own her as if she were a piece of furniture. Joe had told her no one had the right to own another or use them for their own ends.

  Revolted by the sight and smell of him, Eliza knew that she could not just wait for help to come; she must escape now, before it was too late. Once the door was locked, she would be a prisoner and she sensed that there would be no escape then. This house was a fortress but for just this one moment it was vulnerable. She ran to the door and tugged, trying to pull it open and follow Mistress Simpkins out into the fresh air, but the man grabbed her from behind, holding her pressed against him. She could smell the sickly sweet odour of his body mixed with the other strange scent, and kicked out at his shins violently as she felt his hands on her. He grunted but held on to her, his hot wet mouth pressed against her neck. She shuddered with disgust, anger making her even more determined. He was horrible and she would not put up with this; she would rather die! Jerking backwards with her elbow, Eliza felt it make contact with his body and heard him cry in pain. For a moment his hold loosened; she leapt away from his grasp, searching for some way of escape. But he was between her and the door and the window was barred; there was no other way out. She had to reach that door before it was locked and the key removed. Her frantic gaze fell upon a heavy metal object that she vaguely recognised as a brass doorstop and she darted at it, seizing it and brandishing it.

  ‘Fred, I need you!’ the fat man shouted and Eliza knew that once his servant arrived she would be overpowered. Driven by her fear and revulsion, she struck out at the man who stood between her and freedom, hitting his legs with the metal object with all her strength, and, as he buckled and went down on his knees, she struck at his head and saw the blood spurt. He pitched forwards, face down, moaning slightly.

  Eliza was terrified. She knew she had killed him and it meant she would hang if she were caught. She ran round his body where it lay on the floor, the blood pooling. Breathlessly, she wrenched at the door and, as it fell back, darted through the opening. Eliza heard the servant shouting behind her in the house and feared that she would be recaptured and dragged back inside, but then, as she reached the pavement, Joe sprang at her and caught her hand.

  ‘I was so afraid they would come too late and I was right!’ Joe said. ‘How did you escape? I saw that evil woman come out but …’

  ‘I killed him,’ Eliza said, shaking with terror. ‘We have to run, Joe. If they catch us I’ll hang.’

  Joe saw Molly coming with a man he did not know, but he grabbed Eliza’s hands and pulled her down one of the tiny alleyways that abounded in these ancient slums, tugging her with him as he ran for his life and hers. By helping her escape, Joe knew that he was a party to murder and if they were caught, both of them could hang.

  He heard Molly call to him but did not look back. The man with her might be good but he could not trust to that; their only chance was to run. They must hide for two days and then they would leave London with his father. In Ireland they would be safe and it was the only way Joe knew to protect Eliza.

  ‘Too late,’ Arthur said as he saw the children disappear into the maze of ancient courts and alleyways. ‘But at least she escaped the fate they planned for her. Most girls disappear never to be heard of again once they are taken.’

  ‘Eliza be always stubborn and resourceful,’ Molly said. ‘And Joe escaped from the workhouse and everyone thought him dead. I think she be safe enough with him for the moment.’

  ‘But for how long while men like that live?’ Arthur was staring angrily at the house, from which a servant had emerged and was looking down the lane. ‘I intend to see that this one ends up where he belongs.’

  Molly watched as he crossed the road, spoke to the servant and then thrust him to one side and entered the house. He was in there a few moments and then the servant came out and went running off down the road. Arthur came to the door and beckoned to her. Entering uncertainly, she saw a man sitting on the floor holding a napkin to a wound at the side of his head. He had bled quite a lot and it had pooled on the carpet.

  ‘He’s in no fit state to cause you any bother,’ Arthur told her, ‘but just watch him while I take a look upstairs – in case any other girls are being held here against their will …’

  ‘She was to be a servant,’ the man sitting on the floor mumbled as Arthur made ready to leave. He sounded drunk or dazed and Molly thought, from the reek of him, that it was a combination of the drug he had taken and the blow to his head, which had stunned him long enough to help Eliza make her escape. In Molly’s mind it was a pity the child hadn’t struck a bit harder, but she’d obviously hit him with all the strength she could muster. ‘Little hellcat … not like the others …’

  ‘What others?’ Arthur demanded, delaying his investigation. He grabbed hold of his victim, hauling him roughly to his feet. ‘You’d best tell me, Major Cartwright. You have already ruined yourself, so you may as well make a clean breast of it – and then I’ll decide whether you should live.’

  ‘Not my fault if they get too rough with them,’ the major mumbled, his words slurring. He was clearly not capable of rational thought because of the opium he had used. ‘Never mind; get another one from Mistress Joan … dear lady …’ He gave a foolish little giggle, as if it were funny.

  Arthur let go of him and he slumped to the floor again, too drugged to really understand what had happened or what he’d just said.

  ‘If he moves, hit him again,’ Arthur said to Molly and ran up the stairs. He was soon down again and shaking his head. ‘He’s alone in the house. I sent his servant for the doctor, but I also warned him that his master would soon be arrested for his crimes and I think it likely he may not return.’

  However, the servant was back, bringing a doctor with him, by the time Arthur had completed a full search of the house. He took a few items he thought might help to convince the magistrate of Major Cartwright’s addiction to drugs, and then spoke to the doctor, telling him what had happened here. When asked for confirmation, the major’s servant decided to make a full confession, and Arthur asked him if he would accompany him to the magistrate’s house. He agreed after he was promised that he would not be accused of being complicit in his master’s crimes.

  ‘They’ve killed other girls,’ he told Arthur as they walked. Molly followed, listening, willing to give her testimony if it was requested, which she eventually did at the magistrate’s bidding. ‘I don’t mind their bad ways, but I don’t hold with that, sir.’

  Molly’s story took a long time to relate and every word of it was written down. Arthur backed her up by relating how she had twice come to him with stories of Mistress Simpkins perfidy and how Major Cartwright had backed her the first time and been instrumental in her being allowed to continue her wicked practices.

  ‘Where is the child who fought this vile creature off?’ the magistrate asked.

  ‘I believe I know where she might go,’ Arthur said. ‘But first we must confront that woman – and one of your officers should go at once to the house we told you of and arrest that vile creature. If he once recovers his senses and remembers, I daresay he may choose to disappear rather than face the consequences.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Stoneham, of course.’ The magistrate called for one of his officers and gave orders. ‘It is rare that we have proof of wrongdoing such as this – though we know it is happening. The murder of a child is a serious offence and we shall bring the culprits to justice.’

  ‘I pray you do,’ Arthur said, satisfied that Major Cartwright would have many questions to answer, though whether the law would be able to hold him was another matter. Too many of his kind manage
d to escape justice because they had power and influence, and it was difficult to find proof of their guilt. ‘I shall go myself to Mistress Simpkins. I want her out of that place and unable to harm another of its unfortunate inmates.’

  Molly followed him from the magistrate’s house. ‘What should I do, sir? Master Simpkins knew little of this – I would swear to it. You will not pursue him because of his wicked sister?’

  ‘If Master Simpkins is innocent then I have no cause to harm him, though he is not fit to be in charge of the workhouse,’ Arthur said. ‘You may tell him that he will be treated fairly but his sister will pay the price – and I must thank you once again for all you have done to help me bring her to justice.’

  ‘I hated her,’ Molly said simply. ‘I didn’t want her to do to others what she did to me.’

  ‘Then I hope you have some satisfaction in her downfall,’ Arthur said, and grunted with satisfaction as he saw the woman he was after hailing a hackney cab. He sprinted across the road, catching her arm as the cab drew into the kerb.

  ‘The railway station,’ Mistress Simpkins said to the driver, but Arthur swung her round.

  ‘I think not, madam,’ he said and saw the fear in her eyes as she saw him and then Molly.

  ‘How dare you obstruct me?’ she demanded. ‘I shall call for an officer of the law …’

  ‘Then I shall be delighted to hand you over to him, Miss Simpkins. From what I know of the law you – and perhaps your brother – will be spending the rest of your lives in prison. At the very least he will leave his positon here, for we know this place is badly run. And we have the major in custody and we know you gave him Eliza – and you have sold others.’

  ‘No – just her,’ she said but the spark of defiance had gone. ‘I was a fool because I knew what he was, but he offered me so much money and I wanted to leave this place …’

  ‘And your brother – what did he get out of it?’

  ‘My brother had nothing to do with it,’ she said, and he saw defeat in her eyes. ‘Robbie is weak and he has his vices but the rest was down to me …’