‘That is not sensible.’
‘We could be married quietly, in our parish church,’ he says, as if I have not spoken. ‘It would only require the banns to be read.’
‘It would not be fair to you.’
‘Hannah, it would be more than I dared hope for.’
He stands in front of me, still in his boots, and the housemaid in me notices the mud tracked across Betty’s clean floor. ‘I am being selfish,’ he says. ‘For you could help me plan what to do with the farm. As well as bring a smile into my life again.’
I sense he is holding his breath and my own comes more rapidly in my chest. It is hard not to accept such generosity, yet I am spoiled goods and will always carry the shame – though I know in my heart I am still an innocent girl. Can I bring disgrace to a man who has done so much for me? What return would that be?
Through the window, I see wisps of cloud in the sky. Whipped egg white in a shining blue bowl.
‘The Foundling Hospital would raise no concerns about releasing Thomasina to a respectable married couple,’ he says. ‘With a prosperous farm.’
I acknowledge to myself that he is right about the world believing he had fathered my daughter and was doing the decent thing by me. Such things are not uncommon. And gossip would fade when fresher scandals chased talk into dusty rumour.
It is too hard to go on without my baby. She is in my thoughts every waking hour. Where has she been sent? Might she be hungry? Cold? Unloved, certainly, for she cannot have her mother. And when I think this, I find my cheeks are wet. For Thomasina to have a future, I must accept this strange proposal and try to repay Thomas with hard work and loyalty.
Sometimes I even think it might be good to be held in his strong arms. Perhaps I could even bear the other thing, if it did not happen often. I have no knowledge of whether men exert their rights only on occasion, or every night.
‘I like you better in your old work coat,’ I say, reaching up to touch the velvet on his lapels with a finger, delaying an answer. The clothes are not new. He looks to have worn them often, perhaps to Sunday church, but they are not a working man’s garments. ‘When you dress like this, I see you are a proper gentleman. How could I be in your life, except as a servant?’
The look in his eyes does not change. ‘If your family had not been persecuted and fled to England, you would have had servants of your own, wouldn’t you?’ He takes my fingers gently in his. ‘Without you, Hannah, I have only my workers and animals to care about. When you seemed lost, the thought of you being in the squalor of the back streets haunted me. In want. At risk of harm.’ His face creases. ‘Not all men are beasts.’
‘How could I not know it? After everything you have done?’
‘Then I will ask you to marry me again. When I am wearing my oldest coat.’ His smile broadens, I think to show he is not offended at being rebuffed.
‘I like all your coats, Thomas.’
‘But say you will consider my proposal.’
‘I will. I promise.’
Hector gets up to stand beside us, his tail thrashing, as if approving our bargain. As if urging me to accept.
Chapter Seventy-Five
Late that afternoon we walk through the orchard together to the lower paddock, Thomas switching idly at the grass with his crop. It is easier to confide in him when we are not sitting across a table from one another. If we are to wed, he needs to know there could be danger in allying himself with me.
‘I was taught that good overcame evil,’ I say. ‘I was sure when people knew what Chalke was doing, they would be outraged. That he would be stopped.’
Over in the great field, the cows – aware it is milking time – approach the gate like overweight dowagers drawn to the supper table. Peaseblossom, leads the way.
‘Men have always wronged women.’ Thomas slows his pace, my legs being shorter than his. ‘I doubt it could be stopped. But proper punishment should be meted out. If you had confided in me, I would have set the magistrates on Chalke for what he did.’
‘There was worse than what happened to me.’
‘Tell me.’
I study the cows in their leisurely progress. ‘I sensed there was something wrong in that house. From my first day.’
We pause at the hawthorn hedge bordering the lane.
‘And I was not the first maid dishonoured. But there were worse things.’ The hem of my skirt is dark with moisture from the lush grass. ‘They had a locked room. One night I stole the key and looked inside.’ I shiver at the memory. ‘There were lewd books, with drawings. Receipts for vast sums of money. With girls’ names on.’
Thomas looks uncomfortable. These are not proper subjects of conversation for a man and woman who are not related. ‘London offers many temptations, I am afraid,’ he says. ‘It is well known.’
‘I am not troubled about whores.’ I surprise myself by my easy use of the word, but I am no longer an ignorant child. ‘This was something I would never have believed.’
‘Go on.’ He gazes across the lane at the church tower, visible through the trees. I must ask him to show me the graves of his family. I would like to take them some primroses.
‘Peg found an account book belonging to Mistress Chalke. The entries troubled me.’ I close my eyes, but it fails to shut out the memory. ‘The locked room revealed their meaning. That rich men came to the house for auctions. He was selling little girls. As young as six years of age.’
It is a relief to have it said. I steal a glance at my companion, not sure if he will have believed me, but see from the bleak look in his eyes that he does.
‘Why did you not you come straight to me?’
‘How could I?’ I rip a nettle from the hedgerow, but drop it when I am stung. ‘It was not long after he came to my room. I mistrusted all men.’
Thomas leans down, pulls a dock leaf and hands it to me.
‘I wish, now, that I had killed him, he says,’ lashing the hedgerow with the crop. There is a vein standing out in his forehead. ‘I still might, if I get my hands on him.’
I touch his sleeve. ‘At least he only came after me that single time. Afterwards, I got Peg to share my bed. It kept him away. Though the auctions continued.’
Somehow it is easier to tell him the rest. I glance sideways at him. He is still angry, but calmer and even gives a snort of laughter when I tell him of dressing up as a boy. I touch his sleeve again. ‘They are dangerous people. The mistress threatened to cut my throat if I talked. A sensible man would avoid me.’
He shrugs. ‘I could no more avoid you, Hannah, than stop breathing.’
I take a handkerchief from my pocket – a proper handkerchief, of fine lawn – and scrub at my stained fingers. ‘After I got my letter delivered, I expected it would be the greatest scandal.’
‘It should have been. Perhaps your magistrate was corrupt.’
‘I would have sworn not.’
‘But he seems to have managed to close the house where the girls were traded. That is no small thing, Hannah.’
The church clock strikes four and across the big field Jed opens the five-bar gate and waggles his stick at the herd to hurry them through. Beyond, the milkmaids wait on three-legged stools in the open-sided milking shed. In minutes they will be resting foreheads against the flanks of the cows, to empty those great swinging bags of their warm milk.
Thomas and I turn back towards the shed. Like the milkmaids, I wear pattens to save my shoes from the mud of the yard. Though the ones I wear now are of leather, soft as butter on my feet.
‘You did a deal of good, Hannah. And you did it alone.’ Thomas rests an arm on my shoulder. ‘Few men would have troubled themselves. Even fewer been brave enough to act against people with such powerful connections.’
‘Could you find out what happened to the Chalkes? If they have been put in some secret prison?’
‘Are you sure you want to know? If the brother is as powerful as you think, it seems doubtful.’
‘I would still ra
ther know. And I worry about a little girl I saw. Who was in their horrible clutches.’
‘Then when I am next in London, I will make it my business to ask questions. My lawyer is a trustworthy man. With clients in influential circles.’
‘But be careful,’ I lean into his arm. It is such a comfort to share this terrible knowledge. ‘And promise you will not go after Chalke.’
‘I promise.’ He makes a face. ‘As I said before, such a brute is not worth hanging for. And I have you to look after, now.’ He whistles for Hector, who has been investigating the barn, and the dog comes obediently to heel. No rats for him today. ‘I doubt we can make the world a good place, Hannah. But with people like you in it, there may be hope.’
A black kitten has clambered onto the thatch of the milking shed and is struggling to find a way back down. There is the faintest touch of white on its chest, like a floury fingerprint. As we pass, Thomas stretches up and transfers it safely to the ground, to wobble purposefully towards the cows and the hope of spilled milk.
‘A determined creature,’ he says, glancing at me with a smile as he takes my elbow to steer me towards the house. ‘Brave beyond its size and also blessed with grace and beauty.
‘I will be going to London tomorrow to order a seed drill and to visit my man of business about the papers the Hospital have requested. I will find out what I can then. Discreetly.’
I nod, satisfied. ‘Tell me. What is a seed drill?’
‘A machine for sowing seed – instead of having it scattered by hand. Too many families struggle to find corn at a fair price and I plan to grow more.’ He offers me his arm. ‘Come. We will sharee a dish of tea while I tell you my plans for the lower field.’
I am pleased he wants to discuss the working of the farm with me, but decide that if this lawyer of his knows nothing, I will go up to London myself. To discover the truth.
Chapter Seventy-Six
Our marriage was a quiet affair, with only Betty and her husband, and Peg in a new gown and a cap edged with lace, to hear the vows. Thomas has moved his clothes from the best bedroom into the chamber across the hall and I wonder what Betty thinks. Servants always know what happens in a household and she had clearly hoped for something different, for there were dried rose petals scattered among our wedding sheets.
Every night I lie alone in the four-poster bed where generations of my husband’s family were born and wonder at my changed life. In the mornings Betty and I try out cheese recipes from an old book I have found and, every afternoon, I help the curate’s widow teach some of the village children. Mistress Frith is a stooped lady of seventy and ready to hand over to someone younger. Thomas has spruced up that old barn and I am reading Aesop’s story about the fox to nine bright-eyed youngsters, girls included, to encourage them to want to learn their letters.
Ruben continues to deliver the milk, always smiling despite his early start, happy to have regular work. Hector accompanies him, though Thomas talks of getting a terrier puppy, for we want Hector with us.
All I lack is my daughter. All I think of is when I can have her with me, now that I am a respectable married woman. It wakes me in the night. As the first fingers of dawn touch the curtains. As I help with the churning of the whey butter.
‘Why do I not simply go to the Hospital, Thomas? Tell them I have a husband and a proper home, and demand her back?’ I fidget in my chair. ‘You could take me.’
We are sitting at the kitchen table, the clinking of crockery from the scullery making me feel I should be helping Betty.
‘There are rules, Hannah. You would not want just anyone being able to turn up at their door. Asking to take her away.’
‘So, what can I do?’
He takes a document from his pocket and spreads it flat on the table. ‘You need to prepare what they call a Petition. We will do it together.’
‘When did you get this?’ I stare at the page of script.
Thomas takes one of my hands in his. ‘I went up to the Hospital while you were teaching this afternoon. Spoke to one of the Guardians.’
‘You went to London? Did you see her?’
‘No, Hannah.’
‘Why not?’ Fear quivers my voice. ‘Has something happened to her?’
He is quick to squeeze my hand. ‘She was not there, remember? And they would no tell me anything, because I had no right to ask.’ He hesitates. ‘Though I am sure they would have said if anything was untoward.
‘To release information, they need proof of the connection. Your daughter’s date of birth. The day you took her to the Hospital. A description of the token you left with them.’ My hand is squeezed again. ‘It is good they are careful.’
He is right and I must be sensible. I seize the paper and study it. The wording is ridiculously formal to concern a tiny baby.
‘All we need do,’ Thomas says, ‘is satisfy the Guardians that you have a respectable home to give her. Then they will provide directions to find her and a letter of authority to present to her wet nurse. Your baby might be a distance away. I was told some are sent as far as Bedfordshire.’
I bend over the instructions, scrutinising each word.
RULES to be observed by Persons claiming Children delivered into the Foundling Hospital.
A Petition must be delivered to the General Committee (which sits every Wednesday at 12 o’clock) setting forth, the Day the Child was delivered into the Hospital; the Clothes it had on; or any other Mark on its Body, or Distinction, or Token, sent with it.
If, after the Petition is read, and upon examining the Register, the Child be found alive, enquiry will be made into the Circumstances of the Party claiming, before the ensuing Wednesday, and if the Child be in the Hospital, it will be forthwith delivered, either upon an Indenture to Secure a Settlement, or without, as the General Committee may judge most proper (unless some particular Reason or Objection shall offer to the Contrary).
If the Child is not in the Hospital, it will be sent for and delivered, or if most agreeable to the Parties, a Letter will be given them to those who have the Care of the Children in any of the several Hospitals, Houses, or Nurseries, belonging to this Corporation, in order to the Delivery of the same, in the Country or Place where such Child may happen to be.
If the Child is dead, a Declaration from the Secretary of its Death, if required, will be given.
My heart turns to ice at that final sentence.
‘Can we do this now?’ I force myself to take a sensible breath.
‘Of course. I will fetch ink and paper. Although, as you see, they only accept petitions on Wednesdays.’
‘Nearly a week away.’
I twist my hands in my lap until he captures them again in his.
‘We will write your petition now, Hannah, so that it is ready for me to take to London next Wednesday. If it is accepted, when it is accepted, I promise that we will collect her at the first possible moment.
‘In the meantime, you must continue to build your strength, for you will soon have a daughter to look after. You should have beef steak for breakfast every morning. And a rest with one of our books after the afternoon lessons.’ He releases my hands. ‘Now I will fetch the writing materials. I see no reason why we should not have Thomasina here within a fortnight.’
As I await his return, I remember my faltering steps in that echoing corridor, and how the lady in the midnight-blue dress raised her eyes from the volume in front of her to ask me for a token to leave along with my daughter. The day I felt my heart wither inside me.
Somewhere in the Hospital’s vast building a piece of gingham from her grandmother’s dress keeps the link between us alive. Pray God it will see us reunited.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
‘I have news of the Chalkes.’
Thomas settles across from me at the oak table, his eyes impossible to read as he takes my hands. He has ridden to London to order his seed-drill and consult his lawyer. To deliver papers about his affairs to the Guardians at the Hospital.
‘Sadly not. As you suspected, Chalke is not the family name. His brother wears the coronet that would have been his had he been born half an hour earlier. No doubt why he turned to the bad.
‘They are related to the great men of the court: one uncle is a bishop; another a king’s minister.’
‘And that’s why they are not in Newgate?’ I pull my hands free. ‘How can that be a proper reason for people turning their backs? On children being disgustingly abused? It is wrong. Even if the perpetrators were related to the King himself.’
‘Your magistrate will have been obliged to be circumspect.’ Thomas shakes his head. ‘But I am told he has had Jarrett and both the Twyfords taken up, for keeping a bawdy house and selling lewd books. They will be transported before the month is out. To shut their mouths. The Chalkes were a different matter.’
‘They have gone free?’
‘They have been spirited away. Perhaps to Ireland. Nobody appears to know.’
His hands close over mine again. ‘Society cannot admit such a foul trade exists, Hannah. But at least it has been stopped. As I said before, that is no small achievement.
‘Never forget, dear wife, that because of what you did, countless innocents have been preserved from horror.’
I find I have been holding my breath and let it out, slowly. Thomas is right. Wishing for the moon is for children and fools.
That evening I look over at Thomas as he lights a twist of paper from the fire. Then he applies it to his long-stemmed pipe, frowning as he concentrates on getting it lit to his satisfaction. His cheeks puff with effort, turning him for a moment into a handsome Toby jug. Apart from the candle on the table, there is only a flickering glow from the inglenook. Anyone would think us a long-married couple, sitting together in contentment.
The Servant Page 27