Among the Darkness Stirs

by Nicola Italia

  “Men are always turned by a pretty head.” She shook her own just thinking about it.

  “Well, let’s just wait and see how her work is. Because at the end of it all, that’s all that matters,” Cuthbert said, quietly sipping his tea.

  “I agree, husband, and you’re right. I just wonder… if there really is nothing between them, then why on earth did Henry Ryland insist on sending her to us?” She narrowed her eyes.

  “It’s not for us to question a board guardian,” her husband said quietly yet sternly.

  Elspeth said nothing more.

  Henry Ryland pinched his nose to relieve the tension building. Most of his associates and clerks were already gone for the evening as he looked about the empty office. It had been a long day, and he welcomed the chance to return home. He checked the gaslights to make sure they were off before he locked the front door to his office.

  He hailed a hansom cab and directed the driver to the address of his new home. When his newly built house came into view, he smiled. He had purchased the land specifically because it bordered the River Yare, and it was everything he imagined. He had originally built it to welcome a new bride to her new home, but that had not worked out as planned.

  The house was made of red brick with white windows and an octagonal turret that greeted you as you turned into the drive. Henry had spent a lot of time looking for the perfect architect to create his dream home. He swelled with pride as he walked along the side of the grand home, passing the conservatory, until he came to the green lawn.

  The lawn was freshly mowed, and the smell of wet grass was heavy in his nostrils. He walked past the sweeping lawn until he came to his favorite part of the property. It was the reason he had purchased the home. The serene, lovely River Yare. He smiled as he walked closer to it and took a moment to admire its beauty in the low setting sun.

  He watched a pair of swans float by, enjoying the peacefulness of it all. He had named the estate Summons on Yare, a play on the legal phrase and the beautiful river. He turned to glance up at the large house behind him and saw his mother in the second-story window looking down at him. He waved at her, and she nodded back.

  He took one long look at the river and then made his way back to the house, entering through a back door. He moved along the back parlor, past the conservatory, and into the formal dining room. He would prefer a small meal in the parlor, but his mother said no. They must keep up appearances for the staff.

  Henry was not averse to having his wishes and desires known. But in these small issues, he allowed his mother full rein of the house. She ran it well, and he had no cause to complain. She saw to his needs as a mother should, and he was grateful. But he was also lonely, and it was the one subject he would not discuss with anyone.

  “Henry, dear,” Theodocia said as he entered and kissed her cheek.

  “Mother, good evening,” he said, taking the head of the table while she sat beside him.

  He looked across at his mother. She was of average height with a trim figure and a kind face. Her brown hair was threaded with grey, but she was still an attractive woman. The footman poured them both a glass of red wine and then took a step back and waited to be called on.

  His mother delicately placed her napkin in her lap. “Roasted pork and soup today.”

  “Excellent,” he said as he helped himself to a dinner roll.

  “You’re quite thin, Henry,” she told him. “You should eat more.”

  He held up the roll. “I am, Mother. Tell me of your day.”

  “Nothing much to tell. I paid a call to—” She broke off as if a thought had occurred to her. “Oh, yes. Matron of the workhouse had a letter delivered to you. It’s in the foyer.”

  “The Matron?” Surprised, he excused himself and quickly went into the foyer to retrieve the letter on a small silver tray. He returned to the table with it.

  “The footman could have gotten that for you, dear,” she told him.

  “I’m perfectly willing to do so myself,” he said absently, opening the letter. He read its contents.

  Theodocia took a sip of her wine. “What does Mrs. Meacham say?”

  “Nothing much. She writes to tell me that the new schoolmistress arrived.” He placed the letter to the side.

  His mother frowned. “Schoolmistress? Was that the favor Enoch asked of you when you were in London?”

  “The same.”

  “Strange favor.”

  “Not really. Enoch was friends with the young woman’s father. He’s friends with me. The father died and he sought to help her out.” He shrugged. It was as simple as that.

  Their food was served, and Theodocia eyed her son. “What is this schoolmistress like?” She took a bite of the roast pork.

  “Intelligent. Quick-witted.” And attractive. But he left that part out.

  “Is she fair?” she asked suddenly.

  Henry didn’t know what to say. Beautiful was closer to the mark.

  “She’s very—” he said awkwardly.

  Theodocia understood. “She’s very fair.”

  Henry shrugged. “Why discuss the workhouse schoolmistress at all? We never have before.”

  “You’ve never gone out of your way to help a young woman in London secure a position in Norwich. I’m curious, that’s all.” She gave him an innocent look.

  Henry sighed. “If you must know, Mother, I felt sorry for her. She’s just lost her father, and she has a mother and young sister to look after. She needs to provide for them all. And she’s not from London. She’s front Kent.”

  “The father left them nothing?” She frowned.

  “Apparently not or she wouldn’t be looking for employment.”

  Theodocia took another bite. “Perhaps I’ll invite her to tea. Welcome her to Norwich. If you’ve no objection.”

  “If you like. I’ve no objection,” Henry said.

  There was a silence between them for several minutes. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed the hour.

  “I don’t imagine being handpicked by a board guardian would be easy for her. She might be the subject of jealousy,” Theodocia remarked.

  Henry swallowed before answering. “Surely not. My handpicking her, as you say, might safeguard from abuse.”

  “Possibly,” his mother said, tapping a nail against her glass. “But if she’s been singled out by you, and obviously you made the recommendation to approve her as schoolmistress, then that’s quite a bit.”

  “I suppose so, Mother. As I said, I felt sorry for her. She seemed quite alone when I met her,” Henry recalled Audrey’s tear-stained face as she stood before him in Green Park that afternoon not so long ago. He had felt a tug of sympathy for her then and had wanted to help her

  “You have a good heart, Henry. Much like your father in that regard.”

  They continued their meal, and when finished, the footman took the dishes away.

  “Do you prefer cognac or coffee?” she asked him.

  He thought about it. “Cognac.”

  Together, they moved into the drawing room. The footman was already pouring out a glass of cognac for Henry. Theodocia accepted the glass of port she preferred after supper. Henry picked up the newspaper and scanned it briefly, noting the adoption of Greenwich Mean Time throughout Great Britain.

  He heard his mother pace the floor several times and then finally take the seat before the grand fireplace. “I saw Della yesterday. She was with her mother,” Theodocia said as she smoothed the auburn-colored skirt of her silk gown.

  Henry said nothing.

  “They were shopping and invited me to tea, but I had another engagement,” she told her son.

  “Why would you accept an invitation to tea with them?” he wondered as he perused the newspaper.

  Theodocia sighed. “Because, Henry. Because we live in the same town. Because you are good friends with Della’s brother, Guy. Because I thought this might pass and you might forgive and move on.”

  “Oh, I see.” Henry folded the newspa
per in half and set it aside. “I’m supposed to forgive what she did. I’m supposed to call it wash and make her mistress here. Is that what you’d like?” he said coldly.

  “You loved her, Henry,” Theodocia said calmly. “I’d wager you still love her. I’m trying to make this right.”

  “You’re trying to make it right?” He frowned. “It isn’t your place to make it right, Mother. It’s hers. And she’s done nothing to do so.”

  His mother gave him a sharp look. “Henry, don’t be so cold. She made a mistake. She’s young. She’s foolish. I’ll admit she was never a favorite of mine. But you loved her so I tried to see the good in her. You had dreams. So did she. If you can forgive, I’m sure she would marry you—”

  “I’m going to bed,” he said abruptly, moving to his feet. The chair screeched behind him.

  “Henry—” she began.

  “Good night, Mother.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek and was gone.

  Henry went upstairs and entered the vast bedroom that was his. It had a curved window seat that overlooked the river and a large four-poster bed. It was a beautiful room to be shared, and he had wanted to share it with Della Keene.

  But life had not turned out that way.

  He removed his jacket and flung it across the bed. He walked the long length of the great room and took a seat overlooking the river. The sun had long set, but he could see the water rippling in the wind. He was pleased that Audrey Wakefield had made it to the workhouse. She would not find it an easy life there, but it was a respectable job for a respectable woman.

  He turned to look at the four-poster bed. How many times had he imagined Della there with her soft brown eyes and black hair fanned out against the white sheets? He closed his eyes. Suddenly, he thought of Audrey. Audrey with her beautiful face, jewel-like eyes, and flashing temper. He had been impressed the day they met when she stood up for herself.

  Most women he knew would not have spoken their mind so decidedly or been so clear on their intent. When she turned to him with tears in her eyes, he’d felt horrible. How could he leave such a lovely woman alone in the world? Hadn’t he joined the Board of Guardians for that exact reason?

  He moved away from the window. The Matron had written to tell him that Audrey had arrived and was at the workhouse. That should be the end of it. But suddenly, he had an intense desire to see her. It wasn’t rational, but something tugged at him, something he couldn’t deny. He would make a visit to the workhouse.

  It was his duty, after all, to make certain the workhouse ran just so. He was there to see the workings of it. To make sure everything ran smoothly. If he happened to see Audrey Wakefield, then that would be fine, too.

  Audrey’s first day as schoolmistress had not been a success.

  She rubbed the back of her neck and massaged it. It had been chaotic. Of the sixty-seven children, only sixty were in the classroom. The rest were out ill.

  She had been given a female inmate for help, but the woman couldn’t read or write so Audrey was unsure why she had been sent to assist her. The children were rowdy and wild, and she seemed unable to control them. She looked down at her hands and curled them into fists. She felt like a failure.

  She left her small room at the end of the hallway and went outside to visit the large vegetable garden the inmates looked after. She was feeling sorry for herself. It was not a good place to be. As she rounded the corner, she saw two men talking. Levi was speaking to a man a few years older. The man had dark auburn hair and light blue eyes.

  “Ah, there’s the pearl!” Leviticus Penn said as she came into view.

  She smiled at his cheerfulness. “Hello, Mr. Penn.” When he scowled, she corrected herself. “Levi.”

  “Much better,” he said, pleased.

  The man next to him was unknown, but Levi quickly introduced them. “Audrey Wakefield, this is Joseph Caldwell. Joseph, Audrey Wakefield.” The two shook hands.

  “Audrey is the new schoolmistress,” Levi told him. “Joseph here is the superintendent of outdoor labour,” he told Audrey.

  Joseph acknowledged her. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Young Levi here was saying we had a beauty as the new schoolmistress. I see he didn’t exaggerate.”

  Audrey blushed lightly. “You’re too kind, Mr. Caldwell. What is a superintendent of outdoor labour?”

  “Exactly as it sounds,” said the auburn-haired young man. “All the nonresident paupers I oversee.”

  “Have you been here long?” she asked.

  Joseph thought on her question. “Seven years. I came from another workhouse before this one.”

  She glanced up at him. “Do you like Bowthorpe?”

  “One workhouse is as good as the next, I suppose. Each workhouse really depends upon the staff. The Master and Matron mostly. If they run a good, clean place, then it’s all right. Some workhouses are bad. All sorts of odd goings-on,” he told her.

  “Odd goings-on?” She clutched her black shawl closer around her. She didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Yes. Strange things. You see, the Master is exactly that. The Master. What he says goes.”

  She frowned. “But the Board of Guardians? They have a say.”

  “Of course,” Joseph conceded. “They administer and deal with the financial affairs, staff, payments. Stuff like that.”

  “They meet here every fortnight,” chimed in Levi.

  “They are elected by the ratepayers,” Joseph explained. “The board must own property. And they are elected.”

  Audrey nodded, thinking about the only board guardian she knew. Henry’s serious, handsome face came to her mind, but she brushed it aside.

  “I’ve not met the Master yet, but the Matron seems a no-nonsense type of woman,” Audrey told them both.

  Joseph drew out his pipe and lit it. “They don’t allow any frivolous goings-on, and they are a Christian couple. Strict but by the book.”

  “You’ve both been here longer than I, so you must know what’s what,” Audrey allowed.

  Joseph took a puff of his pipe. “You must come with us to the Adam and Eve. We go there most Friday nights.”

  She glanced from one man to the other, trying to figure out what that was. “The Adam and Eve?”

  “Aye!” Levi said. “You must!”

  Joseph looked at her. “It’s a public house on Bishopgate.”

  “A public house? I can’t go.” She shook her head. “I’ve never been to a public house.”

  “Never been to a pub?” Joseph asked. “Ah, that’s right. The vicar’s daughter.”

  Audrey smiled shyly. She was not used to banding about with men. “I should head in. It’s getting late. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Caldwell. Levi,” she said, turning from them.

  Both men watched her leave, and Joseph looked out into the darkness. “For once, I can’t fault you, Levi. She is a looker.”

  The next day went a little better than the one before it. When she tried to teach reading, she realized with shock that many of the children could barely read and several didn’t know the basic alphabet. She didn’t know what to make of it so she threw out her lesson plan and started at the beginning. One sully young boy on the brink of manhood sulked and said he refused to be treated like a baby.

  “Quite right,” she said approvingly. “Please pay attention and help the younger ones who might need your assistance.”

  He seemed taken aback by her respectful manner, and she watched as he opened the book and then looked up at her.

  She took up her piece of chalk and wrote a large “A” on the board. “Can anyone tell me what this is?” she asked the room.

  “It’s an A,” one young boy told her.

  “Very good.” She wrote a “B.” “And this one?”

  Another young boy shouted out the answer.

  “Excellent.” She turned to see the inmate assigned to help her sleeping in the corner. She went to wake her, and when she did, the woman let out a shriek, causing the children to laugh.


  She slowly lost control of the room after that, and it was another day of very little accomplished.

  Audrey placed the chalk away and closed the door to the schoolroom, locking it behind her. She walked down the long hallway in the opposite way of her room and wandered about the grounds. She didn’t want to be a failure at the end of the month, but so far, she had not been a success.

  The children were unruly and sadly uneducated, and even teaching the simplest thing such as the alphabet was time-consuming. She wouldn’t quit though. That was not a possibility. She must continue and find a way to break through to the children.

  She came upon the door that led out into the back courtyard and into another warren of hallways and doors. The women inmates and their children resided in this wing. She turned around and went down another long hallway and into the side of the large vegetable garden to the stables. She didn’t go in, but thought peacefully of the horses in their comfortable stalls chewing on alfalfa.

  She turned and almost ran into Joseph. “Mr. Caldwell!”

  “Ms. Wakefield. You’re visiting the stables?”

  “No. I was just getting some air and happened to turn this way,” she said.

  He gave her a knowing look. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She looked down. “It’s that obvious?”

  He shrugged, and they fell in step together. “I’ve seen my fair share of staff come and go. Some find it rather easy. They know the lay of the land, and work is work. Others like yourself have no concept of the workhouse. There are rules and then there are rules upon rules. Children have it especially difficult here.”

  Her eyes met his. “How so?”

  “They’ve grown up in poverty,” he said simply. “They may know how to survive a night without food, escape a beating, but they can’t add basic numbers nor read a simple rhyme.”

  Audrey sighed. “The class is maybe sixty students, but the majority of them can’t read properly and don’t behave at all.”

  He studied her. “Do you want to punish them? It’s usually what the schoolmistress would do.”

  “Punish them for what? Having parents out of work so they went hungry? Being forced into the workhouse through no fault of their own? I just want to better lives. I’m so stupid.” She shook her head as they rounded the large house and came upon the outer edge of the vegetable garden.