‘I don’t know. Not exactly. Not yet. But I don’t want anyone to recognize me. I’ve altered a lot while I’ve been away. I’ve grown taller and filled out.’
Nell chuckled as she let her glance run up and down Hannah’s shapely figure. ‘And in all the right places, too.’
‘And if I dye my hair, I think I’ll look very different.’
‘Well, yes,’ Nell said doubtfully. ‘But you can’t hide those lovely blue eyes can you? And don’t forget, blue eyes don’t very often go with red hair.’
‘That’s a risk I’ll just have to take.’ Hannah was determined, and once she set her mind to something, there was no one who could dissuade her. No one.
That night, fully grown and aged nineteen with bright red hair and blue eyes, Anna Morgan was born.
Thirty-Seven
Hannah paused at the top of the hill, looking down into the dale below. The spring sunshine slanted on the hills, tipping the trees with its golden glow.
Hannah smiled. It was just like the day she had first arrived here as a child of twelve almost seven years earlier. Pauper’s gold the driver who’d brought them had called the sunlight. The scene was unchanged, but the girl who now stood at the top of the steep slope was very different from the skinny pauper child.
Today Hannah was dressed in good clothes, with sturdy new boots on her feet. She carried a heavy bag of belongings and she had money in her pocket, money she’d earned. Money that no one was going to take from her. Not this time.
Excitement fluttering just below her ribs, she set off down the hill. There was just one person in whom she was going to confide. Or rather three people. Lily and Ollie Grundy and their nephew, Ted. She couldn’t bring herself even to try to deceive them. If it hadn’t been for their help, she’d still be slaving in the mill, only just having completed her indenture. She wouldn’t have known the happiness of the last three and a half years with Bessie. Nell and Tommy would still be in the workhouse, and Peggy . . . Well, she dared not think what might have happened to Peggy by now. She marvelled at the way people’s lives were intertwined with others. If it hadn’t been for the Grundys’ help, none of the good things of the past few years would have happened to others as well as to her.
Oh yes, she owed it to the Grundys to be honest with them if with no one else. But first, she smiled, she would have a bit of fun. She would test out her disguise on them.
At the gateway into the farmyard, she paused and looked about her again. The mill was still not in sight. It was set right at the end of the dale, around the next bend. Her heart was beating faster at the mere thought of stepping through its pillared gate once more. She wasn’t quite ready to face that yet, so instead she stepped across the cobbled crewyard and knocked on the back door of the farmhouse, just like she had all those years earlier. Time seemed to tilt; for a moment it was as if the years between had never happened and she was once again that little girl, the leader of the four waifs from the workhouse, knocking on a stranger’s door. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see the others, Luke, Daniel and Jane, standing behind her, scruffy, dirty urchins . . .
The door opened, pulling her back to the present. Lily Grundy had changed little; the intervening years had been kind to her. Perhaps there were a few more grey hairs, one or two more lines in her face, but the smile was still there. The welcome in her eyes, even for a stranger knocking at her door, was the same as ever it had been.
‘Yes?’
‘Can you tell me the way to the mill?’ Hannah asked, and now she knew her voice sounded different too. When she had last said those very same words it had been with the piping tones of a child. Now her voice had deepened. It was low and husky and, though she was quite unaware of it herself, appealing.
‘It’s further on, love. Just keep on the way you were going. It’s at the end of the dale.’
‘Thank you.’
She made as if to turn away, but, as Hannah had known she would, Lily said, ‘Perhaps you’d like a cup of tea and a bite to eat? You must have come a fair way.’
Hannah smiled. ‘I have,’ she said, but saying no more for the moment, she stepped over the threshold and into the kitchen she remembered so well. Nothing, not one thing, had changed. The smell of freshly baked bread still hung in the air. The kettle still sang on the hob near the blazing fire in the range, and Lily bustled about setting cups and saucers and a plate of homemade biscuits on the table.
‘Sit down, do. Make yourself at home. It’s a while since I had anybody calling on their way to the mill. Since they stopped the paupers from the workhouse coming here as apprentices, I don’t get many waifs and strays passing my door.’ She paused before adding simply, ‘And d’you know, I miss them. Poor little mites.’
Hannah tried to hide the surprise from showing on her face. ‘The . . . the pauper apprentices? What . . . was that?’
‘Ah well now,’ Lily settled herself down opposite and began to pour the tea. ‘It began years and years ago, but it stopped . . . ooh let’s see, in the late forties, I reckon, in most places, but the Critchlows kept it going at their mill – ’ she nodded, gesturing towards the mill further along the dale – ‘for several years after that.’ She leaned closer, confiding. ‘We all reckon he had this scheme going with the master of a workhouse who used to send the children. They made them sign a paper binding them here for years. Poor mites didn’t know what they were letting themselves in for. And then, of course, they was trapped here. They had no one to fight for them, no parents, and because they’d signed an indenture, the law was against them an’ all. There was no escape, only to run away, and if they was caught, well, I hardly dare tell you some of the punishments them Critchlows meted out.’ She pursed her mouth and shook her head and Hannah wanted to jump up and hug her.
‘And did many run away?’
Lily smiled grimly. ‘One or two. We – that’s my husband, Ollie and me – and our nephew that works for us – Ted – we helped a little lass once. Nice little thing she was. Been through a lot, if you know what I mean. She deserved a bit of help.’ She chuckled. ‘We was risking a fair bit ourselves, mind, ’cos we supply the mill with produce – milk, butter, cheese, eggs – and it gives us a regular bit of income. But it was worth the risk – just to get one back on them Critchlows.’
‘And the girl you helped?’
Lily’s face lit up. ‘Oh, she’s all right. Wrote to us, she did. Don’t know where she is, mind you,’ she tapped the side of her nose, ‘I’ve a good idea, mind, but it wouldn’t do to say. Went back to where she came from and found an old neighbour who remembered her. Far as I know, she’s fine.’
Hannah’s smile broadened. ‘She is.’
‘Eh?’ Lily gaped at her. ‘You . . . you know her? You know Hannah?’
Hannah could not stop the laughter bubbling out now. ‘It’s me, Mrs Grundy, don’t you recognize me?’
Lily’s mouth dropped open. ‘Hannah? You’re . . . Hannah? But she . . . she had lovely blonde hair . . .’ Her voice petered away as she stared. Then slowly she nodded. ‘Yes, I see it now. You can’t hide those pretty blue eyes, can you? Aw, but lass, what have you done to your hair?’
Now Hannah’s face sobered. ‘It’s not because I wanted to. Not out of vanity. I wanted to come back, but I didn’t want anyone to recognize me.’ Her mouth tightened into a grim line. ‘I mean to get my revenge on Edmund Critchlow. I don’t know how, but I have to try. I . . . I can’t lay the past to rest until I do.’
‘Well I never,’ Lily was still staring at her, shaking her head in disbelief. But as she took in Hannah’s words, she added, ‘Well, I can’t blame you for that, lass. I’ve a few scores I’d like to settle with the Critchlows myself, but I don’t expect I’ll get the chance.’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘But if there’s any way I can help you, you just let me know. All right?’ She paused and reached across the table to touch Hannah’s hand. ‘It’s grand to see you. Wait till Ollie and Ted know. I reckon Ted took a shine to you. He was always as
king after you for quite a while after you went. Oh – I can tell them, can’t I?’
Hannah nodded. ‘Just so long as they don’t tell anyone else. I’m calling myself Anna Morgan now.’
‘Oh, they’ll not say a word. I’ll make sure of that. But you just be careful, Hannah, that’s all.’ Then she smiled. ‘Need a bed for a few nights, do you? You’re very welcome to stay here.’
Hannah’s heart was thumping madly as she neared the mill. What if someone recognized her? She wasn’t sure of the law regarding the indenture she’d signed. She hadn’t completed it. And even though she was now nineteen and legally out of it, could they still force her to complete a further number of years because she’d run away with still three years to serve? But what did it matter if they did? she answered herself. She intended to seek work here anyway, intended to stay to exact some kind of revenge on Edmund, and that wasn’t going to happen overnight. She had to move slowly and make careful plans.
As she entered the gate, she saw a young man crossing the yard, and her heart skipped a beat. For a moment she thought it was Edmund, but as he heard the sound of her footsteps and turned to face her, she could see that he was much younger, yet he had the look of Edmund Critchlow. His black hair was smoothed back from his forehead. Straight, dark eyebrows overshadowed his deep set brown eyes. His jaw was square and resolute, but his firm mouth had nothing of the cruel twist of the man who was so obviously his father. This young man’s mouth curved up in a smile as he paused and then came towards Hannah.
‘Adam,’ Hannah murmured to herself. ‘Adam Critchlow.’ The boy she remembered had grown in to a man. A very good-looking young man. And what was it she’d always said? A curse on all good-looking men. The thought made her smile.
‘Can I help you, miss?’ he asked in a deep, friendly tone, returning what he took to be her smile of greeting.
Huskily, Hannah replied, ‘I . . . I’m looking for work. I’ve worked in a mill before. Over . . .’ Now the lies must begin in earnest. ‘Over Manchester way.’
‘What work have you done – exactly?’
Hannah reeled off all the jobs she’d done in this very mill. She was about to add that she’d worked in a silk mill too, but then thought better of it. If she told as little about herself as possible, there was less chance of slipping up.
‘You need to see Mr Scarsfield. He’s the overlooker, but you’d have a final interview with my father.’ His smile widened. ‘Or with me.’
Hannah had to press her lips together to prevent herself asking the questions that tumbled around her mind. Was he – Adam – working at the mill now? Of course! She remembered now. He’d been brought home from school and made manager of the mill just before she’d left. So he was still here and in a position of importance, it seemed. What had happened to the old man, Mr Nathaniel Critchlow? she wondered. And Mr Edmund? Was he the sole owner of Wyedale Mill now?
But there was one good thing she’d learned already. Mr Scarsfield was still here. And yet, was it so good? Ernest Scarsfield might recognize her.
Adam broke into her thoughts. ‘Come along, I’ll take you to see him. This way.’
As Hannah followed him into the building, she realized this wasn’t going to be quite as easy as she’d imagined. For one thing, she must remember to act like a complete stranger. She couldn’t be seen to know her way around the building, along passages and through workrooms that were so familiar to her. And the people that would still be here whom she knew – she must remember not to greet them, not even to smile at them.
Adam led her towards the main mill and, as he held open the door for her to precede him into one of the workrooms, the very person she most dreaded meeting was working at the nearest machine.
Daniel Hammond.
Thirty-Eight
Daniel looked much older than the eighteen years he was now. The clatter of the machine hid the sound of their approach and Hannah was able to study him as they passed by. To her relief, he didn’t even look up. The same mop of curly brown hair was still there, of course, but cut shorter now. He was still thin, and his shoulders and back stooped from long hours bending over a weaving machine. She couldn’t see into his eyes from where she was standing, but his mouth was sullen and down-turned. There was no sign of the cheeky grin that had so epitomized Luke and the twin who’d copied his every move.
But the young man still reminded her so much of her lost love. Hannah felt a lump in her throat and she almost stumbled. Adam caught her arm and steadied her.
‘Be careful,’ he mouthed. ‘The floor’s uneven and it’s a bit of a mess.’ He pulled a face. ‘It’s the one thing we can’t seem to do – keep the place clean and tidy.’
Hannah forced herself to smile up at him, anxious that he should not suspect the reason for the tumult of emotions coursing through her. Being back here in the dusty atmosphere, amongst the noise and, most of all, seeing Daniel was causing her a heartache she hadn’t envisaged. For a moment, she wanted to turn and run. But she gritted her teeth and allowed Adam to lead her through the mill, showing her the workrooms on each floor. She tried to concentrate on what he was telling her as he put his mouth close to her ear, shouting above the din. At last he led her back out into the yard and towards the door at the end of the building that led up to the offices.
They climbed the stone steps and came to the outer office where Mr Roper had his domain. Hannah found she was holding her breath as Adam opened the door and ushered her inside. Josiah Roper was little changed, perhaps a little more bent as he hunched over his ledgers, his features even sharper and his eyes filled with the bitterness and resentment that the passing of the years had only increased. He glanced up, inquisitive as ever he had been. But Hannah deliberately kept her eyes downcast.
‘This young lady is looking for a job,’ Adam explained cheerily. ‘Is my father in?’
Josiah sniffed with disapproval; Hannah remembered the sound so well, she almost laughed out loud. ‘Do you know her?’
‘No, she’s just turned up at the gate.’
‘We don’t usually employ folks without a reference of some kind,’ Josiah said loftily. ‘She could be anybody.’
Indeed I could! Hannah thought wryly.
‘Oh, we’ll go into all that,’ Adam said.
‘Well, he’s not here.’
Adam turned and winked at Hannah. ‘Fine. Then I’ll interview her.’
Josiah made a movement, but Adam glanced at him. ‘Any objections, Roper?’
The man faltered, muttered something under his breath and turned back to his books.
‘Good. Come along in, then, Miss – er . . . ?
‘Morgan,’ Hannah said firmly. ‘Anna Morgan.’
He drew her into the inner office and closed the door. ‘I’m Adam Critchlow. Sorry about old Roper. He’s been here a long time. He and my father have known each other for years and he seems to think he half-owns the place. Sit down, please,’ he added, indicating a chair in front of the desk, the very same desk on which Hannah had painstakingly signed the indenture that had bound her to the Critchlows for six years. As she sat down, she felt a sudden stab of indecision. Was she being foolish, trying to retrace the past? Would it have been better to let it all go and move forward with her life? Was she stacking up a whole load of trouble for herself by coming back?
‘I’m sorry my father, Mr Edmund, isn’t here. He’d like to have seen you himself, I’m sure.’
At the mention of his name, all Hannah’s doubts disappeared and her resolve strengthened. I bet he would, she thought. But not if he knew who I really am and why I’ve come back.
‘You’ve worked in a mill before, you say?’ Adam was beginning the interview in a businesslike manner, though if she could have read his mind, Hannah would’ve known that already he intended to employ her. There was something about this pretty girl with startling blue eyes and red hair that he found appealing; he wanted to know more about her, wanted to get to know her. And what better way than to have her worki
ng here, where he could find an excuse – a legitimate excuse – to see her every day?
Hannah licked her lips. Lying had never come easily to her, but it was a means to an end. It had to be done. ‘Yes. It . . . it was a small mill in Lancashire. They . . . they had to close.’ It was the only thing she could think of to say that would stop the Critchlows trying to make contact with a former employer.
Adam pulled a sympathetic face. ‘Yes, business has been difficult of late and some of the smaller mills have found it difficult to keep going. We’ve been lucky. My father has good contacts and work has been plentiful here. But with this war brewing in America . . . Ah well.’ He smiled. ‘Let’s not get too pessimistic before we have to, eh? Have you brought any kind of reference?’
Hannah smiled. ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t got it with me. I really only came to the mill today to make an appointment to see someone. I didn’t think I’d get an interview so quickly.’
‘No matter,’ Adam said, waving it aside as of no particular importance. ‘I think I can trust my own judgement.’ He smiled at her, drinking in her appearance. She smiled back, just a tentative, shy smile. Nothing too bold, she warned herself.
‘Right, then. We’ll go and find Scarsfield. He’ll have a word with you and probably set you on for a trial period. Just to make sure you can do the job, you understand.’ Suddenly, it was Adam who was nervous, at pains to make sure she understood that this was no reflection upon her as a person.
‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, rising and following him to the door. He opened it for her and, head held high, she swept through it, just like any lady of quality. Once more, she kept her glance averted from Josiah Roper as they passed through the outer office, and when they were in the workrooms again, Adam led her in search of Ernest Scarsfield. The overlooker hadn’t changed at all. He smiled kindly at Hannah and stroked his moustache with the very same gesture she remembered so well. But thankfully, he didn’t recognize her.
‘Aye, Mr Adam, we’ll be glad of her if she can do all she says. I’ve a girl gone off sick and I doubt she’ll be coming back.’ A meaningful glance passed between the two men and Hannah wondered what it meant. Not so naive now, Hannah could think of one or two reasons why the poor girl might not be resuming her work. She could have been badly injured in yet another accident or – as seemed more likely – she was yet another whose life had been ruined by the attentions of Edmund Critchlow, and sent away in disgrace.
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