Pauper's Gold

by Margaret Dickinson

  When the message came, Adam was jubilant. ‘You see, I told you, he’s come around. He’s been away and had time to think. Maybe all this work’s been for nothing and he wants us to live at the Manor.’

  ‘I’d rather live here anyway, Adam,’ Hannah said swiftly.

  ‘Yes, you’re right. Time we stood on our own feet.’

  Hand in hand they hurried to the mill, but as they stepped into Edmund’s office they were shocked by his appearance.

  ‘Father!’ Adam hurried round the desk to him. The man looked dreadful. His face was purple, his eyes bulged and his whole body seemed to be shaking. But he waved his son aside. His glare was fixed on Hannah standing helplessly in front of him. She was suddenly very afraid.

  Mr Roper, she thought. He’s told him. I wondered why he never looked up as we came through his office.

  Edmund was levering himself unsteadily to his feet.

  ‘No, Father, sit down. You’re ill. I’ll send for the doctor . . .’

  With a surprising sudden surge of strength, Edmund swung his arm, striking Adam in the chest. ‘Out of my way,’ he said, his speech slurred. ‘I want to see . . . her.’

  He staggered round the desk like a drunkard and lurched towards Hannah. He stood before her, swaying slightly, but his gaze was intent upon her, boring into her soul.

  ‘Look at me.’

  Slowly, Anna raised her head and met his eyes. Suddenly, he raised both his hands and grasped her hair, pulling the pins from it. Then he pulled hanks of it apart so that the tell-tale line of recently grown blonde hair near her scalp was plainly visible.

  ‘Father – you’re hurting her. Stop it. Whatever’s got into you?’

  ‘Hurt her! I’ll hurt the little trollop,’ he spat. Saliva trickled down his chin and he swayed again. Hannah thought he was going to wrench the hair from her head and winced in pain.

  ‘Father!’ Adam shouted. ‘Let her go.’ Now, he tried to prise his father’s hands open. ‘Let her go!’

  At last, Edmund loosened his grip. He stood swaying and if Adam had not been supporting him, he might have fallen.

  ‘Sit down,’ Adam said, and helped him back into his chair behind the desk. ‘Now, what is all this about?’

  Edmund jabbed a shaking finger at Hannah. ‘Ask her. Ask your . . . your bride.’

  Adam turned puzzled eyes on her. ‘Anna?’

  ‘She’s not Anna,’ Edmund spluttered. ‘She’s Hannah. Hannah Francis.’

  Adam glanced from one to the other, still puzzled.

  ‘She’s been here before,’ Edmund dragged out the words. ‘She was here when . . . she was that . . . that boy’s girl. Luke Hammond’s girl.’

  Forty-Five

  Adam paled as he stared at her. ‘Is it true?’

  He had no need to ask for further explanation. He knew only too well who Luke Hammond was.

  There was no point in further denial. Hannah nodded. Adam shook his head slowly. ‘Why? Why did you come back, and why did you pretend to be someone else?’

  Before she could think what to say, Edmund said, ‘Revenge. That’s what it is. Revenge on me – on us all. On all the Critchlow family.’

  ‘No, I don’t believe it,’ Adam whispered, the colour draining from his face. ‘Oh, Anna.’ He still couldn’t think of her by any other name. ‘Say it’s not true. Please, say it’s not true.’

  She opened her mouth to say the words he wanted to hear, but she couldn’t speak. She could no longer lie to him. Whatever it cost her, Adam deserved better than that. He was the innocent in all this and he deserved the truth.

  ‘I . . . I’ll explain it all to you – everything. But not now. Not,’ she nodded towards Edmund, ‘not here.’

  She saw the anguish darken Adam’s eyes. He’d wanted an immediate denial and she hadn’t been able to give him that. So now he thought the worst. He stared at her for a moment longer before saying flatly, ‘I’d better get him home.’

  Hannah moved forward, as if to help, but Adam said harshly, ‘We’ll manage. Go . . .’ he hesitated, reluctant to use the word ‘home’ until he knew the truth, knew whether they had a future together – or not.

  Hannah went back to the apprentice house to wait for Adam. He was a long time before he came back – a long time in which she had time to think how to explain it to him. But there was no easy way. There was no way around the shameful truth. And she was now deeply ashamed.

  When he came at last it was growing dusk outside. She was sitting at the kitchen table – the same table where she had sat with Luke, Daniel, Nell and all the others whose ghosts still seem to haunt the rooms. A fire burned in the grate casting eerie dancing shadows around the room. She didn’t move as he came and sat down opposite. She didn’t even look up at him, not at first, though she could feel his gaze upon her.

  ‘So,’ he said in a tone that was not encouraging. ‘Are you going to tell me?’

  Slowly, Hannah raised her head and met his gaze. His eyes were wary and full of hurt.

  ‘I’m going to tell you everything – right from the beginning. If you will hear me out.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said, and already there was a note of bitterness in his tone. She wondered what more his father had said. Had he already poisoned Adam’s mind against her? ‘I’ll hear you out.’

  ‘How is your father? Is he all right?’

  Adam raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you care?’

  She stared at him. How swift and sudden was the change in his tone. It was cold, devoid of love. She sighed and looked down at her hands lying limply on the table. ‘I care – for your sake.’

  ‘Really?’

  There was a long silence before Hannah began to speak. She began at the very beginning – the beginning as far as she knew it. She told him how her mother had fallen in love with a married man, who, even when he became free to marry her, hadn’t done so. She recounted her childhood memories living with her mother and her grandmother in the terraced house – her happiest time. But then, as she’d grown older, the cruel taunts about her bastardy. It all came spilling out – the workhouse and then the circumstances of her arrival at the mill.

  ‘The Critchlows and Mr Goodbody, the master of the workhouse, had some scheme going. I think money changed hands for the supply of pauper apprentices. Children of twelve and younger who had to sign a paper binding them here for years until they were eighteen.’ She looked up then and met Adam’s gaze. ‘How could a child of that age know what they are doing? They just did as they were told. They’d no choice. They weren’t given a choice.’

  Adam was silent, just staring at her as she went on, telling him about her life and the lives of the pauper children in the Critchlows’ so-called care. She told him about their working conditions, the dangers, the accidents. She told him what had happened to Jane. Even though she knew he’d heard about the accident, now she spared him none of the gruesome details. And then, taking a deep breath she began to tell him about his father.

  ‘There was this girl called Nell. She was so kind to us all when we arrived. She showed us what to do, warned us about what not to do. If it hadn’t been for Nell I might have spent half my life in the punishment room. I spent many an hour in there as it was. Most of us did at some time or another. There was one time when they thought I’d run away – I was only trying to go to see my mother because I’d heard nothing from her from the time I left the workhouse. I found out later that your father and the Goodbodys had hatched a plot to keep me happy. Mrs Goodbody wrote letters as if from my mother to make me believe she was still alive. But when I tried to go and see her for myself, Mr Roper caught me and dragged me back. No one would believe that I wasn’t trying to run away, so I ended up in the punishment room for days after a cruel beating from your father. If it hadn’t been for Luke sending me up food through the window, I might’ve starved. And he’d’ve earned himself a beating if he’d been caught.’

  ‘I knew about the punishment room at the apprentice house. But beating? I didn’t know
about that. They . . . they beat the children? Girls too? You . . . you were beaten?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ She paused before continuing. ‘Things were reasonable for a few years after that. We grew up, and Luke and I . . .’ She ran her tongue over her lips. ‘We liked each other. More than . . . more than liked. On Sundays, we’d go out for walks. We roamed the hills. We were happy together.’

  ‘Were you lovers?’ Adam asked bluntly.

  Hannah shook her head. ‘No. Not physically, if that’s what you mean. It was all very innocent.’ She raised her head and met his gaze. ‘But I did love him with that first very special love. The love two children have for each other that as they grow can either blossom into adult love or can wither and die. But we . . . we never got the chance, did we? We never got the chance to find out.’

  Adam said nothing. If he knew little about the running of the mill when he had been away at school, he at least knew about Luke’s death.

  Hannah took a deep breath and said, ‘Your father was a womanizer. He’d have his way with any of the girls from the mill – especially the pauper girls who had no one to turn to for protection. And they daren’t refuse. How could they? The Critchlows ruled their lives. Even the Bramwells. I believe they did their best to protect the children in their charge, but even they couldn’t do anything to prevent the cruelty. Not really.’

  She glanced briefly at Adam, and now his face wore a disbelieving expression. It was going to be tough to convince him of his father’s true nature. But Hannah told him all about Nell, ending, ‘So, living in Macclesfield you have a three-year-old half-brother.’

  ‘Really?’ Adam said sarcastically. ‘And I suppose once you’d hooked me and wormed your way into the family, they’ll be along to claim his inheritance?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘No. Nell is happily married now, to a policeman, and he plans to adopt Tommy legally. I shouldn’t think she ever wants to hear the name Critchlow again.’

  ‘We shall no doubt see,’ he said tightly. There was a pause before Adam asked, ‘And is that it? Is that all you’ve got to say?’

  ‘No. I haven’t told you what happened the day of the accident.’

  ‘I know what happened—’

  ‘No. No, you don’t. And you promised to hear me out.’

  ‘Go on, then.’ His tone was not encouraging, but Hannah was determined that he should hear it all.

  So, haltingly, painfully, she described the events of that terrible day which ended in Luke’s death. ‘After his funeral, I ran away. I just went.’ She said nothing of the Grundys’ involvement. She wanted to keep them out of it. Details of her escape were not important. ‘I went back to Macclesfield. I daren’t go back to the workhouse because Goodbody would have informed your father.’ She went on, telling him how she had found Auntie Bessie and then Nell. ‘She’d been sent back to the workhouse by your father when he found out she was carrying his child. But we got her out. She came to live with us. And then she met Jim and she’s happy now.’

  ‘So why weren’t you happy too? Why couldn’t you put it all behind you – like Nell?’

  ‘Forget the lies and deceit? Forget that your father caused Luke’s death and got away with it?’

  ‘So you never forgive, you never forget, eh?’ he murmured.

  Now Hannah buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled as she said, ‘That’s how I felt then. Not now. Not any more.’ Slowly she raised her head and looked directly at him. ‘I don’t expect you to believe me,’ she whispered, ‘but I love you. Oh yes, I admit I started out with the sole intention of wreaking revenge on your father – on the whole Critchlow family, including you. But . . . but you’re so kind and good and . . . and you do love me, don’t you, Adam?’ He was silent, just staring at her as she finished simply, ‘That I’ve fallen in love with you.’

  There was a long silence before Adam spoke. His voice was hoarse with pain. ‘You’re right. I don’t believe you. And as for loving you – well, I did. Very much. But at this moment, I loathe the very sight of you. I can’t bear to be anywhere near you. I—’

  What he might have gone on to say, tearing her to shreds, was never said. There was a knock at the door. An urgent knock. Without even waiting for an answer, the door opened and a boy stood there.

  ‘Sir, they’ve sent word from the Manor. It’s your father. They reckon he’s had a seizure. You’d best come at once, sir.’

  As Adam ran from the room, Hannah dropped her head into her hands. ‘Oh no. No!’ she whispered.

  Now she had her revenge upon Edmund Critchlow. A more cruel and lasting revenge than even she had planned. But now it left a bitter taste. She’d hurt him just as she’d schemed, but she’d hurt Adam too. Adam, whom she now loved.

  Forty-Six

  Edmund Critchlow recovered slowly. The seizure had been a severe one. It had robbed him of his speech for a while. That returned slowly but left him slurring his words, like a drunkard. He was partially paralysed down his left side and had to be helped to dress, to walk, even to eat. Adam employed a nurse who moved into the Manor and cared for his father day and night.

  Staying alone at the apprentice house, Hannah fretted, feeling sick with worry and remorse. She dared not go up to the Manor where Adam was now staying – not after the way in which they’d parted.

  Her sickness got worse until she reached the stage where she didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning. If only Adam would come home and talk to her. At least she would know what to do then. It was this waiting that was making her ill. Not knowing if he was ever going to forgive her. Not knowing if they had any kind of future together.

  At last, she could bear it no longer. She rose, dressed and forced herself to eat a little Then she set off down the road to the farm

  Lily Grundy would tell her what to do.

  ‘So, I hear you got your way then? Edmund Critchlow’s in a bad way I hear.’

  Hannah nodded. ‘I just wanted to make him angry – to give him a taste of his own medicine. Show him that he can’t always have his own way. I . . . I didn’t mean to make him ill.’

  ‘Huh! It almost killed him, by what they say.’ Lily laughed wryly. ‘But I shouldn’t waste your pity on him, lass.’ Despite her earlier words, Lily Grundy was still unforgiving. ‘It’s no more than he deserves.’

  ‘But it’s Adam,’ Hannah said, her eyes filling with tears. ‘He hates me now. Oh, Mrs Grundy, what shall I do? It’s making me ill. I feel sick all the time. Sick with worry.’

  Lily regarded her steadily. ‘Sick? When exactly?’

  ‘All the time. ’Specially in a morning when I first get up.’

  ‘When did you last have your monthly visitor?’

  ‘Eh?’ Startled Hannah looked up at her. Lily nodded, smiling grimly. ‘You’re expecting, Hannah. That’s what. You’re carrying a Critchlow.’

  When she returned to the apprentice house, her head in a whirl, she found Adam in their bedroom collecting his belongings.

  ‘Adam – please? Can we talk?’

  ‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’ He carried on pushing his clothes into a bag.

  For a moment, biting her lip, she watched him, ‘Are you . . . are you moving back to the Manor for good?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No? Then . . . then what are you doing? Where are you going?’

  He swung round to face her. ‘I’m leaving.’

  ‘Leaving?’

  ‘Must you repeat everything I say? Yes, I’m leaving. I can’t bear to look at you. I can’t bear to be anywhere near you.’

  She gasped and fell against the wall. She was trembling from head to foot and felt as if she was going to be violently sick any minute. She reached out a trembling hand to him, pleading, ‘Oh, Adam, please don’t go. If . . . if you don’t want to stay here, then go back to the Manor.’

  Bitterly he said, ‘I’m not wanted there. Every time my father sees me he becomes agitated again. The nurse has advised me to keep away. So, I’m going. Right away.’
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br />   ‘What about the mill? You’ll have to run the mill now.’

  ‘Damn and blast the mill,’ Adam shouted. ‘I don’t care what happens to the mill.’

  ‘But it’s your inheritance.’

  ‘Not any more it isn’t. Thanks to you.’

  Instinctively, she put her hand protectively over her belly. ‘But it’s your child’s inheritance, Adam.’

  He stared at her. ‘What child? I haven’t any children. And now . . .’ He stopped and stared at her as she nodded slowly.

  ‘I’m expecting a child, Adam.’

  She saw the conflict raging within him show clearly on his face. Then his features twisted. ‘Another of your lies, Anna?’

  ‘No, no, I swear.’

  He picked up his bag and made to push past her. In the doorway, he paused. Close to her, he looked down at her as if taking in every feature of her face. ‘Oh, Anna, you’ll never know how very much I loved you. But I didn’t know you at all, did I? I didn’t know what a scheming evil bitch you really are. I don’t care if I never set eyes on you again as long as I live.’

  As he pushed past her, she caught hold of his arm. ‘No, don’t go, Adam. You stay. I . . . I’ll go. I should be the one to leave. You should stay here and run the mill.’

  His lip curled. ‘Oh no, Anna. You stay. You run the mill. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’

  He pulled himself free and ran down the stairs, out of the house and out of her life.

  With heart-wrenching sobs, Hannah staggered to the bed. She lay down, curling herself into a ball, shivering and weeping uncontrollably. ‘What have I done? Oh, what have I done?’

  She stayed in the house for two days, drinking water, but eating very little. She had no appetite and felt sick all day long.

  On the morning of the third day, there was a knock at the door. When she opened it Ernest Scarsfield was standing there.

  ‘Morning, Mrs Critchlow,’ he said politely, though a little awkwardly. He pulled off his cap and seemed about to speak again, when he stopped and stared at her. All thoughts of the difference in their positions now fled as he said, his voice full of concern, ‘Aw lass, what a state you’re in. Are you ill? Shall I send for the doctor?’