Workhouse Angel

by Holly Green

  Now, what other news do I have? Very little of any importance. It is winter here, of course, but the weather is much kinder than it was in Liverpool. There is one thing. Gus has a girlfriend, an Irish girl whose family came over here to escape the potato famine. Gus met her in Liverpool when they were waiting for a ship and that was what brought him out here in the first place. Her father is a cobbler and boot maker and he has set up in business in Beechworth, not so very far from here. Gus rides over to see her whenever he can find the time. Oh yes, I said ‘rides’. All the men ride here, and a lot of the ladies. It is really the only way to get about. Father owns four beautiful horses and Gus has taken to riding as if he was born to it. When I see him, mounted on a big black horse, smartly dressed and with shiny boots, I remember the way we used to be and the poor half-starved, ragged little fellow he was once, and I can hardly believe how much things have changed for us.

  Come soon, my dearest! I know it can’t be before the end of this year and it will be high summer again when you get here, but I long to show you our new life and all the wonderful things there are here. Waiting is so difficult. But summer will come and bring you with it. I know you will keep your promise. I have faith in that and it makes the waiting bearable.

  Your ever loving,

  May

  Twenty Four

  After the funeral, James resumed the semi-monastic habits he had adopted the previous winter. He missed the company of his friends, and especially the concerts, but respect for his mother required him to observe a period of mourning and he was glad of the excuse to distance himself from his entanglement with Prudence. There was an added advantage, in that it gave him more time to concentrate on studying for his examination. He met Richard from time to time, but he was often away pursuing his quest to find up-to-date machinery for the mine in South Africa, and when they did see each other they tended to avoid the subject of Angelina.

  It was October when he received May’s letter and he set out the same evening for Richard’s new lodgings and found him at home. It was not difficult to persuade him to join him for a drink and they made their way to their favourite watering hole, the saloon bar of the Adelphi Hotel. Once they were settled, James took May’s letter out of his pocket.

  ‘This came today. I’m afraid it isn’t going to be much help under the circumstances, but I thought you would like to see these sketches. They are of Angelina – Amy – as May remembers her.’

  ‘Let me see!’ Richard said eagerly and James handed him the two pictures.

  Richard perused them in silence for a moment and then he turned his head away and blew his nose hard. ‘Sorry. Just give me a minute.’ James waited and after a pause he turned back. ‘This one, the one of her as a baby – it’s so exactly as I remember her. It just brought it all back to me.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ James said. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘No, no. Don’t apologise. I’m really glad to have these.’ He pulled out his pocket book and produced the faded sketch he had shown James on their first meeting. ‘Compare this with May’s picture. See what I mean?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ It was true. The likeness between the two images was uncanny.

  ‘May I keep them? It’s the only memento I shall have.’

  ‘Of course,’ James said. ‘They do seem to prove that Angelina is your daughter.’

  ‘To my satisfaction, yes,’ Richard said. ‘I don’t suppose it would be regarded as proof in a court of law.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ James agreed. ‘There is one other thing, though. Listen to this.’

  He read out the passage regarding the rag doll and Richard turned his attention to the picture of Angelina as a baby again. ‘Yes! Yes, I remember that doll. She loved it so much. That’s why I left it with her. I thought –’ his voice cracked ‘– I thought it might be some comfort to her.’

  ‘It seems it was,’ James said. ‘May writes that she was inseparable from it.’

  ‘And May gave it back to her? How did that happen?’

  James related what May had told him of how she had followed Angelina and her nursemaid to the park and secretly handed back the doll. ‘It nearly cost her her job,’ he added, ‘when Mrs McBride found out.’

  ‘I should think it’s very unlikely that Angelina would have been allowed to keep it, then,’ Richard said.

  ‘I suppose so. But anyway, it’s academic now. Unless she is found, or reappears somehow, the question doesn’t arise.’

  Richard sighed deeply. ‘You’re right, of course. I can’t stop wondering what can have happened to her. I’ve half a mind to go and ask for a meeting with McBride, to see if he’s had any luck looking for her – or the police, for that matter.’

  ‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ James said. ‘I doubt very much whether you’d get a straight answer and we both know what happens to people who pry into McBride’s affairs.’

  They finished their drinks and set off for home. It was a fine Saturday evening and although it was getting late people were still strolling through the city on their way home from visiting friends or from the pub. As they passed a shop window, Richard grabbed James’s arm.

  ‘Look!’

  A brightly coloured playbill advertised FINNEGAN’S IRISH MUSIC HALL and below the title was a list of the items on the bill, with sketches of the performers. Prominent at the top was the name MAEVE THE IRISH SONG THRUSH and in even larger letters VOICE OF AN ANGEL. Beneath that was a picture of a little girl dressed as an angel, a halo encircling a head of golden curls.

  ‘You’re not thinking …’ James began.

  ‘Yes! It could be her. Look at this.’ Richard pulled May’s sketch out of his pocket and held it to the lamplight from the shop window. ‘See? It could be, couldn’t it?’

  ‘There is a resemblance,’ James said dubiously, ‘but how could it be her?’

  ‘Think about it! We’ve always said that when no body was found and there was no other sign of her, she must have been taken in by someone – someone who wanted to keep her identity secret. And there’s something else. When I went to the convent, one of the nuns let slip that Angelina had a beautiful singing voice – ‘voice of an angel’ – those were her very words. Suppose this Finnegan fellow heard her sing and saw her potential as a feature on his bill. People love to see children on the stage. He might have taken her in and given her a new name.’

  ‘It’s possible, I suppose,’ James agreed. ‘But she would had to have been willing to go along with the deception.’

  ‘If she saw that as a way of escaping McBride’s clutches, why not? Come on.’ Richard was already turning to go.

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘To the theatre, of course. I’m going to see for myself.’

  James looked at the playbill again and then consulted his watch. ‘It’s the last night, and the show is probably nearly over by now.’

  ‘We might still catch the last acts.’ Richard was striding down the street. ‘Come on!’

  They reached the Cambridge Music Hall, on the corner of Warwick Street and Mill Street, slightly out of breath. The theatre was situated on the first floor, above a public house, but the door leading to it was shut and the passage inside was in darkness.

  ‘The curtain must have come down pretty early,’ James said. ‘There’s no sign of life.’

  Richard rattled the door and shouted, but there was no response.

  ‘There must be a stage door, for the performers,’ James said, ‘round the back somewhere.’

  ‘Let’s try down here.’ Richard indicated a narrow alleyway running along the side of the building.

  As they hoped, it led them to a small doorway with a grimy sign, ‘Cambridge Music Hall, Stage Door. No admittance to the public.’ A man in a greasy waistcoat was just about to lock up.

  ‘Please!’ Richard said urgently. ‘Is there anyone left inside? I want to speak to the manager.’

  ‘You and a couple of hundred others,’ the man replied. ‘I’ll tell you what I told
the rest of them. You won’t get your money back.’

  ‘Has the show finished already?’ James asked. ‘It’s very early.’

  ‘Are you surprised, after the row we had tonight?’

  ‘Row? What row? What happened?’

  ‘You weren’t in, then?’

  ‘No, we only saw the playbill a few minutes ago. We were very anxious to see one of the acts.’

  ‘Which one would that be, then?’

  ‘The little girl, the voice of an angel,’ Richard said.

  ‘Well, you’d have been disappointed then. That’s what all the trouble was about.’

  ‘Can you tell us where we might find the performers now?’ A half sovereign appeared in Richard’s palm.

  The stage door keeper looked at it regretfully. ‘Gone! All gone. On the boat back to Ireland if they’ve got any sense.’

  ‘What happened?’ James asked again. ‘What was the row about?’

  ‘She didn’t appear, did she? That’s what most people came to see. When they heard she wasn’t performing tonight there was a near riot.’

  ‘Why didn’t she appear?’

  ‘Just before curtain was due to go up this fellow marched in and dragged her away. Claimed to be her father.’

  Richard swore under his breath. ‘This man,’ James said, ‘what did he look like?’

  ‘Smart, well-off. Irish from the sound of him.’

  ‘My God,’ Richard groaned. ‘McBride’s got her. Did she go willingly?’

  ‘Not her! Kicking and screaming and saying he wasn’t her father. But he’d brought a couple of thugs with him and no one felt like arguing.’

  Richard tossed the half sovereign into the man’s waiting hand and turned away. ‘Come on!’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To McBride’s house. I know where he lives. I’m not leaving Amy in his clutches a minute longer than I can help.’

  ‘Wait!’ James caught his arm. ‘What good will it be turning up there and demanding to see her? He’ll just show us the door.’

  ‘But she’s my daughter!’ Richard exclaimed. ‘That must count for something.’

  ‘But how can we prove it?’

  ‘I know it’s her.’

  ‘That’s not good enough. We need more than that.’

  ‘What about the rag doll? If she still has that, it would be proof.’

  ‘Yes, but McBride may deny all knowledge of it. We can’t ask to search the house for it.’

  Richard ran his hands through his hair. ‘I don’t care! I’ll fight my way in if I have to.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool!’ James said. ‘You heard the stage doorkeeper. McBride had two thugs with him and he’s probably got more he can call on. He’s a dangerous man, Richard.’

  ‘Well, what do you suggest?’

  ‘I think we should speak to Inspector Vane. He might be able to send someone with us. A couple of burly police officers might give McBride pause for thought.’

  ‘Will Vane be at the police station at this hour?’

  ‘I don’t know. We could try.’

  At the police station they were told that the Inspector was out on police business and not expected back for some time. All they could do was leave a message, asking him to join them at McBride’s address as soon as possible. As they turned away James had an inspiration.

  ‘Lizzie!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Lizzie Findlay looked after Angelina – Amy – before she was sent away. If Amy had the doll then, Lizzie would almost certainly have seen it.’

  ‘That’s true. Have you still got her address?’

  ‘Yes, but she isn’t there now,’ James said. ‘Come on, it’s this way.’

  On the way to the Martins’ house, he explained to Richard how he had tracked Lizzie down to the workhouse and how he had succeeded in finding her this temporary situation. But when he rang the bell at the house occupied by Mr and Mrs Winter, the door was opened by a strange girl in the uniform of a nursemaid, with a grizzling baby in her arms.

  ‘I’m sorry to call on you so late,’ James said. ‘I urgently need to speak to Elizabeth Findlay. Is she here?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ll get her. What name shall I say?’

  ‘Tell her James Breckenridge wants to speak to her.’

  ‘You’d better step inside. Mr and Mrs Winter are out but Lizzie’s upstairs.’ She called Lizzie’s name and turned back to James. ‘It’s lucky you called tonight. She’s leaving tomorrow. No place for her here, now I’m back.’

  Before James could ask anything further, Lizzie came running downstairs. ‘Mr Breckenridge! And Mr Kean! What are you doing here?’

  ‘It’s about Angelina.’ Richard had been quiet up to now. ‘Lizzie, we need your help.’

  ‘Has she been found, then?’

  ‘Yes, she has, and McBride’s got her again.’

  ‘Oh, poor little mite! She’ll suffer for the trouble she’s given them.’

  ‘That’s exactly what we are afraid of. But if I can prove that I am her real father we may be able to get the police to hand her over to me.’

  ‘How are you going to do that?’

  ‘That’s where we need your help,’ James said. ‘Did Angelina have a favourite toy when you were looking after her?’

  Lizzie frowned for a moment. ‘Yes, now I come to think of it. An old rag doll. Raggy, she called it. She had dozens of beautiful, expensive dolls, but it was always Raggy she wanted if she was a bit upset.’

  Richard pulled out May’s sketch. ‘Is this it?’

  ‘Yes!’ Lizzie’s eyes widened in wonder. ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘Never mind that for the moment,’ James cut it. ‘Do you think it might still be in the house?’

  ‘Could be, I suppose. She kept it hidden away at the bottom of a chest, in case her ma made her throw it out. It might be there still.’

  Richard held out a hand to her. ‘Lizzie, will you come with us to the McBrides’ house and help us to find it? I’m frightened of what they might do to my daughter if she’s left in their hands. I promise you won’t lose by it, if it causes a problem with regard to your work.’

  ‘No need to worry about that. I don’t work here anymore.’ She stood for a moment, looking from him to James, then she nodded. ‘I’ll get my hat.’

  Minutes later they were threading their way through the city streets in search of a hansom cab. When they found one, Richard gave an address in Toxteth.

  ‘That’s a long way out of town at this time of night,’ the driver grumbled.

  ‘I’ll make it worth your while,’ Richard promised. ‘We need to get there as quickly as possible.’

  With the promised reward in mind, the driver applied his whip and a short time later they drew up outside a handsome, detached house in Devonshire Road.

  ‘This is the place, isn’t it?’ Richard asked Lizzie.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she agreed. ‘This is where they live.’

  ‘They may be in bed,’ James said.

  ‘No, look. There’s a light in that window,’ Richard responded.

  While Richard paid off the driver James had a quiet word with Lizzie. ‘You told me that you were friendly with the parlourmaid here.’

  ‘Jane. Yes.’

  ‘Can you ask if she will help us? Perhaps you could slip away without the McBrides knowing you are with us.’

  ‘Suits me,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to meet them if I don’t have to.’

  Richard rang the doorbell and a rather flustered Jane answered it. ‘Richard Kean to see Mr McBride,’ he announced.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. Mr McBride doesn’t receive visitors at this time of night.’

  ‘He’ll receive me,’ Richard said brusquely and pushed past the girl into the hall.

  He threw open the door of the room where they had seen the light and discovered the McBrides sitting close together at a small table, apparently engaged in an urgent consultation. McBride jumped to his feet as Richard entered.

&nb
sp; ‘What is the meaning of this? How dare you force your way in here at this time of night?’

  ‘I want my daughter,’ Richard said bluntly.

  James paused in the doorway and looked back to see Lizzie whispering to Jane, and then the two of them headed up the stairs. Good girls! he thought.

  McBride and Richard were squaring up to each other across the table. ‘You want what?’ McBride said.

  ‘My daughter. You abducted her from the theatre earlier this evening.’

  ‘Abducted? I don’t know who you are, but you are labouring under a very strange misapprehension. I removed my own daughter from a place where she was being held against her will and brought her home.’

  ‘You know very well who I am,’ Richard said. ‘My name is Kean, Richard Kean. You tried to have me killed as a spy in Ireland when I went to look for Amy – Angelina, as you call her.’

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ McBride said. ‘We have never met, to my knowledge, and that accusation is libellous.’ He looked beyond Richard to James. ‘I know you, though. You’re the solicitor’s clerk who has been poking his nose into my affairs. You had better advise your friend here to mind his language if he doesn’t want to end up in court.’