A Poor Girl's Peril (#4, the Winds of Misery Victorian Romance) (A Family Saga Novel)

by Dorothy Green

  “I will be wanting that pencil back after you use it.”

  “Very well. I am just going to write a letter and I shall return it to you. Thank you.”

  Adeline took the items to her bed and laid down to write.

  My Dearest Katrina,

  You must have many questions, all of which I will answer as soon as we are reunited. I have taken residence at Grace Church Workhouse. Please send for me as I have no money or connections and I am stuck in this place until I can earn a wage once they put me to work, otherwise I would come to you at Brentwood Manor. Please come or send for me as soon as may be.

  Love, Adeline

  She reread the letter and then folded it. She handed the pencil back to the woman and placed the letter under her mattress.

  “Adeline? Adeline Simmons,” a woman summoned from the hall.

  “That is me.”

  “Come with me so that we can put you to your work. You will be scrubbing the floors.”

  “I would like to be on the factory list please. I would like the opportunity to earn a wage,” Adeline said.

  The woman sighed and pulled out a folded paper from her pocket and a pencil from behind her ear and marked it. “Very well, I will place you on it and as soon as a position opens up you will be informed.”

  “Thank you. I much appreciate it.”

  The woman gave her an odd look then led her down the hall where a bucket of soapy water and a scrub brush waited for her. “On your knees. Scrub from here all the way down.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Adeline got on her knees and scrubbed the putrid hall, but reminding herself that it was in exchange for a bed to sleep on and she would not have to sleep in the stable with the horses. It helped to bring her uniform up over her nose and mouth and to breath from her mouth. This way she could not smell the scent. Scrubbing the floor was hard work and soon her knees were red and sore. Her back ached. But there was one pleasant notion about the work; it kept her distracted from her place in the world at the moment. She made a little game out of doing the work by doing one large floor brick at a time and kept count. This way she at least had something occupying her mind.

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  chapter

  0 7

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  The Road from Hampshire to London

  Mr William Dawson had the good fortune to be the master of a grand estate in Wickham in the countryside of Hampshire County. The notion that he should have inherited such a prosperous estate and line of heritage was not lost on the man. But despite having good relations and a reputation of such quality that no one would dare question his motives, the man had begun to lose something of his spirit.

  If you were to inquire to any of his relations as to his character, they would at once speak of his impeccable nature and agreeable demeanor; too kind, some might say.

  If you continue to be so kind you will lose your fortune to the next man of opportunity that seeks to take it from you by taking your sister Eleanor’s hand in marriage and then your estate, his friend Mr John Huntley teased him with that statement often.

  “Brother, when will you marry? It is high time!” his sister Louisa Ashford would say.

  But there had been none that sparked the flame of connection in his heart that he would consider amiable to take as a wife – except for one – and society had deemed her inappropriate to become his wife.

  There had been a maid in his household at Linwood Estate that he thought of quite often, years after she had been dismissed for a scandalous event.

  Years later he saw her again when he attended a dinner party at the residence of Mr Andrew Davis in Mayfair, London. How he had been shocked to see Adeline Simmons in such a way. She had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, but still held a position in society that made her scandalous. As an actress, she was considered no better than a prostitute by his society.

  However, it did not seem to phase Mr Robert Davis, the younger brother of Andrew, who paid much attention to Adeline. This sight had been very hard for William to endure, for if Robert meant to use Adeline, it would anger him greatly. But what could he say? There was not much that William could do under such circumstances and so he once again he let Adeline slip through his fingers.

  These thoughts rattled through the gentleman’s mind as he jostled in the back of the carriage that headed to London from the Linwood Estate in Hampshire County. Adeline always came to mind when he ventured to London, for that was now her residence, in the Cheapside borough. He often considered visiting her at the Douvaine Theatre, but the sound of his sisters Eleanor and Louisa’s voices telling him why he should not dare do such a thing, often rang in his mind when he thought of such things. Now that he had left them behind at Linwood Estate, he had a mind to disregard their constant warnings, and perhaps call upon Adeline as an old acquaintance. Though he thought that it was indeed possible she regarded him with disgust because he did not come to her aid that fateful day at his estate so very long day. The way she had been indifferent to his conversation at the Davis House, only further cemented that matter for him, and she had every right to think of him in such a way. He had been a coward, and perhaps Robert Davis was the better man for her. There had been many regrets in William’s life that plagued him and one in particular brought him to London.

  Ever since his factory burned down in a horrendous fire that took the lives of many women, William now made it his utmost responsibility to see to his new factory by making a visit every two months at the very least.

  For William never forgave himself for allowing his investors to oversee the last factory that had resulted in safety concerns, and though it was not any worse than most factories on the east end of London, it was not the way he would have conducted his business.

  “Welcome back, sir,” the butler Herald stood at the door of the Dawson home located in Mayfair, London. William stepped out of the carriage and climbed the steps.

  “Thank you, Herald. I wish to get started straight away. Please have a wash basin and my evening meal brought to the library.”

  “Yes sir. Per usual your letters, ledgers, and newspapers are gathered on your desk in the library,” Herald took William’s riding coat and hat.

  The heels of Williams boots clicked down the marble stoned halls filled with rich tapestries and plush furniture as he made his way to the library and pushed open the doors. The candles were lit and a fire crackled in the grand marble fireplace.

  A maid appeared with a washbasin, pitcher of water, and two cloths. She laid the longer cloth on the table before setting the basin, pitcher, and drying cloth down upon it. She poured the water in the basin.

  “That will be all, Trudy. Thank you,” William said.

  “Yes sir,” she curtsied and left the room closing the door behind her. William removed his dress coat and rolled up his sleeves before washing his hands and face in the basin and drying with the drying cloth.

  He poured himself a glass of sherry before setting down behind the pile of papers on his desk, there was much to do.

  William began with the letters, for if they required any need of urgent reply he had already been delayed.

  “Huntley,” William said as he picked up a letter from the top of the pile with a familiar wax seal, that of his friend and business partner John Huntley. With the silver letter opener in hand, Dawson slid open the letter.

  Dawson, call upon me once you return to London. I have arrived three days prior to the date of this letter. We should discuss a few matters of business before the visit to our factory. – John Huntley

  Dawson smiled and dipped quill in ink to write correspondence.

  Huntley, I have just arrived and you shall expect me tomorrow morning at the hour of nine to take breakfast with you and discuss matters. Dawson.

  He sprinkled drying powder on the sheet and shook it about the ink, allowing it to dry. From the drawer he pulled a stick of green wax and his stamp. Dawson folded the letter and burned the end of the wax stick in the candl
e flame on his desk. The wax dripped onto the letter in a pool, and Dawson pressed his stamp upon it to seal it shut.

  “Herald!” He stood up and pulled the cord on the wall that would ring the bell below in the servants’ quarters. “Herald!”

  Dawson opened the door and waited in the doorway, a moment later the maid scurried over.

  “Have this note sent immediately to the residence of John Huntley in St. James Court. My man knows where.”

  “Yes sir,” she took the note and Dawson moved back into the library to continue his letters.

  William Dawson picked up yet another letter with a familiar seal, that of Mason Byers, another friend and business acquaintance, however this one held more gravity as Mason had married Katrina Proctor, who was a very dear friend of Adeline’s. William tore open and unfolded with the letter with haste in hope that there would be a morsel of news pertaining to Adeline.

  William, I hope this letter finds you well. I sent this same letter to Linwood as to make sure to catch you wherever you may be. My wife Katrina and I would have set sail by the time this word reaches you. We are currently in Portsmouth and leaving with the morning tide to Europe. We shall not return for several months. When we return to Brentwood Manor then, we fully expect your company. Captain Mason Byers.

  William smiled and shook his head, “Pirate.” He enjoyed teasing Captain Mason Byers in such a way as he was always at sea developing his merchant trades, which had made him a very rich man indeed.

  When William had finished going through the pile of letters, he decided to move to the front of the fireplace with a fresh glass of sherry and the daily newspapers. He perused the headlines until one headline stuck him with the sharpness of a knife.

  Douvaine Theatre Fire All Perished

  “This must be false... this cannot...” William quickly stood and pushed the fine print under the candlelight for better reading. “The Douvaine Theatre caught fire, burning to the ground and all that lived inside. Three buildings burned along with it before the fire was put out.”

  William paced back and forth and read the article once more. “No. Adeline. It cannot be. The theatre name must be wrong. It must be.”

  He pulled the cord ringing the servant’s bell once more. William poured another glass of sherry and drank it down. Then he unrolled his sleeves and pulled on his dress coat. A light knocking at the door proceeded Herald entering.

  “Herald, ready my horse.”

  “At this hour, sir?”

  “Just do it man. Go! Now!” William shouted.

  Herald’s confusion came upon his face but he obeyed his master’s orders and rushed off to order that the horse be saddled and ready.

  “Katrina? Mason mentioned nothing of it. They must not be aware and started the journey to Portsmouth before finding out such news. Huntley would not mention it for he does not know Adeline in such a way, or Katrina for that matter. There is no one to inquire except the Davis’ of Davis House. I must see for myself.”

  “Your horse is being brought from the stable and out to the front of the house, sir.”

  “Good, good. my coat and hat,” William indeed displayed such frenzy unknown to his character that servants looked on in confusion as he ran down the hall to the door to don his coat and hat before he left in such haste.

  The horses hoofed echoed down the cobblestone streets and had anyone known what William had planned they would say he was mad, for a gentleman did not go to the east end of London at this time of night on horseback and alone. Though Cheapside was much better and wealthier than White Chapel, it was still a place that a gentleman should be wary.

  It took half an hour for William to arrive on Grace Church Street.

  “No. No. It cannot be,” he said as his horse trotted up to the burned section of the street where the theatre once stood, and only a pile of blackened rubble remained. If he had lost his chance with Adeline before then, now that chance was completely lost to her death.

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  chapter

  0 8

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Adeline had a position in a factory, though it was no better than the workhouse. The floor manager Mr Hudson was quite a monster. He shouted and poked at the workers all day simply for his own enjoyment. But one thing was certain; she would be earning a wage and would be able to pay for postage to write to Katrina.

  The factory itself was abominable. The fumes were so heavy from the metalwork of making machine parts. Adeline’s job was to screw a bolt into a heavy machine part that came to her from down the assembly line. The heat was unbearable and the windows were almost never open, keeping in the heat from the machine makers.

  Adeline sweated buckets through her dress daily and always felt on the verge of fainting from the lack of fresh air. But she kept reminding herself, by the end of the month she would be paid a wage and could pay for postage to send the letter to Katrina. Then she would be rescued from the horrible place. Just one month, you have been through worse.

  “Adeline, you are looking a bit pale,” Ginny said.

  “I don’t feel well today, I think it is just a headache and it will pass,” Adeline said, wiping sweat from her forehead. She knew that the fumes were getting to her, but she had to hang in there. At the end of the month she would finally get her wages, and she could send a letter to Katrina that she had already written. Then she could save the rest so that she could buy postage out of London to Hertfordshire.

  “You are only on your third. Really Adeline, you are the slowest worker here,“ the manager said.

  “Sir, I am moving faster.” She said.

  “Not fast enough. Now go and fetch two more machine parts and bring them here.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Adeline turned quickly and walked very fast, toward the back of the factory. She picked up the machine parts and carried them back toward her table, but she felt very lightheaded indeed. The fumes were getting to her. Suddenly everything went black and it was all that she could remember.

  Cold water splashed on her face, and her eyes opened.

  “What happened?” She whispered.

  “Get up. You lazy cow.”

  “Adeline, are you all right?” Ginny was at her side.

  “What? Who are you? Where am I?”

  “Adeline, it is me, Ginny. You are at the factory.”

  Adeline looked around, frightened. indeed she did not remember where she was. She did not remember who she was. It made her feel completely panicked.

  “Get her up off the floor. Get her some water and then get her back to work. I leave her in your charge, Ginny. The rest of you get back to work.” The floor manager shouted.

  “Come on, let’s get you off the floor and get you some water,” Ginny said to Adeline helping her to her feet. Adeline leaned on her, not able to regain her balance. She put her hand on the back of her head. A searing pain rushed through her head. She wondered if she had been hit in the back of the head because it hurt something terrible.

  “Air, I do need some fresh air,“ Adeline said. “My head. It hurts.”

  “This way to the back door. I don’t doubt it do hurt. You hit your head on the concrete floor you did. It must hurt badly. You were out for a few minutes, we could not wake you.”

  “Really? I do not remember that,” Adeline said.

  “It wasn't until Mr Hudson poured a bucket of water on your face that you do wake up.”

  “Yes I guess that is why I am wet. Who is Mr Hudson?”

  Adeline leaned on her friend, and she was very glad when the fresh air hit her face as they walked through the back door and into the alley behind the factory. Adeline leaned against the wall.

  “He be our boss. We work in this factory here. Dear, you did bump your head something hard. Now stay here ,I am going to fetch you some water. Do not move.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Adeline leaned against the wall. What happened to me? Where am I? I do not remember. Did the woman call me Adeline? Why d
o I not remember that?

  “All right dear here you are. Have some water.”

  Adeline drank down the liquid eagerly.

  “You really took a fall in there, I could hear you hitting your head as you fell. How do you feel?”

  “I feel terrible. I feel confused. What factory is this? What am I doing here?” Adeline asked.

  The woman named Ginny looked at her with such a fright.

  “Do you mean to tell me you do not remember? You do not remember anything at all?“

  “No, I do not.”

  “Oh dear. You really must be looked at by a doctor, but that is quite impossible. There is not one here at the factory and not at the workhouse. Maybe it is just a spell and it will pass.”

  “What if it does not?”

  “That would be something dreadful. I must say, I can tell you what I know of you. Your name is Adeline, and you live at the workhouse along with most of us that work in this factory here. That is where we all live. It is a hard place but not as horrid as some. Your bed is next to mine so we are friends we are.”

  “I work in a factory and live in a workhouse? That does not sound right for some reason,” Adeline pressed her hand against her forehead. Why could she not remember anything?

  “It is what I know. You have been working in the factory almost three weeks now but lived in the workhouse ten days before moving to the factory, or was it two weeks? I can’t remember, time is amiss in the workhouse,” Ginny said.

  “I cannot remember a thing. Maybe after a rest it will come back to me. I am sure that I am just tired and need air.”

  “Yes but we better not stay out here too long or we will be fired we will,” Ginny said.

  “Yes alright.” Adeline took some deep breaths and rested against the wall a while longer and then they returned to work inside the horrid conditions of the factory.

  But Adeline did not get her memory back after one night of sleep, nor did it happen after two nights of sleep, not even after five nights of restful sleep after working hard days in the factory. She struggled. It was hard and quite unimaginable that such a thing could happen to her. In fact she felt that she was losing control of her mind entirely, but she would not dare tell anyone that, saying words like that out loud would get you accommodations in a place worse than a workhouse, in a place designed for people that had lost touch with reality.