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

by Dorothy Green

  She followed Karen inside the large brick building that would now serve as her home. As the door opened and she stepped in, the smell of food cooking make her mouth water. The smell of soap was on the air, and she was shocked at how clean the floor underneath her feet was. It did not look to be stained with vomit and piss, like the last place. The food itself did not smell putrid either. It smelled like sweet meats were cooking over a fire and vegetables were roasting in ovens. She licked her lips as her belly grumbled.

  “Welcome to Brick House, it is called that because it is on Brick Lane. The factory is just two blocks over, a big white building – you cannot miss it. But the others will show you. My name is Karen.”

  “Pleased to meet you Karen, my name is Adeline Blakefield.” Adeline followed the woman up three flights of stairs.

  “My name is Patty,” a woman stepped forward to greet Adeline after Karen had showed her the room.

  “Hello, pleased to meet you, I am Adeline.” Adeline put her belongings down on the empty bed. She felt grateful indeed that there was not a stench like the last workhouse and it seemed quite tidy and clean.

  “It'd be nice meeting you too miss. I can show ye around if you like,” Patty said.

  “Yes, it will be nice to have someone show me the way of things,” Adeline smiled at Patty.

  “Then let me show you,” Patty said.

  “As you see this be our shared bedroom, and it is good to keep personal belongings underneath the bed.”

  “Yes, alright thank you.”

  “Follow me. I will show you where where we eat, and where we clean up,” Patty said. Adeline quickly threw her small bag under her bed. Patty watched her. Then together they walked out.

  “You be real lucky Miss, to be here.”

  “Please call me Adeline.”

  “Adeline. You be real lucky, this be one of the cleanest workhouses I have seen and I have been in two. They smelled god-awful, not clean. This place feel real safe like,” Patty smiled. Adeline could see Patty was pretty, though rough and a bit dirty with knotted mousy brown hair that had not been brushed in Lord knows when.

  “Yes, I am grateful to have a roof over my head,” Adeline said.

  Then she opened the door to a large room with long tables. “This be our eating place.”

  “On the first floor be the chamberpot room.”

  “I understand,” Adeline said.

  “That be the building. The rest of the doors are rooms, with beds in each. Sometimes we sit out front on the steps, if it not be raining. Breakfast be served from 6 to 6:30, and you want to get down as soon as possible or they won't serve you a minute past 6:30, but on Sundays they serve til 8. The noon meal we do not have here, that is provided at the factory and it be 20 minutes of time. Usually a stew of some sort with bread and cheese. The factory bell ring at 7 at night. It be right down the street so it is not more than a 10-minute walk, even when the rain is hard. Dinner be served at 7:30 to 8:30.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “You talk proper. What you doing here miss?”

  Adeline had heard this before many times, but with her memory she did not have an answer.

  “I just picked up the speak is all,” Adeline said.

  For she did not want to raise suspicions by being a girl that did not know her own past. Someone could take advantage of her for that.

  That night Adeline slept comfortably. For this was the first time in a long time that she was in a room that was not a large room with rows and rows of beds. She felt safer and did not have to sleep with one eye open, the way she felt at the workhouse. For if anyone meant her harm they would have to open the door to the bedroom first and that would surely wake her. Therefore she slept soundly.

  The next day she had a very filling breakfast and was surprised at how good the food was. They were served steamed eggs, rolls, and steamed carrots for the breakfast meal. The flavours danced on her tongue and she realized that she had a craving for coffee, which was strange to her. For had she ever had coffee? Coffee was a luxury item and not one that a woman like her would sample and therefore not crave with her morning meal. Still the thought stayed in her mind, coffee with a splash of cream.

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  William had a fitful night of sleep. He could smell the smoky air and it burned as it entered his lungs. “William!” the soft voice screamed and begged for his assistance. William’s drenched shirt clung to him as sweat poured down his face from the heat of the flame licking at his feet.

  “William, please!” the voice shouted.

  “Adeline! Where! Where are you?” he shouted into the thick black smoke. But it was no use, he could see nothing. A shrill scream filled with pain pierced through the smoke, and the sound of fire crackling as it cooked grew louder.

  “No! Adeline! No!” he shouted. William popped up in his bed drenched it sweat. These were the night terrors that plagued him since he had heard the news. He stood up from his bed and pulled off the cork from a bottle of Scotch on the table and drank directly from it.

  Moving to the window he pulled open the sash and pushed open the glass allowing cool air to hit him. His breath was heavy as though he had been running in his sleep.

  “Adeline... Adeline...” he whispered. He took another swig. The bottle accompanied him to bed until he drunkenly passed out. His servant had to rile him from sleep the next morning for his journey home.

  Hours later, William sat in his maroon and black travelling carriage, a quite expensive box with plush seats, that made for quite comfortable travelling despite the jostling and bouncing of the carriage from the potted muddy roads. But William hardly noticed. He took a long drink from a flagon of whiskey. He had started upon it as soon as he stepped into the carriage in London.

  He had the curtain drawn as they made their way out of the city, for he did not want to look upon the city that had taken Adeline from him.

  “Blasted Scotland Yard,” he muttered to himself.

  It wasn't until the carriage had departed into the countryside, and the smoke stacks of London could no longer be seen did he lift the curtain and allow the fresh country air though thick with humidity, to enter the carriage. He looked out into the rolling green grass, watching sheep graze lazily, without a care in the world. How he envied those sheep at this moment.

  “Adeline I have wronged you. Forgive me.”

  It was the first time he had spoke to her out loud, hoping that wherever she may be in the heavens above that he would be able to reach her and she would know that he had indeed mourned her passing, as well as regretted not taking a chance when he should have. Damn society and my acquaintances is for pushing people into places that they cannot aspire to leave and then judge the rest of us when we try to make relations with those very same people.

  He took another swig, and another. The journey seem to last a lifetime for him, especially because he had run out of whiskey, but the sun was only at its noon position. William took out his pocket watch, unlatching the lid. It was the hour of one in the afternoon.

  “Blasted time. Must you drag on in such a way?”

  “Green Tavern!” His driver shouted, pounding his fist on the roof of the carriage to let his master know that the tavern was in sight. For William it could not come at a better time. He would be able to buy a bottle of whiskey, and fill his belly in order to get him through the second half of the journey.

  A few moments later, the carriage stood in the line behind a few other carriages, to allow the Servants of the end to unload passenger luggage, for those spending the night on their travells. But William was in no mood to wait; he opened the door and shouted at his servant. “No need to wait for me. Get the horses watered fed and rested, I shall return in an hour, make sure you eat and drink yourself.”

  “Yes, sir,” The manservant that sat next to the driver scurried down from the bench, trying to be there for his master, for it was accustomed for a gentleman
like him to jump out of the carriage and not wait for the servant to open the door and to pull out the steps. But William was in no mood; he's sloppily swaggered toward the front door of the tavern. He cared nothing for upholding the manners and politeness of his society, for it was what had caused him to lose Adeline in the first place and this was his way of thumbing his nose at it.

  “Sir, would you like some company in your room at the tavern?” a soft voice said. William stopped and looked into a pretty face. Blue eyes stared back at him through soft blonde curls that messily moved in the wind around the woman’s face. This village harlot obviously searched for a new customer, and William knew he reeked of wealth, the way he wore his elegant clothing. The fact that he swayed when he walked made him that much more of a target for the likes of her.

  William Dawson indugled in his past in such things, as all men of his wealth did, but he had not in several years. He had no taste for such things, but this woman... she reminded him of Adeline. For a moment he stared at her. Do I dare say yes, garner a room, and pretend this woman is Adeline?

  “Save your breath, Miss. I will not be needing your services this day,” he said and moved past her. He entered the tavern glad that he had moved past such temptation.

  “Can I get you a table sir? We have a fine table in the window here.”

  “No need, I will be taking a seat at the bar. But bring me a plate of food, bread and cheese, whatever it may be. Surprise me for I have no care for what it is; I simply need to eat.”

  “Yes sir, right away.” The barmaid moved to the kitchen. William took a seat at the bar where a burly Scottish man tended bar. William knew him quite well because he had spent many times stopping at this very tavern on his way between London and his country estate. He knew that this man was the owner of this fine establishment.

  “Mr Dawson sir, what can I get ye? Welcome back.”

  “Angus, good to see you as always. Give me a bottle of your finest whiskey, the whole bottle. I will take it with me on the rest of my journey.”

  “Yes sir, business rough in London?” Angus said as he pulled a bottle of whiskey from underneath the bar, where he kept the finer and more expensive spirits hidden. He opened it and poured a large crystal glass and slid both bottle and glass in front of William.

  “You can say that. But say no more for I do not wish to speak of it,” William said taking the glass and chugging down all that Angus had poured before he snatched the bottle and poured himself another.

  “I understand sir. Those items that one cannot speak of, can very well drink of. That is the way us Scots see it anyway.”

  “And I am beginning to see that you Scots may have it right. For us English are too polite society and it causes such boundaries and restraint to make us miserable. Why do we do that to ourselves?”

  Angus laughed. “Us Scots have been asking that of the English for near hundreds of years sir. We still do not have an answer.”

  “Here you are sir. Cold chicken, cheese, a meat pie, and bread.” The maid put a tray in front of Dawson with all of these delicious morsels, for she knew who Mr Dawson was and that he could afford such a plate. Not to mention that she did notice his sloppy step and knew that he must be deep in the drink and needed food to soak up all that he had drowned himself with. Drunk men caused terrible events in crowded taverns, and she knew exactly how to prevent that from happening.

  “Thank you.” He said to her.

  “Laura, pack cheese, bread, and meat pie for Mr Dawson to take with him when he leaves. He still has quite the journey to his estate. That is unless you were planning to stay the night with us here sir? You are always very welcome to do so and your manservant and horses are well taken care of.”

  “No Angus, thank you for the offer. But I must continue on my way. We are just here for the respite as usual. I would be obliged to take that pack of food. Also whatever my man servants out in the stable and my horses eat, of course put on my tab.”

  “Of course sir, as always.” Angus said.

  Angus turned away, but not before giving his wife Laura a look, for they had never seen Mr Dawson in such a way. In fact, he was one of the more polite gentleman that came through that rarely drank, unless it was with his supper meal, definitely not in the middle of the day, and completely drunk as a skunk.

  William did not notice. He ate his meal and then left, taking his bottle along the way with him, as well as the bundle of food that Laura had packed for him, but he wouldn't touch it. He had more than enough to eat at the noon meal, and instead handed it off to his servant and coachman to eat from along the journey.

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  Heavy with food and drink, William passed out in the carriage for the second half of the journey.

  Smoke burned his lungs. “William! Why do you not come for me? Why do you not help me?”

  Adeline stood before him. She wore the gown that she wore on Christmas dinner at the Davis House, only it was engulfed in flame.

  “Adeline! I am here! I am right here!”

  “William, you do not save me! You do not speak up for me! You let me burn!” she shouted.

  “No! No! I do not. I did before ,but not this time. I will protect you Adeline! Please stop! Stop!” William shouted.

  William was drenched, but not from sweat, it was from buckets of water thrown upon his head. “No! Not me! Her! Onto her! He shouted at the chain gang of men passing buckets of water. They did not listen to him, instead they continued to please him, the gentleman, while allowing the actress to burn.

  “No!” William dropped to his knees and sobbed. There was nothing that could be done for Adeline.

  “William please! Help me.”

  “How? Tell me what to do!” he shouted into the thick black smoke.

  “You know what to do. What you should have done then. You know... you know...”

  William’s body shook.

  “Mr Dawson sir. We have arrived. Sir?” the coachman said.

  At around the hour of nine in the night, the carriage finally landed at Linwood Manor. William, who had passed out in the carriage in deep nightmares, was shaken awake.

  “Sir, we have arrived home. We are at Linwood.”

  “What? Yes, of course, right thank you.” William sat up, drenched in sweat. He took a swig of whiskey and then pushed the visions from his nightmares out of his mind. He climbed out of the carriage.

  He stomped inside his home, not feeling the relief that he thought he would feel as soon as he left London. For he thought it was the city that was hunting him with the thoughts of Adeline, but truly it was his heart.

  “I thought you had arrived.”

  “Huntley? What are you doing here?” William was surprised to see his friend John Huntley in his home, for he rarely visited.

  “You must forgive me. I had sent word to London that I was coming to Linwood on matters of business to meet with you. But I only sent it early this morning. Had I known that you were coming today I would have sent it earlier. I have business in the village, so I came a few days early, knowing that your hospitality is always extended even when you are not home.”

  “And since you knew that my sister and her husband were not here...”

  “Yes, they are at Bath are they not?” Huntley said with a smirk, for he knew very well that this time of year the Dawson sisters and Louisa Dawson's husband, Mr Ashford, were always away. It was the only time that he would deem it appropriate to visit the Linwood estate, for he did not get on at all with Ashford, for good reason.

  “Yes, as you very well know. Please come in, I am weary. Let us to the parlour,” William said taking off his hat and coat and handing it to the servant before walking directly to the Parlor. Immediately he poured himself a glass of scotch and shot it down, before pouring another. He was receiving peculiar looks from Huntley, who knew William not to be a man of libation.

  “Prepare a late supper, William and I shall eat in
here in the Parlor, nothing formal,” Huntley said to do the foot man standing in the hall before walking back into the Parlor.

  “I have sent for food,” He said to William.

  “No need. I have no appetite.” William said drinking from the glass but in his other hand was the bottle as he walked around the room.

  Huntley leaned against the table, casually watching his friend. “Well I am hungry and have quite the appetite. So at least do me the favor of sitting and dining with m,e whether you push your food around or not.” Huntley said, making a plan to put food in front of his friend regardless, knowing he would eat if it was there.

  “If you must.” William said.

  “I was just to have a cigar. Have one with me,” Huntley handed William a cigar, knowing that if a cigar was in his mouth then he would be less inclined to drink more. Though he knew something was indeed troubling William.

  “Yes, I will have one. Thank you.”

  William puffed on his cigar, standing there as his friend looked at him.

  “Are you going to tell me? Or do I need to ask?” Huntley said.

  “Whatever do you mean, friend?”

  “You are not yourself, William. I have never seen you like this. You are not one to drink or have that vice, not like this. What happened in London?”

  William took a deep breath. He didn't want to say it out loud. If he said it out loud it would be true.

  “Tell me.”

  “There was a fire. People of my acquaintance perished. I did not learn of it until after it happened, when I arrived it was in a pile of old newspapers, the news. I went to see people that I shared acquaintances with those people with, but they had gone to Brighton. I have no answers what happened. But I am quite distraught by the event.”

  Huntley moved to his friend and put his hand on his shoulder. “I'm very sorry William. I understand your pain. What can be done? What can I do to help?”

  “Drink with me. And do not make me recount the details. For it is too painful and fresh on my mind. I only wish to drink, eat, and forget.”