Workhouse Waif

by Elizabeth Keysian

  “What the heck? What are you doing here? Get out! The factory’s closed for the day, can’t you see that? There’s a damn great new engine being put in, or did you fail to notice it?”

  “I don’t mean no harm. I’m after the chief engineer—I was told he was in here.”

  “Chief engineer, eh? Well, that’s one way of putting it.” He reached for a towel and started rubbing himself in a distracted fashion. “Well, then, what are you waiting for?”

  “I came to ask for something.”

  “You should ask for it during the proper times, of the proper person. What floor are you on?”

  “Oh, I don’t work in the factory.” Bella realised the man’s mistake. “See!” She lifted up her skirts and pointed one foot out. “Leather soles, not wood.” Mrs Day had told her about the clogs that distinguished the factory workers from other occupants of the town.

  The man’s grey eyes glittered at her, then he turned away, shoulders shaking. “So, I’m to understand you’re someone more important than a labourer. Tell me, what are you then?”

  “I’m the new schoolteacher from over the road.”

  There was no reply to this. The man pulled on his shirt and buttoned it up, still with his back to her. When he’d finished, he moved nearer, and she had to look up to meet his eyes.

  He wore a crooked smile. “Indeed. Well, I beg your pardon. This something you wanted to ask—?”

  She smiled back. This was more like it. “I’m very interested in the engine and how the factory works and everything. Can I bring the children over to see it? Please, Mister?”

  The man pushed his damp hair back from his brow. “Hmm, that’s a radical thought, Miss… Harper, isn’t it?”

  “Hart, Hart. Like the deer. Er—Mister.”

  “Forgive me… Hart. I won’t say no to your request, though you really must learn you shouldn’t have come wandering in by yourself. Let me have a word with Hickett. Come over Monday some time for your answer.”

  “Oh, I can’t—I’ll be teaching then.”

  “We keep longer hours here than the children do. Just come over and ask for Hickett as soon as you’re free.”

  She nodded, then remembered some of what Miss Ainsty had taught her about good manners. “Thank you, Mister. Good day to you, sir.”

  After she’d gone, the man stood rooted to the spot for a moment, staring at the door. Then he shrugged his shoulders and laughed.

  “Leather shoes,” he said to himself. “Well fancy that!”

  Chapter 16

  “Aren’t you going to church, young lady?”

  Bella put down the mending she was doing for Mrs Day, whose hands were now too clumsy to deal with such work. “Church? I’ve never been to church in me life. We had services in the Union workhouse—they don’t let you out for church.”

  “You must go to church. Unless you’re chapel, are you? No, I don’t suppose you would be, not in the Union. I can tell you where to go. Have you anything better to wear than that?”

  “This is my only dress. Miss Ainsty gave it me.”

  “Oh, well, I suppose it’ll have to do. And have you a bonnet?”

  Of course, she didn’t have a bonnet—she’d just come from the workhouse, as Mrs Day often liked to remind her.

  “Whatever use would I have for a bonnet, when I never went anywhere?”

  “There’s no need to get lippy with me, Miss. I’d have thought they’d teach you to be polite to your elders where you’ve come from. I thought there was good discipline in such places.”

  “More than just discipline. But no, I don’t have a bonnet.”

  Mrs Day shifted in her bath chair. She reached for a handkerchief and dabbed at a strand of spittle hanging down from her drooping lip. Bella realised it had come as a great shock, to lose her ability to help herself. She seemed the sort who’d be a stickler for hygiene and appearances, but now she could barely talk without drooling. It was making her irritable.

  “Then you’ll have to take my old one. And keep your cap on under it. Anyone would think you’d had the pox, with that cropped hair of yours. And mind you scrub your nails. You’ve dirt under them.”

  Bella did as she was told. Not because she particularly liked or respected Mrs Day, but because she hadn’t got out of the habit of obedience yet. She also suspected the old lady’s bark was worse than her bite, and that there might be a kindly soul buried in there somewhere. One day she’d refuse though, just for the hell of it. After all, Mrs Day couldn’t actually force her to do anything, or punish her cruelly if she failed.

  Church was like being in the dining hall at the Union, but much prettier. It was peculiar being there, surrounded by so many strangers, and all looking so different from one another. When everyone had worn a uniform, she’d learned to recognise faces; here she’d have to recognise clothes and coats as well. Still, that might make it easier in the long run.

  Everyone knew her for a newcomer. It was just like before, after she’d been stained with ink for a week—they’d all stared and muttered,but no one had said anything outright. She wondered if the vicar knew how little attention the townsfolk were paying to the sermon. Perhaps I should put a sign on me head with the Ten Commandments. Then at least they’ll have learned something in church today.

  At the end of the sermon, a woman put her hand on Bella’s sleeve. “I’m Mary Addison. You’re the new teacher. You’re not Chapel then?”

  “Chapel?”

  The woman raised her eyebrows. “The folk in town are mostly chapel. Don’t hold with the old-fashioned way of doing things. But not me and me friends here.” She indicated a small group that was beginning to huddle around them.

  Bella privately thanked Mrs Day for sending her to church that morning. She had immediately made some allies. “The Froggatt family. I have one of them in the school. They Chapel too?”

  “Some might say Chapel—some might say heathen.” There was general laughter at this. After a few more words which heartened Bella considerably, the women went off and left her to go home and prepare lunch.

  One woman in the group had made her feel uneasy. This was Mrs Creegan, mother of the boy Mrs Day had been beating when her stroke came on her. It didn’t take much to work out why Jamie was such a scoundrel; his mother had the watery, unfocussed eyes and red nose of a sot. The boy was probably allowed to run riot at home while Ma was in her cups—it would be no easy task to tame him at school.

  However, it wasn’t long before Bella found the perfect way to tame Jamie. As soon as the new school week began, she arranged a date for their visit to the factory. She made it quite clear only those children she considered good would be permitted to go. It proved a struggle for some, but even Jamie Creegan showed he could manage a few days’ compliance when he wanted to.

  The appointed day was a Friday, and an excited hush fell over the children as Bella organised them into a crocodile, even though the factory was only just across the road from the school. As they drew nearer, she could tell Phoebe Froggatt was delighted—the girl craned her neck and stared all around her as they approached the building, no doubt hoping for a glimpse of Kenneth Johnson.

  Unaware she could be overheard, Phoebe turned to her friend Sal and asked, “What do you think of the new Miss?”

  “You know better’n me—you’re that close to her.”

  “She hasn’t said much. Asks questions mostly.”

  “Do you think she’s stupid?” Sally pushed out her lower lip and rolled her eyes.

  Phoebe aimed a slap at her friend. “Don’t be cruel. Anyway, I don’t think they’d give us a stupid teacher. But it’s funny what she don’t seem to know. Quite ordinary things, even though she can sound like the encyclopaedia about some stuff.”

  “She seems a bit of a dragon to me. She don’t take no nonsense.”

  “But have you noticed?” Phoebe lowered her voice. “She hasn’t given anyone stripes yet.”

  “That won’t last long, not with Jamie Creegan in the
room.” Sally gave Phoebe a sideways look. “Shame we’re only getting a special tour of the engine house. Kenneth Johnson don’t work in the engine house. You’ll have to ask your new friend Miss Hart for a tour around the factory next. Ouch! Don’t pinch me, bitch!”

  “That’s enough chattering.” Bella’s sharp intervention made both girls blanch. She smiled inwardly at their discomfiture but gave no indication she’d overheard their conversation.

  As the factory foreman, Mr Hickett, approached the group, the younger children stared around wide-eyed and poked each other, muttering questions. The older pupils wore superior expressions—they’d doubtless been in the factory before, to deliver meals or messages to their parents.

  Bella gazed at the towering chimney as it belched its smoke into the still sky, then stepped inside the engine house behind her class. She was immediately struck by the power of the vibrations beneath her feet—this must be what an earthquake felt like. She hoped they were safe.

  Mr Hickett obligingly gave everyone an idea of how the new beam engine worked and told them where it had been made and how much it had cost, along with other details the children didn’t really understand. But Bella stood beside the group, hanging on every word. She’d make sure the children all wrote about this afterwards, and reinforce what they’d heard.

  The beam pumped up and down with clockwork precision, driving the huge wheel and the linked system of crankshafts and cogs. The machine itself was quieter than she’d been expecting, but she could sense the latent power. It was like a great animal, spouting steam in its sleep.

  Bella’s skin prickled. At the far end of the room was an area festooned with tools, and there was the man she’d met the other day, who had been referred to as the chief engineer. She suspected he’d just glanced away, evidently finding the piece of machinery he was working on more interesting than a schoolteacher and a gaggle of children.

  Lord, but he was in a mess today. His hair was lank with sweat, his face begrimed and shining. Although his sleeves were rolled up, he’d got oil all over the front of his shirt—she pitied the poor wife who would have to clean it.

  As she turned her attention back to the room, something moved suddenly in her field of vision. It was Jamie Creegan, reaching out to poke at one of the grinding cogs. With a cry, she leapt forwards and pushed him out of the way, but as she tried to back away herself, there was an abrupt tug on her skirt.

  Bella heard a scream, whether hers or someone else’s, she couldn’t say. She scrabbled frantically at the wooden barrier in front of the engine as her skirt became more deeply enmeshed with the cogs.

  But there was nothing she could do. She was being dragged inexorably into the machinery.

  Chapter 17

  Jack took in the scene in an instant. He sprinted to the barrier, vaulted over and flung himself onto the handle. After a protesting, grinding noise which made him fear the machine was broken, it squealed to a halt, and shocked silence settled over the building.

  The young woman whose skirt had been caught stared down at herself. He’d been just in time—much of her skirt had already been gnawed and consumed by the cogs.

  “Hickett, release valve!” As soon as the engine had let off its steam, he waved the overseer and the children outside, before turning back to the woman he now recognised as their teacher. Fury at her stupidity mingled with shock at how close this pretty young thing had come to being harmed—but just as he opened his mouth to deliver a tirade, she collapsed.

  She was still caught by her trapped dress, which helped him catch her in time. He was bending over her awkwardly, trying to support her without doing any more damage, when Hickett’s ashen face appeared in the doorway.

  “What shall I do, sir?”

  “Tell the children to go back to school with their monitor. Oh, and I suppose you’d better tell them not to worry. She’s only fainted—no physical harm that I can see.”

  As Hickett departed to do his bidding, Jack held Miss Hart with one arm and worked at the hem of her skirt with his free hand, easing it out of the cogs. It took sustained strength and care, and despite his best efforts, the cloth came away holed and soiled.

  At least he could attend to her properly now. Hefting her up, he carried her into the toolroom and propped her in a chair, then wondered what in God’s name he was supposed to do with her. He wasn’t used to young ladies fainting on him. He tried pushing Bella’s head down towards her knees, but she remained insensible. Fearing she might have trouble breathing in that position, he sat her up again. She was limp as a rag doll.

  Was there anything in the toolroom that could help? He reached for a spanner—might something cold down the back of the neck shock her into wakefulness? No, that didn’t sound right—more like a folk remedy for a nosebleed. Suddenly he remembered his sister’s smelling salts. Was there anything suitable on the shelf of jars and bottles? Ammonia was pungent. Probably too pungent. Hell! What did one do? Why had he sent Hickett away? The man had a family, a wife. He would have been by far the better person to tend to a fainting young woman.

  Jack ran his hands through his hair. What a God-awful thing to happen! Any minute now the overlookers would be trooping in to demand an explanation for the stopping of the engine, and they were bound to blame him for it. Damn the woman! Who would have thought she’d be more nuisance than the children?

  Tipping her head back, he saw with concern all the colour had drained from her face, and her breathing seemed very low. With a pained expression, he started prodding at her stomach to see if she was wearing anything constraining but could feel no corset.

  A flush had come to his cheeks now, and he was starting to feel desperate. In his search for something to loosen, he realised she was still wearing her bonnet, tied tightly beneath her chin. As he undid it and hung it on a nail, he was horrified to find her hair was cropped very short, like that of an invalid, or someone with a bad case of lice. But surely not her—she looked too clean. And smelled it too—serviceable soap and water.

  Water! That was it. He had a washstand with a jug of cold water right here. Hope renewed, he filled the ewer part-full and dashed the contents into Miss Hart’s face.

  The response was instantaneous. Coughing and spluttering, she opened her eyes. She took a deep breath, stared at him in fury, then landed him a smart blow across the head that knocked him sideways.

  Chapter 18

  “What on Earth did you want to go and do that for?” Bella dragged her sleeve across her face as her attacker pulled back, stunned.

  “You fainted,” he grunted, stepping out of range. “I was trying to bring you around, and then you hit me.”

  “Oh, my Lord!” Bella continued to dab at her cheeks as the events of the previous few minutes reassembled themselves in her mind. “I got caught by the machine, and you stopped it. I shouldn’t of hit you, should I?”

  The man took a step towards her, and she brought her fists up in front of her face.

  He frowned. “It’s alright—I’m not going to hurt you. What kind of a life must you have led, to think everyone’s out to attack you? Look. I’ve a clean handkerchief in my jacket.” His tone softened as he held it out to her.

  As she dried her face, she felt sick to the stomach, and her heart was pumping like a mad thing—she’d almost been on her way to meet her Maker, and her only a week into her new job!

  “I’ll… I’ll just sit for a while, if you don’t mind, Mister. I don’t feel too good.”

  “I’ll get you some water.” He gave her a wry grin. “To drink this time.”

  So, she sat and sipped at her water and waited until the world had stopped spinning and her stomach had settled. And all the while the man, who had propped his thigh against a workbench, was watching her carefully as if he thought she was going to keel over at any minute.

  She managed a shaky smile. “It’s alright, Mister—I’ll be all right. I’ve had shocks enough before, and I’ve come through them. What’s happened with the children?”
>
  “Oh, they’ve gone back to school with your monitor. One of the Froggatts, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, but she’s a good girl. At least I think she is, better than—” She would not say Marie Froggatt’s name aloud. That was all behind her now.

  “I must get the engine going again. Every moment of labour lost is at the company’s expense. Wait here and don’t touch a thing.” The man vanished out of the tool house.

  The little room in which Bella sat was filled with the sound of the engine clanking and exhaling back to life. Moments later, the workman returned.

  “The colour’s come back into your face.” He grasped her elbows and helped her to her feet. Grateful for his support, she gave not a thought to how filthy his hands were until he escorted her out into the sunshine and she glanced down at herself.

  Her jaw dropped in dismay at the damage to her skirt. “Oh, my Lord!” Then her eye fell on the black finger marks on the front of her bodice. Words failed her.

  “Um, look,” he muttered. “I’m really sorry about your dress. I wasn’t sure how to bring you round. I’ll find something to cover you up. Then shall I help you back home?”

  She nodded and looked away in shame. Home seemed like a wonderful idea at this moment. Hugging her arms across her soiled chest, she tried to dispel the burning of her cheeks while the man strode back into the engine house. Moments later he returned and offered her his jacket.

  As she pulled the lapels together, she was surprised to discover that it didn’t smell of the grease of the factory, but was faintly perfumed, like special soap. She took a pleasurable sniff, then laughed at herself. She still wasn’t used to anything other than the rough, skin-scouring carbolic they’d had in the workhouse.

  The man cleared his throat. “You’ve been very brave, Miss Hart. All the women I know would have been in floods of tears by now. Er… well done.”