Workhouse Waif

by Elizabeth Keysian

  “I hadn’t heard. Capital, capital! So, they took you on, did they?” Merriwether shook Bella’s hand again. “Well done, little Miss Hart. The Governors clearly know quality when they see it, as do I, as do I.”

  Hollow flattery, but it was a new experience for Bella, and she couldn’t help but warm in response.

  Harriet brushed a hand over the front of her tightly-fitting gown. “I hope you find yourself content with your new situation, Miss Hart.”

  Bella nodded. “Thank you, Miss… Ma’am… yes.”

  Merriwether grinned. “We were just going to ring for some tea. Join us, why don’t you? Oh, sorry, Hattie old thing—you should do the inviting. I keep forgetting I’m just a guest in your house.”

  It couldn’t be right for her to have tea with these grand folk. Mrs Day would never let her hear the last of it. Tempting as it was to see the inside of the splendid house, with its multitude of windows from which you could actually look out. “Oh, but I’m forgetting. I wanted a word with Mr Henstridge. Senior, that is.”

  Miss Henstridge answered. “Then you will be disappointed. There’s no one about but us. Mama always has a sleep in the afternoon. So would I, on a day like this, had I not Georgie here to plague me.” She prodded Merriwether’s elbow.

  “Henstridge Senior has taken himself off for a ride,” he added. “And God knows where Henstridge Junior is. Shame he isn’t here to meet you, as I’ve been extolling your virtues. And if you want me to stop plaguing you, Hattie, then you must invite Miss Hart to take tea with us. I promise I’ll behave.”

  So, Bella stayed for tea, but she wasn’t invited indoors. Instead, they sat in the walled garden, where she stared around at the great spreading tree with a swing underneath, the white-painted benches, and the flowering shrubs. It all looked so lovely, cared for and controlled but still natural. Someone here was fond of roses; they had special beds all of their own, and their sweet, heavy scent drifted across the lawn in the warm air. If she lived here, she could just lie out under the trees and listen to the birds and really believe that everything was alright in the world.

  “It’s so beautiful!”

  “Glad you like it.” Harriet glanced around. “I really should take more time to appreciate it myself, I know. But they say it’s easy to take for granted what you have.” Her eyes flickered down to the hem of Bella’s dress and quickly away. “So, what were your family?”

  “I don’t know—I was in the workhouse since a babe. As a child, I pretended… but you wouldn’t be interested.”

  “So, you don’t know who your parents were? I’m not sure if that is tragic or romantic. Why, you could be some missing heiress or the child of a politician’s scandalous liaison. Unfortunately, I know exactly who I am, and there is nothing exciting in it. Have you never attempted to trace your family?”

  “How could I? I mean no, Miss… Ma’am.”

  Mr Merriwether rescued her from awkwardness. “Have a muffin, Miss Hart, and stop trying to be so polite. I find you perfectly refreshing in all your naturalness.”

  He jumped suddenly and stiffened. Almost as if someone had kicked him under the table.

  Bella hid her smile. “If my people had wanted me, they would have found me, wouldn’t they? I thought for a while, after Mr Finchdean came… but he never came again so I mustn’t of been who he was looking for.”

  “Oh, I fear your parents must have died, or they would never have abandoned you to so miserable an upbringing.” Miss Henstridge’s expression was kindly.

  “I’m not miserable any more, Miss.” And right now, in these magnificent surroundings, with her mouth full of sweet cake, she knew it to be true. “Everybody’s so kind. I never knew there were people like you, and Mr Merriwether here, and the Master who sent me the cloth and Mr Hickett. Mrs Day’s a bit sharp, but better’n what I’m used to. And that’s mostly because she’s sick.”

  The corners of Miss Henstridge’s mouth twitched. She seemed to find Bella entertaining, but Bella didn’t mind—it felt good to make folks smile. She didn’t stop to wonder exactly why the young lady was so amused, and answered every question fired at her with her usual openness. After a while, though, she began to feel a little nauseous from all the rich food and creamy tea, so decided it must be time to leave. Miss Henstridge promised to convey her thanks to Mr Henstridge Senior, and Merriwether escorted her to the gate.

  “Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I must say it was a delight to see you again, Miss Hart. You are certainly a welcome addition to our dismal town, and I hope to see you out and about again before long. I could perhaps entertain you in my own humble abode—not quite so grand as this, but passing fair, I assure you.”

  She didn’t know a great deal about the rules these people went by, but that didn’t sound quite proper to her. “I don’t suppose that’d be right, Mr Merriwether, but thanks all the same. Goodbye. And thank you.”

  One thing Miss Ainsty had said to her repeatedly was to be careful in the company of so-called gentlemen, for they were no better than the casual labourers who disrupted the workhouse regularly. Mr Merriwether seemed genuinely nice, but was he being a bit too friendly?

  Then there was Jack, the engineer at the mill. Quite the opposite. Stand-offish even, keeping his thoughts very much to himself, not trying to win her over or flatter her in any way. She was probably much safer with someone like him.

  Which reminded her. She had a jacket she needed to return to him before he took it upon himself to call. She’d never hear the end of it from Mrs Day if he were to pay them a visit, all covered in his usual grease. She must go as soon as she could get away.

  Chapter 22

  When Bella stepped into the engine house that evening to return his coat, Jack had his back to her. Some inadvertent noise she made resulted in him dropping his hammer, and he swore under his breath as he swung round to glare at her, frowning.

  She laughed. Then pondered how odd it was, she felt so comfortable to laugh at him, as if she’d known him all her life. Maybe it was because he was so different from the gaunt, gloomy men she was used to seeing in the workhouse.

  “The watchman let me in. He said you was in here. Here’s your jacket.” She held it out.

  Jack fumbled around on the workbench, wiped his hands on a piece of rag, took the jacket and hung it on a peg. He looked as if he was about to ignore her and go back to work, but she waited resolutely. He stared at her, then looked more closely at the jacket, and said, “Oh.”

  “Well, it needed mending.” She hoped he wasn’t offended. “It’s a good jacket, and worth the saving. I tried to get the oil out with some spirits of turpentine, so it probably smells a bit now. I should think a new one like it would cost a pretty penny.”

  She was met with a blank expression. After a moment, he found his voice. “Er… well, thank you, but you needn’t have bothered.”

  She gazed around the workroom, quiet now the engine was no longer operating. “The owner, Mr Henstridge, must of heard about the accident. He sent me some cloth for a new dress.”

  “The owner did? Who told you that?”

  “Mr Hickett. He said, with Mr Henstridge’s compliments.”

  “I see.”

  “It made me feel better. I was all roused up about the safety of the machines. I don’t like the idea of people, some barely more than children, going into a factory where they might get hurt. I had thought of finding the owner to complain.”

  Jack wiped a hand across his brow, leaving a dirty smear. “And did you?”

  “No, he wasn’t at home.”

  “You mean you actually went—”

  “To Henstridge Hall, yes.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t you know you have no business calling on your betters just like you were one of them? Didn’t anyone teach you that?”

  “No, they didn’t. But if they didn’t like it, they wouldn’t have invited me to tea, would they?”

  His jaw dropped. “Who? Who inv
ited you to tea?”

  “Mr Merriwether. And Miss Henstridge. Oh, she’s a lovely lady, very grand. You should of seen her.”

  “I have seen her.” He paused, and she saw his lips twitch. “So, I suppose you think you’re really somebody, now you’ve been entertained by the gentry?”

  “Oh no, I was scareder than I’ve ever been in me life. I didn’t know what to say, how to drink my tea or eat cakes—with a plate or not, or with a fork. I just copied Miss Henstridge. It wasn’t easy—I don’t think I’d want to be one of the gentry folk.”

  He settled his thigh against the workbench and raised an eyebrow. “No?”

  “No. I get on easier with me own sort. I like the folk about here. But Mr Merriwether’s a real gentleman. He’s so kind. He helped me when I first came to Warbury.” She could feel Jack’s cool blue eyes assessing her and suddenly felt awkward in her shoddy dress.

  His gaze cut into her. “You can’t be too careful with men like George Merriwether. I hold him in high esteem, but he does have his faults where women are concerned.”

  So that was what he was thinking, was it? Bella huffed. “I don’t think so. I think he and Miss Henstridge… I think there’s an understanding between them.”

  A faint smile crossed Jack’s face. Then he took a deep breath and straightened up. Feeling she was about to be dismissed, she blurted out, “The other reason I don’t want too much to do with gentry folk is that they have servants.”

  That caught his attention. “What’s wrong with having servants?”

  “Well, rich men can just walk into a place like the Union and take some poor soul away to be a bond-slave to them, and there’s nothing that man or woman or child can do about it. And no one don’t give a damn for the feelings of them that’s left behind.”

  “Who did they take you away from? I thought you had no parents.”

  “Not me. The lady I thought was me Ma was taken off… but no, it don’t matter. It made me sad at the time, as I was young.”

  “Then I’m sorry for it, Miss Hart.”

  She chuckled. “Listen to you calling me ‘Miss Hart’ like we’re lords and ladies. I’m Bella, and you’re Jack. Thanks for getting me out of that engine. I… shouldn’t have belted you one. I know that now. I want us to be friends.”

  He laughed suddenly, and she bristled. Then she decided she liked the laugh, and just watched him until he stopped. He blew his nose on a clean handkerchief, then leaned back against the workbench again. After a while, he said, “I don’t know quite how to answer that one.”

  “Oh, I have had friends before. There was Lucy in the Union, but she had a club foot, and nobody would take her into the factory. Then there was Miss Ainsty, who was the teacher what took a shine to me. I really must write to her, you know, but I’ve been so busy. I don’t think Mrs Day is a friend—she’s too bad-tempered. But I can manage her. I’ve managed worse. Anyway, you be careful of that machine, Jack—it could mangle you, it could. And I bet the other machines are just as bad, the looms and such-like. Do you have anything to do with them?”

  “You haven’t set foot in the factory proper. How can you say it’s dangerous?”

  She sensed he was annoyed, but couldn’t stop herself. After all, she’d nearly been crushed to pellets by one of the things. He couldn’t know how that fear had felt. “I can’t think anything made of metal that makes that amount of noise could be safe.”

  “You don’t know the first thing about the machines. They’re the very finest that money could buy—I helped install some of them myself, and made a few modifications.”

  “Oh. Oh, does that mean you’re a loom tuner? I thought you just worked on the engine.”

  He glanced down at his oil-stained trousers and dirty shirt. His hands, though he had wiped them on the cloth, had black under the fingernails. He shook his shoulders, and the tension eased. “You must think me very accomplished.”

  “What does that mean?” She hoped he wasn’t trying to patronise her with long words.

  “Clever.”

  “Alright, yes—I think you’re accomplished.”

  “Oh, well, thank you. You’re very forthright, aren’t you, Bella?”

  She knew what that meant, and that he was using a politer term than she was used to. “I speak as I find.”

  “Evidently. So, are you planning a grand campaign to make the factories safer?”

  “No, not ‘till I’ve been here a bit longer and know what’s what.”

  “Well, I suppose I could show you the machines. And explain about the safety measures I’m thinking of installing. If you’re interested.”

  Her heart gave an unexpected flutter. “Yes, show me, Jack. I’d love to see. I want to learn all I can about this place. I’d feel better if I knew what the children mean when they talk about slubbings and rovings and… and mules. I didn’t know there was animals in the factory.”

  Jack hid his face in his handkerchief. His eyes were watering.

  She loved learning about new things. “Can we go now?”

  “No, I’ve got to finish this.” His voice sounded thick. “Then I need to go home and clean up for dinner. After, perhaps… Tell you what, I’ll meet you at the gates somewhen after nine. We’ll see if we can sneak past the watchman.”

  “Oh no, Jack—you’d be punished. You’d lose your job, or be beaten or something. Hadn’t I better come during the day?”

  “I’m always too busy during the day. And don’t worry about me… um… losing my job. I don’t really have a proper one anyway. Duties, rather. I’ll be fine. We’ll meet later, yes?”

  “Yes, yes. I’ll meet you later.”

  He turned away then, and she knew she’d been dismissed. As she meandered back across the road to Mrs Day’s, she found herself wondering who would be cooking Jack’s dinner for him. Then she wondered why she should have the slightest interest.

  Chapter 23

  “You’ll never guess who came calling on us this afternoon.” Harriet Henstridge gazed at her brother with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Ah, let me see.” Jack pretended to ponder. “The King of Siam? No, it has to be someone very unlikely—you took tea with the chimney sweep’s boy?”

  “Oh, you are infuriating!” She pouted and flounced off to sit at the piano. “Mother, tell him he’s a tease.”

  “I wouldn’t want to say anything to drive him away, Harriet dear.” Their mama’s voice was a mere whisper from the sofa over which she had draped herself, stroking a fat white cat. “We are so seldom privileged with his company in the evenings.”

  “Enjoy it while you can, Mama, as I shall shortly be retiring. I have some papers to look through before I go to bed.”

  Harriet threw back the piano’s top with a bang that awakened her dozing father. “There you go again—you’ve diverted attention from me and onto Jack. Doesn’t anyone want to hear what I have to say?”

  “I want to hear.” George Merriwether gallantly came to stand over her and leafed through the sheet music in the rack.

  “You know already,” she protested, running her fingers over the keys with mock petulance. “The new school teacher, Miss Hart, called on us to speak to father.”

  “Harriet, are you going to play that thing?” asked her disgruntled parent. “Or are you just going to make loud bangs and wake the innocent from their naps?”

  “I was talking about Miss Hart, Papa. I was telling Jack about her visit.”

  “Ah, yes. God knows why she thought I’d sent her a bolt of cloth—must’ve been Hickett. I shall check in the morning to make sure it’s paid for. Have you met the new teacher yet, Jack?”

  After just a second’s hesitation, he answered, “No, how should I?”

  “Oh, we were quite amused by her, weren’t we Hattie?” said Georgie. “She’ll be quite the handsome little thing when she’s got better clothes, and a bit of hair to pile up under her bonnet. She kept it on the whole time, didn’t she, Harriet? Yes, she’ll be a catch for one of the hands,
with her charming green eyes.”

  Harriet struck out a chord with some vehemence. “Don’t try making me jealous, Georgie—it simply won’t work.”

  Jack smoothed his hands over his smoking jacket. “As to her looks, I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  “Oh, do take an interest, won’t you, brother? It’s not every day we get a new addition of such mystery to our town. Don’t you want to know what she told us?”

  “I daresay you want to tell me.” He gave a wry smile. “So, I’d better at least try and feign an interest. What do you mean by mysterious?”

  “Why, nobody knows where she’s from. She was brought into a poor house when she was just a baby, by some person who left a piece of paper with her name on and went away.”

  “Well, from that you can surmise, at least, that one of her parents could write. But I don’t see what’s so special about it. It’s just another one of life’s tragedies, the sort of thing that happens all too often. There are plenty of orphans who have no knowledge of their parents. Why do you think this one should be any different?”

  Harriet let out a huff of impatience. “Because she is too pretty, too delicate to be just a nobody. Although she’s had as rough an upbringing as any of the townspeople, there’s something about her that suggests good blood. You sensed it, didn’t you, Georgie?”

  Georgie’s reply was forestalled by a loud snort from John Henstridge Senior. “I sincerely hope she isn’t one of the Quality, or we’ll have to give her a pay rise. Stop romanticising, Hattie, and let the poor girl be. And stop teasing Jack—he’s been working very hard for me of late. Why not spend your time provoking Merriwether here—he deserves to a suffer a little in his pursuit of you.”

  While Harriet blushed and became suddenly very absorbed in her books of music, Georgie queried, “I wonder if she’ll come to the harvest dance?”

  “Has she anyone to go with? She’s barely been here long enough to have made any gentleman friends.”