Workhouse Waif

by Elizabeth Keysian

  He looked down and saw the starched white of his shirtfront was smeared and dirty. “I’ve another.” He reached for her hand.

  “I don’t want your pity.”

  “Then you shan’t have it.” He smiled lightly. “I suppose there’ll be talk if I stay here any longer.”

  “We wouldn’t want that, now, would we? Go away, Jack. The doctor’s given me a sleeping draught—there’s no more you can do. Thank you.”

  He squeezed her hand, hating to leave her. She was a real fighter, was Miss Bella Hart. But he had to go—Mrs Day couldn’t be trusted to keep her tongue in her head. He cantered down the narrow stairs, pushing his arms back into his jacket and buttoning it up as high as it would go to hide the bloodstains. He thanked Mrs Day as politely as he could manage and promised to visit again in the morning.

  She said, “Yes sir, very kind,” and nodded, but didn’t smile as he let himself out.

  On the pavement outside, Ben Harris was waiting, jiggling from one foot to the other. Jack gave him a shilling, then asked if he had a sister or a mother who might sit up with Bella as Mrs Day couldn’t manage the stairs. Ben said they were all out, but he’d do it himself until they got back. He received a pat on the head and another shilling. Jack glanced up at Bella’s lighted window and shook his head.

  He'd had such a fright, his heart refused to calm down. He’d become far too interested in Miss Bella Hart—his father would have him whipped if he knew.

  Chapter 34

  Annie Tullard returned to the dance, her hair tucked untidily into a white cap and her dress dusty and wrinkled. There was a very grand carriage standing outside, and as she went in, she saw the back of a well-dressed lady and a shortish gentleman who had just removed his hat from a mop of blond curls. They had a liveried servant with them. She didn’t think she’d seen either of them before, but it was hard to tell from behind. She was more interested in finding out where the Froggatts had got to.

  She didn’t get very far. At a nod from the blond gentleman, the footman caught her by the shoulder and drew her around to face his master. Annie was confronted by a pair of glittering blue eyes and a very superior expression.

  “Are you a local woman?” The man had a clipped voice.

  Recognising quality, she dipped slightly and nodded. Maybe there was a penny or two coming her way.

  “Then can you tell me if you know a Miss Isabella Hart? She may be known as Bella, and there is a possibility she may have come here looking for work.”

  Annie swallowed twice, her mind whirring. Which answer would earn her a shilling? Or a florin, even? “There’s a lot of mills in Warbury. I don’t know every single one.”

  “So, you don’t know her. I’ll ask someone else then.”

  Her eyes roved over the man’s silk-embroidered waistcoat, then moved onto the anxious face of the woman by his side. Her eyes narrowed. “If I knew why you wanted her, I might be better able to direct you.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” The man had already lost interest in her and was staring beyond her shoulder at the other occupants of the room. Annie looked at him again, and then at the woman, and she saw it, and she knew exactly why they wanted that hoity-toity miss. Her hand went up to her head, where her scalp now ached from the damage Bella had inflicted on it. Ha! What a revenge this would be, if only she played her cards right.

  “I can fetch someone else sir—someone who do know all the folks hereabouts. They could maybe tell you.”

  The man’s eyes swung back to her again. He nodded, and Annie hurried off, hunting for someone who would be on her side, or who she could bully into lying for her. The only Froggatt around was Phoebe. There was Mrs Creegan as well, but she was so drunk the fine gentleman would never understand a word she said.

  “Phoebe. You’ve got to do something for me.”

  “What is it, Annie?”

  “Come and tell that man over there—at the back—you don’t know Miss Hart.”

  “But I do know Miss Hart… ow! Don’t pinch me.”

  “Now listen—your ma and your auntie have just lost their jobs through that woman. She led ‘em into a fight, and a gentleman came in on her side and said they’d be out of work in the morning.”

  “What gentleman? Is he here?” Phoebe scanned the crowd.

  Annie looked, spotted the man who’d rescued Bella, and turned her face quickly away. “Yes, he’s over there. The tall man, with his jacket all buttoned up. Look, something happened just now, and I was nearby, and I heard him say what I just told you, God’s own truth. He mustn’t see me—come back to the door now.”

  Phoebe’s eyes were wide. “That’s Mr Henstridge’s son, that is.”

  “Never mind that. You’ve got to tell some fancy folk there’s no Bella Hart in this part of town. She’s just become your enemy, in league with the Henstridges. Do you understand?”

  Phoebe understood and played her part well. To Annie’s satisfaction, the man and the woman accepted her word, then turned around and made their way back to their carriage.

  As the vehicle pulled off, Annie said, “Bloody skinflints! They could of at least give us a penny for our help, if not more. I don’t feel bad about lying to their sort of people, and nor should you. Now, don’t say a word to anyone else, will you?”

  Phoebe promised immediately, then headed back to the dance.

  Annie watched the carriage until it was out of sight, grinning all over her face.

  Chapter 35

  Bella had an early visitor the next day. Jack brought fresh raspberries in a bowl, which he put by Bella’s bed. There were books as well because, he told her, the doctor had said she must rest, and he, Jack, didn’t want her getting bored. She looked through them and found one on the basics of engineering. He laughed about it, saying she should only read it when she needed to get to sleep. Without smiling, because it hurt, she thanked him in as few words as possible and tried not to let him see the pain she was in.

  She’d been lying awake half the night, fuming and fretting about the injustice done to her, angry because she hadn’t been able to inflict more damage on her attackers, and wondering how she was going to be able to get even this time. It was good that Jack came to distract her from these dark thoughts because they seemed to be eating her alive.

  He didn’t quite look her full in the face when he talked to her. She wondered how much of a monster she looked.

  “Why did those women attack you, Bella?”

  “I hope you don’t think it was my fault.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it right now, to him of all people. When she knew she couldn’t trust him anymore.

  “Of course not. I never thought that for a moment. I was curious and wanted to make sure you were in no further danger.”

  “I can manage me own life, thank you very much.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m glad to hear it. You think I’m interfering, don’t you? Well, it was kindly meant. But I’d still like to know.”

  She rolled her head on the pillow until she was looking at the wall. “It’s nice of you to come, Mr Henstridge. But you shouldn’t really be here. Remember what you said, that there’d be talk? And what you almost said, that someone like me could never be linked in a nice way with someone like you. So, what are you doing here at all?”

  She heard his breathing, a sigh withheld. Then his hand found hers where it lay above the light blanket that covered her. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t turn and face him either.

  “Don’t push me away.” His voice was soft. “I know what I said, and I want you to forget it. You’re wounded, and you’re tired and angry, so we shouldn’t talk about this now. Let’s just say I’m here because I want to be. Please turn around, Bella.”

  Eventually, she rolled back to face him, and he wore an expression of pity as he looked at her.

  “I’ll tell you why they set on me if you want, but I might not say it all because these teeth—” She tapped at her mouth. “These teeth are really sore, an
d I think I may of bitten my tongue last night.”

  Then she gave him the history of her life, what she knew of it, and her constant quarrels with the other girls, the bullying, cheating and lying. But she made sure to tell him how she’d stood up for herself. He wasn’t as impressed as she’d have liked—in fact, his grey eyes were a mask of his feelings as he listened in silence, still holding her hand and stroking the fingers absent-mindedly.

  He seemed interested when she got to the part about Mr Finchdean, and nodded his approval at Miss Ainsty’s championship of her star pupil. Bella didn’t say a word about Georgie’s disgrace, and how he might have been part of the reason the women hated her—because she’d turned up with him. Georgie had been honest with her, which was more than Jack had. She still hadn’t forgiven him for that. It had all been so horrible, that afternoon in the classroom when she’d found out about his deception—she’d hated him then, she really had. But he was being nice to her now, very kind and caring, almost like Miss Ainsty. How could anyone be so changeable?

  Jack was getting up to go. “Whatever happens Bella, and whatever you may think of me, I want you to know I’ll be your friend—I’ll always be on your side if you need me. Not that you will, of course, as you’re so good at standing up for yourself.”

  “You’re teasing me. Stop it.” She waved a fist at him, and he put his face up so close to hers, she could feel his breath.

  “Go on then—hit me. See if it makes you feel any better.”

  She stared and stared into his eyes, trying to see if he was joining in the joke, or in some queer kind of way, trying to tell her off. She dropped her fist. “I didn’t mean it. It was just a joke—I wouldn’t hit you ever again. Honest, I wouldn’t.”

  “Good. Now, before I go, promise me you won’t hit anyone else either.”

  “I can’t promise that. I may need to.”

  “Think about what you’ve just told me—that endless cycle of hate and revenge, tit for tat, an eye for an eye. Where did it get any of you? Someone would offend, you’d punish them. But because they couldn’t take their punishment, they offended again, and then you had to even the score. What did any of that achieve? Didn’t you, at any time, just wish it would stop?”

  “Of course, I did, but I couldn’t make it stop.”

  “Yes, you could.”

  “You weren’t there—you don’t understand.” She sniffed.

  “Alright, so I’ve had a privileged upbringing, and it would be presumptuous of me to think I could know what you felt like. But I do know that two wrongs don’t make a right. You need to learn to forgive, Bella, to forgive and forget. That’s the only way to ever mend a quarrel. Otherwise, it ends up like this one has, and pursues you wherever you go, and you in your turn become bitter and twisted and end up no better than the very people you despise. You should let it go.”

  She sat more upright and pointed at her face. “Let this go? Forgive this? You must be mad.”

  “I’m not mad, and I’m still angry about what happened to you. But why can’t the cycle end here? Your attackers have been punished, by losing their jobs. You should pity them now.”

  “Do you think they’ll let it rest now? They’ll blame me for getting them sacked, and they’ll come after me again. I know what they’re like.” Jack had no idea.

  “So, do you want me to reinstate them, so they don’t blame you?”

  “No! Yes! Oh lord, I don’t know!” There were tears in her eyes now, and she was furious with herself because it was a sign of weakness, and she hated that. She flapped her hand in Jack’s direction. “You’ve done enough, said enough. Leave me now—I don’t want you here.”

  He got to his feet and stood over her for a moment. His face looked sorrowful, and she thought he was going to apologise. Instead, he said, “Just think over what I’ve said, Bella. You’re better than them. You can rise above them. Just think about it.”

  Then he left her.

  Chapter 36

  In her tiny, smut-darkened house, Marie Froggatt’s mother was sitting with her elbows propped up on the table, her hands over her face. Only a smudge of the bright daylight outside penetrated the filthy windows with their paper blinds—which were all the occupants could afford.

  Little Jane Froggatt, the youngest of the brood, sat in a corner of the noisome kitchen amongst a heap of dirty laundry, picking at her head. Her older brother, Johnny, still dressed his nightshirt, was prodding with a bent spoon at the cracks between the floor-tiles, creating little piles of black dirt and then pushing them back in again. Another child sat whining by her mother’s feet—she was hungry, and their mother hadn’t fed any of them yet. Ma’s attention was totally taken up with her sister-in-law, Beatrice, who occupied the only other chair.

  “We didn’t ought to of done it, Betty,” Bea was saying, shaking her head.

  Betty lifted her eyes, which felt awful sore around the edges. “I blame that Annie Tullard. I know she were a friend to Marie, but if she hadn’t of egged us on, I reckon we’d of let live. That Miss Hart’s done us no harm direct, Bea, now has she? She’s treated your Phoebe well enough. If I hadn’t bin in drink and if it hadn’t bin for Annie, I’d never of laid a finger on her.”

  Bea nodded. “Well, what’s done is done. We can’t very well go and say we’re sorry and ask for our jobs back. We’d get short shrift, sure enough.”

  “Aye. There’s plenty more to take our places. At least your Phoebe’s still alright for work—I’ve no one but my Marie, and she’s no good to anyone in her current state.”

  “I think that Mr Merriwether has a lot to answer for, I do. He should come right and at least pay Marie off, even if he don’t admit to being the father.”

  There was a sudden wail from the corner. Betty’s hand shot out automatically and collided with the head of her son, bringing startled tears to his eyes. Without even bothering to look at him, she snapped, “Stop prodding your sister with that Goddamned spoon! Why don’t you do something useful, like empty the slops, you lazy good-for-nothing?”

  Bea shook her head in sympathy. “You’ve got your hands full here, and no mistake. I’m sorry I can’t do more to help. Could the younger ones maybe go and help with the harvest, or do a bit of gleaning or something?”

  “Maybe we all could. But the money’d only keep us going through the summer. Winter’s a hard time—what would we do for coal?”

  “Do you think… do you reckon it might have to be—”

  “Don’t say it. I’ve not yet got over the shame of having to go in the Poor House once in me life. God forbid we should ever have to go there again. I think I’d rather go to prison.”

  “Well.” Bea’s head sank low, her shoulders hunching as if under a weight. “Is it time to move away?”

  After a moment’s silence, broken only by the banging of the door as Johnny stomped out with a chamber pot, Bea raised her head again. “It’s not fair being made widow-women so young. What did we ever do wrong that that had to happen? It’s enough to make you believe there’s no God at all—indeed it is.”

  There was another silence. Then Betty cocked her head on one side and swallowed a couple of times. “We could go and see Miss Hart, tell her we’re awful sorry-like, explain the situation, put the blame fair and square on Annie Tullard, who ran right away, you’ll remember—who ran right away! If Miss Hart could forgive us—if she’s got any heart at all—she might speak to those toffs she’s friends with, and get us our jobs back.”

  “Not to George Merriwether, surely? We wouldn’t want to crawl to him.”

  “He owes me something, and that poor retching girl upstairs there. But Mr Jack is a more likely bet. I’m sure Miss Hart can get around him. We can lay it on real thick.” Betty blinked her crusty eyes. She was definitely going to leave liquor alone for a little while. It made her feel worse than she usually did.

  Bea took a breath and stood to go. “You could be right, Betty. As it wasn’t our fault, as we were dragged into that quarrel by that
scheming Annie, it wouldn’t be any skin off our noses to say we’re sorry, now would it?”

  Chapter 37

  By the time Georgie came to call, Bella had recovered from Jack’s visit. Mrs Day had made it grudgingly up the stairs with a cup of tea and some bread and milk—which helped fill the void inside her. The rest of that void was soon occupied by her customary courage and determination—she would not bow down to the bullying of people like Annie Tullard. And she would not bow down to bullying of the other sort, the sort that Jack had employed. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

  She was sitting up, grim-faced, but more herself as Georgie crept into the room bearing a vase of flowers. He had thought to bring a vase, he said, in case she hadn’t one of her own. She was welcome to keep it. The flowers were from his own orangery—if it were later in the season, he’d have brought her grapes, but he hoped the flowers would do for now. They were a peace offering, he told her, because he was consumed with guilt at the thought that she might have been attacked because she had the effrontery to arrive at the summer dance with him. He was a thoughtless, hopeless fool who only ever meant well, but things just had this way of always ending up more complicated than they ought to be.

  She forgave him immediately. Unlike Jack, he wasn’t trying to prove a point, teach her a lesson. Instead, he was full of sympathy and understanding and didn’t blame her for anything that had happened. He was interested to discover that Jack had been there before him.

  With some relish, Bella explained how she had first met the younger Mr Henstridge, and how they’d gone into the factory after hours together, and how they’d danced in front of the schoolchildren.

  Georgie was suitably appalled at Jack’s deceitfulness. “It’s not at all like him to pull a trick like that, and certainly not on a sweet young lady like yourself. He’s usually as honest as the day. Too honest, if you take my meaning. I suppose he just wasn’t thinking, didn’t realise you’d no idea who he was.”