A Daughter's Price

by Emma Hornby

Spinners, or ‘minders’, as they were known, were paid according to the amount of thread they produced. Each worked a pair of mules facing each other, which at six o’clock sharp were brought roaring to life. The crash of the carriages, which carried over a thousand whirring spindles, and shunted backwards and forwards as they spun and wound the thread, was relentless; the overwhelming racket was enough to make your skull rattle.

  Soaked with oil from the machines, the boards were treacherous underfoot – following Lizzie’s lead, Laura removed her clogs. In no time, her naked feet and ankles were stained dark brown. Rather that and the stab of the odd splinter, however, than an accident. Slips could easily result in crushed bones and mutilation, even death. Catching a hand or arm in the gears was not uncommon. If lucky, you’d escape minus a finger or two but at least with your life.

  Lizzie’s own mules standing idle, which Laura had expressed worry about, for less productivity meant less wages – though Lizzie had assured her she was a fast spinner and would catch up – she patiently taught Laura what was required.

  For the next hour, she slowly began to get the hang of it. Though there was one aspect of the job she doubted she’d ever grow accustomed to: the children. Stunted boys and girls of all ages, their pointed little faces locked in expressions of dull stupor, dashed hither and thither through the gaslit gloom.

  Watching the smallest, employed as scavengers for their nimbleness, crawl beneath the machinery to clear away accumulated cotton fluff, had Laura wincing in dread. Then there were the piecers, whose responsibility it was to mend broken threads, darting heart-stoppingly close to the mules to join swiftly with deft fingers the snapped ends. Though horrified at the dangers, Laura had to admit their speed and skill were impressive.

  Her own piecer was a girl of around sixteen – and surly-faced, to boot. She’d been shooting Laura regular dark looks, for no apparent reason, since she arrived, and Laura was nearing the end of her tether. When another was thrown her way, she’d had enough. Turning towards her with a frown, Laura mouthed to enquire what her problem was – operatives had to learn the art of lip reading quickly to be able to converse above the incredible noise – but received a stony rebuff for her trouble. Shrugging, Laura turned her attention back to her work.

  At eight o’clock, every machine shuddered to a standstill. Ears ringing, the workers trooped off gratefully for their first break of the day – a half-an-hour stop for breakfast. Laura fell into step with Lizzie and they made their way to the mill yard with others to have their food in the fresh air – her piecer had remained behind to eat at her machine.

  Preoccupied with savouring the peace and the delicious breeze on her clammy skin, they were midway through their meal before Laura brought up the matter of the girl’s attitude.

  ‘Ah.’ Lizzie smiled knowingly. ‘I think I can guess what’s up with her. Mind, I can’t blame her, if I’m honest.’

  ‘What is it, lass? Is it summat I’ve done?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking, aye.’ Seeing Laura’s face fall, she patted her hand. ‘Don’t fret, love. It’s nowt to do with your performance – you’ve done gradely picking up the work as fast as you have. Nay, nay. It’s more the position itself that’s the issue.’ Lizzie went on to explain that mule spinners were usually men, but she herself had shown such aptitude for the work that she’d managed to climb from big piecer to spinner a few years ago. ‘I reckon that girl of yourn were hoping to do the same.’

  Laura nodded understanding. ‘Only I came along out of nowhere and snatched her promotion from under her nose and she resents it.’

  ‘It’s to be expected; she’s toiled as a piecer for years. She came here from another mill only last month in t’ hope of snaring a minder’s role, weren’t getting nowhere at the other place. It’s a good position and better paid, after all.’

  Laura felt bad, to say the least. Thanks to Daniel, she’d got an unfair shove up the ladder without doing a thing. Something else plagued her, now, too: was he expecting she’d take to it as well as Lizzie had? The pressure not to let him down bore heavily on her shoulders. Problem was, she hadn’t the desire for it, like the other woman appeared to. She’d hated every minute of it so far, if truth be told.

  When they returned to their work, she made a special effort to be extra nice to her piecer, but the girl was having none of it.

  So intent was Laura in wracking her brains for a way to make it up to her and quell her own building guilt, she failed to realise her lapse in concentration. Suddenly, she felt her hair grabbed from behind; she hadn’t noticed it had escaped its knot.

  It took a moment for her to understand that the thundering mule had seized her and was dragging her into its hungry jaws – she screamed in absolute terror.

  A cry went up. Productivity ceased abruptly. Then Lizzie, white with horror, was at her side. Mercifully, owing to her knowledge of the mechanisms and her calm competence, she soon had her freed, and Laura collapsed, sobbing, into her arms.

  ‘Sshhh,’ she soothed, stroking her back. ‘Come on, let’s get thee out of here.’ Over her shoulder, she added to the triumphant piecer, ‘You, Millicent Figg, see to them mules.’

  Though her tears had subsided, Laura was still trembling when Daniel came running outside. He rushed over to where they were sat and dropped to his knees in front of them. His face was grey with concern. He reached for her hand.

  ‘I’ve just been informed. You’re all right, Laura?’

  ‘I think so. And it’s all thanks to Lizzie, here. If not for her quick actions …’ She broke off with a shudder. ‘I could have been scalped.’

  ‘But you weren’t. That’s the main thing. Next time—’

  ‘Nay. Nay, lad, I can’t go back in there. I can’t do it!’

  He nodded. ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘I am. I’m sorry.’ Her piecer would welcome this news, at any rate, she thought fleetingly. ‘I’ll have to look for summat else. I’m just not cut out for t’ mill.’

  ‘Come on, I’ll see thee home.’

  ‘I can’t drag thee from your work. I’ll manage—’

  ‘I insist,’ he cut in, taking her arm. He nodded to Lizzie, who returned it and flashed Laura a sympathetic smile. Then he guided Laura across the cobbled yard and through the mill gates into the street.

  Arriving at Ebenezer Court, he ushered her into her house and straight to bed. ‘Stay put, and that’s an order,’ he told her when she protested she’d be well enough in a chair in the kitchen instead. ‘You’ve had a nasty shock and need rest. Now make yourself comfortable. I’ll fetch thee some tea.’

  She undressed, realising she was still shaken as her hands struggled somewhat with the fastenings, and climbed beneath the covers. Then Daniel was back; smiling, she took the cup he held out to her and he went to sit on the end of the bed.

  ‘You gave me quite the fright back there,’ he said after some moments, watching her sipping at the hot drink.

  ‘Aye, and me!’

  ‘When I heard what had occurred, then that it were thee …’ He lowered his eyes to his clasped hands in his lap. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if owt were to … to happen to you, Laura. I—’

  ‘Lad. Please.’ She looked away, her colour rising.

  ‘I care for thee. I care for thee a lot.’

  ‘And I thee,’ she responded cordially, desperate to lighten the now-charged atmosphere. Yet there was no dismissing the intensity of his stare. Blushing harder, she scrambled around inside her head for something – anything – to say: ‘You’re … Well. You’re like the brother I’ve never had.’

  ‘That’s really how you see me, is it?’

  She was taken aback by the bitter edge to his tone. She nodded, squirming beneath his gaze. ‘How else would I see thee?’

  ‘You once told me that you loved me.’

  The blood drained from her face at a dizzying speed. It wasn’t true. ‘What? When?’ she rasped.

  He made to shoot back an answer then seemed to thi
nk the better of it. He shrugged. ‘Forget I said owt. I’m likely mistaken.’

  ‘I want to know, Daniel. When did I say that?’

  ‘The day Nathan was … the day he died. You were confused in your mind, were saying all sorts, I … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘He’s jealous, you know. He suspects I have feelings for thee. I do. I love youse both …’

  Her words came back to her with breath-stealing truth. She closed her eyes. ‘Nay. You’re not mistaken.’

  ‘You remember?’

  She nodded.

  Excruciating silence throttled the air between them.

  ‘I’m your brother’s widow,’ she said finally.

  ‘Aye.’

  Even if, by some miracle … It was impossible, forbidden.

  Marriage not only bound a husband and wife but their families, too. In the eyes of the law, her union with Nathan had connected her and Daniel as though they were of the same blood – brother and sister, for life. A relationship between them, therefore, would be deemed as incestuous.

  Nothing could change it, not even widowhood: despite Nathan’s death, she and Daniel could never wed. No church in the United Kingdom or her colonies would permit it. Of course, there was always the answer of marrying in another country – though obviously not for people of their class, who hadn’t the money for such a venture. And living in sin was certainly not an option; they just couldn’t. Hopeless, hopeless …

  But why was she even wasting her time thinking all this? It couldn’t be in any case, no matter what: ‘You’re betrothed to Lizzie. You’re going to marry Lizzie.’

  ‘Aye,’ he whispered again.

  ‘This ain’t right. We shouldn’t be talking like this.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I loved Nathan. I did, aye. And Lizzie’s a good woman, don’t deserve this—’

  ‘D’you not think I know that?’

  ‘Well, then.’ She spread her arms wide.

  ‘Nay, Laura. It’s not that simple. For I can’t stop thinking about thee, wanting thee … It’s like a disease and you’re the cure. I need thee. I can’t exist, else.’

  Panic was setting in, but she quashed it resolutely, steadfastly refusing to entertain this. His declaration meant nothing, would blow over. He was simply caught in the heat of the moment. The accident, that’s what it was. Worry had temporarily turned his thinking, aye.

  ‘Laura—’

  ‘Enough of this. I’d like you to leave, now.’

  ‘Lass, we must—’

  ‘Please, Daniel. Please go.’

  The door clicked shut behind him and she released a long, shuddering breath. Then she put her face in her hands and gave the pent-up tears free reign.

  When a knock came later that evening and it was him once more Laura could have cried all over again. But he seemed different, easy of mood, and he was smiling. Nothing was said of their earlier discussion – it was like it had never taken place – and she was thankful of it. She invited him inside and went to brew fresh tea.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he announced as she scalded the leaves in the pot.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘About your future.’

  She paused in her task to look at him. ‘What about it?’

  ‘Come and sit down. Hear me out.’

  She did as he asked and he explained his idea in detail. When he’d finished, she simply stared at him, speechless.

  ‘Well, say summat,’ he said eventually.

  ‘I don’t …’ She was numb with shock. ‘You’d really do that for me?’

  ‘Aye. Well, you and Lizzie.’

  ‘Oh. Aye, of course,’ she agreed quickly, cursing her slip of the tongue and that her cheeks had grown hot. ‘But lad … the cost … and Lizzie’s job – won’t she miss it?’

  ‘We’ve talked through all that. The bit I’ve got put by should cover most of the expenses to get youse up and running. And Lizzie’s all for it. Giddy, in fact. She just lacked confidence to believe she could be a success.’ He smiled. ‘I think I’ve succeeded in making her see sense.’

  Their own cake stall.

  It was really happening, finally.

  ‘The incident this morning at the mill: you were right. It’s not for thee, is it?’ he continued. ‘Yet still, you gave it a try, and I admire you for it. But you’re better than that. Lizzie, an’ all. You’re hard-working, the pair of you, and you’ve skills that are going to waste. You just need to catch a break, aye. And I’d be honoured if you’d let me help give youse the step up you need, so to speak.’

  Laura clapped her hands like an enraptured child, making him chuckle. ‘I’ll pay back every farthing once the profits start coming in, I promise thee.’

  ‘So it’s a yes, then?’

  ‘Aye. Aye! Thanks ever so much, lad.’

  ‘Carpe diem,’ he murmured, smiling.

  Oh, indeed. She intended to seize the day by the scruff of its bloomin’ neck!

  CHAPTER 22

  ‘AYE. YOU’VE A sound spot, here, lasses.’ Widow Jessop nodded appreciatively. ‘Daniel did well.’

  Laura and Lizzie exchanged an excited smile. They had risen early and walked with the old woman to work to see what was soon to be their new stall at Smithfield Market.

  ‘Eeh, I can’t wait!’ Lizzie trilled, and a grinning Laura clasped her arm in agreement.

  Widow Jessop was right: it was in a prime location and decent-sized into the bargain. How Daniel had managed to arrange this, they didn’t know; though he had hinted about a friend owing him a favour. To be honest, Laura didn’t care, was just grateful beyond anything she could put into words for all he was doing for them. Their own business!

  She and Lizzie had spent the previous day hunting for new but cheap baking utensils, cake boxes and boards. Standing outside one high-end shop, they had gazed in wonderment at the new-fangled devices in the window, the sign proclaiming that such labour-saving inventions were a boon that ‘kitchen staff in the best establishments’ couldn’t do without. But of course, they must – the eye-popping prices were way off their budget.

  ‘Maybe one day,’ Lizzie had breathed dreamily, pressing her nose to the sparkling panes. And Laura had wholeheartedly concurred. Who could say where this venture would take them and what the future held?

  For the briefest moment as they walked away she’d found herself wondering about the stolen money the Cannock brothers had been hunting for, where Adam might have hidden it and what she and Lizzie could do with such a sum. But the musings were quickly scattered from her mind, along with the terrible memories associated with it, and she endeavoured not to dwell on such things again.

  One thing Lizzie refused to scrimp on was ingredients. Only the highest class of butter, the freshest eggs and the best grade of flour would do, she insisted, as it made all the difference to the finish and taste. Now, after bidding Widow Jessop goodbye, they headed off to purchase what was required.

  ‘Refined white sugar for the frosting we need, as well,’ Lizzie puffed some time later, moving her laden basket to her other arm to give the aching one a rest. ‘And fruit – good quality, mind. None of the bruised or, God forbid, worm-riddled rubbish some like to try and palm off on to folk.’

  Next, they bought colourings and flavourings to add to the mixes, as well as candied peel and nuts for decoration to tempt the customers’ fancy. They also selected an assortment of knives and skewers with differing widths and tips for Laura to use in creating her designs. Finally, tired but happy, they headed back to the court for a well-earned slice of bread and dripping and a cup of tea.

  The following day was taken up with sifting and beating and whisking, trying out different recipes and practising unique patterns in Laura’s kitchen. And two days later they were once again up with the larks for the start of their brand-new job.

  Almond and English plum cakes, meringues, sponge and pound cakes, and thick gingerbread, amongst others, were packed carefully into wooden crates an
d piled on to the back of the cart. Mr Howarth had agreed to them using Kenneth to transport their stock each morning, so long as they had him back in time for his first coal round, which Laura had promised to do. Hearts hammering in nervous anticipation but with faces stretched in eager grins, they set off at a steady pace for the market.

  Recalling the cake seller Laura had encountered here before – and using her failings as a guide of what not to do themselves – they took their time in arranging their wares.

  Their conscientiousness made all the difference: the stall looked magnificent. The delicious smells and eye-catching designs immediately caught people’s attention. Within seconds, half a dozen women had flocked across. Then came the moment she and Lizzie had been waiting for: they made their first sale. Laura had tears in her eyes as she watched the happy customer walk away.

  ‘We did it, lass,’ she whispered to an equally emotional-looking Lizzie.

  By late morning, they had completely sold out. The jangle of coins in their pockets was a wonderful sound.

  Frank Higson, a man in his late twenties who ran the next stall, was suitably impressed. ‘You’ve done gradely, girls, just gradely,’ he told them, his gaze lingering on Lizzie, as it had all day.

  They really had done good, Laura thought with warm accomplishment on the journey home. Nathan’s handsome face came to her mind and she smiled softly. What would he have made of all this? He hadn’t exactly been accepting of the idea, had he? Yet, somehow, she imagined, if he could see her now, he’d have been proud.

  After hearing how their day had gone and congratulating them on their success, Daniel drew Laura to one side. He seemed agitated and she felt her stomach flip in dread. Surely nothing could go wrong again, not now, when things were at last looking up?

  ‘I need to speak to thee.’

  ‘What about?’ she had to force herself to ask.

  He glanced across to Lizzie, resting her aching feet by Laura’s hearth, and shook his head. ‘Not now. I’ll slip across later tonight.’

  For the rest of the evening, Laura was on pins. His knock finally came and she let him in him, bombarding him with questions the moment she shut the door: ‘Well? What is it, what’s afoot? Is it summat to do with the Cannock brothers? Have we been caught out? For you see, I’ve been fretting about the knife and laudanum bottle and my cap that we left behind. Have they somehow traced them back to us?’