Emily

by Valerie Wood

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Why not, if this was your first child?’

  ‘I was too afraid.’

  ‘Afraid or ashamed?’ He peered at her through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Both, sir.’ Emily kept her eyes to the floor.

  ‘Do you have any marriage prospects?’

  She agreed that she hadn’t.

  ‘So you took this newborn child to your employer’s bedroom, where you laid him on the bed. You took the poker from the fire and burnt the picture on the wall?’

  ‘Yes, I did, sir.’

  There was a murmuring throughout the court as this damning evidence was given.

  ‘Why did you damage the picture?’

  ‘I was angry, sir, and upset.’

  ‘Angry and upset? You were upset that you had given birth and had no marriage prospects! You had made no provision for the birth of a child, no clothing or lying-in sheets. If you were angry and upset enough to damage the picture, could it be that you were also angry enough not to try and resuscitate the child?’

  Emily stared at him. How could he say such a thing? ‘The baby was dead, sir,’ she whispered. ‘He never drew breath. I tried to make him live,’ a tear ran down her cheek, ‘but he wouldn’t.’

  Mr Hibbert stood up. ‘Were you a virgin when you went to work at the Purnells’ household, Miss Hawkins?’

  Emily’s cheeks burned and she hung her head. ‘I was, sir.’

  ‘And do you know the name of the child’s father?’

  There was another gasp from the court and the people in the balcony jostled and hung over each other in anticipation of a revelation.

  She was silent for a moment, then spoke so quietly that the magistrate leaned forward and said, ‘Speak up! I can’t hear you.’

  She looked at him and Mr Hibbert, and then looked around the courtroom and caught sight of Deborah Purnell’s white face. If she should tell that it was Hugo who had seduced her and made her pregnant, how would the Francises ever hold up their heads again? They had successfully kept from the world that they had insanity in their family and that Roger Francis had a mistress. Would they become a laughing stock if the world knew that their daughter had married a libertine, a seducer of innocence?

  ‘I do know, sir.’

  ‘And are you prepared to say who this man is?’

  ‘No, sir. I am not.’

  Mr Hibbert clasped his hands to his head; there was a great hubbub around the court and the justice banged with his gavel on the desk and ordered quiet or he would clear the court. Then he leaned forward and spoke to Emily. ‘Why not?’

  ‘There would be no point, sir. The baby is dead. If I name his father, it won’t bring ’poor baby back. I didn’t kill him, sir,’ she pleaded, ‘but I did damage ’painting and I’m sorry about that. I’d willingly pay for it if I had the money.’

  ‘But that isn’t good enough,’ the magistrate barked. ‘We can’t have people damaging other people’s property and then just saying they’re sorry for it! And it seems to me, young woman, that either the unfortunate child’s father wouldn’t marry you, or else you are seeking to protect him and endeavouring to place the blame elsewhere! You had made no provision for the child, no clothing for it was found when your room was searched. By your own admission you abandoned the child and damaged the property of Mr Purnell, who had shown much kindness in employing you.’

  He glanced around the court. ‘Who knows the working of a woman’s mind? I’m sure that I don’t, not without further questioning at any rate.’

  There was another loud burst of conversation and again the justice banged his gavel and ordered quiet. Emily stood perfectly still. She felt that she was frozen to the boards of the dock as she heard him utter the words that other evidence must be heard and that in his opinion the death of the child was caused by neglect; that the prisoner had caused wilful destruction of property and that she should be committed for further trial at York Assizes.

  There was a great shout from the courtroom, waking Emily from her trance. It was Meg, her face red and angry and contorted. ‘No,’ she screamed. ‘She’s innocent. You’ve onny to look at her to know that!’

  ‘Throw that woman out of court!’ The magistrate jumped to his feet and waved his arms. ‘This is a court of law!’

  ‘No it’s not!’ Meg shouted back. ‘This is men’s law! You know who’s to blame here. Everybody knows, onny she’s too scared to name him. How many dead bairns have you fathered?’ She pointed angrily at the magistrate and shook off the constable who came rushing to escort her out. ‘I’ve seen you down at Queenie’s, and I’ve seen him as well,’ she yelled, pointing at Hugo Purnell, and there was uproar in the courtroom as she was dragged, shouting and kicking out of the court.

  ‘Charge her!’ the justice called after them. He had a bright red flush on each cheek. ‘Charge her with disrupting court proceedings.’ He straightened his wig and adjusted the stock around his neck and sat down. ‘Emily Hawkins,’ he said, picking up his pen, ‘I hereby issue a warrant for your committal at the next York Assizes.’

  Mary Edwards went back to her shop; she dismissed her assistant for the afternoon, closed the door and put up a closed sign. She went into her living room at the back of the shop, threw some wood on the fire and sank despondently into an easy chair.

  She sat for perhaps half an hour, then was disturbed by a gentle tapping on the rear door. ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Who else?’ came the reply and she unbolted the door to let in Roger Francis, his face pale and his eyes heavy.

  ‘Oh, my dear,’ he said, holding her close, ‘what a dreadful business. I never thought it would come to this.’

  She started to weep softly, tears which she had held back all afternoon. ‘I feel as if I have lost a daughter,’ she cried.

  ‘Yes,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘She could almost have been yours. The same gentle manner, the same hair, the same lovely face.’

  She gave a sudden tearful laugh which was almost a sob. ‘As I once was, Roger!’

  ‘No.’ He kissed her tenderly. ‘As you are still.’

  He led her to the chair by the fire and sitting down drew her on to his knee. ‘We cannot let this pass.’

  ‘But what can be done? It seems so hopeless.’

  He passed a hand across his eyes and she exclaimed at how tired he looked. ‘I haven’t slept,’ he said. ‘I’ve been tossing and turning all night, worrying about the hearing and what it might mean. I left home at dawn and have been hanging around at one of the inns all day, waiting for the news. And now the news is bad. Very bad!’

  ‘There must be something –’, she said. ‘The doctor’s evidence!’

  ‘Yes, he wasn’t questioned enough from what I hear.’ He was silent for a while and they both just sat stroking hands.

  ‘Very well,’ he said finally. ‘I have dallied long enough. A decision has been made. There has been injustice perpetrated on a young, innocent girl.’

  She nodded, keeping her eyes on his face. ‘You must do what you think is right,’ she said softly, stroking his cheek. ‘Will you return home tonight, or will you stay?’

  He put his head against hers. ‘I would like to stay, if I may. You know that there is no comfort at home. My life is a sham, Mary. My wife doesn’t care a button for me and my daughter’s life is ruined.’ He put his lips to her cheek and kissed her. ‘And I am so lonely without you.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Philip Linton strode eagerly down Whitefriargate towards Parliament Street and the Purnells’ home. It doesn’t matter one jot that she is a servant girl, he argued with himself. My grandmother was even less than that. She said that she had lived in the meanest streets of Hull when she was a girl. He only half-believed the tales which his father’s mother had told him when he was young. She was an imaginative storyteller, weaving stories of river life and sailing ships and smuggling, and he never knew if what she said was true or not.

  But no matter, he deliberated. I
have thought of no-one else but Emily whilst I’ve been away and I must see her again. He remembered that she had said she might be looking for another position and leaving the Purnells’ employ. The other servants will know where she is. I will ask if I find she has gone, but I will make an excuse for calling on Mrs Purnell and of congratulating Hugo on his marriage.

  He was almost at Parliament Street when a young woman going in the opposite direction suddenly stopped and glanced his way. There was something familiar about her, yet he couldn’t quite put a finger on how he knew her. By her plain dress, she was a servant.

  ‘Sir.’ The voice was hesitant. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, Mr Linton.’

  He turned and looked at the young woman. Yes, he did know her from somewhere. ‘Good afternoon,’ he said pleasantly, ‘I regret I cannot remember where we have met before!’

  ‘I don’t expect you to remember, sir, but it was at Scarborough two summers ago. I was with Emily, Mrs Purnell’s maid.’

  His face broke into a grin. What luck! She would know where Emily was. ‘Of course! Ginny,’ he said, ‘at the Spa. They were playing The Magic Flute.’

  Ginny nodded. ‘Possibly, sir, I don’t know. Mr Linton,’ she hesitated, ‘this is most improper of me and I hope you won’t take offence, but I’m quite desperate.’

  His hand slid to his pocket. ‘No, sir,’ she refused. ‘Not for money! I work for Mrs Marshall still. Mr Linton, you do remember Emily, don’t you? You danced with her outside the Spa.’

  ‘I did and I do remember her, very well indeed.’ I haven’t been able to forget her, he mused. I don’t think I ever will.

  ‘Well, sir, she’s in terrible trouble and it’s her I’m desperate about.’

  ‘Trouble?’ His spirits dipped as he thought of the sort of trouble a young maid could get into. ‘What kind of trouble? Has she lost her position with the Purnells?’

  ‘Yes, sir. She has. But that’s not ’worst of it. She’s in York gaol waiting to come to trial.’

  He felt as if he had been dealt a hammer blow. His mouth became dry and he blurted out, ‘On what charge? What is she accused of?’

  ‘Murder of a newborn child and destruction of a painting, sir. But it’s not true. Emily wouldn’t do that! Can you help, Mr Linton? Do you have any influence?’ Ginny’s normally placid features started to crumple. ‘It wasn’t her fault! It was ’fault of another.’

  His voice came out in a croak. ‘I was just on my way to the Purnells. Do they know of this?’ Ginny suddenly backed away. ‘I beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t realize you were a friend of the Purnells. I’m sorry to have troubled you.’

  ‘No. Wait.’ He delayed her. ‘Are the Purnells involved in this? Have they accused her of something? I’ve been away on a voyage, I don’t know any of the news from Hull.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said reluctantly. ‘Mr Hugo Purnell is, at any rate.’

  His face tightened. He might have known that blackguard would be concerned. ‘Ginny! We can’t talk here in the middle of the street. Walk with me a little, there’s a coffee shop not far from here.’

  ‘I can’t, sir, not now. I’m on an errand. I could meet you tomorrow about the same time. Sampson’s coffee shop at two o’clock?’

  He agreed and then wandered around the town, deliberating whether or not to call at the Purnells after all. Finally he decided that he would and climbing the steps to their home he rang the bell.

  ‘I’ll ask, sir, if Mrs Purnell is receiving visitors. She hasn’t been well,’ the maid told him.

  ‘I’m not well!’ Mrs Purnell complained as he was taken through to her. ‘But I’m glad to see you, Philip. Hardly anyone calls these days. This dreadful business, you know.’

  He remarked that she didn’t look in good health and how sorry he was if she was having some difficulties.

  ‘Difficulties!’ she exclaimed. ‘A nightmare more like! And still not over. The case has gone to York.’ She leant forward earnestly. ‘It never should have, in my opinion, but no-one asked me!’

  ‘I’ve been away, Mrs Purnell. I know nothing of what has been happening in Hull.’

  She looked aghast. ‘Then I can’t tell you. I can’t bring myself to discuss it. Oh, I know my friends tittle-tattle about it, but after the Assizes it will not be worth a straw to them and my life will be a shambles.’ She pressed a handkerchief to her eyes.

  ‘And as for that poor girl – what will her life be worth? Who will have her after this?’

  He was beginning to feel agitated. Why didn’t the woman come out with it instead of babbling on? ‘The girl?’ he pressed. ‘Which girl would that be?’

  ‘Why Emily, of course! And you know, don’t you, that Hugo has bought a house in Hessle? Well, I didn’t want the police here bothering me with their questions, so I told him he must go; and besides I couldn’t abide his wife here any longer. Oh, I know it’s not her fault that she’s simple minded, poor thing, but Hugo knew, and he should never have married her. I told him so at the very beginning, but would he listen to me? Oh dear, no. I’m just his mother!’

  He came out of the house, his head in a whirl. Was the woman in her right senses? Had she really confirmed what Ginny had told him, that Emily had had a child and had destroyed a painting belonging to Hugo and had been put in prison, pending a trial?

  He staggered into the nearest hostelry and ordered a brandy, drank it down and then ordered another, which he held in his hands and gazed at, before gulping that down too.

  An elderly man sat down at his table and nodded at him. ‘Been far?’ he asked.

  ‘Portugal,’ he answered vaguely.

  ‘I was a seaman,’ the man said, ‘till I lost these.’ He held up his right hand. Three fingers were missing. ‘Got ’frost,’ he said. ‘Trapped in Arctic we was. Finished me off for good. I lost two toes as well.’ He stared gloomily down at his feet. ‘All I’m good for now is listening to gossip.’

  ‘Gossip? Would you have heard of the trial of the young servant girl, Emily Hawkins?’ He stared hard at the man. ‘I think I might have known her.’

  ‘Why, aye. I went to court! It helps to pass ’time, you know. She was a little beauty. But if I was you, sir, I wouldn’t confess that I knew her. She hasn’t named ’father of ’child.’ He gazed back at Philip. ‘She said she wouldn’t, but as ’magistrate said, who knows ’workings of a woman’s mind? She might have her own reasons for not naming him, though what good it’ll do her in York gaol I can’t think! He’s a scoundrel anyway, leaving her to suffer like that.’ He shook his head. ‘She had ’face of an angel and looked like an innocent to me.’

  Philip didn’t go to bed that night and his emotions were torn between anger that Emily was no longer unblemished, doubts as to whether she might have willingly succumbed to another man’s passion, and frustration that when he was about to declare himself he should find that she was out of reach. But why was she in gaol? Surely Hugo Purnell didn’t want that! He must have known the penalties for wilful damage, why did he not just dismiss her? And why – he paced the floor – why would Emily, of all people, damage a painting? It just didn’t make sense.

  He finally went to bed and fell asleep at six in the morning, and awoke again at midday, washed and changed and told his landlady not to prepare any food for him, and went out to meet Ginny. He was early at the coffee shop and sat consuming several cups of coffee and toast, and with relief stood up to greet her as she came in.

  She looked around nervously. ‘I can’t stop long, sir, and I hope nobody sees me.’

  ‘Just tell me what happened, Ginny. I have heard such stories that I can’t believe.’

  She looked at him frankly. ‘You must excuse my language, Mr Linton, but there’s no other way of describing what happened to Emily.’ A flush touched her cheeks and he saw that it was embarrassing for her.

  ‘You may tell me, Ginny. I’m not going to be shocked.’

  But he was. Shocked to the core as she told him that Emily had been raped by Hugo Purnell
on his wedding night. He felt the blood drain from his face and he banged his fist on the table, disturbing the other customers, as she told what Emily had told her, that she had given birth alone with no-one to help her and that the child was stillborn. ‘She said that she was so angry when she went into Mr Purnell’s room and saw the painting still there, and it was as if he was laughing at her, that she picked up the poker and destroyed it.’

  ‘It’s a pity that it wasn’t Hugo Purnell taking the blows,’ he seethed.

  ‘I’m only telling you, sir, because I don’t know who to turn to – and when I saw you in ’street yesterday –’. She took a deep breath as if to check her emotion. ‘I’ve met your parents, Mr Linton, and it’s well known that they are honourable people – and I thought that perhaps –’, she looked confused as if she didn’t really know what she thought ‘– I thought that perhaps there was a chance that you might know of someone that might help her. I’m afraid that she won’t survive gaol, sir. She’s a gentle girl.’

  ‘Indeed she is,’ he murmured as he thought desperately for a solution. ‘She has no family, I take it? No-one to speak for her?’

  She shook her head and then gave a little smile. ‘Someone did speak for her after ’hearing; a woman – a woman of ill repute. She shouted at ’magistrate that Emily was innocent and then she was dragged off to ’cells herself. I don’t know how she knew Emily, unless they met in ’House of Correction.’ She nodded as a look of revulsion passed over his face. ‘That’s where she was held, sir, with whores and thieves.’

  He promised to do what he could. He couldn’t say to Ginny that he was totally devastated, nor could he have explained his own feelings of protection, which were surging towards Emily, and those of anger against Hugo Purnell. I could kill him with my bare hands, he inwardly raged. How could he do this to a young girl and not give help when she needed it?

  He had not yet obtained orders for another ship, and after his intentions of seeking out Emily, he had planned to visit his parents and sisters. Now those plans were abandoned and he turned his energies to finding out where Emily was and where the trial would be.