The Orphans of Ardwick

by Emma Hornby

  Cook drew her up from her seat and into her voluptuous lap. Resting her head on the woman’s shoulder, Pip let the tears run down her face, and Cook, rocking her as though she was an infant, was comforting. ‘Tell me about her, your mam.’

  ‘She were called Annie.’ Pip smiled wistfully. ‘Oh, she were bonny, Cook, reet so. She were gentle, and kindness itself. We had only each other but it were enough, you know?’

  ‘I do,’ Cook murmured.

  ‘Home were a cellar in Ancoats – Garrick Street, you know of it? Aye well,’ she continued when Cook shook her head. ‘It were rotten and cramped, but Mam made it nice as she could. Slaved in a mill for fourteen hours a day, she did, and every penny she earned went on me in some way or other. Whether the rent to keep a roof over my head or food to fill my belly. And she’d scour the second-hand stalls at the market in all weathers, to make sure I were clothed well. She’d have sooner died than see me destitute, or hungry, or barefoot—’ She broke off on a soft sob and Cook patted her back. ‘That’s how I know, what she did … She didn’t want to, were desperate, is all. She’d never have left me, else, never. She weren’t in her right mind at the end, that’s what. And it were the illness’s fault. Never hers, nay. I miss her.’

  ‘Miss Josephine wants to make you her companion.’

  Cook’s sudden announcement brought Pip’s head up. A frown knitted her brow.

  ‘I may as well tell you, for you had to hear it some time. Mind, after what you’ve told me here … You’ve not to fret about upsetting the miss, for I shall be the one to tell her nay. You’ve seen and are heartsore still enough with this, you going through it with your poor mam. You’ll suffer it no more, lass. You have my word.’

  Pip’s thoughts raced, tripping over each other in her mind, repeating themselves, giving way to another then another, each more confusing than the last. Companion? Or nurse?

  Her heart gave a sudden ache for the lady suffering alone upstairs. She was desperate. And who wouldn’t be? Pip understood this. Miss Josephine had likely encountered in her today the first person to ever truly realise her torture. It was understandable she’d want to cling to it and not let it go. She wanted to feel safe, reassured, protected. The fact she saw no other place to get this but from a stranger – a child, at that – surely cut deep; it must have taken a lot of courage for her to even make such a suggestion. But as Cook had pointed out, Pip had seen enough of this with Mam to last her a lifetime. As sorry as she was for Miss Josephine’s plight, she couldn’t go through it a second time, she couldn’t. The pressure, the strain on her own strength of mind … ‘Ta. I, I just couldn’t, Cook.’

  ‘No need for sorrys. It’s a burden too weighty for a lass of your age, anyroad, and I shall tell her so. She’ll understand.’

  Rather than feel relief, it was guilt that filled Pip and had her gnawing at her lips. But what would the lady do? Then another notion hit. She winced as pain struck like a fist inside her breast. A vision flitted behind her eyes, her mam slumped across the bed they had shared, lifeless eyes finally at peace, the empty laudanum bottles strewn around her cold body … What if Miss Josephine, left alone with her demons …? What if she too was to …?

  Her mouth moved of its own accord. ‘Cook?’

  ‘Aye?’

  ‘I … I’ll do it,’ she heard herself whisper. The agreement was out – there was no taking it back. Yet oddly, hearing it spoken aloud, she realised she didn’t want to. A queer sense of calm overcame her. ‘What’s more,’ she added in a voice steady with determination, ‘I’m going to see her banish this.’

  She’d failed with her mam; would she succeed this time? Pip asked herself afterwards in bed, staring into the darkness.

  Time would soon tell.

  Chapter 10

  ‘NOT BAD. NOT bad at all.’

  The dark grey woollen dress, long-sleeved, buttoned down the middle and finishing just above her ankles, sat snug against Pip’s small hips – she ran her hands over them with a smile.

  ‘Fits you like a glove, it does,’ continued Tabby with a nod of approval. ‘Tha did well, Cook.’

  ‘I’ve a keen eye, lass.’ Cook preened. ‘Got the sizes spot on, I did, aye.’

  Like Simon and Mack’s new clothing, the material was plain and serviceable but better than anything any of them had worn before, ever. The same could be said for their sturdy boots. By, but they felt like the gentry themselves in these rig-outs.

  Petticoats, too! Amazement filled Pip again, with thoughts of her snowy undergarments. And the lads had new caps, properly fitting ones, in the same shade as her dress. Sudden tears pricked her eyes. ‘The master’s the kindest man God ever created, I’m certain,’ she whispered, smoothing down her new apron over her skirt.

  Albert had given Cook instructions that morning to see that new clothing, everything that was required from head to toe, was to be purchased for the children, insisting that as they were part of his workforce it was only right he provided them with adequate attire. She’d headed into Manchester to fulfil his request before the children stirred from her bed. Their surprised delight upon wakening and being presented with the new things had been worth the pain to her corns caused by the walk, she’d told them.

  Watching on from her seat at the table now, Cook smiled. ‘I’m happy to agree with you there, lass. Only it weren’t the master’s brass what paid for your things; Miss Josephine insisted she buy them for you. The handkerchiefs, too. And this.’ She reached into the wicker basket by her feet and pulled out another brown-paper-wrapped parcel. ‘Go on, open it.’

  Pip gasped at what was revealed: a beautiful shawl in emerald green adorned with black tassels. When, finally, she brought her gaze back to Cook, tears glistened on her lashes. ‘It’s the bonniest thing I ever did see.’

  ‘Befitting for a bonny lass, I’d say.’

  ‘But Miss Josephine didn’t have to … I mean, I agreed to what she asked because I want to help, not for what I could get.’

  ‘Nay, now don’t be daft. She knows that, as do I. This ’ere, it’s just her way, a show of gratitude, like, for agreeing to her proposal. Anyroad, the master were for fitting you out in new like the lads, weren’t he, regardless? Don’t matter much as to who finished up paying for what.’

  Her new uniform, for her new position … Pip’s shoulders straightened involuntarily. The quietly firm resolution she’d awakened with filled her again. She breathed deeply. Today marked a new chapter in her life. Would her determination to succeed at it be enough? a small voice in her head asked, but she pushed it away. She’d do her very best to see that she did – time would soon tell, she told herself again, as she had last night.

  Throughout the discourse, the housemaid had looked on in silence, arms folded. Now, glancing to the lads sitting with proud faces as they admired again the cut of each other’s new waistcoats and jackets, her mouth tightened further. Then her eyes flicked towards Pip, running the length of her, and she slapped the tabletop. ‘This ain’t right, you know! Three days, they’ve been here. Three rotten days and she’s gone from smelly, gutter-dwelling orphan to bleedin’ lady’s maid?’ fumed Hardman, nostrils flaring. ‘She’s bagged herself a better standing in this house than me, what’s slaved here nigh on three years. Nay! Nay! I’m not having it, I’m not!’

  Cook simply rolled her eyes, indicating that Pip should ignore the tirade, but she felt compelled to apologise anyway: ‘I’m sorry, Hardman, I am. This ain’t my doing; I never meant to upset anyone, truly. It’s more a companion I’ll be, really. Miss Josephine asked, you see, and—’

  ‘It’s all right, Pip. She’ll get over it.’ Tabby, kind as ever, and this time without a shred of bitterness towards the newcomer who had indeed ‘leapt straight to the top of the tree’ in less than a week, patted her shoulder. ‘It aggrieves folk like Jess, is all, to see someone furthering theirselfs. Ignore her and anyone else what wags you a vicious tongue. I, for one, wish you nowt but luck.’

  ‘’Ear ’ear!’
chimed in Cook, raising her mug of tea.

  After shooting them all a fury-filled look, Hardman swung from her chair and out of the kitchen.

  Cook rolled her eyes once again. Then she too rose from the table. ‘Right, love. Best foot forward. Miss Josephine’s awaiting thee.’

  A host of emotions had become Pip’s companions since the cook voiced the proposition last night: excitement, anticipation, uncertainty and, if she was honest with herself, more than a little dread. Now, a new feeling struck: a sense of loss. She gazed upon the lads almost in panic. She’d been absent from their company for barely any length of time since they found one another on those unforgiving streets out there; the thought of doing so now made her want to cry like a baby.

  Miss Josephine would want her by her side as much as possible. She’d even had a bed made up for her on the dressing-room floor should she require her during the night. When would she find time to visit the kitchen? She wouldn’t miss the housemaid, that much was true, but this room … How often would she get to see it after today? And its occupants, who spent the majority of their waking lives here? Only Hardman’s position gave her free run of the house – the other servants, Simon and Mack now included, had neither cause nor permission to stray beyond that baize door. Aye, Cook and Tabby, she’d miss them sorely. But these lads of hers … She’d come to rely on them, their company. She’d grieve their presence on a whole other level entirely.

  ‘Tha leaving us, now, Pip?’

  Taking Mack’s hands and lowering her burning eyes, she nodded.

  ‘But why must the lady have you? We want you, an’ all.’

  ‘Oh, lad. I’ll slip down to see youse whenever I’m able …’ She broke off when his bottom lip wobbled and her own followed suit.

  Simon didn’t say anything as she followed Cook to the door, peering back over her shoulder several times, but his eyes wished her luck and his slight nod told her to be brave and that she could bear this, that he believed in her. She gave them both a last, lingering look. Then she dragged her head back to the front and walked from the room and people she’d come to regard as home and family.

  ‘Pip! Oh, thank goodness.’ Miss Josephine’s words came out on a gentle breath. Her face was wreathed in smiles. However, her eyes failed to match. Even when pleased, the young woman carried a sad expression. Also, she looked tired, likely found sleep difficult due to the worry. Glancing around for evidence of relaxants, Pip spotted two bottles on the mantel: the plainer one containing laudanum, the other a decorative vinaigrette of smelling salts. ‘Please, dear girl,’ the lady added, ‘come in, come in.’

  ‘Ta, thanks, Miss Josephine.’ After bidding a whispered goodbye to Cook, who delivered her at the door and returned to her duties, Pip crossed the blush-coloured carpet. Then she raised her head, and for the first time scrutinised the lady seated in the fireside chair before her properly.

  She’d been so focused yesterday on making her better, she’d barely taken in Josephine’s appearance at all. Dressed in a simple day dress in duck-egg blue, small slippered feet peeping out from under her domed skirt, she cut a beautifully girl-like figure. She wore a delicate lace and ribbon frill on the back of her head, beneath which shiny hair the colour of marmalade and parted down the middle sat softly over her ears, secured in a thick roll at her nape. No finer features had the sun ever shone on, Pip was sure. And yet from what she’d witnessed, inside she appeared just as lovely. Like her father, she addressed the cook by her Christian name, seemed to have inherited, and held on to, his goodness and respect for all people, whatever their station. Unlike her brother.

  ‘You look much better, Pip, I must say. They fit all right, the clothes?’

  ‘Aye, Miss Josephine. Ta ever so.’

  Smiling, she inclined her head. ‘Please, do sit down.’

  Pip perched on the edge of the chair facing her new mistress and folded her hands in her lap. An abandoned tray on a table beside her showed Josephine had barely touched her food. Plagued with digestive issues and a nervous bowel, Mam too had often had no appetite. Also, if this lady’s tiny waist was anything to go by, her corsets were likely laced too tightly, which wouldn’t help matters.

  She felt the difference in temperature in here keenly. The room was chilly – a glance at the fire showed it hadn’t yet been lit. After the heat of the kitchen, she had to fight the urge to shiver. She turned her head to the empty grate. ‘Did Hardman forget your room today, Miss Josephine? Have I to see to the fire for you instead?’

  ‘You’re cold, Pip?’ Josephine removed the fine wool shawl draped loosely around her shoulders. ‘Here. Wear this.’

  ‘Nay, nay, I couldn’t.’ She shook her head, aghast. ‘I’m all right, Miss Josephine, ’onest. I were thinking of you, is all.’

  ‘If you’re sure …?’ At Pip’s nod, she laid the creamy material over the arm of her chair. She picked it back up, plucked at it for a moment, then placed it down again. She was as restless and fidgety as an infant. ‘I can’t bear the heat. I feel hot almost all the time. It makes breathing even more difficult and—’ She broke off, cheeks pinkening.

  ‘That’ll be the blood pumping extra fast inside you, like, when your illness starts and sets your heart all of a gallop. It’s the same when you exert yourself too much, you know? It’s just like that. Nowt to fret over, Miss Josephine.’

  Silence filled the air between them, then: ‘Pip?’ Josephine’s voice had dropped to a whisper. ‘What’s wrong with me?’

  Pity churned in her guts at the quiet desperation in the eyes, a soft brown specked with gold, gazing back at her. ‘I don’t rightly know,’ she responded frankly. ‘Mind, this I’m sure of.’ Hesitantly, head dipping in shyness, she held out her hands to the woman, who gripped them. ‘You’re not in peril, Miss Josephine, though it likely feels that way oftentimes. And I … I …’ She knew that once the next words were given life, she’d have to honour them. There would be no going back on it. She took a deep breath. ‘I vow to thee, I shall try my hardest from this day to see you get better. For I believe it’s possible, aye; surely it has to be? Surely this … condition can be cured?’ Just … you mustn’t let it into your mind, you must try, for it’ll blacken it beyond return like it did with my mam, she added to herself with a pain in her heart. But you’ll not, I know it. And I’m going to help thee, Miss Josephine, for I’ve learned, learned from her.

  Pip had spoken gently, soothingly; nonetheless, Josephine’s breathing had begun to quicken. Her long fingers tightened around Pip’s shorter ones. ‘You really believe I can be well again? Doctor Lawley is not so certain. He believes my blood has stagnated and is poisoning my heart. His attempts at letting it regularly and leech therapy hasn’t worked—’

  ‘Nor will it, Miss Josephine, I don’t reckon, for your blood’s just fine and well,’ Pip cut in quietly. ‘From what I’ve witnessed …’ She sighed thoughtfully, trying hard to find the right words. ‘It’s like … summat in here, inside,’ she continued, tapping her forehead, ‘has … fell out of balance. Summat’s telling thee you’re at risk when you ain’t, that summat bad’s about to occur when it’s not. The fear breeds panic. That warning, that sense, is working when it shouldn’t. You see? It’s gone skewwhiff. We just need to find a way to straighten it out all nice again, like.’

  ‘You seem so certain … How do you know all this, young as you are?’ The woman’s brow creased in curiosity. ‘Who are you? Whence have you sprung? I mean to say, Cook did fill me in on your circumstances during our discussion last night, but …’ Her frown deepened. ‘This knowledge you possess … How do you know?’

  ‘My mam, Miss Josephine, suffered as you yourself are.’

  ‘She did?’ A glimmer of hope touched the woman’s features. ‘I often feel I’m the only soul in the world with this – this thing. And your mother? She escaped this dreadful curse? She knew peace again?’

  ‘Aye. Aye, Miss Josephine.’ It wasn’t a mistruth. Through death, Mam had. Pip swallowed down the lump th
at rose to her throat.

  ‘I’m so very pleased – relieved, too – to hear you say that. Although how utterly dreadful that she later passed away; and her deserving of enjoying that freedom of mind, having beaten her illness. I’m so very sorry, for both of you. What was it …?’

  ‘A sickness took her,’ Pip was now forced to lie after a long moment. How in heaven could she speak the truth, that the very demon she’d promised to banish from Miss Josephine had brought about the melancholy darkness that had claimed her dear mam? It would set the fraught woman into a frenzy of terror – no, she couldn’t know. Not yet, at least. Happen one day, when she was better, stronger, the lady’s nerves would be able to bear the telling.

  ‘You must miss her. I miss my own dearly.’ Josephine rose suddenly and crossed to a small desk. From one of its drawers, she brought out a sheet of paper. She resumed her seat, smiled and handed it to Pip.

  It was a likeness of a lady in her middle years. But for the dark hair, it could have been a depiction of the selfsame one facing her.

  ‘My brother possesses quite a talent, does he not?’

  ‘Mr Philip drew this?’

  The woman nodded. ‘It’s a hobby he’s enjoyed since being a small boy.’

  ‘Your mam was reet bonny, Miss Josephine. You’re her image.’ A sudden thought struck Pip; she frowned. ‘Cook has a picture up in her room, drawn in what looks like the same style as this—’

  ‘Lydia.’ Sadness coated the word, and Pip regretted mentioning it. Of course, she must miss her old friend. ‘You’re quite right. Philip drew that, yes. He presented it to Mabel as a birthday gift when we were young.’

  Before any ill feeling …? Knowing Cook’s dislike for the artist, it perhaps stuck in her craw that he’d drawn it. However, clearly her need to see her beloved child’s face every day outweighed her animosity.

  Josephine’s eyes took on a far-off look. ‘We, my brother and Lydia and I, were quite, quite close as children.’ She cleared her throat.