The Orphans of Ardwick

by Emma Hornby

  The girl rewarded them with her sweet laughter. ‘And you, Pip, as ever!’

  Hearing Simon’s small gasp, Pip turned to him with a frown. He was staring intently at the young miss’s bodice; following his gaze, her own eyes widened in terrible realisation …

  ‘That’s a pretty brooch you’re wearing, there, Miss Lucy,’ the lad said quietly, inclining his head.

  It was all making sense. She and Budd took their dinner early in the nursery upstairs – she’d have had ample time to wander before her mother went to change …

  The girl blinked in puzzlement. Then her hand strayed up and her mouth fell open in horror. ‘Oh dear!’

  ‘You been in your mam’s jewels again, missy?’ Cook, alerted by the raised voice and spying the beautiful diamond-encrusted piece adorning the dress, shook her head from across the room, where she was elbow deep in a large bowl of floury dough. ‘Now you know you’re not meant to mess about with them. She’ll have your guts for garters. You’ll not learn, will yer?’

  ‘Oh, but they’re so pretty, Cook. Look, see how the stones catch the light.’ She twisted this way and that; then, seeing the elderly woman was unimpressed, dropped her gaze, abashed. ‘I was only playing with them.’

  ‘Such rich and precious pieces; playing, I ask you!’

  ‘I must have forgotten to remove this one.’ Lucy scrambled from her seat. ‘I’ll return it right away.’

  ‘Hurry yourself, an’ all. They’ll be finishing up with their dinners in a minute. Go on, afore your mam knows owt about it.’

  Casting Cook, her lifelong confidante, a grateful look, the girl ran for the door. Pip hurried after her.

  ‘Wait, I’ll come with thee. I’ve just remembered I’ve some tidying up to see to in Miss Josephine’s room,’ she lied. Catching Simon’s eye, she nodded reassurance that she’d get to the bottom of things – his face was like thunder.

  Quickly, she and the girl ascended the stairs. Pip waited at the door while Lucy rushed to return the brooch to the jewellery box. She emerged with a sigh of relief and Pip smiled. ‘No harm done, lass.’

  ‘Oh, that was a close one!’

  ‘Aye. ’Ere, Miss Lucy …?’ She paused, chose her words carefully. ‘You sure you’ve returned everything, now? Happen, say … there were summat else you took and forgot about?’

  ‘No, that’s everything. Oh. There was a handkerchief in there, which I took up to my room earlier, but Mama shan’t mind about that. She’s probably already forgotten she put it in the box in the first place. It wasn’t hers, you see – the initials were clearly marked J.H. It’s the one I made for poor Hardman. Mama must have found it somewhere and believed it to be the one I made her.’

  ‘You … took it up to your room, Miss Lucy?’

  ‘That’s right, to unpick the lettering.’

  Pip’s heart skipped a beat. With the owner’s identity removed, the handkerchief was useless! ‘Aye?’ she managed to croak.

  ‘I shall reuse the material to make a Sunday bonnet for my new doll. Aunt Josephine will show me how. And she has lots of trim and lace to add to it. It will be so pretty, Pip!’

  You didn’t know what you were doing, Miss Lucy, you ain’t at fault. Oh, but now what? Simon insisted an item such as that would have been the crux in prompting Caroline to confess for sure …

  ‘Aye, yes, I’m sure it will, will look lovely …’ Mumbling something about having to go now as she had work to do, Pip escaped to Miss Josephine’s room. Closing the door, she leaned against it and closed her eyes.

  This was a great blow to their plan. What now? There were only so many times they could frighten Caroline by rattling door handles or some such. She’d grow used to it soon, or hatch a scheme to catch them out. No, it had to be something different, something completely unexpected, that she couldn’t deny the significance of. Something directly linked with Hardman herself. But there was nothing else, nothing. Oh, Miss Lucy. Why, why?

  She barely slept a wink that night and encountering Simon again the next morning, tired and disappointed tears burned her eyes. ‘The handkerchief, lad, it’s no more. Miss Lucy—’

  ‘Don’t matter about that. Not now.’

  ‘Nay? How so?’ She studied his bright face for a moment. ‘Do you know summat?’

  ‘Oh, do I.’

  ‘What? Eeh, lad, I thought our plan were done for. Eeh, you are clever.’

  His chest puffed proudly at the compliment. ‘Well, I don’t know about that … Anyroad, it’s like this. Cook sends me to the study late last night, for she wanted her bed but Mr Philip’s light still shone beneath the door. “Go and see if he’s requiring owt more the night, lad,” she says to me, so off I go.

  ‘Well, I knocked and he permitted me to enter in a voice thick with drink. Sure enough, he were slumped at his desk with a bottle of summat – strong, aye, by the smell of him. And what did I happen to spy, spread out before him? Only a stack of papers; amongst them, a sketching of Hardman. Too late, he returned them to a leather paper-carrier and bundled them into a drawer, which he secured with a key. ’Ere, the likeness were impressive, mind. Some talent’s gone into that, it has.’

  The selfsame leather carrier she’d seen him with in the kitchen that night … Though she hadn’t caught a glimpse of its contents, she’d sensed then his morose mood was to do with his lost lover.

  ‘It’ll be his art. Miss Josephine once mentioned he used to draw. He must have got the housemaid to sit for him. So, what were you thinking, like?’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m thinking we need to get our hands on it and plant it somewhere for Mrs Goldthorpe to find. I doubt she’s aware her husband possesses such a thing – well, he’s not reet likely to show her, is he! – so imagine her shock when she comes face to face so to speak with the one she thinks is out for her blood.’

  ‘But how do we get it, the picture? If it’s under lock as you say?’

  ‘Aye, that’s a problem. I had to retreat afore I could see where he kept the key.’

  Pip’s stomach turned over at the mere thought but she had to help. ‘Happen I could search his effects; his room, pockets of his clothing and that? Meantime, when you get the chance, you give the study a going over. It’ll surely not be that hard to find.’

  ‘Be watchful, Pip. If you’re caught …’

  She nodded grimly. He didn’t need to finish his warning. Both knew the consequences would be dire. ‘And thee.’

  When she returned upstairs to Miss Josephine’s room, she halted in pleasant surprise to see her father sitting in the chair opposite hers by the fire. ‘Morning, sir! By, it’s good to see thee up and about.’

  Though a little tired-looking, Albert’s face held a healthy colour and his bright eyes matched his smile. ‘Thank you, lass. It feels good, too.’

  ‘Father’s regaining his strength at last. Isn’t it wonderful?’

  ‘Oh, it is, Miss Josephine.’ Pip answered with feeling, for the sight of him there had awakened in her a spark of happy hope. With the master back on his feet, their worries had lessened somewhat, surely? He was wise; and clever, aye. Confined to his room, he’d had the wool pulled over his eyes for too long, but not any more. He’d notice things were not as they should be beneath his roof, with his family, would sniff out the goings-on and put an end to them; he must, she told herself. His son and daughter-in-law’s scheming concerning the wedding would be brought to light, and Alexander would be gone. Please God.

  ‘So. Caroline’s parents have refused outright to have her there, have they?’ said Albert.

  ‘Yes. Even for just a few days, as Philip suggested. He thought a change of scenery and spending time with her family would provide the tonic she needs but alas, it’s not to be. He received their letter today. Apparently, it wouldn’t do her reputation any good to have her there as she is – their servants and friends may jump to the wrong conclusion and begin spreading rumours about her mental state.’

  ‘A likely story. They fear the embarrassment and s
hame for themselves, more like.’

  ‘Precisely. Can you believe it, Father? Their own flesh and blood? Philip is furious. The poor man is at his wits’ end with her imaginings.’

  Pip had crossed the room to busy herself with straightening the curtains when the adults had resumed their conversation; now, she struggled to retain her impassive stance. Thank the Lord Caroline’s parents had refused her. With her gone from Bracken House, their plan would be ruined. And yet, even as the thought flitted by, an earlier feeling scratched at the outskirts of her conscience: guilt. She was sick, and growing more so, it seemed.

  But she deserves it, remember …? Even the family appeared of a similar mind. That their concern was for Philip rather than the woman herself was clear to see. And who could blame them? Caroline wasn’t someone you could easily feel empathy for.

  Albert sighed. ‘Where’s Philip now?’

  ‘He and Lucy have taken Caroline for a walk to get her some air. She had a bad night again.’

  ‘I’ll talk to the lad later. Something must be done. These claims of hers … she barely makes any sense these days. Perhaps Doctor Lawley could—’

  ‘No.’ Josephine spoke quietly but firmly. ‘No, Father, there is no need to bother him with this. Let us see what Philip decides. As her husband, the decision is his to make, after all. Caroline will pick up, I’m sure. My reckoning is, she’s sleep deprived. It can affect one in the queerest of ways. Rest is the surest balm for the mind.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right, lass. Well.’ Soft grunts and shuffles signalled he was rising to take his leave. ‘I shall see you at lunch. If you see your brother before I do, direct him to my room, would you?’

  ‘I will. And Father?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s good to have you back on your feet and under mine.’ Josephine blew him a kiss, Albert responded with a chuckle, then the door opened and closed and all was still.

  ‘Pip?’

  She sidled out from her hiding place. ‘Aye, Miss Josephine?’

  The woman had her nose buried in her sewing basket. ‘Would you be a dear and fetch me some blue embroidery silk from next door?’

  ‘Mr Philip and Mrs Goldthorpe’s room?’ If God Himself had smiled down on her from heaven, she couldn’t have been more jubilant; free rein, to enter with full permission the very place she needed to, right now? And she’d thought she’d have to wait perhaps days for such an opportunity! The urge not to punch the air was overwhelming. She forced an easy nod. ‘Course, Miss Josephine, aye.’

  ‘You should find some in Caroline’s red basket. By the bed, I believe she keeps it. Thank you, dear girl.’

  And thank you. Telling herself not to run, Pip managed to leave the room at a normal pace. Once outside, however, she couldn’t contain her impatience. Not having to sneak around or check if anyone was coming, for she’d every right to be here, she entered the room without hesitation, closing the door behind her.

  She found the silk where Josephine said she would and popped it into her apron pocket. Then she peered around.

  A dark jacket, tossed carelessly over the arm of a finely carved chair by the far side of the bed, immediately caught her eye; this, she thought, would be as good a place as any to search first. She looked for a pocket, slipped a hand inside and felt about – and almost staggered when her fingers closed around something hard and cold. A key!

  She gazed at the small metal object in awe, utterly amazed at the breakneck-speed find. How was this possible? The very first place she’d checked, there it was? It was as if it was meant to be.

  For reasons she couldn’t fathom, she knew without question this was the one they were seeking. But of course, there was only one way to be absolutely certain … With the precious object clasped safely in her bunched fist, she spun on her heel and headed out.

  Josephine’s door, she didn’t even glance at; instead, she made in the opposite direction, skittering down the stairs as fast as her legs could take her. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d crossed the hall and was letting herself into the study.

  Again, she closed the door behind her and looked about. She could have the drawing in her possession and the key returned to its owner’s pocket in mere minutes, and no one would be any the wiser. Then, once Hardman’s likeness had done its job on Caroline, she’d steal it and the key back and return both to their rightful places. Simple.

  Imagine Simon’s reaction when she next saw him, how proud he’d be that she’d found what they needed, and all on her own. He’d be more than a little impressed. And she did so want to please him. She needed him to know he could rely on her, always, for that lad was the single most important thing in her life. Mack, too. Her excitement mounted. She hurried to the desk.

  She opted for the bottom of the three drawers and again, her decision yielded immediate results. She could hardly believe it as she lifted the artwork out and placed it on the desktop. A quick glance to the door and a nod of satisfaction at the silence from beyond and she peeled back the leather.

  The hard, sultry stare that locked with Pip’s had her taking an involuntary step back. Simon hadn’t exaggerated – God above, the detail. ‘Eeh, Hardman,’ she murmured, tracing a wispy touch along the housemaid’s cheek. Then, with care, she rolled the sheet into a thin tube and slipped it up her sleeve.

  She’d had every intention of returning the rest to the drawer without another thought. Yet the new face now staring back at her, which had lain beneath Hardman’s, piqued her curiosity too greatly and she began leafing through them. Page after page of women were revealed, of varying types and beauty – and state of undress. Quickly, she moved on to the next.

  And yet, there was one similarity: all were attired in domestic uniform. Realisation brought heat to her face. They were Mr Philip’s conquests over the years, every one. As though as proof of prowess, he’d immortalised his immorality on paper for eternity. Did memories evoked by these long-gone faces bring him personal enjoyment? She squirmed with embarrassment at the thought.

  The very last sheet was well worn. Age had curled its corners and the drawing was more faded than the rest. Yet it had the power to rip the breath from her lungs and the life from her legs.

  She crumpled to her knees, face contorted in a blinding shock that was absolute.

  Gazing back at Pip from the yellowed page was her mother.

  Chapter 20

  ‘AH, THERE YOU are, I wondered where you’d—’

  ‘This. This!’

  Josephine blinked in surprise from Pip to the drawing she’d thrust out towards her. ‘Where did you …?’

  ‘Why would … why … why would …?’ Her breaths came in jagged gasps. ‘Please, I must know.’

  ‘Dear girl—’

  ‘Miss Josephine, d’you know who this is?’

  The woman had risen from her chair, face wreathed in puzzlement. She nodded without hesitation. ‘Of course.’

  If the master’s dogs had cartwheeled into the room, Pip couldn’t have been more thunderstruck at what her mistress uttered next. She gawped at her, mouth hanging wide. ‘What?’

  ‘I said that the woman in that picture is Lydia May.’

  Pip shook her head. What was she talking about? Her name was Annie and she was her mother. Lydia May was Cook’s daughter. Had the lady here lost her senses?

  She turned the picture around and scanned it to check she hadn’t snatched up a different one from the pile in the study by mistake. But no; again, her beautiful mother gazed back at her. Hot tears of frustration stung behind Pip’s eyes.

  ‘What is the meaning of all this?’ Josephine spoke quietly, gently. ‘Where on earth did you find that picture? More importantly, what has you in such a tizzy over it? Pip, speak to me. Dear girl, what is it?’

  ‘Miss Josephine … Miss Josephine …’ Breath-snatching clarity, the possibility, truth …

  ‘Yes, yes? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Miss Josephine …’ Pip scrabbled for the lady’s hand and c
lung to it as though she was drowning. Which she was. A sea of chaos, pain, utter confusion, battered her mind. Wave followed wave, crashing the incredulous thoughts against one another.

  She had to get out of here. She couldn’t, couldn’t …

  ‘Pip, please, tell me what—’

  ‘Air. I, I need …’ She disentangled her fingers from her mistress’s and walked from the room. Without thought or reason, for her legs were in charge now and she hadn’t a say in it, she found herself in the study once more, where she placed the picture in the leather carrier along with the others and returned everything to the drawer. She locked it, turned, and retraced her steps. After dropping the key into the pocket where she’d found it, she again descended the stairs. Then she headed for the kitchen.

  ‘All right, lass? Sup of tea? Lass, d’you hear?’

  Pip, having ground to a halt, stared at the cook mutely. Emotion had deserted body and mind. She felt numb, nothing. She turned slowly, crossed to the back door and let herself out.

  When she next became aware of herself, she was standing in the Green by the lakelet, gazing unseeing into its inky belly. Her senses were unaware of the surroundings; the birdsong, the smell of frost and winter foliage, the sting of the bitter breeze on her face, whipping her uncovered hair around her head like wild, golden snakes – nothing could touch her.

  Mam never had mentioned a single member of her family. Dead, she’d said they were, long gone before her only child was born, and she didn’t like to speak of them, for their loss hurt. Pip had believed it without question. Of course she had; why wouldn’t she? Just the two of them. That’s how it had always been. Only each other, in the whole world, is what they’d had.

  Lies.

  Speaking of the past wasn’t something Mam indulged in; she would change the subject if Pip enquired about something. And it mattered not, not really, no, for they had needed no one else. And Mam made sure that the present was enough, and their future was the thing to look towards, nothing else. Just the two of them, for fathers and grandparents and siblings and aunts, great-aunts and uncles … they didn’t exist. Not for her.