The Orphans of Ardwick

by Emma Hornby

  ‘It’s your son you should be putting your questions to.’ Training his stare across the room, Alexander lifted an eyebrow. ‘Isn’t that so, Philip?’

  Every head turned towards him. He shook his own slowly. ‘You claimed you were fond of her.’

  ‘I lied.’

  ‘You bastard. We were meant to be friends.’ Philip spun around to face his sister and father. ‘I swear, I would never have agreed to it had I known … He promised me!’

  ‘Agreed to what?’ the master asked grimly.

  Josephine’s words were laced with dread. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘When my gambling was at its height, I racked up a hefty debt …’

  ‘Don’t I already know that? It was I who was forced to drag you out of the mess you’d created, remember?’

  ‘No, Father. This particular instance, you know nothing about. I couldn’t come to you, not again. Already, you had begun to look at me with disgust and shame in your eyes, and it hurt. I couldn’t bear that look to develop into one of hatred. I couldn’t tell you.’

  ‘However many more … I could never hate you. You’re my son.’

  Philip gave a hollow laugh. ‘Don’t honour me with such a title, sir, for I deserve it not. A true son wouldn’t treat his parent as I have you.’ Turning to Josephine, he took her hand in his and brought it to his heart. ‘I was desperate; those I was indebted to were not people a wise man would choose to cross. I, of course, was a fool. The threats were mounting to the extent that I felt I was drowning. Danger to my life was a very real prospect. Then, Alexander offered a silver lining to the black cloud crushing me. He agreed to loan me the sum to get the creditors off my tail. But of course, his generosity came at a price.’ Philip dragged his hand through his hair. ‘When he put forward his proposition … I trusted him, Josephine.’

  ‘Tell me,’ she murmured.

  ‘He said if I helped pave the way for the two of you to marry, he’d take the dowry that the union fetched as payment and that we would be even. I asked him, asked him what his feelings towards you were. Though he never claimed love, he did assure me he cared for you. I believed that in time, as do most marriages, it would develop into something deeper. He lied to me.’

  Her gaze flickered to Alexander and back again. ‘It would seem he put on quite the show. I, however, hadn’t the need to play-act. My love for him was true.’

  ‘Lord, I know. I know. Had you not taken to him, I wouldn’t have encouraged it. But you did. You appeared so happy. You shone from the inside. I truly thought that the deal would prove satisfactory to us all.’

  ‘I understand. I was already galloping past the age of certain spinsterhood. You pitied me—’

  ‘No. No,’ he repeated fiercely. ‘I wanted only that you should be happy. Though I seldom demonstrate it, you’re my sister and I love you. I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you. I believed that everything would turn out for the best. And Caroline was forever pushing, pushing, terrified at the alternative. The deal must be finalised, she insisted, for just as we hadn’t had the means to pay the original debtor, so too it would be with Alexander if a marriage wasn’t forthcoming. Who was to say he wouldn’t sully my good name and reputation, to whoever would listen? I would be ruined.

  ‘The shame, my wife insisted, would be more than she could bear. Father would refuse to bail me out again, would disown me, sling us on to the street. She’d convinced herself that the fault lay with Father. For what was the alternative?’ Philip’s voice turned bitter. ‘Facing the truth that her husband was to blame. And that, she could not do. For it would mean I wasn’t the man she’d perceived me to be, which would reflect badly on her own judgement. It was easier for her this way. And being the spineless dog that I was, it was easier for me to have her – and myself – believe it also.

  ‘The marriage … I believed we were doing the right thing. I believed it to be the best thing for you. I believed that the man standing there was honourable!’ In a move that surprised everyone, he threw himself at Alexander. Grabbing him by the shirt front, he pinned him against the wall. ‘All these years we’ve been friends … I thought I knew you. Truth is, you’ve been wearing a mask I never witnessed slip, that’s all. Just who are you?’ His stare travelled to the small, light-haired boy now snuggled in the folds of Cook’s arm. ‘You are warped, Alexander,’ he whispered. ‘Degenerate, depraved, putrid …’ Suddenly, understanding smoothed out his face. He nodded into the stiff one close to his.

  ‘My sister was a smokescreen for your true character to hide behind, wasn’t she? That was your intention from the off. You required a wife, to avoid arousing suspicion as to your true … fancies.’ He spat the word as though it tasted acrid on his tongue. ‘I ought to kill you.’

  ‘Let him go, son.’

  Philip flashed Albert a frown. ‘But Father—’

  ‘Let him go,’ the older man repeated. He walked forward and removed his son’s hands from Alexander. Then he himself stood before the man, who now looked decidedly uneasy. ‘You are dead to this family. As is now my son’s debt to you.’

  ‘Mr Goldthorpe, you cannot do this. Such a loss would likely ruin me – he owes me close to two thousand—!’

  ‘Should I ever see your face again,’ Albert continued, steely tone hacking through the protest, ‘I shall make it my mission to ensure you can never show it to any other in public. Your name in polite society will be dirt. The whole of Manchester and beyond will know exactly who, what, you are.’

  Alexander glared from one man to the other, his breathing ragged. Swinging on his heel, he snatched up his apparel, cast them a last, murderous look then stalked to the door.

  ‘Wait.’

  He paused at the threshold. Turning, he watched stonily as Josephine crossed the floor towards him.

  With the dignity and grace of a true lady, she calmly eased the ring from her finger and dropped it into his hand. ‘Now get out.’

  He did. Pip moved to Josephine’s side and wrapped her arms around her waist.

  Cook’s voice was grim. ‘Gone from this house he might be, but that’ll not halt his filthy ways where poor kiddies are concerned, nay.’

  Though the master didn’t respond with words, his eyes gave a veiled message of reassurance that Alexander hadn’t heard the last of Albert Goldthorpe.

  ‘Thank you, dear girl, Simon. What you two have done today … You are the bravest people I know.’

  Pip’s chest ached for her. ‘I’m that sorry.’

  A ghost of a smile touched Josephine’s lips. ‘Don’t be. Rather a temporary heartache than a lifetime’s worth.’

  ‘Josephine …’

  She turned to look at her brother. He said no more, his stare conveying the heavy sorrow and regret within him. When she nodded, his eyes filled with grateful tears. And Pip breathed a little easier.

  Philip had vowed to his sister weeks ago in this very room that he would ensure she was happy. His sincerity then could not be questioned. Nor could it now. He hadn’t meant to cause such pain, she was certain. Weak-willed and foolish he might be. Cruel he wasn’t. He’d made a mistake but one she was sure the family could, in time, find it in their hearts to forgive him for. Somehow, everything seemed just a little bit brighter.

  ‘Come on, lovies.’ Cook shepherded the children out. ‘Let’s leave the adults to talk matters through.’

  Pip was the last to leave. Before closing the door, she glanced over her shoulder. All three Goldthorpes stared back. Their acceptance and love for her filled the space between them. And now, the unquestionable selfsame feelings spread through her to warm her inside and out, and she knew they would dwell there for ever.

  She smiled at each of her family in turn. They were bound as one. Nothing could touch them now.

  Chapter 27

  December 1861

  ‘ALBERT’S DEAD!’

  Cook dropped the ladle she held. It hit the stone floor with a clatter. ‘What?’ she almost screamed, head swinging wil
dly, while the rest of the room leapt to their feet, faces pinched in horror.

  ‘It’s true!’ Tears poured down Cally’s cheeks. She sniffed loudly. ‘He succumbed to the fever late yesterday evening. Oh, I can’t believe it, I can’t!’

  ‘Yesterday …? The fever? What fever?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know! Not many took to him, him being a foreigner, like, but I did. Oh, the poor dear man!’

  By now, Cook’s fear and frustration had reached their limit. ‘Foreigner? Girl, what are you blathering about—?’ She stopped abruptly. Then she closed her eyes. ‘Why, you foolish bloody girl. You ain’t speaking of the master, after all, are you?’

  Now, the housemaid wore the confused expression. ‘Him? Nay, the Prince Consort— Oh!’ She slapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Albert and Albert … Eeh, I’m that sorry, I didn’t think.’

  ‘You never do, that’s your trouble!’ Cook snapped, dropping into a chair and pressing a hand to her thumping heart. ‘By, you near brought an attack upon me good and proper then. Don’t ever do owt like that again. So our Albert, he’s fine and well?’ she still had to ask, just to be certain.

  ‘Oh aye. He’s enjoying a brew in the study, told me to inform the servants of the sad tidings.’

  Despite the shock, Pip, Simon, Mack and Tabby couldn’t contain a discreet smile to each other. Cally was a law unto herself, she was really!

  ‘Eeh, it’s a shame, aye. The poor Queen. ’Ere, them’s two words there I never thought I’d utter in the same breath. Just shows you, eh, riches can’t buy everything. If you ain’t got your health, you’ve got nowt.’

  Half an hour later, the whole household gathered in the drawing room in a rare but fitting moment to partake of a drink to the German’s memory. The master raised his glass.

  ‘To Albert, Prince Consort of Great Britain and Ireland.’

  ‘God bless,’ everyone chimed.

  ‘Long live the Queen!’

  ‘Long live the Queen!’ they repeated with feeling.

  Philip crossed to the sofa and patted the spaces either side of him. Pip and Lucy sat down and snuggled into him, and he kissed their brows in turn.

  Breathing in his scent, Pip felt tears rise for the princes and princesses now bereft of a father. She couldn’t begin to think what heartache they must be feeling, for were it to happen to her … She quickly forced the notion away. Never could she imagine a single day, now, without him.

  The last nine months had seen life changed, for all of them, beyond recognition. She glanced to the boys who stood talking with her grandparents and smiled. Hearty food and good living were seeing them grow into strapping lads. They had come on so much this last year, were the pictures of health, and any outsider looking in would never guess their harsh past on Manchester’s streets. The same was true of herself. Several inches taller and beginning to fill out, as all budding young women do, she was looking to become a beauty, or so her proud grandmother liked to tell her on an almost daily basis.

  Once a week, she and the lads now took lessons in the schoolroom with Lucy. Their learning was coming along in leaps and bounds – particularly young Mack’s. He’d discovered a love of ancient history, and he and the master would pore over books on the subject in the study for hours. Albert had grown particularly fond of the sweet-natured child, who in turn adored the old man’s kind, unconventional ways.

  Pip let her gaze linger on Simon. As though sensing he was being watched, he looked across and she saw him take in the father and daughters scene with a wince of pain. He smiled at her, but it was almost forced, before looking away again.

  Now and then, she would bring up the subject of his own father but he stuck steadfastly to his decision; nothing she said would make him consider seeking Peter out. It was fear of being hurt again that stopped him, she’d come to realise. Who could blame him? He’d been let down deeply by the one person who should have cared for him above all others. She understood his reluctance completely. However, a niggle in the back of her mind, that Simon should give Peter half a chance to at least explain, for both their sakes, remained with her still. Perhaps, in time, who knew? But the choice had to be his. It wasn’t hers to make for him.

  Josephine, laughing at something Cook had said, cut through Pip’s musings. Again, she smiled. For many months, everyone had secretly feared that the crushing event wrought by Alexander’s hand would see her slip into her old illness of shattered nerves and anxious ruin. But, proving what Pip knew all along, she’d shown an inner strength that to dwell on left her brimming with pride. Rather than wither, allow him to grind her progress into the dust, she’d risen from the ordeal like a flower pushing through soil to shine in full bloom. Pip had never met anyone like her. Her aunt was capable of anything, now. She didn’t doubt it for a second.

  As for relations between the older Goldthorpe members, anyone would be forgiven for assuming that Philip’s actions could have easily torn their bond apart. Truth was, it had only united them in a way none had expected. The three were closer now than they had ever been before. Talking was the key. Long-held grievances were aired, feelings were laid bare, and what their honesty and hard work produced was the blossoming of something quite special. They were once more a unit, as it should be. Them against the rest, together. Pip couldn’t have been more grateful that the same blood as theirs fed her veins. Her family.

  The day after Prince Albert was laid to rest, and a year exactly since three young waifs stumbled upon Bracken House, broke crisp and bright. With the nation in mourning, it was widely acknowledged that Christmas would be a quieter affair than usual as a mark of respect. The male members of the household donned black armbands, the females wore black ribbons in their hair, and preparations began in brisk but sober fashion.

  Nevertheless, the air sparked with the magic of the day, and not only for the children, and as the hours passed the mood switched to one of gaiety. By evening, the house had been transformed. Holly and mistletoe greenery livened mantels and tables, lights bedecking the tree twinkled like a thousand holy stars, and easy laughter permeated the warm and cosy rooms.

  At the family’s insistence, much to the servants’ shock and delight, everyone was invited once more to the drawing room, this time to get the Christmas Eve celebrations under way. Cook had surpassed herself – the sideboard, groaning beneath the weight of the mouth-watering buffet, was a sight to behold. Games and entertainment quickly followed, and fun and feasting was had by all.

  ‘If I may, I’d like to say a few words,’ Philip announced some time later, rising from his seat. ‘This past year has not been the easiest. And I, I’m ashamed to admit, have been at the root of most of the problems. I vowed some time ago to eschew my indulgent and selfish activities, that the person I had come to be was a thing of the past. Not only did I mean it, but I stuck to it. However, I realise I have some way to go yet to prove to you all I can be a good man. My treatment of most of you has been nothing short of appalling.

  ‘Father, Josephine – and you, Mabel.’ He smiled sadly when the cook raised her brows in shock that he’d addressed her as he hadn’t for many years. ‘I’ve been such a pompous and arrogant fool for so long and I’m sorry.’ His voice broke. ‘For everything.’

  Albert and Josephine murmured acknowledgement with soft smiles. After some seconds, Cook did likewise, eyes bright. ‘To the future, eh, lad?’

  ‘To the future,’ he repeated thickly. ‘Pip, I have wronged you most of all but I hope these past months have gone some small way towards proving how much you mean to me. You, you’re our gift. Lydia sent you to us,’ he choked. ‘You’ve healed us all.’

  She smiled back at this man who had changed completely. Her father. The term came naturally, now. He was right; they had, in their own ways, been through so much. But they came through it, together. And that’s what they would always be. As a family. All of them.

  ‘Charity, goodwill, peace and happiness to all,’ Philip finished, inclining his glass to everyone in the room; al
l did likewise, faces wreathed in contentment. ‘Now, enjoy yourselves!’

  Breaking from the festivities a little later, Pip scanned the room and found Simon absent. She slipped out and headed for the kitchen. The space was empty but on closer inspection, she saw that the back door was open a few inches. She made her way across and poked her head through.

  He glanced up from where he sat on the doorstep. ‘All right?’

  ‘Aye, you?’ He didn’t answer and she shuffled beside him on the cold stone. She linked her arm through his. ‘This brings back memories, eh?’

  A quiet chuckle left him. ‘I couldn’t believe our luck that night to find this door unlocked. By, I were bold.’

  It was her turn to laugh. ‘You were that! But look where it got us, eh?’

  Stars shimmered across the black blanket above them. They watched them for a while in easy silence.

  ‘I were thinking, I might call in at Angel Street the morrow.’

  She spun around to face him. ‘To see Peter? Oh, lad, I’m that happy—!’

  ‘Aye, well. Let’s see how it goes.’

  Hiding a joyous grin, she nodded.

  ‘Are you really happy, Pip? I mean with everything, like?’

  Sighing, she nodded. ‘Eeh, who’d have thought it?’

  ‘I’m embarrassed, you know.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘How I used to go on at thee about stopping away from Mr Philip.’

  ‘Ay, lad. You weren’t to know – none of us were – who he’d turn out to be—’

  ‘Nay, I don’t mean that,’ he cut in quietly. ‘It didn’t matter who it were. It could’ve been anyone, you know? I wanted thee to myself.’

  Flushing, she was glad of the darkness. ‘Tha were jealous?’

  He nodded. ‘Aye.’

  Something stirred in her for the lad. A deeper kind of love that she couldn’t fully grasp the meaning of. She knew he felt it, too.

  ‘You’ll likely wed a nob when you’re older, eh? Suppose you’d have to, you being who you are. I ain’t grand enough for you, now, am I?’