The Beggar Maid

by Dilly Court

  ‘I think you like to make yourself out to be a villain.’

  He gave her a searching look. ‘You look tired. Is everything all right? Wilmot hasn’t been pestering you, has he?’

  She dropped her gaze, clutching her hands together in an attempt to stop them from trembling. ‘The bailiffs are coming tomorrow. They’ll take part of my stock and we’ll be evicted.’

  ‘We? Is there someone else?’

  ‘Dorrie. She’s just a child – it’s a long story.’

  He took her by the shoulders and pressed her down on the chair reserved for elderly or infirm customers. ‘Never mind her for now. Why are you being evicted?’

  ‘The landlord raised the rent so high that I’ll never make enough to cover it.’

  ‘Have you tried reasoning with the rent collector? Maybe you could come to a mutually agreeable solution?’

  ‘He won’t listen, and trade is bad.’ She raised her head to look him in the eye. ‘I can’t let them take my books. They’re mine – Jethro left all the stock to me.’

  Harry was silent for a moment. ‘In that case, I’d suggest a moonlight flit. I’ve taken that course many times in the past when I was being dunned by debt collectors.’

  ‘You have? But you’re rich.’

  ‘Far from it,’ he said, chuckling. ‘I live by my wits, and sometimes fate is capricious and I find myself financially embarrassed.’ His smile faded. ‘But I do understand your predicament, and it’s fortunate that I returned to London at this particular time.’

  ‘Can you help me?’

  ‘I’m a bit short of funds at the moment or I’d gladly stump up for the rent, but as it is I can only see one way out.’

  ‘I couldn’t take your money,’ Charity said firmly. ‘I’m sure I can find a cheap lodging house in the city, but I don’t want to leave my books.’

  He frowned thoughtfully. ‘I suppose they are a saleable commodity, but they won’t make your fortune, as you’ve already discovered. It might be better to cut your losses and beat a hasty retreat.’

  ‘I just need a barrow,’ Charity said, warming to the subject. ‘A handcart would do. I could take at least some of them and sell them in one of the street markets. It will keep Dorrie and me until I can find work.’

  ‘I can see that you’re determined, but finding something suitable will be difficult on a Sunday, especially at this time of the year.’

  ‘Does that mean you’ll help me?’

  ‘I returned to London thinking I would be almost as bored here on a Sunday as I was in the country, and now you’ve issued me with a challenge.’

  ‘I can be ready in no time at all.’

  He laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘Take the advice of someone who has vast experience in such things and wait until after dark. Pack your books in bundles while you wait, but keep them out of sight. If the landlord gets wind of your intentions he’ll try to stop you.’ He snatched up his hat and put it on at an angle. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but don’t expect me back until this evening.’

  She leapt to her feet. ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’

  ‘Don’t expect miracles, but I’ll do all I can to help you. It’s not often I get the chance to be a knight in shining armour. I’m usually cast as a libertine.’ He doffed his hat and let himself out into the street.

  Charity watched his tall figure striding down the street towards Leather Lane. She turned and walked slowly amongst the stands, working out which books she would take and which she would have to abandon. It was not going to be an easy decision to make, but she had to be practical.

  Later that morning, having enlisted Dorrie’s help, she began sorting and making bundles of the volumes she intended to save from the grasping hands of the bailiffs. Dorrie had been upset when she discovered the reason for all this activity and Charity had tried to make their impending departure sound like a great adventure, although deep down she was just as scared as Dorrie. She had put her trust in Harry and all she could do now was wait and hope that he would bring transport, but what she would do then and where they would go remained a problem to which there seemed no easy solution.

  It was dark outside, but the night air sparkled with frost and Charity’s feet crunched on the frozen slush in the back yard as she made her way to the privy. The door was shut and she waited for a moment or two before knocking on the slatted wood. ‘Is anyone in there?’

  A low moan answered her question and Charity lifted the latch, but the door only opened a crack before it came up against an obstacle. ‘Are you all right?’ Her stomach clenched with anxiety. She had a horrible feeling that she knew who was slumped on the dirt floor. ‘Vi, is that you?’ She put her shoulder to the wood, pushing gently. A groan confirmed her suspicions, and after a great deal of manoeuvring she managed to get into the privy. She helped Violet to her feet. ‘What happened? Are you hurt?’ It was too dark to see but as she brushed a lock of hair from Violet’s face she felt something warm and sticky. ‘You’re bleeding.’

  Violet leaned against her. ‘Me dad knows,’ she gasped. ‘He done this to me.’

  ‘Let’s get you indoors.’ Charity looped Violet’s arm around her shoulders. ‘Slowly does it.’

  ‘I can’t do it no other way,’ Violet murmured with a hint of wry humour. ‘I thought he was going to kill me.’

  They made their way across the yard and as soon as they were safely inside the scullery Charity locked and bolted the door. ‘You’re safe now, Vi. Come into the kitchen and let’s have a look at you.’

  Dorrie had been sitting at the table but she jumped to her feet at they entered the room. ‘What happened? Has she had another fall?’

  ‘She slipped on the ice,’ Charity said hastily. ‘Why don’t you make her a nice hot cup of tea? I’m sure that would make her feel better.’

  Dorrie rushed over to the range and placed the kettle on the hob. ‘Will she be all right?’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, young ’un,’ Vi said stoutly.

  Charity filled a bowl with warm water from the kettle and replaced it on the heat. ‘We’ll soon have you fixed up,’ she said, making an attempt to sound cheerful for Dorrie’s sake.

  The head wound appeared to be superficial, although Charity suspected that Violet would have a nasty scar on her forehead when it healed. She was badly bruised and had obviously endured a severe beating. Her lip was split and she had lost a front tooth. ‘You’ll have a real shiner tomorrow morning,’ Charity murmured as she bathed Violet’s face and applied arnica to the bruises. ‘Have you pain anywhere else?’ She lowered her voice. ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I dunno really because I ache all over. Maybe I could sleep here tonight?’ She cast a wary look at Dorrie, who was taking it all in. ‘I don’t think I could make it up them steps, Charity.’

  ‘We’re leaving soon,’ Dorrie said eagerly. ‘We’re going on a big adventure. Charity said so.’

  ‘What?’ Violet caught Charity by the hand. ‘Leaving? Why? What’s happened?’

  ‘Don’t get upset, Vi. We’ve got to go or the bailiffs will take everything. Woods is threatening to evict us tomorrow anyway.’

  Violet released her with a cry of disgust. ‘You were going to leave without telling me. I can’t believe you’d do that.’

  ‘I was going to come upstairs when I thought your pa would be sleeping off the booze.’

  ‘You could have told me sooner.’

  ‘I only decided today and then Harry turned up and . . .’

  ‘You’re running away with that chap you told me about?’

  ‘No, of course not. I hardly know him.’

  Violet held her hand to her head. ‘I don’t understand all this. I thought you had the rent money.’

  ‘I didn’t have quite enough.’

  ‘It was because you took me to the doctor’s, wasn’t it?’ Violet’s swollen lips trembled and her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘This is all my fault, and now you’re leaving me.’

 
‘You can come too,’ Dorrie said excitedly. ‘Me and Charity will take care of you and make you better.’

  ‘Ta, Dorrie, but you don’t know the whole of it.’ Violet raised her head to give Charity a beseeching look. ‘I c-can’t stay here, and I don’t think I’ve got the courage to throw myself in the river. It’ll be the workhouse for me. I’ve no choice now.’

  Charity knew she was beaten. With Dorrie gazing at her expectantly and Violet having lost the will to live, she had no choice. ‘Of course you must come with us, Vi. I’m not sure where we’re going but Harry should be here soon with some sort of transport. We just have to wait for him to arrive.’ She turned to Dorrie. ‘Where’s that tea? I’m sure we could all benefit from something warm in our stomachs before we set off on our big adventure.’

  It was close to midnight before the shop bell rang announcing Harry’s arrival. Charity had been keeping watch in the shop for an hour or more, while the others snatched some sleep in the kitchen. As the minutes ticked by she was on the point of giving up, thinking that he had either been lured away by a game of cards or had been unable to find a suitable vehicle, but he had proved her wrong. She rushed to unlock the door. ‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ she said breathlessly.

  He entered on a blast of cold air. ‘I always keep my promises, but it wasn’t an easy task. Anyway, I’m here now.’

  She glanced out into the street. ‘That’s a private carriage. Is it yours?’

  ‘You might say that someone is returning a favour.’ He beckoned to the coachman who climbed down from his box and came to join them. ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘These are Sir Hedley’s books.’ Harry indicated the bundles with a casual wave of his hand. ‘Load as many of them into the growler as possible, Jackson.’

  ‘At once, sir.’ The coachman picked up several bundles and took them out to the waiting carriage.

  ‘Who is Sir Hedley?’ Charity asked anxiously. ‘You haven’t sold my books, have you?’

  ‘I found them and you a temporary home.’

  ‘But the carriage and the titled gentleman – I don’t understand.’

  ‘A little gentle persuasion secured a place of safety for you and the child, and your wretched books.’

  ‘There are three of us now,’ Charity said, lowering her voice so that the coachman could not hear. ‘Violet’s father discovered that she’s in the family way and beat her senseless. She can’t stay here.’

  Harry shrugged his shoulders. ‘Why am I not surprised? You seem to go round collecting waifs and strays as well as leather-bound volumes that no one wants.’

  ‘Violet is a friend and she’s in trouble.’

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

  Charity could see that it would be futile to enter an argument about the rights and wrongs of her decision. She watched the coachman as he filled the floor of the carriage with piles of books. ‘Will there be room for all of us?’

  ‘I’ll ride with Jackson and you ladies will have to sit with your feet resting on the books until you get to Sir Hedley Bligh’s house in Nevill’s Court.’

  ‘Who is this man, Harry? And why has he agreed to take complete strangers into his house?’

  ‘He’s my father.’

  Charity put her head on one side. ‘But why is your name Elliot when your father’s name is Bligh?’

  ‘Let’s just say that we don’t exactly see eye to eye. I left home several years ago and chose to use my mother’s maiden name.’

  ‘Will he mind having us to stay, even temporarily?’

  ‘Nevill’s Court is a huge house. I doubt if he’ll even realise that you’re there.’

  ‘I’m not sure about this, Harry. What about my books?’

  ‘Ah now, that’s the best part. My father has an extensive library, although I doubt if he’s ever read any of them. He’s a well-known collector of antiquarian books. You may find you have something in common with him.’

  ‘Am I going into service in his household? What will I have to do there?’

  Harry threw back his head and laughed. ‘Let’s worry about that later. As I said, the house is big and run down, and your main difficulty will be in finding your way around.’

  ‘Are you sure this is a good idea, Harry?’ Charity watched the last of her precious books being loaded into the carriage with a feeling of misgiving. ‘It all sounds a bit odd.’

  He patted her on the shoulder. ‘Go and gather up your flock, shepherdess. It’s time to go.’

  She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure . . .’

  ‘Do you want to lose everything?’

  ‘I’ll go and get Vi and Dorrie.’

  The carriage drew up in Fetter Lane outside the entrance of Nevill’s Court, a narrow alley sandwiched between the Moravian chapel and a terrace of tall buildings. Charity’s heart sank as she peered into the dark maw of the passage that smelled strongly of cat urine and worse. It was not what she had been led to expect and she could not imagine that a wealthy man would make his home in such a place. She helped Dorrie from the carriage and Harry leapt from the box to assist Violet.

  ‘Do you want me to unload the books now, sir?’ Jackson did not sound very enthusiastic.

  ‘Best leave it until morning,’ Harry said, without stopping to consult Charity. ‘I take it that we still own the coach house and stables?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Then the morning will do nicely. Wait here and you can take me back to my lodgings.’

  Jackson tipped his hat. ‘Right you are, sir.’

  ‘What sort of place is this?’ Charity demanded as Harry led them into the darkness. She covered her mouth and nose with her hand in an attempt to escape from the noxious smell.

  ‘You’ll see.’ He quickened his pace.

  Dorrie clutched Charity’s arm. ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ Charity said with more conviction than she was feeling. ‘Are you all right, Vi?’

  Leaning heavily on Harry’s arm, Violet turned her head. ‘I think so.’

  A shaft of moonlight dazzled Charity’s eyes as they emerged into a hidden part of London that had been saved from the Great Fire by an act of God or pure chance. Four-storey seventeenth-century houses with small cottage gardens formed three sides of a square, abutting a magnificent but slightly dilapidated town house of the same era. Beneath a portico supported by two Doric columns was an eight-panelled front door boasting a brass lion’s head knocker, which even by moonlight Charity could see was sadly in need of polishing. The house was in darkness but the small-paned windows glittered in the moonlight, creating an eerie impression of invisible hands holding dozens of candles as ghostly entities moved from room to room. A shiver ran down Charity’s spine and she longed for the comfort of her own bed in the place that had become home.

  Harry seemed to have no qualms as he marched up to the door and knocked. The sound echoed as if the house was an empty shell, and they waited in breathless silence. Then slow, measured footsteps came closer and closer. Charity was ready to run, expecting to see a hideous ghoulish figure like the monster created by Dr Frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s novel. The door screamed on unoiled hinges and Charity stifled a gasp of fear, but the person who stood on the threshold was no monster. They were ushered inside by a small, plump woman with a kindly face like a wizened crab apple. ‘I haven’t had much time to prepare for the young ladies, Master Harry, but I’ve done my best.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Diment. Whatever you’ve done will be excellent. I’ll leave them in your capable hands.’ Harry helped Violet to a carved oak chair before turning to Charity with an encouraging smile. ‘You’ll be safe in this haven between the Inns of Court and the bustle of Fleet Street. This place is a secret hidden from all but the most discerning eyes.’

  ‘What happens now?’ Charity followed him to the door. ‘Are you going to abandon us in this creepy old house? What am I supposed to say to Sir Hedley in the morning?’

  ‘I doubt if you’ll see very much of
the man himself. He’s mostly nocturnal and sleeps all day until it’s time to visit his club or the gaming houses.’

  She lowered her voice, not wanting to upset Dorrie or Violet any more than was necessary. ‘But surely he won’t allow us to live here rent free? Why would he do that for complete strangers?’

  Harry laid his finger on her lips. ‘Stop worrying. When you see him you have only to mention that you’ve brought a fresh supply of books and he’ll welcome you with open arms.’

  ‘I wish I could believe that,’ she said doubtfully.

  ‘You’ll be fine, Charity Crosse.’ He leaned over to brush her cheek with a kiss. ‘Goodbye, my dear. I’ll let Daniel know where you are when I next see him.’ He opened the door and stepped outside.

  ‘Come with me, ladies.’ Mrs Diment walked slowly towards a wide staircase with ornately carved newel posts and banisters. She held an oil lamp high above her head and they followed her up to the second floor. Charity supported Violet on one side and Dorrie did her best to help by taking her free arm, but it was slow and painful progress.

  The room that Mrs Diment showed them into was large and smelled of soot and damp. The beamed ceiling was festooned with lacy cobwebs and the four-poster bed was hung with threadbare damask curtains on which moths must have been feasting for a century or more. She lit a candle and placed it on a dressing table set between two windows. She drew the curtains and clouds of dust filled the air, making them all cough. ‘This will have to do for tonight. There are other bedchambers, but I wouldn’t advise you to go wandering about in the dark as some of the floorboards are in a sorry state of repair and might give way.’ With a nod and a smile she left them with only the one candle to light the large room.

  Charity helped Violet to a low boudoir chair and made her sit while she and Dorrie made up the bed. The sheets and blankets felt damp to the touch and eventually they huddled together, still fully clothed, beneath the covers. Despite her reservations about the house and its owner and her fears that Violet’s injuries might bring on a miscarriage, Charity fell asleep with Dorrie curled up at her side.

  She could not think where she was when she opened her eyes next morning, but when Dorrie turned over in her sleep, digging her in the ribs with her elbow, Charity realised that she was not dreaming. She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and slithered to the floor, taking care not to wake the others. At least there had been no emergency during the night, and it looked as though the baby had survived the vicious beating that Violet had suffered at the hands of her father.