The Beggar Maid

by Dilly Court

  He thrust his face closer. ‘And you’ll tell me?’

  She nodded and with a last spiteful tweak he released her.

  ‘She has a lovely baby girl.’

  ‘I got a customer for that nipper. A poor woman whose child died in infancy and she can’t have no more of her own. I’ll be doing me civic duty in providing the grieving parents with a substitute and now my Violet has provided me with one.’ He scrambled to his feet. ‘You’ll take me to her.’

  Charity stared at him in disgust. ‘You’d sell your own flesh and blood, never mind breaking your daughter’s heart?’

  ‘She ain’t got no heart. Poor folks like us can’t afford to be sentimental. Violet should think herself lucky that her old pa is willing to get her out of this scrape. She don’t stand a chance of finding a husband if she’s got a nipper tied to her apron strings. I’m giving her the opportunity to make good her mistake.’

  ‘You can’t take Vi’s baby. I won’t let you.’ Charity turned her head away, expecting to receive a blow from his raised hand, but he let it fall to his side, shrugging his shoulders.

  ‘You’ll change your mind, sweetheart. Let’s see what a night alone with the rats and cockroaches will do.’

  ‘Where am I?’ she demanded angrily. ‘You can’t keep me here. My friends will be looking for me.’

  ‘Let them look. There’s no one knows that you’re here. This place was a pub years ago. It was on my delivery round so I knows every inch of this cellar.’

  ‘The police will have been informed.’

  ‘This building is due for demolition tomorrow. You’d better make up your mind quickly.’ He picked up the lantern and walked towards the steps. ‘I’ll be back first thing and you’d better be ready to tell me what I want to know or it’ll be the worse for you.’

  ‘At least leave me a candle,’ Charity cried urgently, but all she received in answer was a mocking laugh that echoed round the cellar walls after he had gone. She was left in almost complete darkness, and she was close to panicking when she saw a glimmer of light coming from the street above. For a moment she was puzzled, and then she realised that she was in a pub cellar, and the sliver of light was coming from trap doors which would have opened to allow barrels of beer to be delivered down a chute. She forced herself to remain calm, subduing the fear of the dark that had haunted her since childhood. It was late evening and if there was light outside it must come from a street lamp, which meant that the former pub was in a thoroughfare. She strained her ears, listening for the sound of footsteps and passing traffic. If she could work her way free from her bonds she might be able to attract the attention of a passer-by. She tried shouting for help, but there was no answer to her frantic cries.

  She struggled, but the ropes chafed her wrists and ankles and tore at her skin, forcing her to stop. She rested for a while, trying to ignore the crippling pangs of hunger and increasing thirst. As her eyes became more accustomed to the darkness she could make out the shape of a table and what looked like a bottle that Bert must have forgotten to take with him. Driven by desperation she threw herself onto her side and rolled across the filthy floor, scattering cockroaches and crushing those that were not quick enough to make their getaway.

  She could not see where she was going and she came to a sudden halt as she crashed against the table. She heard the bottle topple and it fell to the floor, shattering into shards, the largest of which reflected the sliver of light from above. If she could just get her hands free she could untie the rope that bound her ankles, or at the very least slice through it with a piece of broken glass. She rocked sideways in an attempt to raise herself to a sitting position. It took several tries but eventually she managed to sit upright, and then she began the process of freeing her hands. The pain was intense but she gritted her teeth and persisted until the bonds slackened. She rested for a few minutes and then began again until she could slip her hands free.

  The rope burns hurt but she had no intention of giving up until she was free. She reached down and attempted to untie Bert’s knots. When this failed she picked up a shard of glass and began sawing through the tight cords. Eventually, with blood pouring from her cut fingers, she managed to slice through the last few strands and she uttered a cry of relief. Tearing a strip off her petticoat she made a rough bandage for her right hand. The cuts were superficial but painful, and the numbness in her feet was replaced by pins and needles. She reached up to hold on to the table and pulled herself into a standing position, stamping her feet in an attempt to bring them back to life. It was only then that she realised how quiet it was. The traffic had ceased and she could no longer hear the sound of footsteps on the pavement. It must be the middle of the night, but time did not seem to mean anything in this subterranean world. She was exhausted and there was nothing she could do until morning, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that she was not alone in the dank cellar. She could hear the patter of small feet as the resident rodents circled around her. She had heard horrific stories of people attacked by rats, and she dragged the table over to the far wall and climbed onto it. She lay down and curled up, making herself as small as possible in order to retain some of her body heat. She closed her eyes and imagined herself back in the bedroom at the cottage with Violet and Dorrie sleeping in the next room. In her mind’s eye she could see Alice sleeping peacefully in her crib and she vowed that she would protect Violet’s baby with her life if necessary.

  She was awakened by the rumble of traffic overhead and the sound of footsteps as people walked over the trap doors. The events of last evening came back to her in a terrifying flood and she knew that Bert would return. What would happen then did not bear thinking about; she sat up and she swung her legs over the side of the table. The cuts on her hand were the least of her worries but they stung painfully and her stomach contracted with pangs of hunger. She slid off the table and made her way carefully towards the chute, stepping between the scattered slivers of glass. She looked around, hoping to see a stick or a broom that was long enough to tap on the doors above her head, but it was too dark to see into the corners of the cellar. She shouted until she was hoarse, but no one seemed to hear her. She made an abortive attempt to walk up the chute but it was damp and slippery and she could not get a foothold.

  Feeling along the walls she found the cellar steps and made her way to the door at the top. It was locked, but she had expected that and she banged on it with her fists, calling for help, but still no one came. She returned to the cellar and dragged the table to the foot of the chute, climbed onto it and stood with her hands cupped around her mouth, calling for help. On one occasion the footsteps slowed down and she shouted even louder, but whoever it was walked on, and she could have cried with frustration. She was growing ever more desperate. A beating would be the least of the methods Bert might use to drag the information out of her when he returned and she refused to give him the information he demanded. She called out again, and this time she heard a familiar sound that made her heart race. Above her head the thin sliver of light was dimmed and she could hear snuffling and the scratching of claws on wood. ‘Bosun! I’m here!’

  The scrambling grew louder, followed by the heavy tread of booted feet. With a creak and a groan of hinges the trapdoor was lifted and daylight flooded into the cellar. Charity shielded her eyes. ‘Jackson, is that you?’

  He leaned over, peering down at her with Bosun at his side. ‘Hold on, miss. I’ll have you out of there in two ticks.’ He motioned the dog to sit. ‘On guard, Bosun.’ He disappeared and Charity slumped down on the table, tears of relief pouring down her cheeks. She wiped them away on her sleeve at the sound of the cellar door being kicked until the lock shattered and it flew open. She leapt from the table and ran to the steps, meeting Jackson halfway. He grabbed her by the hand. ‘Come along, miss. There’s no time to lose. Workmen are clearing the street and they’re going to start knocking the place down.’

  ‘How did you know where to find me?’ Charity held on to him as he l
ed her out through the derelict building, stepping over clumps of fallen plaster and wall tiles.

  ‘You got Bosun to thank for that, miss.’ Jackson lifted her over a fallen beam and set her on her feet the other side. ‘Are you all right?’

  His words were echoed by Harry, who was standing outside on the pavement with Bert held in an arm lock. ‘Are you all right, Charity?’ His voice shook with suppressed emotion and white lines etched the sides of his mouth. Dark shadows underlined his eyes and he looked like a man who had endured a sleepless night.

  Her heart did a massive leap inside her chest, making her feel faint, but she managed to nod her head, and was suddenly conscious of the sight she must look. In broad daylight she could see that her skirts were bloodstained and filthy and her hair hung loose about her shoulders. ‘Harry,’ she murmured. ‘You came.’

  ‘Very touching,’ Bert sneered. ‘Don’t tell me you got your eye on this cove, you slut. D’you think a gent like him would want you for anything other than a . . .’ His words were lost as Harry spun him round and sent him hurtling down the chute.

  ‘He had it coming to him.’ Gideon slapped Harry on the back.

  Harry leaned over the open trap door. ‘I’ve a good mind to shut you in and let them bring the building down round your ears, you miserable bastard.’

  Bert shook his fist. ‘You’ve broke me arm. I’ll have you up before the beak for assault.’

  ‘Tell that to the police when they arrive,’ Harry shouted above the noise of the workmen who were advancing on the building with picks and shovels. ‘I think kidnap and false imprisonment carry a longer sentence than a punch on the nose.’ He turned to Charity, holding out his hand. ‘Are you really all right? If he’s hurt you I’ll go down there and beat him to a pulp.’

  ‘I’ll help you,’ Gideon added angrily. ‘You look very pale, Charity. We’d best get you home.’

  Bosun licked her hand, and Charity stroked his head. ‘Thank you for finding me, Bosun.’

  ‘He’s a good dog,’ Jackson said proudly. ‘We’ve been out all night looking for you, miss. I’d never have thought of the Old Three Tuns if Bosun hadn’t taken up the scent.’

  Harry placed his arm protectively around her shoulders. ‘Are you able to walk, my love? We’re not far from home.’

  She met his concerned gaze with a tremulous smile. ‘Never mind me, Harry. You must go home to Bligh Park. The reason I came to London was to tell you that you’re needed there.’

  He nodded. ‘Gideon told me what’s been going on, but you’re more important at this minute. The rest can wait.’

  ‘I agree.’ Gideon glanced into the cellar where Bert was making his way up the steps. ‘Chapman’s trying to escape.’ He beckoned to two burly workmen. ‘There’s a villain in the cellar. Keep him here while I go for a constable, and be careful, he’s extremely violent.’

  The elder of the two rolled up his sleeves, exposing muscular forearms. ‘Leave it to me, vicar. I ain’t one to stand by and see a woman beat up.’ He cast a sympathetic glance in Charity’s direction, confirming her suspicion that she was not looking her best.

  She leaned on Harry’s arm. ‘Take me home, please.’

  The smell of something savoury wafted from the kitchen and Charity stopped, turning to Jackson with a questioning look. ‘I didn’t know you could cook.’

  He let Bosun off his lead and the dog bounded across the hall, gambolling joyfully around Mrs Diment as she came bustling towards them. ‘Get out of the way, you stupid animal,’ she said, flapping her apron at him. ‘Are you all right, Charity? We’ve been out of our minds with worry.’

  Harry stepped aside as Mrs Diment rushed over to embrace Charity. ‘It was good of you to come at such short notice.’

  Dazed and weak, Charity looked from one to the other. ‘How long have I been away?’

  ‘Too long,’ Harry said fondly. ‘I can’t take credit for sending for Mrs Diment. You have Jackson to thank for that.’

  Jackson took off his hat. ‘I took the liberty, miss. I sent a telegram to Bligh Court yesterday, and Fanny caught the next train to London.’

  ‘I’d had enough of playing second fiddle to Polly Trevett. She was always the bossy one when we were kitchen maids.’ Mrs Diment tossed her head, very nearly dislodging her spotless white mobcap. ‘This is my home and it’s where I hope I’ll end my days.’ She gave Harry a meaningful look. ‘Anyway, that’s enough talking. You should go to your room and change out of those filthy rags, miss. I’ll bring up a jug of hot water and a clean towel. I daresay everything has gone to rack and ruin since I’ve been away, and you can make yourself useful, Enoch. Fetch some coal for the range and fill a scuttle for the parlour in case the master wants a fire. It might be summer but that room always feels damp and cold.’

  Jackson and Bosun slunk off towards the kitchen, followed by Mrs Diment, who seemed determined to make sure that both of them did as they were told.

  Charity waited until they were out of earshot before turning to Harry. ‘Enoch? I never knew that was Jackson’s first name.’

  Harry took her in his arms, smiling. ‘Neither did I, come to that. But never mind them, I’ve got you safely home and that’s all that matters.’ He bent his head and kissed her on the lips. It was a sweet and gentle caress, devoid of passion but filled with longing. Charity felt herself floating as if she were weightless, but then he drew away with a worried look. ‘Are you really all right? If he harmed you in any way I’ll see that he goes to prison for the rest of his life.’

  ‘A few bruises, that’s all. I cut my hand while I was sawing through the ropes with a piece of broken glass.’

  He held her closer. ‘He won’t hurt you again. I’ll make sure of that.’ He was about to kiss her again, but she laid her finger on his lips.

  ‘Not now, Harry. I must go to my room before Mrs Diment catches me dawdling, but first I must beg you to go home as soon as possible.’

  ‘I will, my darling, but only when I’m satisfied that you are all right.’

  ‘I’m fine, but I’m worried for Dan’s sake. I don’t know how much he told you, but Wilmot is determined to get a share of the Bligh treasure, and your mother seems to think that Bligh Park is her rightful home. They arrived with a retinue of servants and enough luggage to last a year.’

  He traced the frown lines on her forehead, wiping them away with a touch of his forefinger. ‘You mustn’t worry, my darling. I can handle Wilmot and my mother. She’s not a bad person, Charity. She’s easily led and no doubt Wilmot is trading on her weaknesses, but I’ll set her straight. You will be mistress of Bligh Park, not Mother.’

  His words made Charity’s heart sing and her head spin, but a small voice in her head advised caution. ‘I love you, Harry, but you know it’s not that simple. I’ve only met your mother once but she made it very clear that I must keep my place. I can’t help feeling that she’s right. She’s well versed in the ways of the world.’

  ‘And she’s created more scandals than she cares to mention. Mama might act like a dowager duchess but she’s a practical woman at heart. She’ll come round eventually.’

  ‘She was just being realistic, and I agree with her. You’re Sir Harry Bligh from now on, and you have a position to keep up.’ She stepped away, indicating her dishevelled state. ‘This is what I am – a bruised apple fallen from a costermonger’s barrow to end up in the gutter. I would drag you down to that level.’ She backed towards the staircase. ‘I’m going to change my clothes but I can’t change what I am.’

  He frowned. ‘That’s arrant nonsense, and I won’t listen to such talk. You are the finest person I’ve ever met, and I love you with all my heart.’ He was about to kiss her again but was interrupted by the appearance of Mrs Diment.

  ‘There’s a fire in the parlour because that room always feels chilly, despite it being the middle of summer, and I filled a decanter with sherry wine, Sir Harry,’ she said, emphasising his new title. ‘The old order is restored and we can resume ou
r rightful place in the world.’

  ‘I’ll go upstairs and make myself presentable,’ Charity said, smiling. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  Washed, dressed in clean clothes and with her injuries tended to by Mrs Diment, Charity made her way downstairs to the parlour to find Harry seated by the fire with an untouched glass of sherry on the table at his side. He stood up and his smile enveloped her like a warm caress. ‘You look beautiful.’

  She felt her resolve weakening, but she was determined to stand firm. ‘You must go home, Harry. You know very well that Dan isn’t strong enough to stand up to your mother, let alone Wilmot. That man is a bully beneath all that outward show of charm.’

  ‘I can’t leave London for a day or two. I still have some formalities to go through, but once my name is on the Official Roll no one can dispute my claim.’

  ‘Wilmot will find a way round that if he can. Don’t underestimate him.’

  ‘Even so, I’m sure that Dan’s birth certificate will state that his father was Sir Philip, even though it’s untrue.’

  ‘So he couldn’t inherit the land or the title?’

  ‘I suppose he could put in a claim if I were to die suddenly.’ Harry reached out to take her hands in his. ‘But I think murder would be a step too far for Wilmot. He’s greedy, but he’s not stupid.’

  She stared down at their intertwined fingers. ‘I think that Wilmot knows you’ll be generous to your brother, and that he’ll do his best to make Dan surrender whatever share of the fortune you decide to allow him. You know how easy-going and good-natured Dan is – he’ll agree to anything for a quiet life and he wants to see your mother happy.’

  ‘You are wise beyond your years, my darling, and I love you more than ever. I’ll go home as soon as possible, and in the meantime I’ll do my best to persuade you to change your mind about us.’ He kissed her on the forehead. ‘I’ll propose to you properly when all this is settled. All I ask is that you don’t let anyone or anything come between us. It’s our future that counts and damn the rest of the world.’