by Cathy Sharp
‘Is this your babe, Meg?’ he asked and she felt a strange light-headedness sweep over her and for a moment she could not move or think, because she was so overjoyed. She had doubted that he could achieve what she thought of as impossible.
‘Is it really her?’ she asked, moving slowly as if in a dream. It felt as if her feet were stuck in some thick syrup and her limbs were leaden. ‘Oh, Toby – is it truly my child?’
‘Look and tell me, Meg,’ he said softly. He held the babe out and she saw the sweetest little face surrounded by a halo of golden hair; the babe had pink cheeks and large blue eyes that looked wonderingly up at her and she felt an immediate pull of love. She had been devoid of hope and now she had her child returned to her. Nothing else mattered. ‘Oh, my darling – my sweet baby …’ Meg whispered and her voice was thick with emotion, her gaze misty and damp. ‘You found her …’ She looked up at him adoringly: her champion, her hero. ‘Toby, you found her!’
‘Yes,’ he said and smiled as he placed the child in her arms and she cradled it to her breast, tears of joy falling as she gazed down at the beautiful child. ‘She is yours, Meg, and no one will ever take her from you again. I promise you.’
‘My husband …’ she said fearfully, glancing up at him. ‘If he knew he might try …’
‘He will have searched for you in vain and I dare say now continues on his merry way to hell,’ Toby said, wanting to set her mind at rest, though he knew nothing of the man. From what little Meg had told him, it was unlikely her husband moved in his circles for he never visited London, and if she allowed him to take care of her, he would make sure somehow that the man who had so ill-treated her never came near her again. ‘Put him from your mind, Meg. You cannot free yourself of him but if you will entrust yourself and your child to me, I shall protect you for as long as we both live.’
‘Oh, Toby … Mr Rattan,’ Meg said and smiled at him through her tears. ‘I am grateful and happy that you offer me your protection.’
‘I would offer you marriage but it would cost you too much grief to free you from the bonds of marriage to that monster,’ Toby said and the look in his eyes spoke of a love and devotion Meg understood but hardly believed. ‘I shall ask nothing of you, dearest Meg, but the privilege of caring for you. Yet it may be best if we change your name to mine by deed poll – and then I can adopt the child so that even if someone came looking for her, she would still be ours. To the world you will be Mrs Rattan, though we cannot seal our union in church.’
‘You will be my husband in all but name,’ Meg told him, for this was the man who had given her back her life. How could she refuse him anything? She would take all that he offered and smile, even if the scars inside still maimed her. ‘I do not know how much of myself I can give you – for what he did to me damaged me emotionally, but I shall always love you in my way. You have given me back my child and my life, and I can never thank you enough.’
‘Your trust will be enough,’ Toby vowed and went to her. He stroked the tears from her cheeks. ‘I will make you happy however many years it takes …’
Meg looked from him to the babe in her arms. ‘You have already done so. I did not believe they would give her up – how did you manage it?’
Toby hesitated, then, ‘Money and the law,’ he said. ‘I both bribed and threatened and the husband saw sense, though his wife wept to lose the babe. I think she has been well cared for, has she not?’ It was partially a lie, for he had given the young mother money, though she’d wept and told him her father had threatened to drown the brat for bringing shame on them.
‘I thank you for taking her, sir,’ she’d said. ‘Give her a good life and I shall not regret what I have done, though I have little choice.’
Toby had felt her grief but told himself that in taking the child its grandfather thought shameful, he would be giving it a chance of a good life and Meg happiness.
‘You are happy now?’ he asked Meg anxiously.
‘Yes, oh yes,’ Meg said. ‘She is so beautiful. Her name is Elizabeth – after my mother.’
‘And mine,’ he said and smiled. ‘She was called by another name but she is too young to mind or remember.’
‘She is almost three months,’ Meg said and her face glowed with happiness. ‘They never let me hold her once. I saw her for an instant through a haze of pain and her hair was just a dark strand but it has grown fair and beautiful, much like my own when I was small.’
‘Your hair is beautiful now,’ Toby said and looked at her with love. Meg smiled and then Elizabeth cried and a pungent smell told of a napkin that needed to be changed. ‘I shall go upstairs and make her comfortable – and put the clothes I’ve been preparing on her …’ Her eyes lit up with happiness as she cradled her lost child to her breast.
Toby nodded and watched her go upstairs. For a moment his face clouded. May God forgive him for the lies! Yet the truth would only destroy the woman he loved. Meg was happy now and he intended that she should live her life in peace and ignorance of what could only hurt her.
‘Ah, well met!’ A voice from behind made him turn and he spun round to find Arthur looking at him quizzically. ‘I take it your mission was successful?’
‘Yes … it was,’ Toby said for that was no lie, though the years would bring many deceptions to cover the one he had wrought here. ‘Elizabeth is restored to her mother and I shall adopt her.’
‘Yet you cannot marry Meg …’ Arthur posed an unspoken question.
‘She will be my wife in all but name. We shall live together and the child will be presumed mine; Meg will change her name to mine and only a few will know she is not my wife.’
‘Will your father know the truth?’ Arthur frowned.
‘I am not his heir,’ Toby said. ‘If the time comes when Meg is free of her brute of a husband I shall wed her.’ He smothered a sigh. ‘And, God willing, we may have other children of our own.’ Following Arthur into Hetty’s sitting room, he said, ‘Hetty is not here?’
‘She has gone to fetch two young girls – Bella, the girl I believe to be Katharine’s sister’s child and a friend of hers from the workhouse where they were found. It was a decent enough place in its way, though the master had allowed a spiteful woman too much power. The girls will come with us to the manor and then decide where they wish to live.’
‘I thought you might adopt Bella as your own?’ Toby arched his brow.
‘Had Katharine lived I should have done so if she wished,’ Arthur agreed. ‘It is certainly an option I intend to offer Bella, but she has a will of her own and I rather think I know which way her mind tends …’ Toby looked puzzled and Arthur smiled. ‘I think she might like to live with a farmer’s wife if they could afford to take her.’
‘An easy matter to remedy,’ Toby said and Arthur nodded his agreement.
‘Money is sometimes a blessing, is it not? Used in the right way it can bring good if not happiness.’
‘I think it can bring happiness,’ Toby said thoughtfully.
‘Is that how you got the child back?’
Toby looked at a point beyond Arthur’s head. ‘Money was certainly a part of it and a great deal of thought.’ He did not elaborate, though Arthur waited for a moment or two. Instead, he changed the subject abruptly. ‘So is your business here concluded at last?’
‘Once we move to the manor,’ Arthur said and looked out at the darkening sky. ‘I had hoped for some better weather. It is spring and summer cannot be far away, yet it remains bitterly cold. Much of what we transport will be by cart and that can be sheeted over if it rains – but I’d hoped some of the young ones might ride in a hay wagon and think it a treat. Twelve elderly folk and fifteen children are rather a lot to take in carriages and I’m not sure there are enough for hire locally so they can all leave together.’
‘The children will not mind a bit of rain,’ Toby said and laughed. ‘If they have hay and a sheet up against the worst of it they will treat it as an adventure.’
‘Yes, I daresay
.’ Arthur paused as he heard some laughter from upstairs. ‘That is a sound I have not heard much of here and I hope it is a sign that they begin to recover.’
Toby looked about him at the small sitting room. ‘Hetty has done wonders with this room, but the whole place is dark and depressing. The manor cannot fail to be better than this and spirits must lift as soon as we are under way.’
‘We leave the day after tomorrow,’ Arthur said. ‘Will you stay and help us – or take Meg to London?’
‘Do you need my help?’ Toby asked. Arthur was his best friend and he would stay if he was truly needed.
‘No, I’m sure we can manage,’ Arthur said obligingly for he sensed what was on Toby’s mind. ‘Take Meg away from this place and get her settled in a new home.’
‘No, if you don’t mind, I’ll let her stay with you until I have things ready and come back in a week or so. She will not be comfortable in an hotel and my lodgings are suitable only for a bachelor.’ He paused then, ‘It is in my mind to make inquiries in Winchester about her husband, discover if I can whether he still searches for Meg.’
‘And what will you do if you find him?’ Arthur frowned. ‘Remember that murder is still a hanging offence, my friend. You may want to thrash the bastard, but it might be best to stay clear of him.’
‘I shall not go myself but send an agent I trust – but I would know Meg is safe until I am certain of his whereabouts …’
‘Meg is welcome to come with us,’ Arthur agreed. ‘Another female adult can only be of help keeping everyone together.’
‘Thank you,’ Toby said. ‘I shall speak to Meg and leave in the morning.’
‘And now, I daresay you could do with a drink,’ Arthur suggested. ‘I shall wait for Hetty to bring the girls back safely and then I intend to sup at the inn – would you care to join me?’
‘I ate earlier. I would spend as much time as I can with Meg.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Arthur said, giving him a look that seemed to see into his soul. ‘You must love her a great deal, my friend, to do what you have done …’
Toby nodded but said nothing. He was almost certain that Arthur knew the truth, though he would not speak of it. As he took the glass of brandy offered, Toby studied its rich glow in the candlelight. The lie was cast and it would live like a dark shadow at his shoulder but he would never reveal the truth because he could not bear to break the heart of the woman he loved. She would never know that the child he had bought and placed in her arms was not her own. He had taken a risk but the look in Meg’s eyes had been worth every moment of doubt he’d suffered on the return journey and he would do whatever he must to keep her safe …
Arthur was thoughtful as he rode back to the inn. Hetty had brought the two young girls safely home and, far from being afraid, they were chattering excitedly about the move to the manor and he had been aware of Hannah’s lustrous eyes on him. He sighed. She had imbued him with the virtues of a knight in shining armour – and it was the name. His mother had named him for the fabled king and now Hannah thought him her saviour. A little smile touched Arthur’s lips, for he was nothing like the ancient king!
He wondered if he would have done what Toby had done for love. The change in Meg was there for everyone to see and her light came from within, shining out of her. All the pain and grief of her experiences seemed to have vanished and she had been laughing with Hetty and Toby over a glass of sherry before supper. She was bursting with happiness, seeming to have forgotten the pain that went before.
Yet it was an illusion. Toby had lied to give Meg back her life.
Arthur never left anything to chance and he’d sent his agents to discover what had happened to Meg’s babe even before Toby set out in the hope of its recovery, though their report had come too late to save his journey. They had reported back to Arthur that the child had died of a fever scarcely two weeks after it was born. The foster mother had been distraught and blamed herself, but her husband said it was just that the child had somehow contracted an illness and died, as young children so frequently did.
Obviously, confronted with the awful truth, Toby had made a huge decision. In his heart, he must have known that if he told Meg the truth it would break her, perhaps even kill her. Instead, he had looked for and found a babe of the right age, perhaps from a workhouse or a mother too sick to raise it or recently dead; that must have been the reason he’d taken so long and sent no word. It was his secret and Arthur would never ask the details, never tell him that he knew the truth, because that could only destroy both Meg and the man who loved her. Yet he did not think he would have made the same choice. Had Meg been the woman he loved, he would have told her as gently as he could and given her time to heal, standing by her but not intruding – but Toby had begun a lie, a lie that must continue for life. It was not an easy way to live and Arthur would not care for it; he did not think he could live with his conscience – and yet perhaps Toby’s way was right, was kinder. He thought that it was not for him to judge.
Arthur shook his head. At the moment Meg was content and that was all anyone could ask – but supposing one day she discovered the truth, that Elizabeth was not truly hers? How would she feel then? Would she love Toby for trying to please her or hate him for his lies?
Life was sometimes hard, Arthur reflected. He had never told Eliza that he believed she was his daughter but now he wondered if he had been wrong. Perhaps she would wish to be acknowledged, to live with him? A wistful longing stirred but he shook his head. It was Eliza’s feelings that mattered. When the move to the manor was over, he would talk to Eliza and ask her what she felt about her life as an apothecary’s apprentice.
As he dismounted and handed his horse’s reins to the groom, Arthur looked over his shoulder. No one was waiting in the shadows. Master Brent was in a cell awaiting trial, and, Arthur had been told, after questioning he had refused to reveal where his wife was hiding. It was suspected that the pair might have fallen out and with Brent’s violent past her death was a possibility, because her testimony would have hanged him. But the evidence was damning and even without his wife’s testimony, he would hang.
Arthur went into the inn. He had taken a light supper with his friends at the workhouse and though the landlord came bustling forward, asked only for some brandy.
‘I shall be leaving tomorrow and will settle my account,’ he said. ‘You will be glad to be rid of me after so long, I daresay.’
‘Indeed, no, Mr Stoneham,’ the landlord said at once. ‘My Sally has become real fond of you and you’ve been a generous lodger, sir.’
Arthur nodded, thanked him and went up to his room. The next day he would spend at the workhouse helping to pack those things they needed to take with them to their new home. Every pair of available hands would be harnessed and Arthur had arranged for Farmer Green and a friend of his to bring wagons over that afternoon to be loaded ready for the move.
If he was not mistaken, there was just a touch of warmth in the air. Perhaps, at last, everything would look brighter and they would be blessed with the first touch of spring.
The first farm wagons, pulled by a team of heavy horses, arrived as the sun came up and there was a holiday atmosphere as the farmer, his son and several other men set to with a will, packing boxes on to the carts, everyone shouting, laughing and quaffing the good beer Arthur had supplied for them to ease the task.
Some beds, crockery, kitchen utensils, bedding, and other bits and pieces were loaded on to two of the wagons. Much of the heavy, older furniture was left in the house because the manor already had adequate furniture in the main rooms. More beds would be needed, because all the bedchambers would hold several of the narrow cots that accommodated children and elderly alike, and for the homes Arthur intended to give to the craftsmen in the cottages dotted about the estate. It was from their industry that the lifeblood of the manor would flow and he hoped the children would find trades they liked and learn from the skilled men who came to live and work with them.
; Some large chests were taken to accommodate the linen, and the children’s clothes were packed mainly into large wicker washing baskets; tubs, boxes, pans and utensils were tucked into every corner of the carts. Everything would be unloaded and sorted when they got into their new home.
The mood was one of anticipation and the children were laughing, running backwards and forwards with small treasures they had found and wanted to take.
Lady Rowntree wanted nothing from the house at all.
‘It is an episode greatly to be regretted,’ she’d told Arthur. ‘My family is shamed by association with that dreadful pair, Mr Stoneham. I am grateful to you for bringing Master Brent’s reign to an end.’
Arthur had assured her yet again that she was not to blame, that she could not have known what was happening – but in truth the guardians had been lax, allowing children to go missing over the years with no questions asked. It was a terrible thing and a stain on the good name of all workhouses that it could have happened. Laws had not been properly applied and must be examined and tightened, and Arthur meant to make it his business to gather good folk with like minds on the subject to discover what reforms might be made to prevent this kind of thing happening, but he suspected where evil men lurked there would always be shadows and murky areas that others feared to probe. All he could do was to protect those that came within his orbit and that he would do.
The wagons were dispatched as soon as they were packed, and some of the elderly were sent ahead by carriage. Hetty and Bella were going with them to see them settled into rooms that had already been prepared and to oversee the unpacking of the wagons.
Marta, Meg and Hannah stayed with him at the workhouse that night, he on a lumpy settee in one of the abandoned rooms and the others in their own beds, which would be taken on the last wagon in the morning. Hobbs had gone with Hetty and Bella, to help with overseeing things at the other end, and Hannah had been eager to do all she could to assist Arthur.
