by Dilly Court
'Get on with it, Maudie. She's kicking me shins to bits.'
'Hold her tight, Flo. Let's see if the governor fancies her without them long tresses she's so proud of. Don't struggle, missis, or you'll be saying hello to the sharp points of these here scissors, and it would be a shame to spoil that pretty face with an ugly scar.'
Chapter Eighteen
Eloise lashed out with her feet but Flo was surprisingly strong, and with each movement she tightened her grip, twisting Eloise's arms until she felt that her bones would snap. Maud reached out to grab a lock of her hair but as Eloise jerked her head sideways in an attempt to avoid the snapping blades, one of them gashed her cheek and she yelped with pain.
'You bloody fool, Monk,' Maud shouted. 'That was your fault. Keep still or I'll lop your ear off this time.'
More furious than frightened, Eloise dug her heels into the ground and with a mighty effort she pushed backwards, catching Flo off guard so that she stumbled against the door with a resounding thud. Momentarily shocked by the force of colliding with solid wood, Flo loosened her grip and Eloise pulled free. She clapped her hand to her cheek and felt warm, sticky blood trickling through her fingers. She was desperate to escape from the sluice, but Flo was barring her way and Maud was preparing for another strike. Just when it seemed that there was no way out, someone rattled the doorknob. 'What's going on in there?'
'Phoebe!' Eloise recognised her voice with a sob of relief. 'Help me.'
'Let me in,' Phoebe cried, pounding on the door. 'Open up or I'll fetch Matron.'
Flo shuffled away from the door, muttering beneath her breath, and Phoebe burst into the room. She stopped, staring aghast at Eloise. 'What the bleeding hell has been going on in here?'
'Mind your own business,' Maud said, pushing past her. 'Get out of me way or I'll spoil your face too.'
'You did this to her, you vicious bitch. I know where you live, Maud Riley, and you too, Flo Brown. Lay a finger on me and me dad will be round your place with his fists flying.'
'Keep out of this, Phoebe. It ain't got nothing to do with you. No need to say nothing of this to no one.' With a menacing scowl, Flo squeezed out through the door, leaving Maud to face a furious Phoebe on her own.
'I'll report you to Matron for this,' Phoebe said, advancing on Maud with her hands fisted.
Maud backed towards the doorway. 'It was Matron who told us to teach the silly cow a lesson,' she snarled. 'Anyway, it was Monk's fault. All I meant to do was snip a bit off her hair.'
'It's all right, Phoebe. Let her go.' Eloise leaned against the sink as a wave of dizziness threatened to take her feet from under her.
Phoebe gave Maud a shove that sent her tottering into the corridor. 'Get out. And you'd best leave Ellen alone in the future, or you'll have me to deal with, and all me brothers too.'
Closing the door and shutting out the sound of Maud and Flo muttering to each other, Phoebe pulled up a chair. 'Here, sit down before you fall down and let me look at that cut.' Eloise sank down onto the hard wooden seat and reluctantly took her hand away from the wound, allowing Phoebe to examine her cheek in the light of a single candle. 'It's just a nick, luckily for you, but it's bleeding a lot. I should send for a proper nurse to see to it for you, Ellen.'
'No, no, it will be all right. Can you just clean it up for me?'
'I'll do me best, but I ain't no Florence Nightingale.'
Word of the assault spread rapidly round the hospital and by morning it seemed to Eloise that everyone knew what had happened in the sluice. People were sympathetic but wary. It also appeared that Matron's part in the affair was either known or suspected and she was not the sort of person who took kindly to gossip, especially when she herself was involved. Eloise tried to pass the incident off lightly but a swollen cheek and an angry-looking gash were impossible to hide. She kept out of the way as much as possible, spending the morning cleaning the privies in the back yard and emptying night soil from the chamber pots, which she then took to the sluice on the ground floor to be washed. She was in the middle of doing this when Matron entered the room with a forbidding look on her gaunt features. 'I hear that you had a slight accident last evening, Monk.'
'Yes, Matron.'
'You should be more careful in future.'
'Yes, Matron.'
Miss Marchant's lips curled in a spiteful smile. 'You will have a scar which will mar your good looks.'
'Yes, Matron.'
Having failed to induce a reaction from Eloise, Miss Marchant tossed her head impatiently. 'You will spend the rest of the day in the nursery. We don't want any idle talk in the hospital, and you will tell your friend Phoebe that if her silly tongue runs away with her she will find herself dismissed without a character. Do you understand me, Monk?'
Eloise bit back a sharp retort. 'Yes, Matron.'
'Then finish up here and go directly to the nursery. You will work there and take your meals in the nursery until your face heals. I do not want you flaunting yourself around the hospital. Do I make myself absolutely clear?'
'Yes, Matron.'
'Good.' Miss Marchant whisked out of the room, slamming the door behind her as if to prove a point.
So, she doesn't want the governor to know her part in the business, Eloise thought grimly. Matron need not have worried. Barton Caine was the last person that Eloise wanted to see with her face disfigured by an ugly red gash. Not that she cared if her looks were spoiled; that would be pure vanity, and Papa had included that in his sermons, merging it with pride as being one of the seven deadly sins. Eloise peered into the small mirror that the nurses kept on a shelf so that they could make certain their caps were on straight and there were no smudges of dirt on their noses. The light in the sluice was not good, but she was relieved to see that the livid streak of congealed blood was less than an inch in length and it was on the side of her face. If she kept her head turned a certain way, no one would even know that she had received such an injury. She set about washing the rest of the utensils before making her way to the nursery.
Phoebe greeted her with a hug. 'You poor thing. Just look at your face.'
'That doesn't fill me with confidence, Phoebe,' Eloise said, with a gurgle of laughter. 'Anyway, one good thing has come of it – Matron insists that I work in here until my face heals, which couldn't please me more.'
'Well, I wouldn't find it a laughing matter, I can tell you that for nothing. I'd want them two harpies sacked on the spot.'
'They won't dare to touch me again, and I think Miss Marchant has had a bit of a fright too. She wasn't expecting it to go so far, or to get round the hospital so quickly. I think she would be in trouble if her part in it was discovered.'
'I've a good mind to tell Mr Caine, just to spite the old cow.'
'No, Phoebe, please don't. There's been enough trouble. I just want to forget it ever happened.' Eloise went over to Beth, who was holding her arms out and calling for her mama. Joss looked up from the floor where he was playing with some wooden bricks, and she thought she saw a glimmer of recognition in his blue eyes, but his dogged refusal to speak was still a constant worry. She picked Beth up in her arms and she knelt down beside Joss, passing him a brick that was just beyond his reach.
'That Beth really thinks you are her mum,' Phoebe observed. 'It's a pity that the boy isn't as bright as his sister. He's a simpleton, if you ask me.'
'That he is not,' Eloise said hotly. 'He spoke to me, if you recall. He told me his name and his sister's name. I'm sure he'll find his tongue one of these days.'
'Well, I hope you're right for his sake, or he'll end up in a school for imbecile children.' Phoebe turned away to pick up a toddler who had fallen over and was crying.
Eloise felt her blood curdle at the prospect of Joss's being taken away to a special school. This was a possibility that had not occurred to her before Phoebe pointed it out, but now she saw that it might just happen and she was frightened. It would be better to give Joss to the Cribbs than have him suffer that appalling fate.
She ruffled his golden curls and Joss looked up with a seraphic smile, but his blue eyes clouded with sympathy when he saw the wound on her cheek. He touched it gently with the tip of his forefinger and, for a moment, Eloise thought his lips formed the word Mama, but she could not be certain. Almost instantly, he turned away to play with the bricks and Beth struggled free from her mother's arms to join in the game. Eloise swallowed hard as a lump in her throat threatened to engulf her in tears. Beth was too young to understand everything that was going on around her, but Joss had chosen this silent world as the only way in which he could protest at being separated from her. His suffering only made her all the more determined to find a way out of their present situation. One day they would have a home of their own again and Joss would find his voice.
The morning passed quickly, almost too quickly as far as Eloise was concerned. It was ironic that in instigating the attack on her, Matron had actually done her a favour. It was worth a cut on the cheek if it meant that Eloise could spend all day with her children, and Phoebe was delighted to have an extra pair of hands to help her cope with her charges. In the middle of the afternoon, when the babies and toddlers were having their nap, Phoebe had gone off to the kitchens to get a cup of tea and Eloise was left in sole charge of the nursery. She was busy tidying up the wooden bricks that had been left scattered on the floor when the door opened and Maria Caine skipped into the room followed by a sour-faced Miss Trinder.
'I've come to play with the babies again,' Maria announced with a bright smile. 'May I wake them up, Ellen?'
Eloise laid her finger to her lips, shaking her head. 'Not yet, Maria, but you can help me pick up all these bricks.'
'She is to stay here for the rest of the afternoon,' Miss Trinder said icily. 'And good luck to you, I say. That little madam has made my life a misery since the first day, and I am glad to be going.'
'You're leaving?'
Miss Trinder's eyes narrowed as she glared at Maria, who was unconcernedly scrambling about the floor picking up bricks. 'I am leaving this wretched place as soon as I have packed my portmanteau and I shall be on the next train for Chelmsford, where my family reside. I thought I would enjoy working in London, but I was horribly mistaken and I will seek another position in the country where, hopefully, I will find a better child to instruct. Good day to you, Miss Monk. And good luck.' Without waiting for a response, Miss Trinder whisked out of the nursery, leaving a trail of cheap cologne in her wake.
'She's gone,' Maria said, grinning. 'I'm glad.'
'What happened?' Eloise knelt on the floor beside Maria as she laid the bricks neatly in a wooden box. 'What did you do to poor Miss Trinder?'
'Nothing. I promise you.' A roguish smile dimpled Maria's round cheeks and her blue eyes twinkled with mischief.
Eloise couldn't resist giving her a hug, although she didn't believe the innocent act for a moment. 'I think you are a very bad girl, Maria.'
'I'll be good for you, Ellen.' Maria leapt to her feet in a flurry of lace-trimmed petticoats. 'Now may I wake up Joss and play with him?'
It was early evening when Caine came to the nursery to collect Maria. The babies had all been fed and laid down to sleep, including Beth who had been playing with Maria all afternoon and had gone down without a murmur. Maria was helping Eloise to wash the hands and faces of the toddlers before their bedtime and Phoebe was attempting to settle a particularly fractious child who objected to being put to bed.
'I was unavoidably delayed,' Caine said brusquely. 'I hope Maria has behaved herself, Miss Monk.'
'Perfectly, sir.' Eloise put Joss in his cot, taking care to keep her face averted so that Caine could not see her injury. Joss lay silently staring up at her. Without thinking, Eloise leaned over the cot rail to kiss him goodnight and he stroked her cheek with an oddly adult expression in his eyes. She straightened up quickly, fearing that she had betrayed herself, but Caine seemed to be preoccupied with his daughter, who skipped across the floor to hold his hand.
'I have been a great help, Papa. Now Miss Trinder has gone I can come again tomorrow and the day after that.'
Eloise stole a sideway glance at Caine and was surprised to see a smile transforming his features, but he was looking in her direction and not at his daughter. 'I think that Miss Monk and Phoebe have enough to do without looking after you, Maria.'
Phoebe looked up with an anxious frown. 'I would find it difficult, sir.'
'Ellen will look after me,' Maria said confidently.
'Miss Monk has other work to do.'
Eloise heard the constrained note in Caine's voice, but she said nothing. It was better if he remained in ignorance of her clash with Matron.
'Ellen has to stay here until her face gets better,' Maria said, running over to Eloise and tugging at her skirt. 'Tell Papa, Ellen. Tell him that you have to stay here because they cut your face with a pair of scissors.'
'Hush, Maria. You don't know what you're saying.' Eloise covered Joss with a blanket and she moved away from the cot so that her face was in shadow.
'What's this?' Caine's voice was harsh as he moved towards her, taking the oil lamp from the table and holding it high above her head. 'Look at me, Ellen.'
It was the first time he had ever called her by that name and she raised her head to meet his piercing gaze. 'Maria is mistaken, sir. I – I had a slight accident.'
'With a pair of scissors.' Phoebe crossed the floor to stand by Eloise. 'Tell him, Ellen. If you don't then I will'
Caine stared at the livid gash on Eloise's cheek and his eyes glittered angrily. 'Who did this to you? Tell me.'
'It was Matron's fault,' Maria interrupted gleefully. 'I heard Miss Trinder talking to Cook about it. She said that Matron put them up to it because she was jealous of . . .' Maria stopped, clapping her hand to her mouth as she realised that she had gone too far. 'Really, Papa. I did hear her say it. I'm not making it up.'
'My God!' Caine gazed at his daughter in dismay. 'You've been spending too much time listening to servants' gossip, Maria. I should have dismissed Trinder months ago, but she's the only one who's stayed for more than a fortnight. Go and sit quietly by the fire with Phoebe. I want to speak privately to Miss Monk.'
'You called her Ellen just now, Papa.'
One look at Caine's thunderous expression and Phoebe lifted Maria bodily and set her down in a chair by the fire. 'You sit there and mind your manners, miss.'
Maria opened her mouth as if to argue and then shut it again, eyeing Phoebe with new respect.
Caine drew Eloise aside. 'Now tell me exactly what has been going on. Who attacked you and why?'
'I believe it was meant to be a joke, sir,' Eloise improvised. 'The women meant to cut my hair but the scissors slipped.'
'The scissors slipped!' Caine repeated. 'You don't expect me to believe that, do you?'
'It was an accident, sir. I have nothing more to say.'
'You may not, but I have. I won't allow this sort of savage bullying. It must be stopped and I will speak to Miss Marchant right away.' He made as if to leave the room but Eloise ran after him and caught hold of his sleeve.
'Please don't, Mr Caine. Please let the matter drop.'
Caine hesitated, staring at the wound on her face with anger in his eyes. 'This is a serious matter. I cannot allow it to go unpunished.'
'It was my fault, sir. I managed to upset them somehow, and they meant no harm. It really was an accident.'
'So you keep saying, but it would not be the first time you have told me an untruth, Ellen. I will get to the bottom of this, that much I promise you.' Caine turned away from her to summon Maria. 'It's time you were in bed, young lady.'
Maria slithered off the chair and ran to him. 'But I may come again tomorrow, mayn't I, Papa?'
'We'll see.'
That night, Eloise hardly slept. She knew that if Caine challenged Miss Marchant there would be repercussions that might make it impossible for her to stay on at the Foundling Hospital. She would be forced to leave without Joss an
d Beth, or else she would have to claim them as her own children and face a life on the streets or worse. Her options were strictly limited. If she admitted defeat and handed them over to the Cribbs, she might never see them again, and it was no use writing to Papa and begging him for help. He had been adamant that it was Ronnie's parents who ought to take responsibility for the welfare of their grandchildren, and he was so intent on following his vocation that nothing would dissuade him from the course that he had chosen. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he may have been right in saying that she would never be able to support her own children and that their best interests would be served by being sent up to Yorkshire, but Eloise was not prepared to give in just yet.
Next morning she awaited the inevitable summons from Matron, and was hardly surprised when it came. Facing Miss Marchant in her office, Eloise waited to hear the worst.
Miss Marchant sat behind her desk with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her eyes were agate chips set in a pale face, and her tone was icy. 'I warned you to keep silent about your accident.'
'I told no one, Matron.'
'And yet the whole hospital knew of it, and Mr Caine came to see me last night demanding to be told the facts.'
'I said nothing.'
'No, that at least is true. Mr Caine said that you had stubbornly refused to give an explanation. If it were otherwise you would be leaving this institution right now. However, Mr Caine has once again saved you.'
'I don't understand, Matron.'
Miss Marchant leaned across the desk and her face contorted with spite. 'You have such an innocent face, Monk. But you don't fool me. I recognise you for a scheming little minx, even if you have managed to wheedle your way into Mr Caine's good books. We have discussed the matter and you are to be excused cleaning duties. In Miss Trinder's absence, Mr Caine has decided that Maria should take lessons in the schoolroom every morning. For some reason best known to himself, he has decided to entrust his daughter into your care in the afternoons.'
