The Thief's Daughter

by Victoria Cornwall

  The small foot, encased in a woman’s boot, left his hand. Jack grabbed the ankle as he registered what he had just seen. The boy looked down in confusion and, for the first time, Jack could see his face.

  Fear-filled eyes returned his gaze, her brows furrowed in concern. She looked nervously up to see the men approaching, then down at him again. His grip tightened.

  Then the strangest thing happened and Jack was momentarily struck dumb. While the crowd continued to shout obscenities and bay for her blood in the distance, the woman’s fear appeared to leave her face. Calmly, she looked directly back at him, with a kindness in her eyes that fear had previously concealed, and she smiled. It was a sweet smile, an inviting smile that was filled with temptation and secrets that had no business to be used at such a time or place. While his gaze lingered on her soft lips, his grip on her ankle loosened. Unnoticed, she gently eased her leg away.

  A loud shout from someone brought him back to his senses. He blinked and tried to speak, but she had already gone and taken her smile with her, leaving his outstretched hands holding nothing but air. With one smile she had bewitched and disarmed him, leaving him with questions that filled his head and a need to know more about her. The men arrived and jostled him from behind.

  ‘Have you seen the boy?’ a breathless man gasped. ‘He ran this way.’

  Jack turned in his direction. ‘I have not seen a boy run this way,’ he said solemnly.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked another.

  Jack straightened his shoulders. ‘I swear on my life that I have seen no boy run this way.’

  Satisfied, they ran on, leaving Jack alone. It was time to go, he thought, as he had other things that needed his attention. He must not be diverted by one chance meeting with a woman he would never meet again. He had come here today to ensure he would not forget what he had failed to do: make Amos and Job Blake answer for their crimes. The poacher and his friend had nothing to do with him. Yet as he collected his horse and made his way home, the woman’s face lingered in his mind, long after he resolved to forget about her. He had started the day not a happy man, but now, he realised, his mood had subtly changed. He smiled to himself as he looked down at his muddy palms. The change in his state of mind, he believed, happened when a woman’s boot was placed in his open hands.

  Chapter Two

  Jenna walked briskly along the narrow road searching for the address she had been given. She asked for directions several times, and although everyone claimed to know the location of the debtors’ prison, their explanations of how to get there were at best confusing, at worst inaccurate. The warren of narrow streets, and the astonishment expressed by many of the people she asked that she did not know its location, added to her embarrassment and eventual reluctance to ask for further help.

  She finally found it by accident when she came upon a single door in a long brick wall, with heavy hinges and a barred window. A badly painted sign was nailed to the wall beside it, but as Jenna could not read, it was no help at all. Thankfully, two sparsely clothed children, who were squatting on the ground underneath it, confirmed she had found what she was looking for. Jenna reached into the basket of food she was carrying and broke off a piece of bread to give to them.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, holding it out to them. Wary, sunken eyes looked up at her. ‘Take it,’ she urged. ‘It is a gift for your help.’

  The eldest child tentatively took it from her and, as if fearful Jenna would take it back, quickly grasped the younger child’s hand and made good their escape. Jenna watched until the boy and girl disappeared from her view, before turning her attention back to the plain-looking door.

  The people of Goverek called it ‘The Hole in the Wall’. The nickname suited it well as its nondescript entrance swallowed up those whose creditors had taken action against them. Men and women, sometimes whole families, disappeared behind its thick wooden door. Without a means to pay or earn a living, there was every chance that they may not emerge again for many years. Their only hope was to rely on the goodwill of family or friends to get them out, and as Jenna’s brother had very few friends or family left in the area, the burden lay with her.

  She knocked and a gruff voice answered within. After explaining who it was she hoped to visit, the keeper opened the door and held out his hand. Jenna placed a penny in his grimy palm, then silently followed him into the dark, narrow passageway beyond.

  The air in the open passage smelt foul. The stony walls were damp and the absence of sunlight allowed green algae to grow rampantly in the shadows. Water trickling down the high walls and the sound of a rodent shuffling away in the distance accompanied their echoing footsteps. Jenna was thankful when the passageway ended and opened up into a narrow yard with irregular buildings sited haphazardly around it. Jenna looked up at the three-storey buildings, which must cast a chilling shadow over the yard for most of the day. The building on the right appeared the best maintained.

  ‘Is my brother in that one?’ she asked hopefully.

  The keeper spat on the floor before answering, ‘Debtors who have family willing to pay for better food and rooms are housed on the Master’s side.’ He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Debtors who have no one to help them are housed on the left – the common side.’ The keeper nodded to one of the buildings on the left. ‘Your brother’s in there.’

  Jenna looked at it and her heart sank. The building, with its lopsided roof and walls, appeared to defy gravity. If it did not fall down on its own accord within the next year, thought Jenna, it ought to be demolished to prevent a tragedy occurring.

  The predicament her brother was in suddenly became real to her and she shivered. This was her first visit and payment. Unfortunately, she had no more money to give to help improve her brother’s comfort. The basket she held, which she hoped would supplement his meagre rations, now seemed inadequate.

  This morning she had visited her brother’s home in the hope he would help her. Instead of a welcome from his thin little wife and children, she discovered them gone and another family moving in. It was only then that she learnt of his imprisonment. The man she hoped would help her, it seemed, needed help himself.

  Jenna entered the building that the keeper had indicated. She was aware that places such as this were run by the prisoners themselves, with the expected undercurrent of internal hierarchy, rules, noisy squabbles and discourse, but she was still ill-prepared for what she saw.

  The smell hit her first. It was a mixture of body odour, musky damp and stale air that seemed to cling to the back of her throat like a leech. For a moment she could not see, but gradually her eyes became accustomed to the dimly lit room. Twenty, maybe thirty inhabitants began to appear before her like ghosts. The noise was louder than she expected, as tempers were quick to flare and arguments appeared to require little provocation.

  The room itself was large and sparse of furniture, with a grey slate floor that held in the cold. A single, barred window allowed a hefty draught into the room, but did little to rid the place of its smell. Jenna looked up and saw the ceiling was stained by damp, decorating the planks of wood with veins of mould and fungi that moved with the vibrations of the inhabitants above. In the far corner was a rickety wooden ladder in the place of a flight of stairs. It did not look strong enough to support the weight of one climber let alone all those who lived here.

  Jenna tried not to show the horror she was feeling as she instinctively clutched her basket tighter and looked around her. Despite its great size, the degree of overcrowding, insanitary conditions and lack of provisions helped make it a noisy and squalid place to live. Men, women and children were crowded in together, some sitting in groups while others preferred their own company and huddled in a corner for warmth. Although the quality of their clothing varied, their skin shared the same sickly pallor brought on by lack of sunlight and poor nourishment, while their eyes held little hope at all. When an argument broke out beside her between two of the prisoners she almost turned and fled, but her brother s
aw her first and took her aside by her arm. Holding her tight, he led her to two wooden chairs and a wobbly table and gave her a hug.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Sister,’ he said, squeezing her so tightly she could almost not breathe.

  ‘Oh, Silas. This place is awful,’ said Jenna. ‘How are you?’ She searched Silas’s face for the answer. His shoulder length hair had always been scruffy, but she could tell he had lost weight from the shadows on his cheeks. He was also in need of a shave and a good wash. Something he would not get in here. ‘How long have you been here?’ she pressed.

  ‘Two weeks, maybe three.’ He smiled and Jenna recognised the Silas she knew. ‘It is better now you are here,’ he reassured her. ‘Do I smell food?’

  Jenna showed him her basket, which he immediately took to look through. Satisfied with its contents he gave her another lopsided grin.

  ‘Stay here,’ he told her as he picked up the basket.

  Jenna tried to protest, but she was too late, he had already disappeared into the shadows at the far end of the room. She sat down and waited. Although she dared not move, her eyes remained watchful at the strange assortment of people around her. Only her hands placed on her lap hinted at her fear as she nervously rubbed the nail of one thumb with a single finger. Suddenly, she saw her brother weaving through the other inmates as he approached with an empty basket in his hand.

  ‘Are Nell and the children here?’ she asked him as he sat down opposite her and gave her the basket.

  He nodded. ‘I expected you sooner.’

  A woman began shouting in the corner, drawing Jenna’s attention. She watched, filled with concern, as the woman was hustled away by her family.

  ‘How did you end up in here?’ asked Jenna, turning back to her brother.

  Silas rubbed his face with his hand. ‘I owed a bit of money, here and there, and they wanted it back before I was ready to pay. They paid a bloody thief-taker to catch me, Jenna.’

  Silas hated thief-takers. It was a visceral hate that had been passed down by their parents and had stayed with him and festered. Thief-takers were hired by the victims of crime to capture the perpetrator and bring them to justice. They were ordinary folk, with no special training or uniform to distinguish them, and by their very nature difficult to spot amongst the crowd. A successful thief-taker was cunning, mingled with both sides of the law, until it was time for him to catch the culprit.

  Unfortunately, some thief-takers’ main motivation was a financial rather than a moral one and the men who had taken it upon themselves to bring law and order to a community were often corrupt themselves. Many extorted protection money from the criminals they were supposed to catch, while others were known to claim they had witnessed a crime, accuse and arrest an innocent bystander and collect a fee for their troubles. Unlike Silas, Jenna did not hate thief-takers, but she was wary and fearful of them, and could not forget that if they had not been so good at their job, many of her family would still be around.

  ‘I didn’t know you were in here,’ said Jenna. ‘I only found out when I went to your house this morning.’

  ‘Henry’s parents have told you to leave, I suppose,’ said Silas.

  Jenna nodded. She had never liked her late husband’s parents. Now that he was dead they felt no responsibility for her and wanted her gone.

  ‘Did Henry suffer?’ Silas asked.

  Jenna shook her head.

  ‘Pity. He deserved to suffer.’ Silas looked up at his younger sister and narrowed his eyes. ‘Oh, Jenna, tell me you did not help him on his way.’

  ‘He asked me to. It was his dying wish. How could I refuse a dying wish?’

  ‘The crowd may have turned nasty.’

  Jenna thought of the dark stranger who had helped her escape. For a heartbeat his handsome face filled her thoughts.

  ‘I was in no danger,’ she replied absently.

  ‘You owed him nothing,’ Silas grumbled. ‘Hanging was too good for the likes of him.’ He leant forward so no one else could hear. ‘When I saw what he did to you it near broke my heart. No one treats a Cartwright the way he treated you. Too handy with his fists, he was. I would have put a stop to it sooner if I had known.’

  Jenna looked about her nervously. ‘Sooner?’ she whispered, leaning forward too. ‘What do you mean sooner?’

  Silas’s eyes looked about the room aware that there were too many ears and tongues willing to talk for the price of a coin. Satisfied no one was listening, he whispered, ‘Some folk may say it was bad luck that Henry went poaching the same night four gamekeepers were in the area.’ He smiled, showing his blackened teeth. ‘Some folk may say that it was lucky that I did not go with him.’

  Jenna’s eyes widened. ‘You were meant to be there?’

  Silas nodded. ‘But I don’t believe in luck, Jenna. Henry got what he had coming to him, and it worked out better than I had planned. I thought he would get time in gaol, but hanging was even better. You are free now, Jenna.’ He stopped smiling. ‘He would have killed you in the end if I had not done something. I had to protect you, like I always have.’ Silas grinned and patted her hand. ‘It is over for you. Are you not as glad as I?’

  What could she say? There were many nights Jenna had lain awake praying for her marriage to end. She married in haste and far too young, believing that marriage would mean a new life for her. She was mistaken. Life with Henry was far worse than her life as a Cartwright.

  Having the Cartwright name was the catalyst for her disastrous marriage. In truth, her lineage was a burden to her, as her parents hawked stolen goods for a living and her older siblings were no better. Two of her brothers, Paul and David, had been taken to Bodmin Gaol years before and had never been heard of again. Another, Mark, ran away to sea when she was a child in the hope of finding a better life. Her parents too had disappeared one day, never to return. The Cartwright reputation for lawbreaking followed her everywhere. Jenna had given up trying to recall how many jobs she had lost when it became known who her family were. She was viewed as one of them – untrustworthy and to be avoided.

  So at the age of sixteen she had married Henry Kestle, with the naive belief that her life would be better when she no longer bore the surname of her parents. How wrong she was. His morals were no better and by the end of the first week she knew what it was like to be punched in the face. She spent many nights wishing he was dead. Now, God forgive her, he was. Thanks to her brother, Silas. Yet even though she had grown to hate Henry, she could not refuse his request to hasten his life at his hanging. She had taken a great risk and was almost caught, but for the help of a dark-haired stranger standing at the top of the hill.

  ‘Well, Jenna? Are you not as glad as I that he is dead?’

  ‘No one should be glad someone is dead, Silas, but I am glad to be free of him.’

  Silas sat back in his chair, looking pleased with himself.

  ‘Now that he is gone you already look healthier.’

  ‘And you look paler,’ said Jenna. ‘It is not healthy for you and the children to be here. I will find another job and help pay your debt. Michaelmas is next week and the Mop Fayre is in town. Someone will hire me.’ Silas looked uncomfortable as he rubbed his neck. She saw his discomfort. ‘It is time for me to help you,’ she reassured him. ‘I will come again with more food and soon you will be home again.’

  ‘You were always such a good girl,’ he said pensively. ‘I don’t understand where you get your high morals from. Father always wondered if you were a changeling.’ Jenna took the empty basket off the table and held it tightly against her. ‘He couldn’t understand why you were different from the rest of us. No matter how many times he taught you how to pick pockets, you would refuse to do it on the street. “There is something wrong with that girl,” he would say to Mother.’ Jenna lowered her eyes, waiting for him to ask her as he surely would. ‘Mother would say, “She will come around. She has our blood in her veins.” Will you come around, Sister? Acknowledge our blood and lift a few gentlemen�
��s purses, like Father taught you? It will pay my debts sooner.’

  Jenna looked up. ‘It is tainted blood that runs through me and it’s cursed me all my life. I will go to the Mop Fayre and give you my wage. I will do all I can to get you out, but I will not break the law.’

  ‘You helped a man to die.’

  ‘He was being put to death by the law of the land. I only eased his suffering, which is not a crime. If I am guilty of anything it was spoiling the crowd’s entertainment.’

  Silas nodded slowly. ‘Changeling or not, you mean the world to me. I’m glad Henry’s dead and I’m glad I had a part in it.’ There was food waiting for him in the shadows and he had a mind to get back to it. ‘It is time you left,’ he said. Heavy-hearted, he stood, and so did Jenna. The room remained noisy and crowded yet it felt as though they were alone.

  ‘I’m glad Henry’s dead too,’ she said quietly. ‘I agreed to his dying wish but, I have to confess, I did not do it for him.’

  Silas frowned and caught her arm as she turned to go. ‘So why did you do it?’ he asked, intrigued.

  Jenna lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. ‘I wanted to make sure he died.’

  She watched Silas’s eyes widen at the revelation. It was time to tell Silas the truth, even if she was not proud of it herself.

  ‘I did not love him, Silas, so I had no desire to shorten his suffering or grant him his wish. I hung onto his legs because,’ she swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth, ‘I wanted to make sure he would not escape. I wanted to make sure he was dead and would never hit me again.’

  She saw hope in her brother’s eyes and knew what he was thinking. He saw the defiant child she had once been when she stood up to her father’s coercions. Only in reality the child was gone and she was no innocent – Henry had seen to that. Now he was dead and she was free to live again, scarred and bruised inwardly, but hopeful for the future.

  Jenna lowered her eyes, ashamed at what her brother saw. She should not feel such joy at a man’s death, particularly if the man was her husband. Suddenly, the foul stench and squalid conditions seemed to crowd in on her. She needed fresh air to cleanse her of the words she had just spoken.