by Cathy Sharp
Joe watched the butcher’s yard for several days, judging that he would be wise to keep clear of the butcher and the surly yard man. It had taken him weeks of searching to find it and when he had, he had hoped to see Eliza and attract her attention, but not once had he seen her at the window or in the yard. Then, one late summer afternoon, he saw the plump woman come into the yard to peg out her clothes on a bit of rope strung between two posts. She jumped as he crept up on her but did not cry out.
‘What be you ’ere for, lad?’ she asked. ‘If it’s work, run away now, for the master is a cruel devil.’
‘I’m looking for Eliza. She’s here, ain’t she?’
‘Nay, lad, she did run off weeks ago. Be you ’er friend?’
‘Yes.’ Joe glared at her from disappointment. ‘Do yer know where she went?’
‘Nah, I can’t ’elp yer.’ Mags hesitated, then, ‘Clear orf afore the master comes and beats us both!’
Joe hesitated but had no reason to think she was lying about Eliza running off. He’d managed to find work at a stable yard but was determined to find his friend if he could.
‘If you see her, tell her I was asking,’ he said, and ran off as he saw the butcher approaching
Eliza wasn’t here; he was satisfied that the woman had told the truth, but Joe was determined to continue his search. Had she still been here, he could have found a way of rescuing her, but now he had to start again, yet he knew she must be somewhere hiding on the streets with the other kids he’d seen lurking in the shadows. They often hung around the markets, taking the opportunity to steal an apple or a piece of bread.
CHAPTER 12
‘Tell me, Molly,’ Robbie Simpkins said that night as he carelessly caressed her ample rump with his hand. ‘The child you gave away this time – was it mine?’
‘You asked me before,’ Molly said and looked at him oddly as she flicked her full skirt away and reached for the jug of ale, refilling both their pewter mugs. ‘Besides, I never give none of my babies away – yer sister sells them. She says I’m privileged to come and go as I please and I put up wiv it ’cos I don’t ’ave no choice.’
Robbie frowned. ‘What do you mean? I wouldn’t let her sell yer babe if I’d known it wasn’t what you wanted.’ He saw the look of accusation in her eyes. ‘You thought I knew?’
‘She said you knew! She told me you didn’t care.’ Molly’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘The first time it was your child, Robbie. Yer knew I was virgin when yer ’ad me first, just afore yer wife died. Yer forced me then and yer sister told me I was a dirty slut and claimed I’d broken yer wife’s heart – and she said it was my punishment fer leadin’ yer astray.’
Robbie’s expression darkened to one of anger. ‘It was never your fault, Molly. I may have forced yer the first time – though you were ripe for it …’
‘I’m not complainin’,’ Molly said and smiled, though inside the resentment burned. He and his sister had made her what she was and one day she would make them both pay for it, but for the moment she intended to use him for her own advantage. ‘Yer all right as men go; it was yer sister that gave me the choice – an asylum or a brothel. I chose the whorehouse for it was where I was bound to end and better than a house of correction.’
Robbie looked at her hard. ‘I thought your first child died – Joan swore that it was so.’
‘She told me the same but I discovered later that she sells the children of any women who give birth in the workhouse, whether they be honest or whores like me. She tells them the child has died, like she did me until I threatened I’d kill ’er – and then she agreed to give me what I wanted if she got to sell the babies to good homes.’
‘Why didn’t you come to me?’
‘I thought you wasn’t bothered.’ Molly looked him in the eyes. ‘I’m a whore, Robbie. Men like me because I make them laugh and I like them; I give them what they want – but they don’t want tears and complaints.’
He nodded. ‘One day, in another year or two, I’m goin’ to retire from this wretched place and buy a pub. I’d like you to be my barmaid – and my bedmate, Molly.’
Molly raised her eyebrows. ‘You want me to work fer yer?’
‘It’s why I asked if the babe was mine,’ Robbie said and looked at her intently. ‘I’d like a son, Molly – and if I was sure I had one I would look after yer both.’
Molly regarded him in silence for a moment. She despised him for his weakness and knew that he was less to blame for her predicament than his sister but she intended that they should both pay. Robbie thought he’d had his way with her and got away without penalty, but she was learning his secrets and those of his sister and when she knew something truly important she would go to the one person she was certain would punish them both.
‘I’d like that fine, Robbie,’ Molly said and laughed. ‘Yes, I’d like that fine.’
Outside, unknown to them both, Joan listened and scowled. It had suited her to keep her brother in ignorance of what she did. Now that Molly had told him, he would either demand that she share some of what she made with him – or he would stop her, and she had no intention of giving up any of the little schemes that brought her extra money. Her brother was busy planning the future for Molly and himself, but he had never given a thought to her.
It was Joan who had to deal with the wretched families when they came in. Her brother merely signed them in and left it to her to sort the groups out. Joan had to put up with the screaming as children were wrenched from their mothers and the mothers weeping and begging not to be separated. The men usually seemed beaten by poverty and accepted their fate, and the old were too ill and too devoid of hope to argue, but mothers argued, wept and clung to their children and it was Joan who had to threaten and bully to sort them out. It was she who got fetched out in the middle of the night when one of the elderly vagrants died, and she who had to make sure they were all fed, clean and healthy. Her brother just amused himself with his whores and left the bulk of the work to her.
Walking the darkened corridors, peering through her spyholes and watching the private lives of the wretches she held so much power over usually gave Joan a great deal of pleasure, but that night she was angry. If her brother had so much money put away he had no right to grudge her the little she made from her side of the workhouse. She needed to make more and quickly, because time was running out …
It was so hot and damp in the laundry and Eliza’s eyelids drooped as she moved her dolly stick up and down to loosen the clothes in the hot water. She could hardly wait until it was time to stop for their break and the cup of strong tea they were allowed at mid-morning.
‘Stop dreamin’, girl!’ Mistress Simpkins boomed at her, making Eliza start. She’d been taking a little rest, because her back ached so much, but she stirred the hot water with renewed vigour, knowing that if mistress thought she was lazy she would get no supper and her stomach felt empty after the thin soup, which was all she’d been given that morning. ‘You can stop that now, Jones. You’re wanted in the warden’s office. Follow me.’
Eliza’s heart raced, because whenever she was summoned these days it was for punishment and the beatings could be severe, depending on what sort of mood Mistress was in. She walked behind the warden’s sister, feeling breathless and afraid, because mistress had looked very oddly at her, as if she were pleased about something.
As they neared the warden’s office, Mistress Simpkins stopped and turned to look at Eliza. ‘You be careful now; speak only if Miss Richards asks you a question. Do you hear me? If you speak out of turn I’ll flay the skin from your hide, girl. Remember, I can do as I like with you – and I could send you back to the butcher if I chose.’
Eliza swallowed hard. She guessed that someone was willing to pay the mistress good money for her and the woman was eager to take it. If Eliza let her down, she would be beaten. Her mouth felt dry as she entered the warden’s room and saw a tall thin woman dressed in a long black coat standing near the window looking out into the y
ard where they were allowed to exercise and take the air for short periods. For a moment no one spoke and Eliza was on thorns. Had the lady decided she no longer wanted a girl?
‘Here is the girl you picked out earlier, Miss Richards. I do not know why you want her in particular for she’s a lazy slut, but she’s young and strong and if you beat her regularly she will work hard for you.’
The woman turned sharply at her words, her face harsh with what looked like anger to Eliza. ‘Thank you, Miss Simpkins, you may leave us.’
‘Leave? But the girl is my responsibility. She might do something foolish if I ain’t here—’
‘Wait outside the door if you must,’ Miss Richards interrupted with a note of command in her voice. ‘I wish to speak to the girl alone.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ The mistress turned and went out, though her cheeks looked puce and she was clearly furious. Eliza thought that the least she could look forward to that night was being banished to her room with no supper.
‘Come here, child, and do not look so nervous.’ Miss Richards spoke gently, easing some of Eliza’s fears. ‘I am not angry with you. I saw you this morning in the assembly hall, though you did not see me for I was behind a screen and I have a question for you – would you prefer to live in my house as my ward or remain here?’ Eliza’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she could not find the breath to answer. ‘Surely that is not too difficult a question? You may be asked to help me in my work sometimes – and you will be expected to learn to read and write so that you are useful, but—’
‘Yes please!’ Eliza gasped the words out as she realised her hesitation was causing the lady some annoyance. Whoever she was, she did not have much patience. ‘So shocked be I, milady, that I knew not what you said.’
‘I am not a lady, child. You may call me Miss Richards for the moment and we’ll see how we go on.’
‘Thank you, Miss Richards,’ Eliza said and dipped an awkward curtsey. Her action brought a laugh to the lady’s face and she shook her head.
‘No need to curtsey to me, girl. What do they call you here?’
‘Eliza; I’m called Eliza, Miss Richards, Eliza Jones. Jones is the name of the woman who cared for me here, for no one knows where I be from.’
‘Hmm …’ She gave her a considering look. ‘No, I imagine not,’ she said and once again that quick smile made her look younger. ‘Well, is there anything you wish to ask me?’
‘I don’t know, miss …’ Eliza felt puzzled. ‘How long will you keep me – if I’m good and work hard?’
‘It is my intention that you shall live with me, Eliza. If we suit I shall certainly keep you as long as you wish – and I promise you shall never return here. You will have a good home and I hope we shall like each other.’
‘Why did you choose me, miss?’
‘I have seen you before – at the market with some street children – and there was something about you that appealed to me. I would have spoken to you then, but suddenly you all started to steal bread and cakes and then you ran away.’
Eliza hung her head; she was ashamed that this lady should have seen her stealing food. ‘I didn’t want to steal but we were hungry …’
‘Yes, I am sure you were, though that does not excuse it,’ Miss Richards said sternly. ‘I saw your face that morning and you looked so anxious that my heart caught for you – and I was determined that I would save you from yourself. I came here to discover if there was a chance you had been brought here and I was happy to see you.’
‘Thank you,’ Eliza said, looking at her in awe. The parson had once told her that somewhere there was a God, and a place called Heaven, though she had not believed him then, but now she wondered if she’d wandered there by mistake. ‘I shall try to suit you, Miss Richards. When will you take me?’
‘Have you anything you wish to take with you?’
‘I have only this dress and my shawl …’ Eliza clutched her ragged shawl to her shoulders.
‘How foolish of me to ask such a question! Of course you have nothing of value, my dear. Then we shall go now for all the forms are signed. I have only to pay Mistress Simpkins and we shall be on our way home.’
‘I’ll have my money if you please, ma’am!’ Mistress Simpkins entered the office, showing that she’d been listening outside. She held out her hand in an aggressive manner.
Miss Richards gave her a hard look and counted several coins into her hand, making Eliza gasp, for she had never seen so much money and could not believe anyone would pay that for her. ‘That concludes our business,’ Miss Richards said. ‘Come along, Eliza; the sooner we are out of this foul place the better.’
With that she swept Eliza out of the office, down the hall and into the exercise area. As they approached the tall iron gates, which were always locked, the elderly keeper looked at Eliza and winked.
‘You’ll be glad to see the back of this place, girl,’ he said and opened the gates to allow them to pass through.
Outside a small black carriage awaited. It looked like the kind of gig that the doctor drove when he visited the inmates. A lad of perhaps twelve was at the head of the bay horse; he’d been leading it up and down and relinquished it into Miss Richard’s hands, touching his disreputable cap eagerly.
‘Looked after your ’orse, miss,’ he said. ‘Ain’t let nobody near ’im.’
‘Thank you, young man,’ she said and smiled slightly as she pressed a shiny florin into his grubby palm. ‘If you would care for some more work you may come to me at Silk House at the corner of Halfpenny Street – do you know the area?’
‘Yes, miss – it’s them posh places what used ter belong to the rich merchants, I reckon?’
‘Well, compared to these streets I daresay it may be posh,’ Miss Richards said with a nod as she motioned to Eliza to climb in and took the reins herself. ‘I am called Miss Richards, boy – come to me if you wish to earn an honest coin and I might find permanent business for you.’
The lad grinned, touched his forelock and moved back as she took her place in the driving seat. Her manner was assured and confident and she was clearly accustomed to driving herself.
Eliza caught her breath as the gig moved forward with a jerking movement. She’d never been in a carriage before, only the pig cart the butcher had thrown her into when he took her.
Eliza glanced back at the forbidding walls of the workhouse. Once the heavy iron gates were closed it was possible to see only the slate roof, a slightly darker grey than the stone walls. She was relieved to be leaving a place that had become bleak and friendless since Ruth and Joe were no longer there, and prayed to the God Ruth said really existed that she would never have to return to that awful place.
Glancing at Miss Richard’s profile, Eliza wondered about her new mistress. She’d been terrified when the butcher dragged her off to his house, bewildered and apprehensive of what life held for her, but Miss Richards was different. She seemed stern and yet Eliza thought she would be a good mistress. Her spirits lifted as the workhouse was left far behind. She did not know what awaited her at her new home, but nothing could be worse than what she had left behind.
CHAPTER 13
‘Eliza seems to have disappeared,’ Arthur said to Ruth when he came back from his latest visit to the workhouse. ‘No one has heard of her since she ran away from that disgusting fellow.’
‘’E must ’ave done somethin to ’er, sir,’ Ruth said and looked anxious. ‘Are yer sure Mistress Simpkins doesn’t know more than she lets on? She’d lie while she looked yer straight in the eyes.’
‘Yes, I imagine she might. However, I asked Master Simpkins if he’d heard anything of the child and he claimed not to – and I do not see why he should lie to me.’
‘No, but he might not ‘ave known if mistress kept it from him.’
‘Well, I think we must look further afield,’ Arthur went on thoughtfully. I visited the magistrates’ court yesterday and saw some street children who had been rounded up for thieving from a b
aker’s market stall. Apparently, they made a concerted raid some weeks ago and stole more than five pounds’ worth of food, which is a serious crime. In the last century, a person might have been hung for stealing more than forty shillings, though we are more lenient now.’
‘Eliza wasn’t with them?’
‘No, if she had been I would have paid her fine and brought her to you. The magistrate was unusually lenient with them. Often these thieving children can be sent to prison but there have been voices raised in parliament recently against the harsh treatment of children and so they were either fined or sent to a workhouse.’
‘How many paid their fine?’
‘One boy’s was paid for him. I heard the name the lad gave – something like Tucker. He was paid for by a man named Reece and I believe that gentleman runs some gambling houses in the East End so I daresay the boy works for him. A lot of boys run errands for such folk and earn themselves the name of nippers, because they are fleet of foot.’
‘I am sure he does work for a master, for the fine would not otherwise have been paid. Were they all boys?’
‘Yes.’ Arthur was still thoughtful. ‘I asked the constable who had caught them if there were any girls amongst them. He said that there had been a girl for a few weeks prior to the arrest but that she had escaped along with several of the others.’
‘Oh, sir, do you think it might be Eliza?’ Ruth asked, looking at him hopefully. ‘I think of her often, sir, and worry for her – alone on the streets at night, and the winter coming on us …’
‘Yes, I am sure you must,’ Arthur agreed. ‘I am anxious for her myself. If she has been running with this gang, she will have learned much from them. The boy Tucker was very sure of himself, very streetwise. I think Eliza would’ve been safe enough with him – but he was in prison for two or three weeks before his trial so there is no way of knowing where she is now.’
