“Ms. Wakefield,” he tried again, calmly touching her arm and stopping her from moving past him.
“Keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Ryland,” she snapped, yanked her arm away. “Your words are offensive. I may be the daughter of a vicar and used to a certain life, but I’ve been told I’m strong. When Dr. Thomson first told me about the workhouse, I had doubts. I didn’t want to make a mistake and I wanted to be of use. But apparently, none of that matters to you. You look at me and see a silly girl who should be pushed into the back of a dusty storeroom to make tea!”
Henry almost smiled at her words, but he noticed she was trembling with anger. “Ms. Wakefield, I do not think you are silly. I just think you would not be a good fit for the workhouse.”
She brushed past him. “Very well. You’ve said quite enough.”
Henry chastised himself for upsetting her so. Taking a deep breath, he chased after her. “Ms. Wakefield!”
He caught up with her and touched her arm to turn her. When he looked down into her face, her eyes and cheeks glistened with moisture, and with a start, he realized he’d made her cry. She said nothing but inched her chin up a notch to meet his gaze. His heart thundered inside his chest when he saw her face. He felt like an ass.
“Ms. Wakefield,” he said softly.
“I don’t want your handout, and I certainly don’t want your pity,” she said defiantly.
He looked into her lovely face and steadied himself. “I seem to be at sixes and sevens today. I must beg your pardon. I would like to take you up on your offer. A month at the workhouse.” When Audrey said nothing, he continued. “It’s not a handout. Trust me. You’ll work very hard, and for you, it will be even more difficult because you have never had such a position.”
She crossed her arms across her chest. “Why did you change your mind?”
He looked down into her face. What could he say to her? The truth seemed too absurd. To be honest, she had touched something inside him. She was an absolute stranger to him, and it shouldn’t be and it didn’t make sense, but that was the truth.
She was alone in the world with a mother and sister to provide for, and she wanted to find employment. She was right about one thing. She had a strength about her. Even crying, there was strength in those luminous blue pools.
“I want to help you,” he said simply.
She eyed him warily. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I’ve just said. To help you.”
Audrey considered that and then met his gaze directly to deliver her next part. “I’ve reconsidered a part of my offer. I deserve to be paid.”
Henry took note of her boldness. “You do. But I do think it wise to leave your family in the country. Until we see if it works. It will only be for a month.”
“That makes sense.”
“If it is a good fit, you’ll have a month to acclimate them when they arrive. If it doesn’t, they don’t have to be uprooted once more.” He paused and then told her, “I still must speak to the other Board of Guardians for approval to bring you on, but I don’t anticipate any problems. We must fill the position, and it has been difficult.”
Her brows met in a frown. “Why has it been difficult?”
“It has been so for various reasons. We had one woman as schoolmistress for several months and she left to marry. Her husband didn’t want her to work,” he recalled. She’d been a great schoolmistress.
“Yes,” she said in understanding.
“Another woman retired and went to live with her daughter in the north. She writes me every so often,” Henry said. “There was a young woman who was at the workhouse for four months and didn’t find it to her liking. Last I heard she was working as a governess in a seaside house.”
“When would you like me to start?” she asked.
He considered that. “Two weeks from the time I receive the go-ahead from my fellow board members. This will give you enough time to get your belongings together and make the trip to Norwich. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes.” She extended her hand out to him just as Enoch Thomson returned.
“So? Is it all settled? Henry? Audrey?” He looked at both of them.
“Once the board agrees, she will start two weeks after that,” Henry said as his eyes met hers.
Audrey tried not to think of the quiet, arrogant man she had just met, but it was difficult. She had expected the workhouse Board of Guardian to be someone like Enoch Thomson or Mr. Felton. White-haired or at least greying at the temples with a cane and perhaps a bit of gout.
Henry Ryland was nothing of the sort.
He was tall, with wavy brown hair, penetrating eyes, and the good looks of an actor she had once seen in The Graphic that Polly had shown her.
She was grateful he had agreed to the arrangement, but she regretted the loss of control in front of him. She had been so angry and upset and had been unable to hide it from him. She had wanted to appear calm and collected so that it would be all the more reason for him to want her on staff. She wanted to be a sensible, Victorian woman to show him that she could handle the workhouse children and any situation that arose. Damn Henry Ryland! The handsome solicitor was probably always in control.
But she didn’t want to dwell on the interaction with the handsome, cold man. At the end of the afternoon, she had been offered a position with the workhouse barring the Board of Guardians’ decision, and that was something good to tell her mother and sister. A sense of relief flooded through her. She would be able to support her family.
She would be a success despite Henry Ryland.
Henry entered Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese public house and ordered a pint and steak and kidney pudding. He liked the dark interior of the pub and always stopped by when he was in London. He took his tall glass and sat in a booth in the dark corner. He faced the large room and sipped his drink, waiting for his food to arrive.
Now that he had time to reflect on the day’s events, he had surprised himself several times over. Not the least of which was his meeting with Audrey Wakefield where he had agreed for her to join the workhouse.
He had expected a little country mouse complete with spectacles and dour looks, and in her place, he had been introduced to a beauty with a strong sense of herself and the mouth to voice it. She had not backed down, and he had been impressed. There was a quiet strength about her but also a vulnerableness he wanted to protect.
Audrey Wakefield was an unusual woman. She had attended college, wanted to support her family, and had strong opinions. He remembered their interaction that afternoon. Audrey was very young to be so outspoken and to stand up for herself. He was impressed.
A familiar face entered and ordered a drink at the bar. Henry acknowledged the man and watched as he made his way over to his booth.
“Henry, how are you? It’s been some time,” Guy Keene said.
“It has been. Have a seat.” Henry gestured to the bench across from him.
Guy slipped into the bench across from him. “I was surprised to hear you were in London and staying at the club. The steward told me you would be here.”
“I’m in town for business,” Henry said vaguely.
He had known he might see Guy eventually. After all, they shared the same club in London.
Guy sipped his drink, studying Henry. “Are things well with you?”
Henry shrugged. “The same.”
“How is Theodocia? Please remember me to her.”
“Of course, I will,” he said.
Henry’s food arrived, and he looked down at it but didn’t touch it. Guy’s food arrived a minute later.
“She’s fine,” Guy said suddenly, but Henry said nothing. “It’s awkward as hell, but it doesn’t have to affect us. We’re still friends. Unless you prefer we aren’t.”
Henry didn’t answer immediately. “You’re right, of course. It doesn’t have to affect us.”
Henry picked up his utensils and began to eat his pudding, and Guy began to as well.
“What brings you t
o London?” Henry asked his friend from university.
Guy took a bite and swallowed before speaking. “Just some frivolous shopping. Nothing that would interest you.”
Henry sighed. He was here for her, he realized, and he didn’t want to tell him. He didn’t want to hurt Henry, and that was something at least.
“We should get together more often, Henry. As we used to,” Guy said.
“We should.”
They finished their meal together without much being said and parted amicably.
Chapter Six
Augusta watched her daughter pack her trunk for the journey to Norwich and sighed audibly. “I don’t think this a good idea.”
“What isn’t a good idea, Mother?” Audrey asked, not faltering in her packing. “The traveling alone, which I did at college, or my month away from you to give this a try… which I also did at college.”
Augusta wisely said nothing and looked at her youngest playing with her doll on the bed. “Frances, go ask Cook for a glass of milk,” she told her daughter, who left the room. “I’m worried for you,” she said simply when Frances was gone.
Audrey paused in folding her clothes neatly into her suitcase and glanced at Augusta. “I know you are. I’m worried for me. But this is the first chance I’ve gotten to make a living and take you both with me. I have to try.”
“I’ve heard stories about the workhouses,” Augusta admitted.
“Well, we’re joining it as staff and family of staff. We aren’t in the workhouse.”
“I feel guilty. I wish I had thought to ask your father about such things as money. I never thought we’d be in such a predicament.” Augusta sighed.
Audrey came to sit beside Augusta on the bed. “This isn’t so dire. I know what I’m capable of. I know what I can and can’t do. If this is too much for me, I’ll tell you. We can make a change if it doesn’t work.” Augusta said nothing. “Just be patient. And trust me.”
“I do. I just wish… I wish we could go back to the way things were.” Augusta’s eyes filled with tears.
Audrey hugged her tightly. “We can’t go back but we can move forward. Together.”
Audrey sat back in the train seat and pulled out the correspondence she had received from Henry Ryland. After their fateful meeting, she had returned home and waited. Several days later, she had received word that she had been accepted as the next schoolmistress of the Bowthorpe Road Workhouse.
With his letter had been a small bit of correspondence she had read quickly at first and then again at her leisure. Henry Ryland had written to her about the Norwich Workhouse and explained that it had originally been set up as the Norwich Incorporation in 1712. The Incorporation had set up a workhouse on Bridge Street in the parish of St Andrew’s. In 1802, an addition of new buildings had been set up that could accommodate 600 inmates. The able-bodied were employed in the manufacture of worsted and cotton goods.
In 1859, at the north side of Bowthorpe Road, a new workhouse had been erected that could house 885 inmates.
In his writing, Audrey read that the new workhouse building was one of the most perfect of its kind, nearly ten acres of land. The external walls were faced with red bricks with white brick dressings. The workhouse encompassed the main building, a chapel, the infirmary, the lunatic wards, and the principal building.
On the ground floor, there were sixty-three rooms, including the spacious dining room. There was a kitchen, a scullery, an engine room, and the masters’ and matrons’ room.
On the first floor, there were forty-nine rooms that were mostly dormitories. The entire workhouse was heated by open fireplaces and ventilating turrets in the roofs. The workhouse was a T-shaped main block with projections in each wing. A variety of workshops, laundries, outbuildings, and cottages stood to the rear.
He wrote in detail of the staff he felt she should be aware of. According to his letter, Mr. Cuthbert Meacham was the Master of the workhouse and had been there for ten years. The Master was responsible for the day to day running of the workhouse. His duties were numerous, and he answered to the Board of Guardians.
Elspeth Meacham was the Matron, and she acted as a deputy in her husband’s absence and supervised the female inmates and the domestic arrangements.
Freeman Reed was the chaplain and was responsible for the sermons every Sunday. Dr. Samson Beesley was the medical officer; Joseph Caldwell was the superintendent of outdoor labour; and Leviticus Penn was the porter.
Audrey tried to commit the names to memory, but she knew it would help when she met them in person. Next, she pulled out a long sheet that had been included in his documents. At the top of the page in crisp handwriting was written: Duties of the Schoolmistress.
She looked at the page often, and she smoothed it down across her lap as she studied at it again.
To instruct the boys and girls, for at least three hours each day, in reading, writing, arithmetic, and the principles of the Christian Religion, and such other instruction as may fit them for service, and train them to habits of usefulness, industry and virtue.
To regulate the discipline and arrangements of the school and the industrial and moral training of the children.
To accompany the children when they quit the Workhouse for exercise, or for attendance at public workshop.
To keep the children clean in their persons, and orderly and decorous in their conduct.
To assist the Master and Matron respectively in maintaining due subordination in the Workhouse.
It was a formidable list and one she felt she could accomplish and do well. She could teach the children all of the classic literature her father had shared with her and maybe even some French. She would truly teach these children all she knew so they could better themselves.
Another sheet was titled Discipline at the top. She had read it once, then twice, and blanched at the words.
Disorderly offence: bread and potatoes
Refractory – diet + solitary confinement, flogging
No confinement in dark room or during the night for children under twelve.
Corporal punishment:
Only on boys
Only carried out by Schoolmaster or Master
Two hours to have elapsed since the offence
Rod or other instrument to be approved by Guardians
No flogging of boys aged fourteen or over
She recalled Mr. Ryland’s words about needing such discipline at times with children. He’d said he left such discipline to the schoolmistress as to what they deemed acceptable, but he didn’t think it was beneficial. She couldn’t imagine in her wildest dreams issuing a flogging to a child or withholding food. It sounded barbaric. She instantly thought of her dear Frances. Making such a child go to bed hungry was unthinkable.
She was resolute. She would treat them kindly but firmly and hoped to find the good in every child who sat in her classroom. She knew from the letter that Mr. Ryland was sending the workhouse porter, Leviticus Penn, to fetch her at the station so she did not need to hire a hansom cab.
Mr. Ryland had said they would make arrangements and prepare a comfortable room for her stay. The room, he assured her, would be enough for her needs, and she was relieved. He further wrote that if things worked out and she was to stay on, he would find something larger that would accommodate her mother and sister.
The train slowed to a stop, and she watched the passengers exit and enter the train before it pulled out of the station. She pulled out her small valise and took out an orange and a piece of cheese and bread wrapped in cloth. Her mother had asked Cook to send her some items on the way, and she was glad she had thought of it. She was a little bit hungry.
The journey from her home to Norwich was over four hours so she had brought a book to pass the time. She was trying to read Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Blithedale Romance, but so far, it had not interested her as his previous novel The House of the Seven Gables, a Romance had done.
She pushed the book aside and admired the passing scenery.
The flat green fields and the grand oak trees passed by quickly as the miles took her from her home in Kent to her new home in Norwich. Norwich was said to be a medieval jewel in the crown of England, and she was anxious to see it.
So many thoughts ran through her mind. She felt extreme excitement as well as an anxiousness. This was all new to her, and she wanted very much to make a good impression and perform well. So much depended upon this that there was very little room for error, though she was bound to make a few mistakes, she reasoned.
She felt her eyes close as the late afternoon light fell upon her. She would rest her eyes for a little while as to be refreshed when the train pulled into Norwich.
Audrey was waking from sleep when she heard someone calling to her.
“Madame,” the voice said.
She blinked once and then twice, looking around. She saw the train guard standing a few feet near her.
“Madame, I believe this is your stop,” he said, gesturing out the window.
Audrey blushed deeply. She had slept all the way to Norwich, and the guard had come to wake her. “Is it? I can’t believe I slept the whole way,” she said, pulling at her gloves and checking her purse and valise.
“I’ll have your bag brought out to the platform for you.”
“Thank you. I do appreciate it.”
On the platform, Audrey stood with her trunk, waiting for the porter from the workhouse. She hoped she would be able to spot him, as they had never met. After the train pulled away from the station, there were fewer people about, so she sat upon a bench to wait.
A young man thin as a rail, wearing trousers and a dusty jacket, suddenly appeared before her, looking left and right before his eyes settled on her. She had lifted her veil when she sat down so she was able to see him clearly.
Among the Darkness Stirs Page 6
