“Miss Wakefield?” he asked, approaching her.
Audrey stood up to greet him and extended her hand. “Good afternoon. I’m Audrey Wakefield.”
They shook hands briefly, and the man stared at her for several moments. Audrey touched a gloved hand to her face, thinking she must have soot on her. She eyed the man with thinning blonde hair and blue eyes.
“You’re a bit of an oyster,” he said suddenly, and Audrey blushed at the compliment. “I’m Leviticus Penn. Everyone calls me Levi.” He picked up her trunk while she took her valise and purse.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Penn.”
“I said, everyone calls me Levi. No need for the mister.”
“Very well, Levi,” Audrey said.
“That’s right. Here’s the cab.” He gestured before him.
The cab was a simple horse and buggy with room for two people to sit in it. Levi secured the trunk to the back of the cab and sat beside Audrey after he finished. He took up the reins and flicked them lightly.
“So, Audrey Wakefield, you ask anything you like about the workhouse or how things are and I’ll give you the rundown. I entered the workhouse when I was seven years old and I’ve never left. My mother died when I was two and my father died several years after her. I have no relations in the whole wide world so I decided to make the workhouse my life.” He told her his life story all within a minute.
Audrey blinked, surprised by the rush of words. “So, you went from an inmate to running it?”
“That’s right. At first, I would do odd jobs about the place, then I finally asked old Master Bright when I was thirteen how I could get a job at the workhouse and stay there. He was two masters ago.”
“I see. And he told you…?” she prompted him.
“He said the workhouse needed a hardworking lad like me and so I’ve been here ever since.” He straightened his back and shoulders, telling her he was proud of that.
“How long has that been?”
“Well, let me think.” He paused, tallying up the years in his head. “Twenty years now as I’m twenty-seven this March.”
She thought he might be older, but his chatty ways and openness had a naivete about him. In reality, he was closer to her in age.
“Have you ever thought of leaving the workhouse? Finding other employment?” she wondered.
He looked shocked. “No. Never. I like my work. I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, and a bit of coin for a pint after work.”
What advice would you give me, Mr.—Levi,” she corrected herself, “about the workhouse?”
“Advice? Let me think.” He hummed, flicking the reins again. “Well, don’t let the children get to you. They can be right buggers, and that’s not your fault. They’ve had a tough life, some of them.”
“That’s very kind of you to think of it that way.” She was sure not everyone shared that sentiment.
“It’s the truth. Some of them kids have lost a lot and they are wee little ones. Makes you sad to think of it.” The corner of his mouth dipped down.
“That’s very true.”
“Don’t be too hard on them but don’t be too soft neither.” He waggled his finger. “Find something in the middle.”
“That’s very wise, Levi,” she told him. “Thank you.”
He puffed his chest out at the compliment. “Be cautious of Matron. She’s a tough old bird. Old Matron before her was soft as butter and sweet as sugar. This one…” He let his words trail off.
“I’ll watch my step.” Audrey looked about the medieval city with its quaint buildings, steepled churches, and cobblestone streets. It was a large city, though not as big as London. It was much smaller than the Kent village she had called home for so long.
“It’s a large city, Norwich,” he told her. “Norwich used to be filthy and overcrowded, but since the Improvement Commissioners was formed, they pave and light the streets, and we have our own police force.”
“Impressive,” she said.
“We also have a piped water supply and a network of sewers. They were built in the last decade,” he told her. “We also opened the first public library in 1857.”
“A library?” Her eyes widened. “That’s excellent. You must show me where it is,” she said, thinking it would be in the future.
“Of course, I will,” he said, moving in a different direction to show her the library that was housed in the Guildhall building. She looked up at the grand structure and marveled at the chequerboard pattern in flint and freestone that covered the east face of the building. Levi explained that the Guildhall was the largest municipal building in England outside London. It was used for council meetings and courts of justice.
After the library, they resumed the course to the workhouse.
“We’re famous for leatherwork and shoemaking, miss,” he told her. “And mustard making.”
She frowned. She hadn’t expected that. “Mustard making?”
He dipped his head. “Aye. J & J Colman. Their factory is on Carrow Road. In 1866, they were granted the Royal Warrant as manufacturers of mustard to the queen herself,” he said matter-of-factly.
He turned the small buggy and horse down a path, and Audrey saw the workhouse for the first time. She recognized it from Henry Ryland’s letter. The red brick stood out from the road, and the white bricks stood out against the red. Although her first impression of the large building was impressive, it also seemed sinister, as if it belonged in a Wilkie Collins novel.
“Welcome to Bowthorpe Road Workhouse,” Levi said.
“It is quite imposing,” she said as she looked up at the expansive building.
“Is it? I never think of it that way. It’s been home for so long.” He pulled the cart to the left, and they entered into a side entrance. When the horse was still, he helped her out of the cart. “I’ll get your trunk,” he offered helpfully.
Audrey looked up at the building and was in awe at the massive structure. As she turned around, she heard footsteps behind her.
“What time do you call this to be coming in, Mr. Penn? We expected you a half hour ago,” a woman said, hands on her hips. She was an older woman of expansive girth with a large bosom and a very serious face. She wore a velvet gown of deep purple with no frills or decoration.
“I stopped off to show the miss our library, as she’s fond of books,” Levi told her as he set Audrey’s trunk next to her.
The Matron gave him a steely gaze. “She can visit the library on her day off, Mr. Penn. See to the horse.”
As he left, he winked at Audrey, who bit back a smile. The Matron turned her gaze on Audrey, and Audrey met her eyes directly.
“Come with me. I’ll have someone take your trunk to your room,” she said as she gestured to a young boy to do just that.
She followed the woman through a series of hallways and passed several people cleaning the floors and whitewashing the walls. Audrey and the Matron came to a small room with a desk and two chairs. The stern-faced woman took the chair behind the desk, and Audrey took the one facing her.
“Miss Audrey Wakefield,” she said to Audrey, a statement, not a question.
Audrey clasped her hands in her lap. “Yes. I am Audrey Wakefield.”
“I am Elspeth Meacham. Matron of the Bowthorpe Road Workhouse. I received a letter from our esteemed Board of Guardian Mr. Henry Ryland. It appears you are to be our new schoolmistress.” She pulled out a folder from her desk.
“Yes.”
The woman studied her closely. “Where do you come from?”
Audrey swallowed. “Kingsdown in Kent.”
“Quite far from Norwich.”
“It is.”
“And you’ve never been employed before. Ever.” Again, the words came out as a statement, not a question. “Strange that they should agree to place an inexperienced girl in the workhouse as schoolmistress.” Matron eyed Audrey and then looked down at the piece of paper she had taken from the folder.
“I’m eager to make a suc
cess of it,” Audrey assured her.
“You attended Queen’s College.”
“I did.”
“Unusual for a woman to have a college education.” Like her mother, the woman didn’t sound all that impressed with the idea.
“My father wished it, as did I,” Audrey said coolly.
“You’re in mourning.” She looked at the black gown Audrey wore.
Audrey beat back the swell of sadness at thinking about her father. “For my father.”
“I’ve met Mr. Ryland several times over the years. He seems a good man of good character and judgement. So, I’m at a loss as to why he would choose you as our schoolmistress,” Matron spoke plainly.
Audrey refused to squirm, even though the woman made her nervous. “I cannot say, madame.”
“Hmmm,” Matron returned. “The schoolmistress is not a comfortable position where you take tea and crumpets on the lawn whilst you teach a bit here and there such as you might do as a governess in a fine house.”
“That’s not what I imagined it to be either,” Audrey said, irritated that the older woman assumed she was of a frivolous nature.
“Good. Because although you are not an inmate and are highly regarded as the schoolmistress, the work can be difficult,” she told her.
Audrey straightened her spine. She wasn’t afraid of hard work. “I expected as much.”
“The children come from difficult circumstances. Poverty, abuse, neglect are common occurrences in the homes. They go hand in hand with the hardships these families face and the workhouse. Mr. Meacham, the Master, and I run a tight ship. It is not cruelty. Those who pay to keep the workhouse going do not wish to see people here year after year resting on their laurels. This isn’t charity. That won’t do. Our job is to provide them food and a roof whilst they perform work until they leave. Thus, the name. Work. House.”
“I understand, Matron.”
“The children who come here will be under your care. I understand Mr. Ryland gave you a list of your duties?” she asked.
“He did.” Audrey thought back to the list.
“You’ve reviewed them.”
“I have.” She had several times, in fact.
“Very good. I suggest you map out a plan for the next month of what you plan to teach. At this time, we currently have sixty-seven children in the workhouse, ranging in age from five to fourteen.”
“Sixty-seven?” Audrey asked, shocked at the number. She hadn’t expected so many.
The Matron gave her an impatient look. “We have over five hundred inmates at Bowthorpe, Ms. Wakefield.”
“Of course,” she replied.
“It stands to reason a certain percentage will be children who do not work but attend school. In the past, we have split the boys and girls, and a schoolmistress would see to the girls, while a schoolmaster saw to the boys. However, we are understaffed at this time and only have you. But do not fear. We will rotate the classes,” Matron told her, shuffling the papers around.
Audrey frowned, not quite understanding. “Rotate?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, as if she were explaining a difficult concept to a child. “One group is reading, while another group is working on arithmetic. That sort of thing.”
Audrey bit back her annoyance at the Matron’s tone. “I see.”
“And I’ll assign you an inmate to help assist you.”
Shock ran through Audrey, and for a moment, she was sure she’d heard incorrectly. “An inmate?”
The Matron sighed in frustration. “Ms. Wakefield, please give me the benefit of the doubt to accept that I know much more about what goes on in this workhouse and that I will make certain you have the tools at your disposal to do your job.”
“I wasn’t suggesting—” Audrey began.
The Matron cut her off sharply. “Your voice indicated concern at an inmate helping you.”
“Yes,” she admitted. Why wouldn’t she be concerned? Truthfully, she’d never been around someone like an inmate before.
The Matron rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Ms. Wakefield, this isn’t a prison. Though they are called inmates, they are free to leave at any time. Most of the people here have a trade of some sort. A seamstress, a blacksmith, a domestic servant. But they have fallen on hard times and must enter the workhouse for help.”
Audrey relaxed a little. That didn’t sound quite as intimidating when the older woman put it that way. “I see.”
“Once they can get on their feet, they will leave us and hopefully not return. But all is in God’s hands,” the Matron said firmly.
“I understand. I will work on the teaching plan that you asked me to do,” Audrey said, ideas already running through her head. That would be simple enough. “When would you like that returned to you?”
“Tomorrow.” She looked across at Audrey, watching her face, and then added, “Afternoon. As you’ve only just arrived.” The Matron looked out the glass window down into the quiet courtyard. “I have several rules of my own. They aren’t written down but I expect you to keep to them nonetheless. As schoolmistress, you are in a different position than some of the other staff. You are an educated woman, yet you are unmarried. I understand the job can be lonely, and if you make friends with the other staff here, that is fine. But I will not accept any fraternizing with the men either on staff or inmates that goes beyond the bounds of friendship. Is that understood?”
Audrey felt herself go warm at the words. “I certainly would not. I’m a respectable young woman.”
Matron pierced her with her gaze before speaking. “You may venture into town on your days off, but during the week when you are in the classroom, I expect you to be either in the classroom or the grounds.”
“Yes.”
“I understand from Mr. Ryland’s letter that you will be with us for a month on a trial basis. It’s very odd. I’ve never received a staff member before with that request,” she said, looking down at the letter and then back at Audrey.
Audrey said nothing. She wanted to be obliging and agreeable, but the Matron was making it difficult. She felt that the Matron didn’t like her for some reason.
“Be wary of the older boys in your class. They can be scheming. With a young woman, they might try and push the boundaries,” Matron told her. “I am trying to make you understand the way things might be here. I certainly don’t want to drive away good staff, but time will tell if this is a good fit for both you and the workhouse.”
Audrey bit back any comments she might have had and kept her voice polite. “Thank you, Matron.”
The Matron eyed Audrey coldly and then stood. “I’ll show you to your room.”
She followed the Matron down a series of hallways, again turning right and then left. After walking down a long hallway, the Matron turned just before it ended, and taking a large circle of keys from her waist, she unlocked the door.
“This is to be your room. Good afternoon, Ms. Wakefield.”
Without another word, the Matron turned and left.
Chapter Seven
Audrey looked about the room. It was a drab room with a small iron-framed bed, a dresser with a pitcher and a bowl, a desk, and a chair. There was a small window that looked out to a brick wall, and the walls were stark white, looking to be recently whitewashed. She placed the valise down beside her as she sat upon the bed.
A weight settled on her shoulders. The Matron didn’t approve of her, that much was apparent. She didn’t want her to succeed, and she probably wanted someone with more experience. Audrey couldn’t blame the woman. She felt a slight headache coming on, but she wasn’t surprised, what with the train ride and the conversation with Matron.
Sixty-seven children! That was quite a bit more than she had expected.
Even with the help of an inmate and rotations, that was a lot to deal with. She removed her gloves and hat and placed them upon the dresser, a sense of determination filling her. It didn’t matter how many children she was given, she must make a start.
/> She pulled out the paper and pen from her valise and sat down at the desk. Reading, writing, and arithmetic. Those were the basics that she must teach, and the ages were five to fourteen. She should have asked the ages of the children to group them, but there was time enough for that. She made a diagram of circles and put the numbers five through fourteen in the circles.
The little ones would be grouped together, then the next oldest, and so on and so forth until the very oldest children were together. This way, she reasoned, each group should be learning at their own pace. She hoped this might be a start. Then she began to draw up a lesson plan for the coming weeks. As she worked, she felt a little bit surer of herself and the task at hand. Everything would be all right.
Elspeth Meacham opened the door to their large apartments on the third floor and entered quietly. She hung her bonnet up, and as she made her way into the large front parlor, her husband greeted her.
“What do you think?” he said as he turned the page of The Times.
Elspeth glanced at Cuthbert, who was immersed in his newspaper with a cup of tea at his elbow. “I don’t know. She seems quick and bright, and I’m surprised because you wouldn’t think it to look at her.”
“Wouldn’t think what, my dear?” her husband asked.
“Well, she must be Henry Ryland’s fancy woman. Else why would we be sent this inexperienced woman as a schoolmistress?”
Cuthbert shook his head. “Not likely, Elspeth. If that were true, he’d set her up with a house of her own and not force her to work in a workhouse of all places. If anything, you’d place someone here that you didn’t like. And force them to work like a drudge.”
Elspeth considered that. “Maybe. Maybe not. You’ve not seen her though, Cuthbert. She’s got a face like a perfect doll. I’d wager a month’s salary that Levi is already smitten.”
“Leave the lad alone,” Cuthbert told his wife.
“I’m sure of it. He was late back from the station picking her up. When I asked why, he said he wanted to show her the library.” She scoffed.
Cuthbert shrugged. “What of it?”
Among the Darkness Stirs Page 7
