Pauper's Gold

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘I know, Auntie Bessie, I know you’d’ve helped if you could’ve. But,’ she went on, coming back to the idea of Bessie visiting the workhouse, ‘what if the master asks you outright if you’ve seen me?’

  Bessie looked her straight in the face and said, ‘I’ll say I haven’t set eyes on you from the day you left our street to enter the workhouse.’ Suddenly she beamed, ‘I’ll just not add, “until now”.’

  Hannah’s mouth twitched, she smiled and then she laughed out loud. ‘Oh, Auntie Bessie!’ And then suddenly, out of the past came the phrase that her gran had used fondly when speaking of Bessie Morgan. ‘Oh, Auntie Bessie, you’re a caution, you are.’

  But the following day, when Bessie put on her best hat and coat and set off for the workhouse, Hannah was on tenterhooks. She couldn’t settle and paced about the house like a caged animal. At last, with nothing to occupy her, Hannah picked up a parcel of clean laundry and set off to deliver it.

  As she retraced her steps to the terraced house she now called home, Hannah paused again outside the school. She wondered if there were any of the teachers there who would still remember her. She almost stepped into the building, but then turned and hurried away, realizing that the more people who knew she was back here, the more chance there was of Goodbody finding out about her. And then . . .

  Hannah bent her head and hurried home.

  ‘There you are.’ Auntie Bessie was at the door, looking anxiously up and down the street. ‘You had me worried.’

  ‘Oh, sorry, Auntie Bessie, but I was that restless after you’d gone. I just had to get out for a bit. I’ve delivered Mrs Brown’s laundry.’

  Bessie nodded. ‘That’s all right then. Now come on in and we’ll have a nice cup of tea and I’ll tell you all about it. I’m parched, I am. It’s me one bit of luxury. Tea.’

  Hannah laughed. ‘We only got given it in the apprentice house if we were ill.’

  Bessie chuckled. ‘Well, I hope you didn’t get it very often then.’

  Hannah had to hold in her impatience for Bessie’s news just a little longer, until the older woman had lowered herself into her chair and drunk half her cup of tea. ‘There, that’s better.’

  ‘Did you see Mr Goodbody? Did he ask about me?’

  Bessie shook her head. ‘I didn’t see him, but I saw his wife.’

  Hannah pulled in a startled breath. ‘Oh! Oh dear!’

  But Bessie was smiling and leaning towards her. ‘I’ll tell you something, Hannah. She’s far more frightened of you than you are of them.’

  ‘Eh?’ Now Hannah was mystified.

  Bessie sat back and said triumphantly, ‘She was real jittery when I asked about you and your mother.’

  Hannah shook her head wonderingly. ‘Why? Why ever should she be frightened about me?’

  ‘Because they lied to you, didn’t they? Kept you thinking your mother was still alive and well and writing to you? I expect if you were to ask your policeman friend about that, you might find that it was against the law in some way. I don’t know what they’d call it, but I’d call it criminal, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Hannah was doubtful. She’d lived her whole life under the rule of others and she couldn’t imagine having any power over anyone else. Others wielded the power in Hannah Francis’s world – not her. But a tiny sliver of determination and hope began to grow. ‘What did she say, Auntie Bessie?’

  ‘Well, when I got there I asked the porter if I could see Mr Goodbody, and he said he was away, but would I like to see Mrs Goodbody. “She’s the matron,” he said. “She can admit folks when the master’s away.” ’ Bessie sniffed. ‘Likely he thought I was wanting to go in to stay.’ She paused a moment, reflecting how close at times she’d come to having to do just that.

  ‘And did you see her?’ Hannah prompted.

  Bessie nodded. ‘Oh, I saw her all right. She soon came off her high horse when she realized I wasn’t another pauper at her gate. And when I said I was inquiring after my old friend, Rebecca Francis, and her daughter, Hannah, she went white.’

  Hannah’s mouth dropped open. Bessie nodded, ‘Oh yes, believe me, Hannah, she went white. She’s frightened of her part in the deception coming out, I could tell. I don’t reckon you’ve much to fear from her.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Hannah murmured, finding her voice through her surprise. ‘But that’s not him, is it?’

  ‘True, but I don’t reckon they’ve heard about you running away. She told me that Rebecca died only a few months after you were sent to the mill. That seemed genuine, but then she seemed to get nervous. Just said that as far as she knew you were still there. When I pressed her and asked if she’d sent word to you that your mother’d died that was when she went white and began to stutter. “My husband deals with all that sort of thing,” she said.’ Bessie laughed aloud. ‘Oh, Hannah, I couldn’t resist it, I said, “I’d’ve thought that you being the matron, like, that it’d’ve been your job to let the poor girl know.”’ Bessie rocked with laughter until the tears ran down her cheeks. ‘Oh no, no, she said. That was her husband’s job. She was quick to put the blame on his shoulders, I can tell you.’ Bessie wiped her eyes. ‘Anyway, love, as I was coming out, this young woman comes running after me across the yard. She said she’d heard I was asking after Hannah Francis and her mother. Goodness only knows how she knew.’

  Though she now had to accept that her mother was truly gone, it was no great shock. Deep inside, she’d known it to be the truth. ‘News travels fast in there,’ she said with a small smile. ‘I reckon the inmates know what’s happening even before the master does. Go on, Auntie Bessie.’

  ‘This girl said she’d known you at the mill and that the last time she’d seen you, you’d been fine but that you’d been anxious about your mother as you’d never heard from her. She said she’d written to you herself after she heard in the workhouse that your mother had died. But she didn’t know if the letter had ever reached you as you’d never replied.’

  ‘No, it didn’t,’ Hannah said grimly.

  ‘Doesn’t surprise me,’ Bessie said. ‘I expect with their little scam going on between Goodbody and this Critchlow fellow, they intercepted any letters addressed to you.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Hannah frowned. ‘I wish I knew who’d really done that. I can’t believe it of old man Critchlow. He seemed so nice . . .’

  Bessie snorted. ‘Huh! They all do, until it comes down to money. You were money to them, love. The Critchlows likely paid Goodbody a handsome sum to apprentice you for the pittance it cost them to keep you. Neither of them would want to lose it.’

  Hannah was silent for a moment, then she asked curiously, ‘Who was the young woman who said she knew me?’

  ‘Nell Hudson.’

  ‘Nell!’ Hannah stared at Bessie. ‘Nell is in the workhouse?’

  And when Bessie nodded, Hannah breathed, ‘Oh no! Not Nell. Oh, Auntie Bessie!’ She clasped Bessie’s hand across the table. ‘I have to get her out of there. I just have to.’

  Twenty-Seven

  ‘But I don’t know what you can do,’ Bessie said, though her eyes were full of sympathy for the girl. ‘You haven’t got a job yet yourself.’

  ‘I will do and I won’t be long about it.’

  Bessie smiled at the young girl’s confidence, marvelling at her determination, her resilience after all the cruel blows that life had dealt her. ‘No, love, I’m sure you won’t. You’re young and strong and willing, and anybody’d be a fool not to employ you, but – but you can’t expect to support a household of four on a woman’s wage. Your friend could come here and with pleasure, but—’

  ‘Four? What do you mean – four?’

  ‘Didn’t you know? Your friend Nell has got a baby. A little boy. He’s about a month old.’

  Hannah stared at her for a moment and then nodded slowly. ‘Yes, yes, it all fits now. No wonder Mrs Bramwell wouldn’t tell me why she’d gone away.’ Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered. ‘And why Nell was so short wi
th me the very last time she spoke. She must’ve known, must’ve realized what they’d do. Oh, poor, poor Nell. But I wonder who—?’ Then shook herself. ‘No time for that now. I have to think of a way to get her out.’ She looked Bessie straight in the eyes as she asked, ‘So, if we could get enough money to support ourselves, you’d have her here? As another lodger? Her and her baby?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Bessie smiled without hesitation. ‘It’d be lovely to have a little one about the place again.’

  ‘And supposing, just supposing that both Nell and me could get work, would you . . . would you look after her child?’

  Bessie’s eyes sparkled. ‘Oh, I would. I would.’ And the lonely woman clasped her hands together in thankfulness, blessing the day the young constable had helped Hannah find her old neighbour.

  The very next day, Hannah tramped the streets looking for work but she returned home at night disappointed and dispirited.

  ‘Did you try all the silk mills?’ Bessie asked.

  ‘Well – one or two,’ Hannah said vaguely. She’d wanted to avoid mill work if she could, but it seemed if that was all that was left open to her, she’d no choice. At least she could offer some kind of experience that was allied to that trade. Silk work couldn’t be so very different from cotton, could it?

  ‘Anybody home?’ came a voice from the door, and Bessie cast her eyes to the ceiling.

  ‘Yes, come in, Flo – if you must.’

  ‘Well, that’s a nice greeting, I must say.’ Undeterred, Flo Harris entered and sat down at the table. She reached across for a cup and saucer, picked up the teapot and poured herself a cup of tea.

  ‘’Elp yourself, why don’t you?’ Bessie muttered. ‘As if I’ve the money to buy luxuries for half the street.’

  Flo cackled with laughter. ‘I will, ta, Bessie.’ Then she turned her attention to Hannah. ‘Well, girl, gettin’ yer feet well and truly under Bessie’s table, a’ yer?’

  Refusing to be daunted by the woman’s sharp tongue, Hannah grinned. ‘That’s right, Mrs Harris. Just like you.’

  Now it was Bessie who roared with laughter. ‘Now, now, come on you two. Let’s not be ’aving any bickering. And as for you, Flo Harris, Hannah’s living here with me now, so you’d best get used to the idea.’

  Suddenly, Flo smiled. ‘’S’all right by me. It’ll be summat to keep the neighbours gossiping about for a week or two. Gregory’s whore’s daughter back home. She comin’ an’ all, is she? Rebecca?’

  Bessie banged her fist on the table so hard that the cups rattled in their saucers and the teapot lid bounced. ‘Now, look here, Flo. There’s no call for you to talk like that. Whatever happened in the past, it’s not young Hannah’s fault anyway, now is it?’ She paused, waiting for Flo’s agreement. When it was not forthcoming she banged the table again, demanding loudly, ‘Is it?’

  Flo jumped and blinked. She could see that Bessie meant business and if she wanted to keep on the right side of her neighbour then she’d better alter her tune. ‘No – no, you’re right, Bessie,’ Flo said, calling upon all her acting skills. ‘’Course you are.’ She turned to Hannah. ‘Tek no notice of me. It’s just my way. I don’t mean no harm.’

  Hannah was not taken in by Flo’s apology, which had been dragged out of her by Bessie – she remembered her of old – but she smiled thinly and nodded.

  ‘And in answer to your question,’ Bessie said quietly now, ‘no, Rebecca won’t be coming back. She died in the workhouse.’ She glared at Flo. ‘And I reckon we’re all a bit to blame for that happening when we didn’t lift a finger to help when she was forced to go in there along with her little girl.’

  Flo opened her mouth to make some retort but, seeing the look on Bessie’s face, thought better of it. Instead, she turned to Hannah and muttered, ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  Now Bessie cleared her throat and changed the subject. ‘Well, Hannah’s been job hunting today, but she’s not ’ad much luck. Do you know of anywhere where they’re taking folk on, Flo?’

  The woman appeared to give the question thought, but then pulled a face. ‘Sorry, I don’t.’ Then a sly look came across her face. ‘Why don’t you go and ask your father to give you a job?’

  ‘Now that’s enough, Flo,’ Bessie said, and Hannah could see that she was angry now. ‘I’m warning you.’

  ‘Oh, sorry, I’m sure.’ Flo pretended huffiness. ‘I was only trying to think of something to help. Forget I said anything.’

  But Hannah was not about to forget. ‘My father? You know who my father is?’ She turned from Flo to Bessie and asked, almost accusingly, ‘Do you know him?’

  Bessie shifted uncomfortably. ‘Well – er – you see, love . . .’

  ‘Auntie Bessie, do you know him?’

  There was a brief pause whilst both Hannah and Flo stared at Bessie, who, at last, sighed and said flatly, ‘Yes, love. I know him.’

  ‘We all know him,’ Flo added triumphantly. ‘We’ve always known who he was, even though Rebecca would never say.’ She touched Hannah’s hair with bony fingers. ‘And now there’s no mistaking it. You’ve got his hair colouring and his bright blue eyes. Oh, there’s no mistaking Jimmy Gregory’s bastard.’

  Hannah flinched, not at Bessie’s sudden banging on the table once more but at the cruel name Flo had called her.

  ‘Now that is enough, Flo Harris,’ Bessie roared. ‘If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, you’re not welcome in my house no more.’

  Flo knew that she’d gone too far this time. She’d no wish to fall out with Bessie. Oh, they had their spats and Flo was renowned for her sharp tongue, but they’d never really fallen out – not seriously. Now, however, it looked as if young Hannah was a serious threat.

  ‘I’m sorry, Bessie,’ Flo whined. ‘I meant no harm.’

  ‘Well, mind you don’t,’ Bessie snapped. Then she was silent for a moment, thinking. ‘Mind you,’ she said slowly at last, ‘you’ve got a point – even though you could’ve found a kinder way to say it.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Hannah pushed aside the insult. It wasn’t the first time she’d had the cruel name hurled at her and she doubted it’d be the last.

  ‘Well, I suppose you could go and see your father.’

  ‘See my father? Why?’

  ‘He’s manager at Brayford’s silk mill.’

  ‘And he married Brayford’s daughter,’ Flo put in. ‘Oh, done very nicely for himself has Jimmy Gregory.’

  Bessie cast her a warning glance but said, ‘Yes, she’s right. Your father is now in a position of importance.’ She leaned towards Hannah. ‘He’s in a position to help you, love.’

  ‘If he will,’ Hannah said bitterly. ‘He evidently didn’t want to help my mother when she was expecting me, did he? Or later, when we were turned out of our home.’

  There was a strained silence in the room whilst Bessie and Flo exchanged a look. Then came the words that shocked Hannah and broke her heart.

  Bessie touched her hand gently and said softly, ‘He couldn’t, love. He was already married.’

  Twenty-Eight

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve had to find out, love,’ Bessie was still trying to console Hannah late that evening. The girl had not cried, but she had gone very quiet, withdrawn into herself, and the older woman was distraught to think that she’d been the cause of the sparkle dying in the girl’s eyes. Hannah was only just coming to terms with the death of her childhood sweetheart and the news of her mother, and now here was Bessie being the cause of further grief.

  But Hannah took a deep breath and summoned up a tremulous smile. ‘It’s all right, Auntie Bessie. Honestly. I’d’ve had to’ve known sometime and if I’m to go and see him then . . . then I’d better know what to expect.’

  Bessie chewed at her bottom lip, but nodded. The girl was right. Painful though it might be, it was better that she knew the truth, especially if she was to meet him.

  ‘Will you do something for me though, Auntie Bessie?’

  ‘I will if
I can, love. You know that.’

  ‘Will you tell me everything you know? About me father?’

  ‘Aw – well – now, I don’t—’

  ‘Please. I need to know. It can’t harm Mam now. If she was still alive, I wouldn’t be asking. But I need to know.’

  Bessie let out a huge sigh. ‘Aye, well, I suppose you’ve a right to know – now you’re older. Trouble is, love, I don’t know very much really. See, your mam would never tell anyone who your father was. We think we know, but I have to say, it’s all guesswork on our part.’ She paused and her glance roamed over Hannah’s face. ‘But looking at you now, love,’ she murmured. ‘It does look as if we might be right.’

  ‘Just tell me, Auntie Bessie.’

  Bessie took a deep breath. ‘There was this chap at the mill where your mam worked. Jimmy Gregory.’ A small smile played on her mouth. ‘Handsome devil, he was, I have to admit. But a one for the ladies. You know what I mean.’

  Hannah nodded. She knew only too well what ‘a one for the ladies’ meant. Unbidden, the image of Edmund Critchlow was in her mind.

  ‘By all accounts,’ Bessie went on, ‘there was something going on between him and yer mother. Folks used to see them together. And she used to stay late at work sometimes – I know that for a fact. Of course she could have been working . . .’ Bessie’s voice trailed away. Hannah could tell she didn’t really believe that.

  ‘But you think she was meeting him?’

  Bessie nodded. There was silence until Hannah prompted, in a flat, unemotional tone, ‘And he was married? To the boss’s daughter.’

  ‘Oh no, not then. He was only the supervisor then and married with a child, I think.’

  ‘So,’ Hannah mused, ‘somewhere I have a half-brother or sister.’

  ‘His first wife and the child died. It was the cholera. Like your Gran Grace died of. And about the same time too. But you have got a half-brother and a half-sister by his present wife.’

  Hannah digested this. From thinking herself an orphan and completely alone in the world, she was now having to come to terms with the knowledge that she had a father and siblings.