A Woman of Influence (7 page)

"And you have been sleeping there for two weeks?" asked Becky, astonished that no one had noticed.

"Yes, ma'am, just overnight. I spend many hours weeding and clearing up after they harvest the hops. We had a place in the village behind the fields, a farmer let us use his outhouse, but he wanted more rent, and there were other things... I couldn't afford it, ma'am, not on what they pay in the hop fields."

"And how did you find this place?" Becky asked.

"One of the lads in the village told me about it; he said he had slept there once or twice, when it was wet and he couldn't get home. I thought it would do just for a short time, until we found another place. It was clean and safe for Tom as well."

Jonathan was shaking his head, and Becky was finding it difficult to keep her own feelings under control. The young woman looked thin and weary, and the boy gazed longingly at a cloth bag in her hand, which looked as though it contained food. From the aroma emanating from it, it was probably stale bread and cheese, Becky thought.

Speaking very quickly, as if she had to act before she was persuaded to change her mind, Becky said, "Alice, I cannot have you and the boy sleeping in an open barn--it isn't safe. Besides, it might encourage others to do the same, and we cannot allow that. But, until we find somewhere more suitable, my housekeeper, Mrs Bates, will give you a room in the house. But first, you will go into the kitchen and have something to eat and drink. Tom looks hungry, and I am sure you could do with a good bowl of porridge, too. Come with me."

As Jonathan went in to join the others in the morning room, Becky took Alice and Tom into the kitchen and explained to Mrs Bates that they were to be fed and allowed to wash themselves and their clothes and found a place to sleep at night.

"The boy is sick, Mrs Bates, they've been sleeping in one of the barns and working in the hop fields. They will need some clean clothes, and, Alice, when you are ready, I should like to talk some more. But first, we will send for the apothecary Mr. Thomson to take a look at Tom's chest--that cough does sound bad," she said and left them in the kitchen, with the girl's expressions of gratitude in her ears and tears welling in her eyes.

As Becky walked out, two young chambermaids, having just come downstairs, stood at the door, looking askance at the young woman and her boy as they sat at the kitchen table eating their porridge. Their expressions said it all. Becky spoke sharply to them, "Stop staring at them; they're poor and homeless."

"They're dirty, ma'am," the girls protested, all starched and superior in their uniforms.

"So would you be if you had no proper place to sleep. They're no worse than you; they've fallen on hard times, that's all. It's only good luck that keeps you from going down the same path. Mind you treat them right," Becky said, and she sounded quite severe.

The maids did not look convinced, but they did know better than to disobey their mistress. Mrs Tate had a reputation for kindness; equally she could be very firm with anyone who defied her instructions.

Becky entered the morning room to find everyone agog to discover who the young woman was and what Becky intended to do with her. She had no definite answer to either of their questions.

Anna had heard some of the story from Jonathan. "Do you suppose, Becky, that the girl is alone?" she asked.

Becky could not be certain. "Do you mean does she have a husband? Well, she does wear a wedding ring and mentioned that the boy's father had been taken by the police some years ago. It seems the shock of that encounter has stopped his speech. The child does not say a word."

"Poor little thing," said Anna, thinking of her own two sons, "he looks thin and scared. He cannot be eating very well."

"Indeed, I doubt they pay them very much for working the hop fields--the poor woman must have struggled to find sufficient food for the two of them," said Jonathan, whose compassionate heart was already quite deeply affected by what he had heard. "It's unconscionable, but no one will do anything about it."

Becky nodded and said, "I know what you mean, but at least we have the chance to put that to right; once they have eaten and cleaned themselves up, perhaps we could begin to unravel the real story of Alice Grey."

The story of Alice Grey took a good deal of unravelling.

It was fortunate that Becky Tate was rather less impatient now than she had been at twenty, for the young woman was wary and unwilling to talk about personal matters, particularly those relating to her past.

When she and the boy had eaten and washed themselves, they were summoned to Becky's sitting room. Dressed in a motley collection of hand-medowns supplied by Mrs Bates, they looked a rather comical pair: she in a faded scullery maid's uniform and apron, and the child in pantaloons and an overshirt so large, it could well have been his nightgown!

But at least they were clean, warm, and well fed.

One thing was more apparent now than it had been before. Alice, her face scrubbed, her hair washed and plaited, looked more respectable than she had appeared in her shabby work clothes. Her boots, which she had cleaned, though worn and scuffed, were well made. She could have been no more than twentythree or -four at the most, Becky decided, noting the smooth complexion, fine slender neck, and slim brown arms.

The boy Tom seemed quieter now, more amenable, since he had eaten.

It must have been hunger that made him so restive, thought Becky, while his mother appeared nervous, probably anxious about her situation.

While Becky could understand her anxiety, she was determined to discover

more about them. It had already occurred to her from aspects of the young woman's appearance as well as her speech, which was for the most part correct and without any trace of a country dialect, that Alice Grey (if that was her real name) was not some itinerant farmhand. In spite of her well-worn work clothes, she looked and sounded quite different to the young women who filled the fruit orchards and hop fields of the county every year.

There was something about her that had attracted Becky's attention--a quality of resilience and determination despite her obvious vulnerability that set her apart. Her features were small and delicate, as were her hands and feet. Her manner was neither arrogant nor obsequious, and there was a sense of self-sufficiency about her that was most intriguing.

When asked to sit, she looked around the room, drew out a stepping stool from beneath the bookshelves, and seated herself directly in front of Becky, with the boy by her side on the floor.

Becky, who had for years promoted the education of country girls and their emancipation from domestic or industrial servitude, was determined to discover who Alice Grey was and help her, if it was at all possible to do so.

"Now, Alice," Becky began, but she got no further, for the boy coughed long and hard, and his mother interrupted her.

"Please, ma'am, let me take him to the apothecary first, else he will be very sick. He's had no sleep; he's been coughing all night," she pleaded.

"There is no need, Alice, I have sent for Mr Thomson already. He should be here within the hour. Meanwhile, we will ask Mrs Bates to give Tom a spoonful of honey and a hot drink to soothe his throat," said Becky, rising to ring for the maid.

Having sent the boy to the kitchen, she returned to her seat.

"As I was about to say, Alice, I am inclined to let you stay here for some time, but if I am to do that, I need to know something about you. Where do you come from? Who are your parents? And the boy's father, who was he and where is he now?"

The girl looked very dubious about answering all these questions; it seemed when she had decided to take a chance and camp in an empty barn on the property, she had not counted on being found and quizzed in this way. When she remained silent, Becky began again, this time more gently.

"Alice, do you understand what I am trying to do? I should like to help you and Tom. I do not feel it is safe or seemly for a young woman like you and a little boy to be wandering the countryside working in the fields and sleeping rough, as you have been doing. You could be in grave danger, or you could be caught by the police for trespassing and thrown into prison, and young Tom would be sent to the poor house. Think on that."

At this the girl's eyes widened, and she looked most alarmed.

"They wouldn't?" she said, her voice barely audible.

Becky was quick to respond, "Oh yes, they would; but have no fear, I do not intend to call the police and hand you over to them. However, should you keep doing this for much longer, entering farms at night and sleeping in barns, you
will
be caught, and someone less charitable than I will do it."

The girl looked as though she had understood, and Becky took her chance to ask a different question.

"Tell me, before you came to work in these parts, what did you do and where did you live?"

This time Alice, having contemplated for a while, spoke very quietly. "We lived in Blessington, ma'am. It's a small village not far from Ramsgate. I used to work as a kitchen maid in one of the big houses up there. It was hard work--up at five and working all day until everyone else was in bed, but they fed us well and gave us a clean room to sleep in. The lady of the manor, Mrs Bancroft, was very kind--she let me keep Tom with me, so long as he got into no trouble."

"Why did you leave? Or were you sent away?" asked Becky suspiciously.

The girl looked horrified. "Oh no, ma'am, I was not. I did leave on my own account, ma'am, because it was not possible to go on working there."

"Why not? Was the work too hard? I thought you said your mistress was a kind woman."

"Indeed she was, ma'am, and it was not the hard work--I am quite used to hard work, and I have no complaints about the mistress or the work; it was..." She tried and failed to get the words out and had to be persuaded.

"You must tell me, Alice, what was it made you give up a place in a household where you and your son were comfortably lodged and you had paid work for as long as you wished. There must have been a reason. I could make enquiries and find out, of course. The Bancrofts must be well known in Kent, and my sister Mrs Burnett, who has lived in this county all her life, is certain to know the family or someone else who does. I could ask her to make enquiries..."

The girl reacted immediately. "Please, ma'am, don't do that. I do not wish to do or say anything that will make trouble for Mrs Bancroft. She was very kind to me--to both of us. But I could not stay, ma'am. It was impossible."

"Why?" Becky persisted, beginning to get a sense of what was to follow. "What was the problem?"

There was a long pause, and the answer when it came did not surprise her. "It was one of the gentlemen, ma'am, a good friend of the master's. He used to stay at the house whenever he came down to Kent, and he began to pester me. I think I escaped his attentions for a while, only because of Tom clinging to my skirts; he was scared and wouldn't leave me, not even when he was bribed with sweets or money. He even got a clip over the ear once for refusing to go away.

"But one night when Tom was asleep, he came down to the room I shared with the scullery maid, having waited until she had gone out. He was drunk and tried to force himself upon me. I fought him off, but I was very afraid; I screamed, and the cook heard me and came to my rescue, ma'am.

"On the very next morning, I told Mrs Bancroft I wanted to leave; I think the cook had already told the housekeeper, and Mrs Bancroft said she knew what had happened. She said she was sorry to lose me, but she didn't try to stop me. I think she knew she couldn't protect me, ma'am. The gentlemen had gone out very early that morning to shoot on a neighbouring manor, and I got away before they had returned."

Appalled though not shocked, for she had heard many such tales and not all of them had ended as well, either, Becky did not doubt her story. There were many men who thought that any young servant girl who took their fancy was fair game, and some hosts who were willing to turn a blind eye.

"How did you get away?" she asked.

"The hay cart, ma'am. Mrs Bancroft paid me my full wages for the month, even though it was a few days short, and she gave me some more money to pay the carter, and he took us all the way to Wingham."

"And when you got there, where did you live?"

"Nowhere, ma'am. We needed the money for food. I couldn't afford to pay for lodgings, so I had to work, and most places would not take you in with a child, unless he could work too. So we've been working the farms and hop fields, sleeping in barns and outhouses ever since," she said simply.

Alice sat with her hands in her lap, resignation written upon her face. Looking at her hands, neat and small, but coarsened and brown with exposure and hard work, Becky was amazed by her resilience. She did not wish to embarrass her further, but there was a question to which she had to have an answer.

"Alice, when we were out in the garden, I heard you tell the gentleman, Mr Bingley, that Tom could speak until the night the police took his father away. Is that true?"

"Yes, ma'am," she replied. "He could say little words like 'Papa' and 'Mama,' and he would sing to himself all day long. He was a happy little boy."

"And when did they take his father away?" asked Becky gently.

Alice looked down at her hands, which were clasped tight together.

"When Tom was two years old. It was not right, ma'am; he was accused of stealing from his employer... but he never did it... He was innocent, but the police would not listen. They took him away," and there were tears rolling down her face as she said, "Please believe me, ma'am, my husband was no thief; he never stole anything. He was a good, hardworking man."