Calico Road (39 page)

‘
Sal’s dead?
’

Meg nodded. ‘It looks like someone hit her.’

Ross closed his eyes for a minute then looked at Meg sadly. ‘Sal was the same age as my eldest lass and pretty with it. They used to play together. Why she wanted to marry a ne’er-do-well like Cully I never did understand.’

‘Can you help us?’

‘Aye. I’ll go down the hill another day.’

Within two hours, he had organised relatives of the dead woman to look after the children and was on his way down the hill to fetch the nearest Constable, at Cornelius Pickerling’s suggestion.

Only when Sairey and the others had been led away by a plump woman who hadn’t stopped crying the whole time she’d been in the inn did Meg find reaction setting in. She sat down suddenly in a chair and looked at Phoebe. ‘I feel a bit – dizzy like.’

The older woman was round the table in a trice and pushed her head down. ‘Sit like that for a few minutes. It helps.’

Toby came in and looked from one to the other. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘It’s just hit her what’s happened.’

Meg looked up at him. ‘She was lying there – like my husband. There was so much blood. I can still see – his blood.’

He wanted to take her in his arms, comfort her, love her. But she had a closed look to her face and Phoebe was hovering over her like a mother hen.

‘Do you want to go and lie down?’

Meg stared at him as if she didn’t understand the words. ‘What? Oh, no. No. I’ll just – carry on working.’

He and Phoebe exchanged glances, but left her to it. He’d rather she’d turned to him for comfort. Much rather.

19

J
ethro came home from his trip to Calico in a strange mood. Sophia had been wondering whether to tell him about her sister’s dilemma but as he sat and frowned into the fire after their evening meal, she hesitated to interrupt his reverie.

‘That damned brother of mine!’ he exclaimed abruptly.

Sophia had deliberately avoided asking him how his visit to the inn had gone because he usually snapped at her if she did and she’d found it best to leave him alone at these times. But since he’d started the discussion, she asked, ‘Did he upset you?’

‘No. Yes. Of course he did!’

‘Then why do you keep going there?’

‘I don’t know. Yes, I do. Because I promised my father I would. He wanted me to keep an eye on Fletcher.’

‘You could have gone on and visited Andrew afterwards. You were quite close to Tappersley.’

‘Ha! If it weren’t for your sister, I’d cut the connection with Beardsworth. He’s always had a reputation as a harsh master, but now there are rumours of actual deaths among the children working at his mill, not accidents but deaths from beating – rumours one can’t help but believe.’

She was shocked. ‘Surely not? Why hasn’t the local magistrate done anything about it?’

Jethro shrugged. ‘You need to have proof to do something. But apparently whole families are fleeing from his mill – and my brother’s involved, helping them escape. Damn Andrew! What does he think he’s doing?’

‘He’s not a very comfortable husband, either,’ she began.

‘I suppose you’re going to blame me for introducing him to your sister! Well, I didn’t know how bad he was, and at least he’s wealthy enough to keep her in comfort.’

‘That’s no consolation when—’

There was a knock on the door and the maid opened it. ‘Please, sir, you’re wanted in the mill. Urgent, the engineer says.’

He rolled his eyes in frustration but stood up immediately. ‘I’m coming.’

Sophia watched him go, biting her lower lip and wishing she’d just told him straight out about Harriet when he returned from Calico. Now she’d have to wait till he came up to bed.

But as she was sitting in front of the mirror brushing out her hair, the maid brought a message that there was something wrong with the steam engine and Mr Greenhalgh would not be back till much later.

In the morning Jethro’s side of the bed wasn’t slept in and when Sophia went downstairs the maid informed her that the master had snatched a couple of hours’ sleep on the sofa and gone back to the mill again without even changing his clothes.

Sophia knew she’d not have his full attention while something was wrong with his beloved steam engine, and indeed the mill couldn’t function without it. She tried to wait patiently for an opportunity to speak to him but it was hard when she was so worried about Harriet.

An hour later Jethro came into the house like a whirlwind, saying he had to ride over to Rochdale where there was an engineering works. They needed new parts in a hurry, perhaps a whole new steam engine.

He had enough on his mind, Sophia decided. She’d wait till he returned. One day couldn’t make much difference.

The day after the so-called maid had shared her master’s bedchamber, Harriet went into it and found the girl peacocking up and down the room in one of her better gowns.

‘Get that off this minute!’

The girl smirked at her. ‘Master said I could have one of your gowns an’ this is the one I like.’

Outraged, Harriet slapped her across the face. ‘Get it off at once and don’t you dare touch my things again!’

‘I’ll tell him, I will. He said—’

Harriet dragged the gown from the girl’s plump body, disgusted by the odours that emanated from it. ‘Get dressed in your own clothes and go downstairs to the kitchen. Cook will see that you’re kept busy.’

Pouting, the girl did as she was told, moving as slowly as possible and letting out an occasional sob or mutter of ‘’Tisn’t fair!’

When Andrew came into the dining room for his midday meal he was angry. ‘What’s this I hear about you countermanding my orders to Prissy?’

‘How did you know about that?’

‘She stopped me on the way in, told me what you’d done.’ He glared at her. ‘I told her she could have that gown and, by God, she’ll keep it.’

Harriet stared at him in amazement. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’d make your
wife
a laughing stock because of a common trollop like her?’

He leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs and clearly enjoying her outrage. ‘I don’t give a damn what people think about you, and they won’t know about the dress unless
you
tell them. Besides,’ his mood changed rapidly, ‘it’s me who’s the laughing stock for having found myself a barren wife.’

Harriet stood up and left the room, too angry to worry about whether he’d come after her and thump her. But he didn’t this time.

When he’d gone back to the mill, she tiptoed into the bedroom, opened the bottom drawer and took out her jewellery box. There was a brooch missing already, one of the pieces she’d brought with her, inherited from her grandmother. Anger filled her and she tipped the rest of the pieces into a scarf, putting the box back again. After locking it and removing the key, she carried the small bundle of jewellery into the back bedroom. Taking the muff out of the cupboard, she unpicked the stitches, removed the money and sewed it up carefully again.

Just as she was finishing that, there was screaming and shouting from the mill yard and she hurried to look out of the window. Jad Mortley was belabouring the new girl apprentice about the shoulders with a strap and she was squealing and wriggling in his grasp. She was no match for the burly man, however, and gradually her struggles became feebler until she sank to the ground, curling up and trying to cover her head with her arms as he continued to hit her.

There were red lines on the thin arms and legs where the strap had cut in, blood trickling from them. Harriet could bear it no longer and rushed down, pushing Cook aside and flinging open the outside door. She ran across the mill yard, shouting, ‘Let her go, you brute!’

He didn’t even seem to hear her, so she seized his arm and hung on to prevent him from hitting the girl again.

Jad swung round, fist raised to thump her, then realised in time who she was and merely shook her hands from his arm. ‘This lazy brat needs a lesson, Mrs Beardsworth,’ he panted. ‘Kindly leave me to do my job.’

Andrew came striding out to join them. He glowered at his wife and slapped her hard so that she staggered backwards, nearly falling. ‘
Don’t
interfere in my business again!’ Then he turned to his over-looker. ‘I think the girl has been beaten enough now, Jad. We’ll lock her up in the coal shed without food tonight, eh, just to make sure she learns her lesson?’

For a moment fury turned Jad’s ugly face into a gargoyle’s, then with a visible effort he nodded. ‘Right, sir. I’ll take her there.’

‘No, we’ll let my dear wife do that.’ He gave Harriet a look that threatened more trouble later. ‘Go and tell Cook to make sure the coal scuttles are full, then lock this girl up. She’s to have nothing to eat or drink till morning, mind.’

Harriet drew herself up, gave him one icy look and took the child’s hand, helping her to her feet. He watched her go then turned to Jad. ‘I warned you not to go too far. I don’t want any more of ’em killing.’

‘And I don’t want your wife interfering in my job!’

‘You saw my little reminder to her of that. Let it suffice. Anyway, she wouldn’t need to interfere if you didn’t make a public spectacle of your rages. I’ll remind you just once more that I’m in charge here, not you.
No
–
more
–
killings
.’

Jad watched him go, furious at being taken to task so publicly, then went back into the mill to make the operatives’ lives a misery. But nothing would stem the anger that roiled inside him. That uppity bitch! Couldn’t even give her husband a child. Worthless as a woman, she was. He’d get his own back on her one day. Oh, yes. He always did.

Harriet led the unresisting child into the kitchen. The girl wasn’t sobbing, just drooping and wincing at the pain of the beating. Cook turned to face them, not seeming at all surprised so she must have been watching through the kitchen window. ‘My husband wants this girl locked in the coalhouse overnight, so could you please see that all the scuttles are full before I do it?’

When Cook had sent the maid scurrying to check this, Harriet asked, ‘Where’s the new maid?’

‘Asleep. I sent her to bed because she was too tired to do anything properly – not that she knows how to do an honest day’s work anyway.’

‘You were right. She’s a whore.’ The word would once have shocked Harriet. Now, it was simply the correct term for the creature her husband had introduced into the household. She touched her cheek, which was still sore from the vicious slap she’d received, and saw Cook looking at her with sympathy.

‘I’m sorry about everything, ma’am.’

‘Yes. So am I.’ She turned to the child, who was standing beside her waiting in dumb resignation for more unkindnesses. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Jane.’

‘And what did you do to anger Mr Mortley today?’

For a moment anger sparked in the child’s eyes. ‘I don’t know, missus, honest I don’t. He hit me yester’ ’fore I even spoke, an’ he’s been hitting me ever since.’

Harriet saw Cook shake her head and press her lips together, so took a risk. ‘I’m feeling hungry, Cook. Do you have any bread and cheese?’

Cook looked at her sharply. ‘You’re not going to—’

Harriet raised one eyebrow. ‘Well, do you?’

The woman got out a loaf and cut off a thick slice of bread then some pieces of cheese, before setting everything on a plate. ‘I’ll just get some more butter out.’

‘Never mind. There isn’t time.’ Sitting down at the table, Harriet took the bread and passed it to the child. ‘Eat it quickly before Mr Beardsworth comes in.’

The girl stared at her as if she didn’t understand the words.

‘You’re hungry, aren’t you? Hurry up and eat it!’

Jane grabbed the bread and began gobbling it down. When Harriet passed her the cheese, she ate that with the same rapidity.

Cook set a glass of milk down in front of Harriet. ‘You’ll be thirsty too, ma’am.’

‘Indeed I am. Thank you.’ She pushed the glass towards the child. ‘Quickly.’

The minute the girl had finished, Cook cleared the plate and glass away, rinsing them in the scullery bucket and drying them before putting them back on the shelf, a job usually left to her underlings. She let out an audible sigh of relief as she returned to the kitchen.

When the maid came back to report that all the scuttles were full of coal, Harriet took Jane out to the coalhouse, which lay beyond the scullery at the very rear of the house. ‘I can’t give you any blankets, I’m afraid, but there are some sacks over there.’

Jane smiled. ‘Thank you, missus. For everything.’

‘I wish I could do more.’ Harriet locked the coal-house door and went back into the kitchen. ‘I’m extremely grateful to you, Cook.’

‘For what? I did nothing.’

Harriet saw the anxiety in the woman’s eyes and said no more, going up to her bedroom to plan what to take with her that night. She tried not to think of how Andrew had humiliated her in front of everyone, but shame still welled in her every time she remembered the scene.

By the time the siren sounded for the end of the day she was sitting in the parlour sewing. She knew that her cheek was still red, but held her head high and ignored it.

Andrew’s eyes rested on her face for a moment, then he gave her a gloating smile. He remained in a good mood throughout the meal and as soon as they’d finished, said, ‘You look tired, my dear. Better go to bed early tonight.’

She nodded and began to gather up her sewing things, watching him pour himself another glass of port from the decanter, then fill a second glass, which he set ready.

He saw her gaze going to the second glass. ‘Prissy does enjoy a glass of port,’ he murmured as he pulled the bell.

Harriet pressed her lips together and left the room. It was the last time, she told herself. He’d not taunt her again because either she’d escape or she’d kill herself. Even death would be preferable to staying with a brute like him.