Pauper's Gold (13 page)

Arthur Bramwell regarded the girl sorrowfully. ‘The old man’s away. It’ll be Mr Edmund he tells.’

‘Ah!’ Ethel let out a deep sigh and murmured, ‘Poor child.’

Arthur leaned on his hands on the table, large, capable hands that had never been afraid of manual work, hands that were just as ready to caress as to chastise the apprentices in his care. He
was a big man, broad and strong and quiet, and when he could he protected the youngsters. Sometimes he had to beat them, but he made sure he did not damage them physically. It was humiliation he
wished to inflict rather than actual hurt. Just to make them toe the line. But when it came to the matter of a child running away, he was powerless to prevent the inevitable punishment.

‘Why did you do it, Francis? Why did you try to run away?’

Hannah swallowed the last mouthful and laid her spoon in the empty bowl. She looked up at them both, first at Mrs Bramwell’s anxious face and then at the big man’s. During the time
she’d been here, she’d come to like and respect this couple. They were strict, but fair, and she knew they really cared about all the children. She was sorry to have caused them trouble
and said so, adding, ‘But I wasn’t running away. I just had to go and try and find out how me mother is. I asked for permission, but Mr Edmund refused me.’

‘So,’ Arthur said in his deep rumbling voice. ‘You went anyway?’

Hannah bit her lip and nodded. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said huskily. ‘But you’ve got to believe me, Mr Bramwell, I was coming back.’

‘Do you really mean that?’ It seemed as if Arthur Bramwell couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

Hannah nodded. ‘I like it here. The work’s hard, but I don’t mind that. And I like the people.’ She pulled a face. ‘Well, most of them. All except Mr
Roper.’

She didn’t like Mr Edmund either, but she thought it wise not to say so at this moment.

Husband and wife glanced at each other and, though they said no more, Hannah could see that neither of them really believed her. And if they didn’t, then there was not the remotest chance
that either of the Critchlows would, especially Mr Edmund.

‘Well, we’d best get it over with,’ Ethel Bramwell said. ‘Come on, girl.’

‘Want me to go with her, Ethel?’ Arthur straightened up and looked across at his wife, but she shook her head. ‘No, no, Arthur. The girls are my responsibility. It’ll not
be the first time I’ve had to stand there and take his abuse – nor will it be the last.’

Again they both looked down at Hannah. ‘Mebbe he won’t be so hard on her,’ Arthur murmured, intending that Hannah should not hear him, but her sharp hearing caught every word.
‘She’s a pretty little thing.’

But Ethel answered swiftly, ‘I’d sooner see her spend a week in the punishment room than anything else he might have in mind.’

‘Well, keep your eye on her. She’s just the sort he goes for. Give her another year or two and – well . . .’

His voice petered out as Mrs Bramwell took hold of Hannah’s shoulder and propelled the girl in front of her. ‘He’ll have to get past me first. He can get up to his tricks with
the mill girls from the village if he likes. They’ll have to look out for themselves, but he’s not having his way with any of my girls. Not if I can help it. Mind you,’ she
lowered her voice. ‘I don’t seem to be managing it with young Nell.’ She raised her voice. ‘Come on, you. Let’s get it over with.’

Hannah wasn’t sure who was trembling the most as they stepped into the inner office.

Even though it was Saturday morning, Edmund Critchlow was sitting behind his desk, leaning back, rocking slightly as he regarded them through his dark, hooded eyes.

‘So, girl, you thought you could defy me and get away with it, did you?’

‘Mr Edmund—’ Mrs Bramwell began, but the man held up his hand to silence her, his glance never leaving Hannah’s face.

‘Well, what have you to say for yourself?’

Hannah lifted her chin and met his eyes boldly. Inside she was quaking, but she was determined not to let this man see her fear. ‘I’m truly sorry, Mr Edmund, that I disobeyed you. I
just wanted to see my mother.’

‘Don’t you think all the children here would like to see their mothers? Why should you be different?’

With an outward calmness, Hannah answered, ‘Most of the children in the house have no mothers – or fathers. They’re orphans. I’m not. I have a mother. I wanted to see
her. I’ve written to her four times – like you suggested – and brought the letters to Mr Roper to send, but I’ve not had a word back. I just want to know she’s all
right. That’s all.’

It was quite simple to the girl’s mind. She couldn’t understand why no one else could see it. And worse still, she couldn’t understand why anyone would deliberately want to
keep a child from its mother.

Edmund leaned forward, tapping the desk with his forefinger. ‘I thought I’d made it clear last time. When you came here, you signed a paper. You remember?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And do you know what that paper was?’

‘An indenture, sir.’

‘Quite right. And what did it mean?’

‘That I’m apprenticed to you for six years.’

‘Exactly. Six years. And that means you do not run away during that time.’

‘I wasn’t running away, sir. I keep trying to tell you – and everyone – I was coming back tomorrow night. As soon as I’d seen my mother.’

For a moment, Edmund stared at her and then his lip curled, ‘You really expect me to believe that?’

Hannah met his gaze steadily. ‘Yes,’ she said simply, ‘because it’s the truth.’

‘She’s a good girl usually, sir,’ Mrs Bramwell began but Edmund snapped.

‘Hold your tongue, Bramwell. I’ll have more to say to you later. I hold you responsible for all this.’

‘Mrs Bramwell had nothing to do with it, sir,’ Hannah spoke up. ‘She knew nothing about it. I let myself out of the back door this morning, really early. Before anyone was
up.’

‘That’s no excuse. You shouldn’t have been able to get out. The door should have been locked and the key hidden.’

Mrs Bramwell opened her mouth to protest, but at the sight of the young master’s glowering face, she closed it again.

His mouth was tight, his thick black eyebrows drawn together almost hiding his cruel eyes. ‘Well, we have a way of dealing with runaways here.’

Hannah opened her mouth to say, ‘I’m not a runaway,’ but further protest was useless. No one would believe her.

Hannah roused to hear a soft tapping on the door.

She was lying on the cold hard floor of the punishment room with not even the rough blanket for covering. There was nothing in the room now except a jug of water to drink and a bucket for her to
relieve herself in. She pulled herself up slowly. Every bone in her body ached, every muscle screamed for relief and her buttocks stung from the wheals inflicted by the thin cane. Mr Edmund had
delivered the beating himself, despite Mrs Bramwell’s valiant protests.

‘You’ve no right, sir,’ Ethel had cried. ‘Not a girl.’

‘No right? No right, you say. I’ve every right, Bramwell. I own her – body and soul. I own all of them, every last one, and I will do with them as I please.’

With that, Edmund had grabbed hold of Hannah and hauled her towards his desk. Swinging her round, he had grasped the back of her dress, and in one swift movement torn it open to reveal her naked
back and bottom.

‘No, sir, no,’ Ethel had tried in vain, terrified by the madness in the man’s eyes. He had raised the cane, and though she lunged forward, trying to wrest it from his hand, he
had pushed her roughly out of the way so that she overbalanced and fell to the floor. Then with a vicious delight he had brought the cane down on the girl’s pink young flesh again and again
until her skin was raw and bleeding.

Ethel had sat on the floor where she had fallen, closed her eyes and moaned aloud. But there was no sound from Hannah. Not a whimper, not a word of protest or entreaty. She had stood with her
face buried against her arm as she was held over the desk, and made not a murmur. It had incensed Edmund further. ‘I’ll teach – you – to run – away,’ he had
shouted between each cutting stroke. ‘We’ll see how you – sing after this – eh?’

On and on he had gone, stroke after stroke, until Hannah’s legs had given way and she had crumpled to the floor. At last, he had stopped, standing over her, breathing hard whilst Ethel
Bramwell scrambled across the floor to gather the girl into her arms.

At last Hannah had made a sound. Quite plainly they had both heard her trembling words.

‘Rock of ages, cleft for me . . .’

Ethel Bramwell had looked up at the man towering above them both, and almost laughed hysterically to see the incredulous look on his face.

‘Hannah? Hannah – you there?’ The voice came again, rousing her.

Despite her terrible state, Hannah wanted to laugh and reply, ‘Where else do you think I’d be?’ But she quelled the retort and struggled to the door. She pressed her face to it
and whispered, ‘Luke?’

‘Yeah, it’s me. I’ve brought you some food, but there’s no key. I can’t open the door.’

Again a sharp retort sprang to her lips but remained unspoken. Instead, she said, ‘That’s nice of you, but I can’t open it either.’

There was a long silence and Hannah thought he had gone, but then she heard Luke say, ‘Can you open the window?’

‘I . . . I’m not sure. It’s so cold in here, I haven’t tried.’

‘Well, have a go because . . .’ His next words were lost to her as, stiffly, she moved across the small room and pushed at the window. She pushed and shoved, and slowly,
protestingly, it opened. She went back to the door.

‘Yes, I’ve opened it, but why?’

‘Listen, when it’s dark tonight I’ll get a rope and throw it up to you. Then I’ll tie a cloth with some food wrapped in it and you can pull it up.’

‘Oh, Luke, you’ll be in trouble if you’re caught.’

‘Ne’er mind about that. You’re hungry, aren’t you?’

At the mere thought of food, Hannah’s stomach rumbled, but Luke was whispering urgently, ‘I’ll have to go. But watch out tonight.’

She heard a brief movement on the other side of the door and knew he was gone. Now she felt lonelier than ever.

It worked better than Hannah had imagined it possibly could. The punishment room was at the top of the house in the attic, but she’d reckoned without Luke’s
determination. It took four attempts before she caught hold of the rope and hauled it into the room.

‘Wait a bit,’ Luke called up in a loud whisper. ‘I’ve got to tie it on this end.’ A moment’s silence and then she heard him say, ‘Right, pull
away.’ Slowly and steadily she hauled on the rope until the bundle came level with the window.

‘And what, may I ask, is going on here?’

Hannah gasped, startled by the voice that came up through the darkness from below the window. Oh no! she thought. Not him again. Swiftly she dragged the bundle in through the window and squatted
down out of sight. She held her breath, listening intently through the open window.

‘Evening, Mr Roper,’ she heard Luke say brightly, but Josiah Roper was not to be fooled so easily.

‘I asked you what you were doing, boy?’

‘Tekin’ a stroll like you, Mr Roper. Nice evenin’, ain’t it?’

There was a moment’s silence when Hannah visualized Josiah glancing up towards the window of the punishment room. His next words confirmed her fears. ‘I hope you’re not
communicating with that girl?’

‘What girl, Mr Roper?’

Despite her pain, Hannah had to stuff her fist into her mouth to silence the laughter bubbling up inside her. Luke sounded so innocent.

‘You know very well “what girl”,’ Josiah snapped. ‘I think I’d better report this to Mrs Bramwell . . .’

Hannah heard no more. Swiftly she opened the bundle to reveal a piece of cold meat pie and some bread and cheese. This wasn’t the sort of fare the apprentices were given. She hoped Luke
hadn’t stolen it. He’d be next in the punishment room if he had. She heard them move away, and now, ravenous, she stuffed it into her mouth.

By the time footsteps sounded outside the room, the door flung open and light from the lamp that Mrs Bramwell carried flooded the room, making Hannah wince against the sudden brightness, all
trace of the food was gone and the cloth it’d been wrapped in hidden beneath her clothing. The rope was the only thing that might have given them away, but she’d thrown that out of the
window, hoping that Luke would have the sense to retrieve it as soon as he could.

Ethel glanced round the room and then, seeming satisfied, she nodded, ‘You’ll be coming out in the morning. Mind you’re ready for work.’

The light disappeared and the door slammed shut again. Hannah sighed and lay back on the floor trying, in vain, to find a comfortable position. Tomorrow night, she thought, she’d be back
in her own bed snuggling close to Jane.

*

When she appeared in the dormitory the following morning, Jane ran to her and hugged her hard. ‘Oh, I’ve missed you so.’

Hannah hugged her in return and then said, ‘Come on, we’d best hurry. I don’t want to be late on me first morning back.’

Hand in hand they left the house and ran down the hill, joining the other apprentices already making their way through the early morning mist, scarcely awake and rubbing their eyes with
weariness.

Ernest Scarsfield counted them in. ‘Oh, you’re back with us, Francis, are yer? Not do that again in a hurry, I’ll be bound.’

Hannah glanced up at him. ‘Why will no one believe me, Mr Scarsfield?’

‘Eh?’

As she explained, his blank look turned to one of incredulity. He laughed. ‘You trying to tell me you really meant to come back?’

Hannah nodded. ‘Yes, I am.’

Ernest pushed back his hat and scratched his head. ‘Well, if that don’t beat all. I’ve never heard the like.’

‘It seems as if no one expects someone to come back if they once get away,’ Hannah said solemnly.

Ernest nodded. ‘That’s about the size of it, lass.’ He paused and then stared at her again. ‘You really did mean to come back once you’d seen yer mother?’

‘Yes, I did.’

For the first time someone really seemed to believe her. The overlooker smiled and bent towards her. ‘Look, I’ll try to see what I can do to help yer. I’ve got a mate in the
village who goes through to Macclesfield about once a month. Would yer like him to ask around for yer? See if he can find out about yer mother?’