Pauper's Gold (28 page)

‘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.’

‘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.

‘But he didn’t come looking for my mother then? When his wife died, I mean?’

‘No,’ Bessie said grimly. ‘But I’ve a feeling your mother went looking for him.’

‘How . . . how do you mean?’

‘I think she expected that he would marry her, now that he was a free man.’

‘But, obviously, he didn’t want to know.’

Bessie sniffed disapprovingly. ‘No. I remember her coming home, her face swollen with crying. Bless her. She really hoped—’

‘Why do you think he didn’t want to marry her?’

‘By then, he reckoned he had better fish to fry. No disrespect to your mam, love, but you know what I mean.’

Hannah nodded. ‘He’d got his eye on the boss’s daughter had he?’

‘Not the boss at the mill where he and your mother worked. No. He left there and went to work for Brayford’s as manager. That’s when he got to know Miss Emmeline Brayford. And,
of course, after he’d left, your poor mam got finished at the mill. Her protector had gone.’

‘You wouldn’t have thought her father – Miss Emmeline’s, I mean – would have allowed it. I mean, he can’t be considered to be in the same class as her. Can
he?’

Bessie shook her head. ‘No, but by all accounts, Miss Emmeline is a very spoilt young woman. Her mother died when she was a baby and her father indulges her. Whatever she wants, she gets.
And she wanted Jimmy Gregory.’ Bessie laughed wryly. ‘Mind you, I bet he’s had his wings clipped since he married her. He’ll not get away with any of his hanky-panky
now.’

‘I don’t suppose his new wife will take very kindly to his bastard knocking on his door.’

Bessie put her arm around Hannah. ‘Don’t call yourself that, love.’

‘But it’s what I am, Auntie Bessie.’ She lifted her chin and added, defiantly, ‘And she’ll just have to get used to the idea. And he will, ’cos that’s
just where I’m going. Knocking on his door. I need a job. It’s the least he can do for me. The very least.’

Hannah stood in the pillared porch of the imposing house. Her courage almost failed her. Almost, but not quite. Indignation carried her up the step to lift the heavy knocker and
let it fall with a resounding thud. She waited for what seemed an age, hopping nervously from one foot to the other. The door opened and a maid looked her up and down. ‘You should’ve
gone round the back. What do you want?’

‘I want to see your master.’

‘Who shall I say it is?’

‘Never mind that.’ Hannah was reluctant to give him advance warning. He might refuse to see her at all. ‘Just tell him it’s a personal matter.’

‘Are you one of the mill girls? He’ll not see you here. You’ll have to see him at work.’

‘No, no. I’m not.’

‘You after a job then? Because if you are, he’ll only see you at the mill—’

‘There are reasons why I think he would prefer to see me here.’

The girl blinked. ‘Oh. Oh, all right then. I’ll ask him. You’d better come in, I suppose. Wipe your boots.’

While she stood in the hallway waiting for the maid to return, Hannah heard the sound of children’s laughter and footsteps pounding on the staircase. She looked up to see two youngsters, a
boy of about five and a girl a year or so younger, chasing each other down the stairs.

‘Wait for me, Roddy. Wait for me,’ the little girl cried plaintively.

‘Come on, Caroline. Keep up.’

At the bottom of the stairs, the boy looked up to see the stranger standing there. The little girl cannoned into him from behind and then she too saw Hannah.

The boy smiled. ‘Hello. Who are you?’ He was dark-haired with hazel eyes, but it was the little girl who caught and held Hannah’s attention. Startled, Hannah let out a little
gasp and covered her mouth with her fingers. The child had long, blonde curling hair, and the eyes that were regarding Hannah curiously were bright blue. Even her features strongly resembled
Hannah’s own. There was no denying that this child was Hannah’s half-sister.

But before either of them could say more, the maid returned to say, ‘The master says you’re to come this way.’ She turned to the children. ‘And you two, go and see cook
in the kitchen.’

With one last glance at Hannah, the two children clattered down the passageway leading to the rear of the house, the visitor forgotten, chattering in their high-pitched voices.

The master and mistress of the house were still at breakfast. He was seated at one end of the table, his wife at the other end. As Hannah followed the maid into the room, they both stared at
her. Hannah’s heart fell. She hadn’t wanted to meet his wife. Indeed, she hadn’t wanted to meet his children – especially one that looked so like her. She hadn’t
wanted any of his family to be present when she said what she had to say.

She bobbed courteously towards the woman. ‘Begging your pardon, ma’am. I – I just wanted a word with the master.’

The woman was beautiful – there was no denying it. Her skin was flawless and her hair was a glorious colour – a bright red. It was not a colour Hannah had ever seen before and she
was fascinated by it. The woman’s mouth was perfectly shaped, though to Hannah’s mind, her lips were a little thin. Her hazel eyes were cool and she raised one clearly defined dark
eyebrow quizzically.