Pauper's Gold (4 page)

But the stern-faced woman was nodding. ‘It does you credit, girl, that you haven’t lied to me. For that, you’ll all still be given supper.’ She sniffed. ‘I doubt
that skinflint Goodbody ever fed you properly. You’ll find Mr Critchlow – Mr Nathaniel Critchlow, that is – a fair man, a caring man, but in return he demands hard work and utter
loyalty from all his employees,
especially
from his young apprentices.’

The four youngsters stared at her, and then murmured in chorus, ‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Very well then. Come along and I’ll show you where you’re to sleep.’

As the four children began to troop out of the room, Mrs Bramwell pointed down at the floor. ‘You!’ She prodded Jane with a sharp finger. ‘When I’ve shown you the
dormitory, you can fetch a bucket of water and a cloth from Mary and wash this floor.’

‘I’ll do it, ma’am,’ Hannah began. ‘Jane’s only little and she’s tired. She—’

‘Did I ask you to do it, girl?’

‘No, ma’am, but—’

‘Then you’ll oblige me by holding your tongue.’

Jane began to cry, and Hannah faced the superintendent, her mouth a determined line. She was about to protest further, but she felt Luke tug on her arm and hiss, ‘Leave it,
Hannah.’

Mrs Bramwell led the way up the stairs, keys jangling from a chain around her waist. First she took them to the boys’ dormitory, where Luke and Daniel were shown the square wooden box-like
bed, set on legs, with a straw palliasse and one blanket.

‘You sleep two to a bed. Clean clothes every Sunday and clean sheets once a month. You wear your best clothes for chapel service on Sunday morning, after which you come back here for your
dinner. We haven’t got a chapel in the village, but a preacher comes to the schoolroom. In the afternoon, I teach the girls to sew, and the boys have more schooling. Unless, of course,
there’s work to be done in the mill, cleaning machinery and such, that can only be done on a Sunday.’

Hannah was scandalized. ‘Don’t we get any free time?’

‘The devil finds work for idle hands. That’s Mr Critchlow’s motto. We live by it.’ A note of bitterness crept into the woman’s tone as she added, ‘We all do.
Now, you girls follow me.’

She led the way to a door, unlocked it, ushered the girls through it and then re-locked it.

‘Boys and girls are separated.’

‘Nothing new there, then,’ Hannah muttered.

‘What?’ Mrs Bramwell snapped.

‘Nothing, ma’am,’ Hannah said brightly.

‘Hm!’ Mrs Bramwell frowned doubtfully. She was going to have to watch this one, she was thinking. A mite too much to say for herself had Hannah Francis.

‘Here we are – this is your dormitory.’ They entered a long room containing beds, just like the boys’ room, but there were even more here. On each side of the long room
was a row of ten truckle beds, set side by side, with scarcely an inch of space between them. There was even a row of five beds set end to end in the centre of the room. Twenty-five beds, Hannah
counted. There was only one girl there, sitting on a bed at the far end of the room. She looked up apprehensively, and when she saw Mrs Bramwell she bit her lip.

‘What are you doing here, Hudson?’

The girl ran her tongue nervously around her lips. ‘I didn’t feel well, ma’am. Mr – Mr Edmund said I could come home early.’

Colour suffused Mrs Bramwell’s neck and crept up into her face. ‘I – see,’ she said tightly. She hesitated for a moment, then she moved towards the girl, leaving Hannah
and Jane standing near the door.

Mrs Bramwell spoke to her in tones so low that Hannah couldn’t hear what was said. Then she saw the girl shake her head, her eyes lowered.

‘Very well, then,’ Mrs Bramwell said on a sigh as she came back to Hannah and Jane. ‘Hudson will tell you anything you need to know.’ Drily, she added, ‘Since
she’s here, she can make herself useful.’ She walked towards the door leading to the stairs, turning back only to point at Jane. ‘And don’t forget to mop my
floor.’

Jane gave a tearful hiccup.

When the superintendent had left the room, Hudson came bouncing towards them, her hazel eyes sparkling, her wide mouth smiling a welcome. Her hair, a mousy colour, was none the less curly and
shining with cleanliness. She was a pretty girl, Hannah decided, and probably two or three years older than they were, for already she had a womanly body that was still evident beneath the long
skirt and shapeless white cotton smock. But she didn’t look ill, Hannah thought fleetingly, and couldn’t resist saying, ‘Are you feeling better?’

The girl threw back her head and laughed aloud. ‘I wasn’t ill. Mr Edmund sent for me and then let me leave work early.’

Hannah was curious. ‘Why did he do that?’

Hudson stared at her for a moment and then grinned. ‘You ask too many questions for a young ’un. Don’t worry, he’ll not bother with you. Not for a few years, anyway. Mind
you,’ the girl murmured thoughtfully, ‘you’re just the type Mr Edmund likes. You’ll be a beauty one day, an’ no mistake. Then you’ll have to watch out. Know what
I mean?’

Twelve-year-old Hannah wasn’t sure that she did. So far, her mother and grandmother had sheltered her, protected her. With the strict segregation of the sexes in the workhouse, the longest
time she’d ever spent in the company of boys had been on the journey here with Luke and Daniel. But, not wishing to appear ignorant, she smiled and nodded.

Briskly, Hudson changed the subject. ‘You can sleep over here,’ she went on, leading them to a bed next to hers. ‘You have to share. We all do.’ She paused and eyed them
up and down.

Nettled by the girl’s scrutiny, Hannah lifted her chin. ‘Will we do, then?’

For a moment the girl looked startled. She put her head on one side and said offhandedly, ‘Yeah. You look all right.’ Then suddenly she grinned, and to Hannah’s surprise flung
her arms around each of them in turn. ‘’Course you’ll do. We all get on well together.’ She pulled a wry face. ‘Most of the time, anyway. Case of having to, really,
when we’re living and working so close. Still, we’re pretty well treated here – if we behave ourselves,’ she added with a note of caution. ‘What’s your names?
Mine’s Nell. Nell Hudson. Put your things over there and we’d best go down for supper. The others’ll be coming from school in a minute.’

Hannah introduced them both and then added, ‘Jane’s had a bit of an accident. Where can she rinse her underclothes out?’

Nell pulled a face. ‘She can’t. She’ll have wear them until we get our clean clothes on Sunday.’ She smiled down at the little girl. ‘Don’t worry.
They’ll soon dry. Come on, let’s get down to supper. I’m starving. Mind you, I’m always starving.’

Jane tugged at Hannah’s arm and whispered, ‘What about her floor?’

‘Yes, yes, we’ll see Mary when we get downstairs.’

‘You’ll come with me, won’t you, Hannah?’ the little girl begged.

Hannah sighed. It would likely get her into trouble, but she said, ‘Yes, ’course I will.’

When Jane knocked timidly on the door of Mrs Bramwell’s room, with Hannah close on her heels carrying a bucket and floor cloth, there was no answer.

‘Go on,’ Hannah whispered. ‘Open it. Maybe she’s not there.’

The girl opened the door and peeped inside. ‘No, she isn’t.’

‘Come on, quick then. Let’s do it before she comes back.’

Jane opened the door wider and they crept into the room. Hannah dropped to her knees and began to mop the floor, wringing out the cloth in the bucket of hot water.

‘Do hurry,’ Jane urged, hopping from one foot to the other. ‘She might come back in a minute.’

‘There, that’s all done,’ Hannah said, throwing the cloth into the bucket. ‘Come on, let’s—’

She was in the act of scrambling up when the door opened, and Hannah saw a pair of feet – surprisingly dainty feet in button boots – then the hem of a long black skirt. Up and up to
the trim waist and gently rounded bosom. Then she was looking into Mrs Bramwell’s severe face.

‘So – you disobeyed me.’ Ethel Bramwell sighed. She and her husband were strict in their running of the apprentice house – they had to be – but they always tried to
be just and fair. She didn’t want to punish this new girl so soon. She liked to give all the youngsters time to settle in, time to learn the rules. But this girl had deliberately flouted her
direct instruction, and couldn’t be allowed to get away with it. If Ethel Bramwell or her husband Arthur relaxed their authority even for a moment, these unruly little tykes would take
advantage, and mayhem would result.

‘You, child,’ she pointed at Jane. ‘Take that bucket back to Mary and get your supper.’

Jane picked up the bucket and scuttled out of the room. As Hannah made to follow her, the superintendent put a heavy hand on her shoulder. ‘Not you. You and I, girl, need to have a little
chat.’

She shut the door and propelled Hannah to stand in the centre of the room. Then she sat down on a couch, spread her skirt, folded her hands in her lap and looked up at the girl.

‘What am I to do with you, miss?’

Hannah smiled, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘Well, if I was still at the workhouse, I’d be given no supper.’

Mrs Bramwell fought to keep a straight face. ‘Full of Mrs Grundy’s excellent stew, that would be no hardship, would it?’

Hannah wrinkled her brow, giving the matter serious thought. ‘No, I don’t suppose it would. In that case, then, I’d be sent to the punishment room. D’you have one
here?’

‘Indeed we do, miss. So, is that where you think I should send you?’

Hannah gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘I suppose so, ma’am.’

‘Then you’ll spend the next hour in the punishment room whilst everyone else has their supper. It’ll give you a taste of what to expect in the future, should you choose to
disobey me again.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Hannah said meekly.

Mrs Bramwell rose from the couch, her keys jangling. For a moment she stood looking down at the girl. ‘Why did you do it, Francis?’

As in the workhouse, Hannah realized that they would all be addressed by their surname. But, just as she always had, she refused to refer to her friends in such a way.

‘Jane’s ten, ma’am, but she’s small for her age an’ very shy and frightened. I was just trying to look after ’er. She’s got no mother or
father.’

‘So, why does that make her different? You’re all orphans.’

Hannah shook her head. ‘I’m not. I’ve got a mother. She—’

Mrs Bramwell’s mouth dropped open. ‘You – you’ve got a mother?’ Hannah blinked. The superintendent made it sound as if it were another crime. ‘But – but
you’re all supposed to be orphans. From the workhouse. Paupers.’

Hannah smiled. ‘Oh, we’re from the workhouse, and we’re certainly paupers. But my mam’s still there.’

‘Is she indeed?’ Mrs Bramwell murmured.

‘Yes, ma’am, and . . .’ Hannah took the plunge. ‘And I was wondering if there was any work here for her. She’s worked in a silk mill, but I’m
sure—’

Hannah got no further. Mrs Bramwell shook her head vehemently. ‘Oh no. We can’t have any relatives of the apprentices here. It’d lead to all kinds of trouble. Oh no, it’s
out of the question, and if you take my advice, you’ll keep it very quiet that you’ve got a mother. Mr Edmund wouldn’t like that at all. Goodbody’s only supposed to send
orphans.’

‘Why?’ Hannah asked candidly.

Ethel gasped. ‘You’ve got some cheek, girl. You’d better learn to watch your tongue, else you’ll find yourself spending more time in the punishment room than out of
it.’

‘But why should he only send orphans?’ Hannah persisted.

Mrs Bramwell gripped her arm. ‘Never you mind that, girl. Just learn to do as you’re told and not ask so many questions.’

The superintendent marched the girl up the stairs to a little room at the end of the attic storeroom. She opened the door with a key on her bunch and thrust Hannah inside. ‘We’ll see
if an hour or so in there’ll teach you a lesson.’

The door slammed, the key turned in the lock, and Hannah was alone. The whitewashed room was completely bare except for a rough blanket thrown in one corner on the cold, bare floor. Hannah went
to the window and looked out. Night had fallen in the dale. There was no pauper’s gold illuminating the hillside now and sparkling on the river. The blackness was complete.

She pressed her forehead against the cold pane and began to sing softly. ‘Abide with me; fast falls the eventide . . .’

About to turn away, Ethel Bramwell paused in astonishment and stood still. ‘Bless me,’ she murmured. ‘The child is singing.’

Never, in all her born days, as she would tell her husband later, had she ever heard any child sing when locked in the punishment room. Cry, scream, rage, bang on the door to be let out, but
never, ever, had she heard them sing!

Hannah was let out in time to go straight to bed. When she entered the dormitory, Jane ran straight to her, arms stretched wide, tears running down her face. ‘Oh,
Hannah, I’m so sorry, it was all my fault.’

Hannah hugged the girl. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, kissing the top of Jane’s head and stroking her long brown hair, now released from its plait for the night.
‘It’s not as bad in there as the room at the workhouse. At least there’s a window. I ’spect it’s quite a nice view in the daytime.’

‘But aren’t you hungry?’ Jane’s mouth still trembled. ‘You missed supper.’

Hannah laughed and rubbed her stomach. ‘What, with all that stew Mrs Grundy gave us? No, I’m fine. Now, let’s get you into bed. Dry your tears and we’ll snuggle down
together.’

As they began to undress down to their shifts, some of the other girls clustered around them, staring at the newcomers. Nell shouldered her way through and began the introductions, reeling off
names so fast that after a moment Hannah laughed. ‘Oh, stop, stop. I’ll never remember.’

‘You’ll get to know us all soon.’ Nell laughed good-naturedly. ‘You’ll be sick of the sight of us all in a bit ’cos we never get away from each
other.’

Again Hannah nodded, but silently she was thinking,
Well, I will. I’ll get out of here sometimes. Walk down the lane to see that nice Mrs Grundy. Climb the hills and . . .