Pauper's Gold (43 page)

‘So you’ve managed to hook him, then. What do you intend to do now?’

Crossing the yard after another meeting with Josiah Roper, to present him with the list of the names of the girls who were at this very moment scrubbing floors and flinging open the windows in
the apprentice house, Hannah was met by Daniel, stepping out of the shadows to bar her way. She wondered if he’d seen her on her way in and had been waiting to waylay her.

‘Daniel!’

‘Ma’am,’ he said sarcastically and doffed his cap to her.

How she wished now that she hadn’t confided in Daniel! Her feelings had undergone a radical change. Whilst she still wanted to bring Edmund to justice in some way for causing Luke’s
death – that desire would never die – she wished she could do it without harming Adam. But it was seeming impossible now. Adam still respected his father, loved him, she supposed.
Whatever she did to Edmund was bound to hurt Adam.

Now she faced Daniel. ‘We’re going to open up the apprentice house. Live there – take in young people working at the mill who need somewhere to live.’

‘Starting up the pauper apprentice scheme again, are you?’ His lip curled. ‘Talk about poacher turned gamekeeper.’

‘No, we’re not. We’re just going to offer a nice home to single folk.’

‘Huh! I’ll believe that when I see it. Well, I wish you joy.’ He turned on his heel, pulled his cap back on and disappeared into the mill. Hannah stared after him. He wished
her anything but joy. She could hear it in his tone: Daniel wished her nothing but ill.

She sighed and carried on out of the yard. In the lane she hesitated. There was one other person she ought to see. It had been praying on her mind and she’d better get it over with.

She would do it now. She would go and see Mrs Grundy.

‘Oh, it’s you.’

Lily Grundy’s greeting was far from welcoming. She turned and went back into her kitchen without inviting Hannah in, but she left the door open as if expecting Hannah to follow. Hannah
stepped inside and closed the back door.

‘So, you’re married to young Critchlow then?’

‘That’s right.’

‘All part of the grand plan, was it?’

Hannah licked her lips, unsure how much to confide in Lily. But there was no one else. No Auntie Bessie, no Nell. Yet in many ways Lily reminded her so much of Auntie Bessie that almost before
she realized what she was doing, she was sobbing out the truth.

‘Oh, Mrs Grundy, I don’t know what to do. I’m so confused . . . so mixed up. I . . . I wanted to get revenge on Mr Edmund – for everything he’d done. For the
cruelty he inflicted on the child workers who were supposed to be in his care. For all the suffering and the deaths he caused. I didn’t care how I did it or who I hurt in the process. Not Ted
or Adam or anyone. I . . . I just wanted to make him pay.’

Lily stared at her for a moment and then, seeing that the girl’s distress was genuine, she set her hot iron in the hearth and pulled a chair up close to Hannah. Putting her arm around the
girl’s shoulders, she said gently, ‘Now, why don’t you tell me all about it and then we’ll see what can be done.’

So Hannah confided everything to her, how she’d made Adam fall in love with her but how the tables had now turned and she was finding herself falling in love with him.

‘I don’t think it’s as simple as that, Hannah,’ Lily said. ‘You think you’ve made Master Adam fall for you. But you haven’t. It either happens or it
doesn’t. He was going to fall for you anyway – once he’d set eyes on you, whether you wanted it or not. You can’t make someone love you, lass, unless they want to.’
She sighed. ‘And I was wrong to go on at you about our Ted. I’m fond of the lad and I’m fond of you and I’d’ve liked nothing better than to see the two of you happy
together. I thought you weren’t giving him a chance, giving yourself a chance to like him, but I see now that if you were going to fall for Ted, then you would’ve done and you
wouldn’t have been able to help yourself. Besides,’ she added, laughing a little sheepishly, ‘I have to admit our Ted’s a bit of a one for the girls. He’s got his eye
on a lass from the village already, so I don’t think his heart is broken after all.’

Hannah smiled through her tears. ‘I’m glad. I didn’t want to hurt Ted and I hated you being angry with me. It was just that . . . that . . . well . . . even if I hadn’t
been bent on setting my cap at Adam, I still wouldn’t have been right for Ted. I . . . I was believing myself still in love with Luke then.’

‘You can’t live in the past, love,’ Lily said. She sighed. ‘I s’pose I’ve been guilty of that. Never forgiving and never forgetting. Always bearing a grudge
against them Critchlows because of our Lucy. But now, we’d best move on. All of us. Them days is gone. The apprenticing of young children has stopped – and a good thing too. I
s’pect things is better up at the mill now, are they?’

‘Not so’s you’d notice,’ Hannah said bitterly, thinking of the long working hours, the dusty, unhealthy atmosphere and the pitiful wage that most of the workers received.
The punishment room might be gone, but workers were still fined for breaking the rules.

‘If only—’ She stopped, appalled to realize another consequence of her unremitting desire for revenge. ‘If only Adam were in charge, things would be a lot better.
He’s kind and considerate and . . . and . . . oh, but I’ve put an end to all that, haven’t I? He’ll never have the chance to inherit the mill now. Oh, Mrs Grundy, what have
I done?’

Lily squeezed the girl’s shoulders but she could think of nothing to say that would bring any comfort.

By the time Edmund returned from his business trip, the apprentice house was looking much as it had done when Hannah had lived there before. Better, in fact, for most of the walls were freshly whitewashed and the whole house scrubbed from top to bottom. Two of the carpenters from the mills had put up partitions in the dormitories, dividing the space up into single rooms. And best of all, the dreaded punishment room had been turned into a cosy bedroom.

If only Hannah didn’t feel such dreadful guilt hanging over her, she could have counted herself as happy.

‘Roper. Roper! Come in here at once.’

Josiah laid down his pen, slid from his perch and ambled into his master’s office. ‘Sir?’

Edmund prodded the page in the open ledger lying on the desk in front of him. ‘What is the meaning of this? These extra payments to some of the girls. And two of the men too. What was it
for and who authorized it? Scarsfield? Because if so, he’s exceeded his authority.’

Josiah went around the desk, pretending to look over Edmund’s shoulder at the offending entries. ‘Oh those, sir.’

‘Yes, Roper. Those. Explain, if you would be so good?’

‘It was work authorized by Master Adam, sir. On the apprentice house.’

‘The apprentice house?’ Edmund was growing steadily more purple by the minute. ‘What on earth is he doing with the apprentice house?’

‘Restoring it, sir, to it’s – a-hem – former glory.’ Edmund eyed Josiah, but decided to let the man’s sarcasm pass. ‘Master Adam and his good lady wife
are living there, sir. But of course, you knew all that.’

‘No, I didn’t know all that,’ Edmund roared, but Josiah didn’t even flinch. Years of working for Edmund had immured him to his master’s bursts of temper. In fact,
Josiah revelled in bringing one about.

‘Oh dear, have I done wrong, sir?’

‘Done wrong? Done wrong? Of course you’ve bloody well done wrong.’ Edmund thumped the desk. ‘I’ve disowned my son, Roper. You know that full well.’

Josiah calmly shook his head. ‘No, sir, on the contrary, I knew nothing of the sort.’

‘But I told you – I
told
you that he was to work in the factory and treated as an ordinary worker.’

Josiah smiled obsequiously. ‘Well, yes, sir, but I thought that was all part of the young man’s training, so that when he takes over one day, he will have a true understanding of the
workings of the mill. If I remember correctly, sir, you worked in the mill for a while – at your father’s insistence.’

Edmund glowered. ‘But I didn’t marry a slut of a girl and try to bring her into our home.’

‘No, sir. You didn’t
marry
them, did you? But God alone knows how many bastards you have residing in various workhouses up and down the country.’

‘Roper,’ Edmund said menacingly. ‘Watch your tongue.’ But Josiah only smiled. Turning back to the matter in hand, Edmund frowned again. ‘Nor did I give permission
for them to live in the apprentice house.’

‘I understand they are turning it into a lodging house for mill workers.’ With measured mildness, he added, ‘They’re making a very good job of it, too, by all accounts.
But then, I’m not surprised. Your son’s bride is a very enterprising young woman.’ He paused and licked his lips before saying with deliberate mildness. ‘
She always
was.
’

Edmund stared at him. ‘What do you mean? “She always was”?’

Josiah raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, sir, you know who she is, don’t you?’

Feeling a sudden, inexplicable fear sweep through him, Edmund shook his head. ‘Tell me.’

‘She’s Hannah Francis. The girl you were chasing when that young lad fell in the wheel and was killed. I’m so sorry, sir. I could’ve told you weeks ago. I recognized her
the moment I saw her. And I thought you were sure to have done so too. Oh, she’s dyed her hair, tried to make herself look different. But she couldn’t alter the colour of those
magnificent eyes, could she?’ As he saw the veins standing out on Edmund’s forehead, saw his eyes take on a peculiar glazed look, Josiah thrust home his final barb. Edmund was now
slumped in his chair, his hands shaking. ‘She’s come back and married your son. She’s got her revenge all right, hasn’t she?’

When Edmund had recovered a little from the shock, though his hands were still trembling uncontrollably, he gasped out, ‘Get them. Fetch them here. Both . . . both of them. I want to see
for myself. I know you, Roper. You’re a lying toad . . .’

But Josiah only smiled at the insult and left the office. He sent one of the mill boys running to the apprentice house to summon Adam and Hannah.

When the message came, Adam was jubilant. ‘You see, I told you, he’s come around. He’s been away and had time to think. Maybe all this work’s been for nothing and he
wants us to live at the Manor.’

‘I’d rather live here anyway, Adam,’ Hannah said swiftly.

‘Yes, you’re right. Time we stood on our own feet.’

Hand in hand they hurried to the mill, but as they stepped into Edmund’s office they were shocked by his appearance.

‘Father!’ Adam hurried round the desk to him. The man looked dreadful. His face was purple, his eyes bulged and his whole body seemed to be shaking. But he waved his son aside. His
glare was fixed on Hannah standing helplessly in front of him. She was suddenly very afraid.

Mr Roper
, she thought.
He’s told him. I wondered why he never looked up as we came through his office.

Edmund was levering himself unsteadily to his feet.

‘No, Father, sit down. You’re ill. I’ll send for the doctor . . .’

With a surprising sudden surge of strength, Edmund swung his arm, striking Adam in the chest. ‘Out of my way,’ he said, his speech slurred. ‘I want to see . . . her.’

He staggered round the desk like a drunkard and lurched towards Hannah. He stood before her, swaying slightly, but his gaze was intent upon her, boring into her soul.

‘Look at me.’

Slowly, Anna raised her head and met his eyes. Suddenly, he raised both his hands and grasped her hair, pulling the pins from it. Then he pulled hanks of it apart so that the tell-tale line of
recently grown blonde hair near her scalp was plainly visible.

‘Father – you’re hurting her. Stop it. Whatever’s got into you?’

‘Hurt her! I’ll hurt the little trollop,’ he spat. Saliva trickled down his chin and he swayed again. Hannah thought he was going to wrench the hair from her head and winced in
pain.

‘Father!’ Adam shouted. ‘Let her go.’ Now, he tried to prise his father’s hands open. ‘Let her go!’

At last, Edmund loosened his grip. He stood swaying and if Adam had not been supporting him, he might have fallen.

‘Sit down,’ Adam said, and helped him back into his chair behind the desk. ‘Now, what is all this about?’

Edmund jabbed a shaking finger at Hannah. ‘Ask her. Ask your . . . your bride.’

Adam turned puzzled eyes on her. ‘Anna?’

‘She’s not Anna,’ Edmund spluttered. ‘She’s Hannah. Hannah Francis.’

Adam glanced from one to the other, still puzzled.

‘She’s been here before,’ Edmund dragged out the words. ‘She was here when . . . she was that . . . that boy’s girl. Luke Hammond’s girl.’

Adam paled as he stared at her. ‘Is it true?’

He had no need to ask for further explanation. He knew only too well who Luke Hammond was.

There was no point in further denial. Hannah nodded. Adam shook his head slowly. ‘Why? Why did you come back, and why did you pretend to be someone else?’

Before she could think what to say, Edmund said, ‘Revenge. That’s what it is. Revenge on me – on us all. On all the Critchlow family.’

‘No, I don’t believe it,’ Adam whispered, the colour draining from his face. ‘Oh, Anna.’ He still couldn’t think of her by any other name. ‘Say
it’s not true. Please, say it’s not true.’

She opened her mouth to say the words he wanted to hear, but she couldn’t speak. She could no longer lie to him. Whatever it cost her, Adam deserved better than that. He was the innocent
in all this and he deserved the truth.

‘I . . . I’ll explain it all to you – everything. But not now. Not,’ she nodded towards Edmund, ‘not here.’

She saw the anguish darken Adam’s eyes. He’d wanted an immediate denial and she hadn’t been able to give him that. So now he thought the worst. He stared at her for a moment
longer before saying flatly, ‘I’d better get him home.’

Hannah moved forward, as if to help, but Adam said harshly, ‘We’ll manage. Go . . .’ he hesitated, reluctant to use the word ‘home’ until he knew the truth, knew
whether they had a future together – or not.