To Love Anew (8 page)

The prisoners struggled back into their clothes. The guard opened the door and stood aside. “Out with you. Now.”

John and some of the others picked up their belongings. “Leave ’em,” the sailor barked. “You’ll have no need.”

“But they’re all I got,” one man said.

Instantly the soldier smashed the butt of his gun into the man’s face. Dropping to his knees and covering his nose with his hands, the prisoner cried, “Ye broke me nose!”

“Next time you’ll do as you’re told. Now, get up!”

Still holding his hand over his face, the man stumbled to his feet and staggered after the rest of the group. They assembled on deck and stood waiting, for what they did not know. A sharp, cold wind buffeted them. Marines stood guard, muskets ready.

A man whom John thought might be the captain strode up before them. Hands clasped behind his back, he stood silently for a long while and studied the prisoners. His eyes were hard. “While you’re on my vessel, you’ll do as told. You’ll get your rations twice a day. If you ask for more you’ll get less the next day, so you’d be wise to be glad for what you’re given. And there’ll be no pinching food.” He walked to the railing. “You’ll have one hour of lamp light a night. We don’t waste oil on my ship.” He lowered his gaze, peering out from beneath heavy eyebrows. “When I say sleep you’ll sleep, and when I say work you’ll work. You disobey and you’ll feel the lash.”

He turned and faced the men straight on. “You won’t set sail for a while. ’Til you’re transferred, you’re mine. There’ll be
lady
passengers sailing with you, but don’t be getting any ideas. They’re not for the likes of you.”

John knew this was only a taste of what was to come. He looked toward the city. An ugly brown cloud draped itself over brick and mortared buildings. Chimneys stuck up defiantly from rooftops, as if to say they would continue belching soot into the air, like it or not. And John would take orders, like it or not. For his world had gone askew, and he had no say about its course.

He’d wanted adventure. Had he wished this upon himself? Was it some kind of judgment? If there were a way to return to the life he’d once had, he would gladly go.

But there was no returning now. He’d lost his life—forever.

Before Ruby or her family roused from their sleep, Hannah had quietly slipped out of the house. She’d left a note, explaining her reasons for going. She didn’t want to create trouble between Ruby and her husband. Ruby’s kind heart wouldn’t be able to put her out. She’d shortchange her own family in order to help. Hannah couldn’t bear to be the cause of more struggles for the kindly woman. She and her family had trouble enough. Her difficulties were her own and not Ruby’s responsibility.

After spending hours walking, she wondered if she’d made the right choice. Her legs and feet ached, her shoulder throbbed from carrying her satchel, and her stomach growled angrily at its emptiness.

She stopped at every business she thought might have work. No one needed help. She didn’t know where else to look.
There must be someone who has a place for me. Lord, where should I look?
She heard no answer. But of course she wouldn’t, not after what had happened. She was defiled and had most certainly been shut out of God’s favor. Unwillingly her mind carried her back to the attack. She could feel him touching her. She could still smell him.

“Aye! Watch out!” shouted a man pushing a cart of vegetables.

Distracted, Hannah had nearly run into him. “So sorry, sir,” she called after the man, but he didn’t hear as he hurried on.

Children had gathered to watch a Punch and Judy show. Hannah stopped, thankful for the distraction. As the marionettes yelled at each other and chased one another about the small stage, the performance didn’t seem at all entertaining. Screaming her frustration, Judy whacked Punch over the head with her broom and the children laughed, but their antics only disturbed Hannah. She moved on, hoping to put the sounds of the play behind her.

The emptiness in her stomach gnawed. The smells of baked goods and the calls of peddlers selling produce only made her hungrier. She stopped at a display of apples. Picking up one, she held it to her nose and smelled its sweet fragrance. Her mouth watered. She could almost taste it. What if she were to drop it into her bag? Would anyone see? She looked about and her eyes locked with the peddler selling the fruit. Her heart skipped. He stared as if knowing her thoughts. She quickly set it back in the pile and, as nonchalantly as she could manage, ambled on.

She kept walking, finally leaving behind the sounds and smells of the marketplace. Weary and feeling faint, she leaned against a building. Two gaunt-looking children, probably a brother and sister, approached a gentlewoman, their hands held out palm up.

“Ye ’ave a pence for us, mum?”

The woman opened a small coin purse, fished out two pence, and dropped one into the boy’s hand and then the girl’s.

“Thank ye, mum.” The children tucked their treasures into their pockets and ran off toward the market.

Hannah felt envious. If only it were so easy for her to acquire funds.
Perhaps I could beg
, she thought and tried to imagine herself holding out a hand and entreating someone to give her money or food. The image repelled her. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t—no matter how hungry she became.

The aroma of baked goods wafted from a shop across the street. Hannah’s stomach cramped. Perhaps the owner needed a clerk or a cook. She crossed the road, stopped at the door to tidy her hair and smooth her wrinkled skirt, and then stepped inside.

She admired rows of heavy brown breads and sweet cakes laid out on display. Holding her spine straight, she smiled at a man standing behind a counter. “Good day, sir. You have a fine shop.”

“That I do.” He eyed her warily.

“Might I inquire if you need some assistance?” Before he could say no, Hannah hurried on. “I can do most anything. I’m quite clever. I’m a fine cook and I’ve a strong back for cleaning and such, and I also read and do figures. I get along well with most everyone. I helped my mother—”

The baker held up his hand, palm out. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you, but I’ve no need. And even if I did, I’ve not an extra farthing to pay you.”

“Of course. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She headed for the door, her eyes lingering on the breads.

Hannah hurried out of the store and walked down the street toward the river. She stepped onto a bridge and started across. Midway she stopped. She had nowhere to go.

Leaning on the railing, she studied the river as it washed beneath the bridge. Its waters were brown and murky. The cold, dark surge called to her. It could be her way out. She could end her sorrows. All she need do was to step off into the icy waters. It would be over quickly.

Hannah envisioned her mother. She longed to be with her, but Hannah was afraid. If she ended her own life, would she be allowed into heaven? And could God accept her now that she was so badly tarnished? Tears of sorrow trailed down her cheeks.

Hannah stood there for a long while. Hadn’t her mum said the Lord accepts all who believe in him—even sinners? Hannah had always thought God loved her. Her mother had told her so. But that was before . . . before she’d been so badly used.

It was not a risk she could take, and so she moved on as darkness settled over the city. It was cold. The wind swirled frigid air beneath her cloak. If only she could warm herself at a fire. She remembered the stove in her cottage and the many times she and her mother had sat quietly in the evenings sipping tea and enjoying the rest. An ache swelled at the base of her throat, and she wondered how far it was to the churchyard where her mother lay.

7

Huddled inside her cloak, Hannah walked for what seemed like hours. The darkness deepened and streetlamps were lit. Strumpets moved onto the streets, lingering along the roadway and leaning against buildings. Some strolled provocatively to better entice clients.

Hannah tried not to look at them as she moved past. A number of the women gave her haughty looks. She hurried on, hoping to find a place to seclude herself. A gentleman dressed in a silk suit approached. He boldly looked her up and down and then stared into her eyes.

“How much for an hour?”

Hannah could not believe what she’d heard. She tried to walk past him, but he stepped in front of her. “Sir, you’ve made a mistake. I’m not what you think.” She glanced at the streetwalkers.

“If I may be so bold . . . you look to be in need. And I would be pleased to accommodate that need.” He touched a strand of hair that had fallen free of its pins.

“Sir!” Hannah pulled back.

“You’re a handsome one. And spirited.” A smiled played at his lips. “I’d pay well.”

Hannah pressed a hand against her empty stomach; it ached with hunger . . . and she was already tainted. “No. Leave me.” Before the need of sustenance made her do something despicable, she stepped around the man and hurried down the street.
Dear Lord, help me
, she prayed. For a moment she’d considered the offer.
I am indecent. No respectable woman would have entertained such an idea.

She stopped beneath a lantern. Grabbing hold of the pole, she gripped it tightly as if its stability would secure her.
God, can you not see past my shame and provide a way for me?

Across the street a prostitute sauntered up and down the lane. She rolled her hips back and forth and made no effort to conceal rounded breasts pushing out of a tawdry gown. Her lips were painted red, and she’d piled her hair on top of her head in an effort to look like a lady. The attempt failed.

Rather than being repelled as she had been in the past, Hannah felt ashamed of her previous judgments against such women. She’d always assumed they’d chosen their professions and didn’t deserve pity. Only now did she understand how life’s circumstances sometimes foisted unseemly choices upon people. Could she make such a choice? There had been a time the answer would have been a fervent no. Today, with hunger gnawing at her, she was no longer certain.

The prostitute leveled a gaze on Hannah. Then with a quick glance up and down the lane, she strode boldly toward her. “On your way. This is me corner. I’ll not share it with the likes of you.”

“But I’m not—”

“Get. Away with you.”

Staring at the cheerless, angry eyes, Hannah knew it would do no good to explain. “I’m sorry,” she said and moved on.

She stopped outside a pub and gazed in through a window. It was brightly lit inside and appeared warm. Sounds of laughter and songs rolled out onto the street. She never thought that a pub would entice her, but on this night it seemed welcoming. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out in a puff, she pushed against the door. Just as she did, it shoved back and nearly knocked Hannah off her feet.

A disagreeable-looking man stumbled out and pushed past her. “Out of me way!”

Hannah stared after him, and then gazed inside the crowded inn. It was raucous and smelled of ale and smoke. She didn’t belong there. Disheartened, she let the door close and walked away, moving along the shadowy streets, uncertain where to go.

Finally, unable to continue longer, Hannah stepped into the shadow of a doorway. It was a business establishment and not a home, so she was reassured she’d not disturb anyone’s sleep. She squatted down and pressed her back against the door. Pulling her cloak tightly about her, she stared out from her tenuous shelter.

Here, the world felt inhospitable and deserted. She cupped her ice-cold hands over her mouth and breathed into them. Her breath steamed the air. Pulling the cloak over her head, she bundled deeply within its folds. The cold crept in, and she shivered.

Perhaps tomorrow will bring good fortune
, she thought. Hearing approaching footsteps, she peeked out from beneath the cape and pressed deeper into the shadows. A man walked by without noticing her. How many times had she done the same? The destitute and needy had been invisible to her.
Lord, forgive my indifference
, she prayed and vowed that if ever she found her way out of this horrid predicament, she’d never again overlook the poorest of society.

Exhaustion swamped her. She closed her eyes, hoping for sleep and praying for a miracle. But even as she prayed she didn’t believe. God hadn’t protected her thus far. Why would he begin now? Perhaps he was done with her.

In her desolation she heard her mother’s voice. “God loves all people, especially those without hope. He loved even the lepers.” She’d spoken the words during one of their evening chats. Now, Hannah wondered if her mother could have been mistaken.
What if God doesn’t love the sullied? If not, then I must be a stench in his nostrils.

Her mind carried Hannah back to the basement room at the Walker estate. She could feel Charlton Walker’s hands on her, and again shame consumed her. Had she tempted him? Could she have fought harder? She stared out at the empty streets, thankful that no one could see her. In the light of day would her shame be evident? Would people know her secret just by looking at her?

Exhaustion finally rescued Hannah from her thoughts, and she slept.

A sharp, cramping pain in the middle of her stomach awakened Hannah. Morning light was beginning to reveal the littered street. The prostitutes and drunkards were gone, but doorways and alcoves housed others like her who had sought shelter.

Shocked anew at her circumstances, reality swept through Hannah.
What am I to do?

She straightened cramped legs and pushed to her feet. Stretching her arms over her head, she tipped slightly to the side, hoping to work out unyielding muscles.

At least it’s not raining
, she thought, gazing at the sky. Pink touched the gray canopy. Perhaps today would be sunny and warmer.

Running her hands over tangled hair, she thought,
I must be a sight.
Removing her hair clasps, she worked her fingers through the snarls and then repinned the hair. Opening her cloak, she gazed down at her wrinkled gown and let out a sigh.
How will I ever find work? I look like a vagabond.

She considered her other dress, but it had been packed in her satchel. Undoubtedly by now it was in worse condition than the one she wore.