A Carriage for the Midwife (40 page)

Apparently nobody did, and Miss Glover hugged her secret knowledge to herself. The subscription fund had exceeded all expectations, and she was awaiting the revised title deeds of May Cottage from her London lawyers.

Suddenly without warning Miss Calthorpe rose and came over to speak to Susan.

‘Your former pupils all talk of you often, Madam Trotula, and Toby misses you most of all,’ she said politely, as if they were social acquaintances rather than estranged sisters-in-law.

This is Edward’s sister, thought Susan – and he’d have approved of what she’s doing, whatever her reason for taking up good works; so she inclined her head and gravely asked a few questions about Jemmy and Nan and the others. It cost her an effort, however; she could not overcome her resentment that this Calthorpe girl had taken over
her
children, though she knew this to be unreasonable of her.

‘Oh, and by the way, Madam Trotula,’ went on Miss Calthorpe hesitantly, as she saw Susan getting up to leave, ‘there is a dispute at the House of Industry over one of the female inmates, a poor creature you brought in from Down End.’

Susan was alert at once. ‘Jinny Potter? What kind o’ dispute? Is she delivered?’

‘Yes, she had a boy in the first week of May, an ill-favoured little monkey, according to that dreadful Mrs Croker. She wants to send Jinny home with it, but the girl says she will not go.’

‘Jinny
can’t
go back to that place – never!’ Susan shook her head vehemently, and a few ladies’ heads turned in her direction. ‘I’d hoped Mrs Croker could ha’ found work f’r her in the House, doing the same mean work such as Mag does.’

‘But, Madam Trotula, how could the girl possibly be better off in the poorhouse than living at home with her own people?’ asked Selina Calthorpe, genuinely puzzled.

‘Oh, don’t speak o’ it!’ cried Susan with a ‘rush of impatience as she thought how far removed these women’s lives were from the likes of Jinny, helpless victim of a vileness that would cause them to faint clean away if they were told of it.

She got up. ‘I’ll ha’ to go and see the Croker woman and beg on poor Jinny’s behalf.’

She took an abrupt leave, and Miss Gravett observed to Miss Calthorpe that she couldn’t see the Widow Croker agreeing to keep Jinny and her little monkey at the House for much longer.

‘But the stupid cow be neither use nor ornament, mistress! Her ain’t never seen mop nor broom, nor knows what to do wi’ ’em. Her eats like a pig an’ lifts her skirt to piss in the yard, never mind who be watchin’. Even that fool Mag ha’ got more sense an’ looks arter that snufflin’ monkey better’n her!’

‘But, Mrs Croker, if ye could just see y’r way to keeping her here f’r another week or two—’ began Susan, but the woman was adamant.

‘An’ how be Oi to provide bed an’ board fur her an’ that monkey, out o’ what Oi gits from them Guardians?’

‘Oh, in God’s name show some pity, widow, f’r a girl who prefers the workhouse to – to the hell she went through at Down End!’ cried Susan, unable to restrain herself. ‘Just think, a girl growin’ up wi’ no mother, no woman to teach her better ways, nobody but men o’ the lowest sort, who—’

She broke off sharply, and Mrs Croker’s piggy eyes narrowed.

‘Oh, ah? And what’d these men o’ the lowest sort do to make her life such hell?’ she asked with a sarcastic familiarity that made Susan’s scalp prickle. ‘What’d they do then, eh?’

She waited for an answer, but Susan could not possibly tell her the truth about Jinny’s loveless life. She remembered what she had written to Miss Glover years ago, when begging her to remove Polly from the lurking danger of the Ash-Pits.

‘She got beaten, widow, especially when they were drunk,’ she answered. ‘’Tis the same f’r many a poor woman. She can’t go back to that kind o’ life wi’ a helpless baby, or they’ll both be at the mercy o’ the brutes. Have some pity, widow!’

Mrs Croker remained unmoved. ‘An’ how do ’ee know her’s tellin’ the truth? Her ain’t got that downtrodden look o’ a wumman who gets beaten reg’lar. An’ by the way, mistress, seein’ as ’ee knows so much, do ’ee know who fathered the babby on her?
Do
’ee?’

Susan went very pale and shook her head. She swallowed, took a deep breath and replied as calmly as she could.

‘She can’t go back there, Mrs Croker. If you could but keep her and the baby here f’r another week, I’ll do my best to find somewhere else f’r her to go.’

They stood in the passage facing each other; behind Susan stood Jinny, and beside her was Mag, holding the Little Monkey, which was all the name Jinny’s baby seemed to have.

This was the scene that met Charles Parnham when he strode in through the open front door. His eyes had brightened when he saw the pony-trap, for he had been trying to think of an excuse to ride over to Beversley – and now here she was!

‘Ah, signora, you have found your way here again at last. How do you—’

He stopped short when he saw her face.

Mrs Croker curtsied. ‘Good day to ’ee, sir,’ she said obsequiously.

Susan said nothing, and until he could speak with her alone he decided to be jocular. ‘Come, come, ladies, what kind of a welcome is this at a time of national rejoicing? I’d thought to find you all wearing blue ribbons for Admiral Rodney’s great victory at sea!’

Mrs Croker curtsied again. ‘Oh, aye, sir, but life ha’ to go on here same as usual, sir.’

‘So I see.’ He nodded towards the gaping Jinny. ‘And if you’re looking for wet-nurse employment for
that
one, I doubt you’ll find many doors open to her.’

Mrs Croker pursed up her mouth and looked knowing. Susan forced a smile and inclined her head towards him. ‘Good day, sir.’

It was the sign he needed. ‘A word with you, Madam Trotula, if you please. You will excuse us, Mrs Croker. Come, give me your arm,’ he said, turning to Susan. ‘Let us walk out of doors.’

Once out in the cobbled yard where Edward had asked her to marry him nearly two years ago, Susan tried to speak calmly, but her arm trembled in Dr Parnham’s.

‘So, my Trotula, what happy chance has brought you to the House of Hope today?’

Would her friend be able to help, she wondered.

‘’Tis that girl, sir, poor Jinny ye saw back there. Mrs Croker wants to send her back to a wretched hovel where she’ll be beaten and ill-used. I’ve asked if she can be kept here, at least till the baby’s a bit older.’

‘Ah, so that’s it, eh? And the good widow does not share your pity for – what’s her name?’

‘Jinny, sir, Jinny Potter. I found her living miserably, and brought her here for her delivery.’

‘Ah!’ he said again, tightening his hold on her arm. ‘And why should you concern yourself, Madam Trotula, with a half-witted creature who’s going to give birth to many more bastards? What is she to you?’

Susan hesitated. ‘She’s a poor, mistreated girl o’ slow understandin’, Dr Parnham, and – and may be a relative o’ mine, seein’ that my – my mother’s name was also Potter.’

‘Your mother, my dear? Ah, yes.’ It was the first time that he had ever heard her refer to Mad Doll. Their relationship had always disquieted him, as if the madness had killed all the natural love they should have shared. And even if this Jinny were related to his lovely, clever Trotula, he could not see why it should weigh so heavily with her when her unfortunate mother counted for so little. He sensed a mystery, and knew he must tread carefully.

‘I will use my influence with the worthy Mrs Croker,’ he said, ‘but I fear for Jinny’s fate in the long run, for we know the evil ways of men with a girl like that.’

She shivered, and gave him a grateful look. A grateful but fearful look, he noted, and would have given anything to fold her in his arms and openly declare himself as her protector.

‘Thank ye, sir, ’tis very good o’ ye.’

Is there any other way I can be of service to you, my Trotula? You have only to name it.’

‘Ye’re very good, Dr Parnham,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Ye’re my very best friend, along o’ Miss Glover.’

And with that I must be content, he told himself.

‘Come then, we will go back to Mrs Croker, and I will polish up my powers of persuasion,’ he said in an attempt at light-heartedness. ‘A little flattery can work wonders, I find. Good heavens, I think I hear her dulcet tones already! Who is she berating this time?’

‘Yer lyin’ slut, Oi’ll ha’ the truth from ’ee! Who got ’ee wi’ child, then? Come on, own up this minute, who was he?’

Susan trembled violently. ‘Oh, my God!’

They hurried to the spot where they had left the others, just as Mrs Croker struck the side of Jinny’s head.

‘Fur the last time, who laid on ’ee, yer filthy slut?
Was it yer father?
’

She got her answer, for Jinny gave a pitiful wail and threw her calico apron up over her face.

‘Them ha’
all
laid inter me, missus,
all
on uns laid inter me arter supper, missus!’

‘Oi thought as much, yer dirty cow, ’ee can’t make a fool o’ me like some—’

She raised her fist to strike the girl again, but Susan leaped from Parnham’s side and elbowed her out of the way so violently that the woman nearly lost her balance.

‘Stop it,
stop it
, take yer hands off her – don’t ye dare touch her!’ ordered Susan in a voice that Parnham had never heard before; and yet in the next moment she was putting her arms around Jinny and holding her close, like a mother protecting her child from all the blows a cruel world could throw.

‘Hush, Jinny, don’t cry, don’t mind her. Ye’re not a bad girl, Jinny, not a bad girl,’ she said soothingly. ‘Ye couldn’t stop ’em, ye weren’t to blame, ’twas no fault o’ yourn, poor Jinny. Ssh, don’t cry, don’t cry.’

Jinny dropped the apron from her face, and stared open-mouthed.

‘’Ee won’t send Oi back to uns, will ’ee, missus?’

‘No, Jinny, never, never.’

‘Ain’t sendin’ Oi back to uns, never?’

‘Never again, Jinny.’

It was an encounter between two women who had both suffered ill-usage. Mrs Croker raised her eyebrows and shot a vengefully triumphant look in Parnham’s direction. His stricken face was answer enough: like her he saw and knew.

Everything now became hideously clear to him. Mad Doll, the tormented mother. Susan, the unloving daughter. The absent, never-mentioned father. An unholy alliance from which the child victim had eventually escaped.

But poor, stupid Jinny had never had the wit to escape, and his Susan was defending her in front of them all. Parnham felt a great grief in his heart, and when Mrs Croker made a move to separate the two young women, he raised his hand sternly.

‘Go about your business, woman. Leave us at once.’

He beckoned to Mag, who was holding the whimpering Little Monkey in her arms while the black-capped widow flounced off.

‘Give Jinny her baby to feed, Mag,’ he said quietly. ‘Go with Mag, Jinny, your baby’s crying for you, there’s a good girl.’

Susan heard the kindness in his voice towards the girl he had called a half-witted creature, and was grateful. How good this man was!

‘I beg y’r pardon, sir, f’r forgettin’ meself. I—’

‘Say no more, my dear. You have done a good action today, and everything you said to that girl was true. No blame attaches to her – or to any other girl misused by men, be they fathers, brothers or any other brutes. I’d hang all such, by God!’

His eyes blazed, and Susan trembled as she took in the implication of his words.

Any other girl misused by men
.

She looked up at this man who was her true friend, and he saw the fear in her grey eyes: fear of blame, fear of condemnation, as Jinny was condemned by Widow Croker.

And he could not let her know that he knew.

‘As a matter of fact, Trotula, I had some idea of Jinny’s grievous wrong when I first saw her. I have come across incest on other occasions, for it has happened all through history, as we know from the Bible and ancient writers. If anybody says a word against Jinny because of what was done to her, they will be answerable to me. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’ It was a faint whisper.

‘Good. Don’t forget it. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve found somewhere for the poor girl to go,’ he added in the friendly, businesslike tone of a professional partner. Privately he feared he would have to take the Potter girl and her Little Monkey into his own home if nowhere else could be found.

‘Thank you, sir.’

And so they parted with a smile and a handshake, and Susan was left to ponder on the dark secret she shared with Jinny.

And the fact that Dr Parnham did not condemn the girl.

A couple of weeks later Susan had a great surprise.

‘There is a letter for you, Susan, from London. It came by carrier this afternoon,’ said Sophia casually.

‘From London? For
me
? Whatever can it be?’ Susan examined the bulky envelope, sealed with wax, lying on the table in the parlour.

‘You will not find out unless you open it,’ smiled her friend, handing her the paper-knife.

A bewildering sheaf of papers was revealed, including a large folded parchment document headed ‘Deed of Property’, and an important-looking letter in finely written copperplate. Susan turned them over on the table.

‘I don’t understand, Sophy. The letter is from somebody called Jamieson, and the big one as full o’ long words as ever I saw.’

She frowned as she unfolded the thick parchment and saw her own name buried in a sprawling cluster of mostly unintelligible words. She began to read part of it aloud, slowly and with difficulty.

‘“Whereas the said Mrs Susan Calthorpe, hereinafter to be called the Owner or Occupier of the abovenamed Dwelling, hereinafter to be called May Cottage, situated in the Parish of Beversley in the County of Hampshire” – oh, Sophy, what does it all mean?’ she asked in comical display as Sophia laughed over her mispronunciations.

‘Dear Susan, that is the language of lawyers, who never use one word where ten will do! Mr Jamieson is the same London attorney who acted for my grandfather. But look, Susan, at the bottom of the page – see, down here.’

Susan read obediently. ‘“Given under my Hand on this Fourth Day of June, Seventeen Hundred and Eighty-two” –
what
is that name?’