A Mother's Courage (38 page)

Maria chuckled responsively and her dimples
deepened. 'I don't care how you look, Ellen. You
have a lovely face in spite of the scar, and you are
kind. I shall tell Papa to buy you some new
clothes. He always does what I ask.'

'It's not the same for me, Maria. I am just an
employee. Please don't say any such thing to
your father.'

'All right,' Maria said grudgingly. 'Can we go
back to the museum?'

'Of course we can. What did you enjoy most
yesterday?'

'Being seen by lots of people, and today they
will have a chance to admire my new clothes.'

It was not the best reason Eloise had ever heard
for visiting a place which housed the most
precious artefacts and classical statues in the
land, but she had to give credit to Maria for being
honest. They spent an agreeable couple of hours
in the museum, and when they returned home
Eloise read to Maria until it was time for tea. It
was Mrs Dean who bustled into the morning
parlour with the heavily laden tray and Eloise
jumped to her feet to help her.

'Thank you, Miss Monk,' Mrs Dean said,
placing the tray on the table and straightening up
with a grunt of pain. 'My rheumatics are playing
me up today. It's a sure sign that winter is on its
way. We'll have rain before the night is out.'

'Mrs Dean is a martyr to her rheumatics,'
Maria said, seizing an iced fairy cake and
popping it into her mouth.

'You should eat your bread and butter first,
miss,' Mrs Dean said severely. 'She's wayward,
Miss Monk, just like Miss Rosamund was at that
age.'

With a warning frown, Eloise offered Maria
the bread and butter plate, and waited until she
took a slice. 'Remember your manners, Maria.'

'Yes, remember your manners, miss,' Mrs Dean
echoed, showing no signs of wanting to leave the
room. 'I was with Miss Rosamund's family since
she was a baby and I watched her grow up. I was
a kitchen maid at the big house to begin with,
then I worked my way up to be cook.'

'My mama lived in a mansion,' Maria said
proudly. 'They had lots of servants and my
grandpapa was very rich.'

Mrs Dean nodded her head. 'Made his money
in the West Indies. Sugar and slaves, you know
the sort of thing. Not that I would want to boast
about such, but times change.'

'Yes, indeed. We have to thank Mr Wilberforce
for his successful campaign against slavery,'
Eloise murmured automatically, but she was
puzzled. Rosamund Caine might have been an
heiress, but, apart from the oil painting, which
must have been done by a master, there was little
evidence of wealth in Caine's establishment.

Mrs Dean folded her arms across her bosom
with a judgemental scowl. 'I don't hold with
money gained from the suffering of others, and
they say that hens come home to roost. They
certainly did in that family.' She lowered her
voice. 'Lost the lot he did. Miss Rosamund's
father, I'm talking about. Gambled it all away
and fled the country leaving behind all manner
of debts. His wife died of a fever, although in my
opinion it was a broken heart, and Miss
Rosamund died giving birth to Maria.'

'How tragic,' Eloise said with feeling. 'She was
so beautiful, and everyone in the hospital speaks
so highly of her.'

'Oh, she was popular all right. Miss Rosamund
could charm the birds out of the trees if she put
her mind to it, but she had inherited the bad
streak that ran through the family. Her brother
killed a man in a duel and he had to flee for his
life, and Miss Rosamund, well, I don't like to
speak ill of the dead.'

'What does speak ill mean?' Maria demanded
with her mouth full.

'Children should be seen and not heard,' Mrs
Dean said severely. 'And don't speak with your
mouth full. It's bad manners.' She turned to
Eloise. 'You will need to be strict with that one,
Miss Monk. She's just like her ma. In a few years'
time she'll be a heart-breaker and probably just
as flighty. Then the master will have to watch
out. There'll be a string of young chaps knocking
on the door. Just like the old days.'

Eloise grappled silently with this information.
Her saintly image of Rosamund Caine was suddenly
tarnished. Perhaps Caine's marriage had
not been as blissfully happy as she had imagined.
She knew it was unworthy of her but she couldn't
help feeling relieved. 'Eat up, Maria,' she said
cheerfully. 'Then you can have another cake.'

Eloise did not see Caine again that day. She
returned to the nursery only to find it in chaos.
All the children were crying and Phoebe was
vainly attempting to quieten Joss who was in the
throes of a tantrum. Eloise rushed over to her
and snatched Joss from her arms. 'What
happened? Why is he in this state?'

'He bit William,' Phoebe cried angrily. 'And I
slapped him, the little bugger. There weren't no
cause for that sort of behaviour.' She stomped off
to pick up William who was sitting on the floor,
bawling. 'There, there, William. Did that nasty
boy bite you?'

Eloise rocked Joss in her arms. 'I'm sure he
didn't mean to hurt William. He must have done
something to Joss to make him fight back.'

'I told you he's a wild one,' Phoebe said
sulkily. 'I'm going to report him to Mr Caine and
have him sent off to a school for imbecile
children. There's no dealing with a nipper like
him.'

'No,' Eloise shouted. 'That's not fair. There's
nothing wrong with Joss.'

'What do you care?' Phoebe demanded crossly.
'He's just one of the many. There's dozens more
to fill his place. We can't afford to have feelings
for them.'

Joss began to quieten down a little but his
whole body was racked with great, heaving sobs.
'Oh, my baby, I shouldn't have left you,' Eloise
whispered into his damp hair. She reached out
her hand to touch Beth who was clinging to the
bars of her cot and whimpering. 'Don't cry, Beth,
sweetheart.'

'Mama,' Beth sobbed. 'Mama.'

'Mama,' Joss echoed, twining his arms around
his mother's neck. 'Mama.'

'Blimey! Did he just speak?' Phoebe set
William down with a pat on his head, but as she
came nearer to Joss he flapped his small hand at
her.

'Go 'way!' he roared. 'Nasty lady.'

'Hush, Joss,' Eloise said, holding him tightly as
if she was afraid that Phoebe might snatch him
from her arms. 'It's all over now. Be a good boy.'

'He spoke,' Phoebe chortled. 'Well I'm
blowed.' Then her smile faded and she stared
suspiciously at Eloise. 'He called you his ma, as
well as young Beth. Is there something you ain't
telling me, Ellen? Are they your kids?'

Cold fingers of panic clutched at Eloise's
stomach. She liked Phoebe well enough but she
did not trust her to keep silent. She shook her
head vehemently. 'No. As you say, they all want
their mothers. Perhaps I remind them of theirs, I
don't know.'

'You would tell me if you was, wouldn't you?
I mean, we are friends and you wouldn't lie to
me.'

'No, of course not.' Eloise rose hastily to her
feet. 'We must get these children washed and
changed into their nightshirts. I can finish up
here if you like, Phoebe. Why don't you go to the
kitchen and get yourself something to eat? I'm
sure you could do with a cup of tea after all that
commotion.'

'Well, if you insist, then I will. I've had enough
of other people's kids today. But you watch out
for that Joss. He might turn nasty again and bite
you.' She ambled across the room, muttering to
herself. 'I'd bite him back if the little devil
attacked me. I certainly would.'

As the door closed on her, Eloise kissed Joss on
the cheek. 'You know who I am, Joss, darling?'

He tugged at a lock of her hair that had
escaped from the confines of the knot at the back
of her head. 'Mama.'

Tears of joy ran down her cheeks, but her relief
was tempered by fear. Now Joss had found his
voice it would be even more difficult to keep
their secret. Eloise made him ready for bed, and
when she had settled all the infants in their cots
she sang to them until the last one had fallen
asleep.

She was too fraught to want food and so she
skipped supper and went straight to her room,
where she took her writing case from under the
mattress and settled down to write a letter to her
mother. Quite what had prompted her change of
heart, she did not know. Perhaps it was in part
due to what Barton Caine had said about the
destructive power of lies, or perhaps it was
simply that the time had come to tell her mother
the truth about her situation. She knew that
Mama would understand why she had run away
from the Cribbs, and perhaps she would be able
to persuade Papa that sending them to Yorkshire
had been a mistake. She was not asking for help,
as she knew that there was nothing that either of
her parents could do from a distance of several
thousand miles, but she just wanted everything
to be out in the open. She laid out the facts simply
and plainly, giving her present address and
stating that she had been employed by Mr Barton
Caine, the governor of the Foundling Hospital, to
look after his little daughter, and that Joss and
Beth were being cared for in the nursery. She
omitted the fact that they had been admitted as
foundlings; that was a piece of information best
kept to herself for the present, but she assured
Mama that they were all well and looking
forward to the day when they were reunited. She
signed the letter, blotted it and placed it in an
envelope. Tomorrow she would take Maria for a
walk to the post office in Holborn, and the letter
would be sent on its long journey to Africa.

Next morning when Eloise went to the nursery
Joss greeted her with shouts of glee, holding his
arms out and calling to her from his cot.

'That boy is doolally tap,' Phoebe grumbled.
'He's been calling out for his ma ever since I
come on duty. The night nurse said he was
babbling on and on from first light. First he
doesn't say a word and now we can't shut him
up. Just look at him. He thinks you really are his
mum.'

Eloise hurried over to Joss and lifted him from
his cot. He clung to her, kissing her cheeks and
smiling up into her face. 'Joss, my baby,' Eloise
whispered and was rewarded by a beaming
smile and more kisses.

'It's what I've said all along,' Phoebe muttered.
'He's not right in the head. Either that or you've
been telling me a pack of lies.'

Eloise set Joss on the floor next to Beth. 'If they
want to think of me as their mother, I don't mind.
They're just babies, Phoebe, like all the rest of
them in here.'

'Yes, but they don't think you're their ma, now
do they?' Phoebe picked up William and put him
in a high chair at the table. 'I'm going to the
kitchen to see what's happened to breakfast.
Anyway, I'm dying for a cup of tea.'

As Phoebe left the nursery, Eloise knelt down
beside Joss and Beth. In a low voice she attempted
to convince Joss that they were playing a game
where she was called Ellen and not Mama.

'Want to go home,' Joss said, his eyes filling
with tears. 'Phoebe nasty lady.'

'And we will go home, very soon, my darling.
But for a while we must continue with the game.
Beth is too little to understand, but you're a big
boy now, Joss. Do you think you can remember
to call me Ellen?'

Joss eyed her warily. 'Ellie.'

'That will do,' Eloise said, smiling. 'You're a
clever boy.'

The rest of the morning passed off uneventfully
enough. Phoebe's attention was diverted by
a new baby brought in by Miss Marchant, and
she left Eloise to see to the other infants and
toddlers. The nursery was full to capacity and
some of the older girls from the Foundling
Hospital came in to help with feeding, washing
and changing the infants. These girls were
destined to go into private homes as nursery
maids and they were eager to gain experience,
and, for the most part, had a genuine desire to
look after little children. When the time came for
Eloise to leave, however, Joss saw her putting on
her bonnet and shawl and he began to howl. Of
course Beth joined in and soon there was a
chorus of sobbing.

'It's no use,' Phoebe snapped. 'We'll have to
send him away. That brat is a bloody pest.'

'Don't say that, Phoebe,' Eloise cried, torn
between wanting to comfort Joss and Beth and
the desire to keep up the pretence that she was
unrelated to them. 'He's just a baby.'

'I'll play with him, miss.' A copper-haired little
girl of about twelve ran to Joss and began tickling
him. This made him sob even louder and he
threw himself down on his face, drumming his
feet on the floor. Eloise tore off her bonnet and
flew across the room to seize him in her arms. He
quietened almost immediately and plugged his
thumb in his mouth, staring up at her with tears
trickling down his cheeks. Beth clung to Eloise's
skirts but she had also stopped crying. In the
general pandemonium they went unnoticed as
the girl helpers sought to pacify the other
children.

'Remember what I said, Joss,' Eloise whispered.
'This is just a game. Mama has to go out to
work this afternoon, but I'll be back in time to put
you to bed.' She beckoned to the red-headed
child. 'What's your name, dear?'

'Phyllis, miss.'

'This is Phyllis, Joss. She's going to look after
you this afternoon. You will be a good boy for
her, won't you?'

Joss nodded silently. Handing him into
Phyllis's young arms was like cutting off a limb,
but Eloise knew she must be strong, for all their
sakes. With a last kiss and a cuddle for Beth,
Eloise forced herself to leave the nursery.

It had been raining and the damp earth had the
rich smell of Christmas pudding. Her feet
crunched on the piles of wet leaves that had been
torn from the trees by a storm the previous night
as Eloise crossed the yard to the governor's
house. She was still upset by Joss's tantrum and
shaking inwardly as she waited to be admitted. If
Caine opened the door she was afraid she might
disgrace herself by bursting into tears, but it was
Jessie who let her into the house. 'Miss Maria's
got her coat on already, miss. She's waiting for
you in the parlour.'