Pauper's Gold (23 page)

Ethel Bramwell was busy in front of the range, her face red from the heat. For a brief moment, Hannah hesitated, wishing she could say goodbye. Ethel and her husband had been as kind to her
– and the others – as their position allowed. She was surprised to realize just how fond she’d become of them both.

Ethel straightened up from bending over the fire and was about to turn around as Hannah slipped unnoticed out of the back door. She hurried along the path and down the steep slope, past the gate
into the mill. Even from here she could hear the rhythmic clatter of the machinery as it worked through the night. From the rumours she’d heard, it seemed Edmund had plans to have the mill
running non-stop – twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, even on a Sunday.

‘He’s got young master Adam drawing up plans to have us working in relays,’ Hannah had overheard Ernest Scarsfield telling Arthur Bramwell one night over a tankard of ale at
the kitchen table. ‘And he’s lengthening the hours we’ve to work. Breaking the law, he is, but what can any of us do about it?’

Nothing
, Hannah thought bitterly.
Mr Edmund considers himself above the law, even that of murder.

‘Sit down, sit down,’ Lily Grundy greeted her, bustling about the warm kitchen.

‘I ought to hide,’ Hannah said anxiously, standing just inside the doorway, still holding her bundle. ‘If they come after me—’

‘Look, love, sit down. I’ve something to tell you.’ Mrs Grundy was avoiding looking directly at her, and Hannah felt a moment’s panic. Then she calmed herself. If the
worst came to the worst, she could always go back now, before she was missed. No one would be any the wiser.

‘My Ollie had a bit of an accident. Hurt his leg, silly man – stabbed himself in the foot with a pitchfork.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Is it bad?’

‘He’ll be all right, but he’ll be laid up for a day or two.’

‘Tell him not to worry. I’ll go back now – this minute. We’ll wait till he’s better.’

‘No, no, our Ted’s going to take you. He’ll be here early in the morning. And in the meantime, we’ll hide you here. In the hayloft, if necessary. They can’t come
searching our place. Oh, they can come and ask, but that’s as far as they’ll get.’ She sniffed. ‘They’ll get short shrift from me if they try searching my place
without so much as a by-your-leave.’

She was so adamant, so sure, that Hannah believed her.

‘Now,’ Lily said briskly, as if it was all settled. ‘Sit down and eat your supper. I’ll just take a plate up to his lordship and then you and me can sit down and have
ours together. That’ll be nice, won’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Hannah said meekly, and sat down.

As they finished their meal, they heard the dog begin to bark. Hannah leaped to her feet. ‘It’s them. I know it is. They’ve come after me.’

‘Quick. I’ll let you out the front door. They’ll likely come to the back. I’ll ask ’em in and you nip round to the barn and up the ladder into the loft. I’ll
hide this,’ Lily said, snatching up Hannah’s bundle of belongings from the floor and moving with surprising agility. ‘Look sharp, now.’

Hannah ran. Out of the door on the opposite side of the house and around the corner. Here she paused, listening to the voices as Mrs Grundy opened her back door and ushered the visitors into her
kitchen. Then Hannah ran softly across the yard to the barn. Inside it was gloomy, but she could just see the ladder up to the hayloft. Gathering up her long skirt, she climbed up. Her knees were
shaking, not from the climb up the rickety ladder, but the fear of being caught by the ankles and dragged down again. She reached the top and scrambled across the hay-strewn floor to the furthest,
darkest corner, where she huddled into a ball, her heart beating so loudly, she was sure that if they came into the barn below they would hear it.

Minutes passed and she heard voices. Voices that came nearer and nearer.

‘She’s not here, I tell you. What would she come here for, I might ask?’

‘You helped her before. And you’ve helped others an’ all.’ Hannah recognized Arthur Bramwell’s voice. ‘Don’t think we don’t know, Lily. It’s
only ’cos we’ve kept it from the master that he hasn’t stopped you supplying us.’

‘Huh!’ was Lily’s scathing reply.

‘Look, love,’ Ernest Scarsfield’s tone was placating. ‘We’re mates, me ’n’ Arthur here and your Ollie.’

‘Aye, drinking mates,’ Lily put in, but there was amusement rather than resentment in her tone.

Hannah heard the two men chuckle. ‘Aye well, mebbe so, mebbe so, but we wouldn’t want to do anything to harm your living. You know that, so if you know anything about the girl, tell
us.’

‘I don’t.’

‘If you see her, you’ll let us know?’

‘I’m sorry, Ernest. I know you mean well, and I ’preciate it, but, no, I won’t come telling tales to the mill about her or anyone else from that place. You know full well
what happened to me niece and I’ve no time for the Critchlows, not one of ’em. So there you have it.’

‘Well, you’re straight, Lily Grundy, I’ll give you that. But it’d be the best for the girl herself. Where’s she going to go? Back to the workhouse, eh? She’ll
not get a welcome there, I can tell you. The Critchlows and Goodbody have got a nice little scheme still going that they’re not about to let go of. She’ll be sent right back here to
spend a week in the punishment room. And God knows what else Mr Edmund might think up to punish her.’

‘He’s evil, that one,’ Lily spoke up. ‘The old man was bad enough, letting accidents happen and young lasses get killed, but he was a saint compared to that son of
his.’

To this, the two men made no reply.

Hannah held her breath as she heard a scuffling in the barn below and then, when they spoke again, their voices were further away and she began to breathe more easily. Several minutes passed
before she heard Lily below calling up. ‘Come on down, Hannah. Coast’s clear. They’ve gone.’

Hannah peered down from the hayloft. ‘They might come back.’

‘No, I don’t think so.’ Lily chuckled. ‘I reckon they know very well you’re here. Maybe, deep down, they sympathize with you, love. Come on down, they’re not
coming back. I’m sure of it.’

Reluctantly, Hannah climbed down and, as she reached the bottom of the ladder, Lily put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. ‘Now come on, you snuggle down in the bed in the spare
room and I’ll bring you up a nice mug of cocoa.’

Impulsively, Hannah hugged her. ‘Oh, Mrs Grundy, you spoil me.’

Embarrassed, Lily patted her shoulder. ‘Aye well, mebbe so. But it’s nice to have someone to spoil and I reckon you deserve it, love.’

Hannah couldn’t remember when she’d last slept in such a comfortable bed nor been cosseted and pampered by anyone. Her memories of life with her mother and grandmother when
they’d lived in their own home were dim and fleeting. It was as if all the traumas of the past three and a half years had blotted out some of her happy memories – more, if she counted
her time in the workhouse too. But she fell asleep in the soft feather bed dreaming of soft hands and gentle voices and the shadowy unknown figure of a man – her father.

The Grundys’ nephew, Ted, arrived the following morning as the first fingers of light crept over the top of the hills. He was fair-haired, small and wiry, with a
grin that seemed to stretch across the whole of his face. He reminded Hannah poignantly of Luke.

‘Hello there,’ he greeted her, and held out his hand to help her onto the seat on the front of the cart. ‘Aren’t I the lucky one? It’s not every day I get to drive
a pretty girl into the countryside.’

Lily Grundy bustled up. ‘Now then, Ted, none of your flirting with this one. She’s special, she is.’

Ted’s grin widened even further if that were possible. ‘I can see that.’

‘And just mind you get her well away from here before anyone from the mill is likely to be about. I don’t want her running into Roper – not this time.’

The young man’s face sobered and his tone became serious. ‘I know, Auntie. I’ve put a pile of sacks in the back. If the worst happens, she can hide under them.’

Lily smiled and patted his shoulder. ‘Good lad. I’ve packed some food up for you both and mind you let her take some with her when you drop her off in Buxton, Ted. We don’t
know if she’s going to get anywhere to sleep tonight. And I want you to have this, Hannah.’ Lily unfolded a thick, warm shawl and tucked it around Hannah’s shoulders.

‘Oh, Mrs Grundy—’

‘Now, now, none of that. It’s a gift. I don’t want it back.’

Ted’s face was a picture of concern as he glanced up at Hannah sitting, a little impatiently, on the front of the cart. ‘Haven’t you got anywhere to go?’

‘Only the workhouse – and I don’t fancy going back there. Mr Goodbody will send me straight back to the mill.’

‘She’s going to try to find the street she used to live in years ago,’ Lily put in. ‘There might be a neighbour there who’ll remember her and give her a bed for the
night.’

Ted glanced worriedly from one to the other. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if I took her all the way to Macclesfield? Stayed with her till I see she’s got somewhere?’

Lily frowned and glanced up apologetically at Hannah. ‘I’d like to be able to say yes, lass, you know I would. But I need him back here. With Ollie laid up, I can’t manage
everything on me own.’

Hannah smiled down at her. ‘Of course you can’t. It’s very good of you to let him take me at all. Come on, Ted, the quicker we get off, the quicker you can get back.’

He gave a mock sigh and climbed up beside her. ‘Oh well, I’m no match for two determined women.’ He pulled a comical face. ‘I never was for me auntie anyway.’ He
picked up the reins and slapped them against the hind quarters of the huge carthorse between the shafts. ‘We’ll be off then. See you later, Auntie Lily.’

The horse climbed the steep hill steadily, its great shoulders pulling strongly on the harness. Their progress was laboured and slow, and Hannah bit her lip, expecting any moment to hear a cry
from behind them and running footsteps. Once or twice she glanced back anxiously, but the road sloping away behind them was empty.

As they reached the top of the hill, Hannah took one last glance back at the hills and the river winding through the dale – the place where she and Luke had escaped from the daily grind of
the mill to snatch a few hours of freedom and real happiness. The early morning sun cast pale light on the hillsides and touched the trees with delicate fingers, but it was not the glorious colour
she’d seen on the day she’d arrived here. Pauper’s gold the man who’d brought them had called it. Well, she’d known some golden days with Luke and Daniel and little
Jane. If she closed her eyes now, she could still see the four of them running alongside the river, or racing each other up the steep slopes, to stand at the top looking down on the mill below
them. It had been like standing on the top of the world and they’d thrilled at the feeling of freedom, even if only for a few precious hours.

But already two of her friends were dead and Daniel had turned his back on her. She couldn’t stay, didn’t want to stay, for she feared Mr Edmund’s vindictiveness. Even those
who might try to protect her were helpless against his authority. If Master Adam were older, it might be different. But he wasn’t. He was little more than a boy himself and as much in his
father’s power as the lowliest pauper apprentice.

It would be so easy to turn her back on it all, to set her face forward and never think about Wyedale and its mill again. At that moment as she looked back and said her silent goodbyes, she was
very tempted to do just that. But instead, Hannah made a vow to herself.
I’ll come back one day, Luke, I promise. Mr Edmund might have wriggled out of the law with the help of all his
cronies, but he’s not going to get away with what he did to you.

One day, I’ll pay him back. I don’t know how and I don’t know when. It might take a lifetime, but one day, I’ll bring him down. I’ll see him rot in Hell!

The road levelled out and the horse picked up a little speed.

‘Why are you leaving now, ’cos you’ve been there for a few years, haven’t you?’ Ted asked conversationally. ‘I’d’ve thought you’d have gone
a long time ago.’

‘I did try. Once. But not to run away, just to go back to . . . to see me mother.’

‘Oh aye, me auntie told me about that. You ran into Roper, didn’t you? Bit of bad luck, that.’

There was silence for a moment before Ted prompted, ‘So did you ever get to see your mother?’

Hannah bit her lip and didn’t answer immediately. ‘No,’ she said huskily. ‘I . . . I never saw her again.’

‘Is that why you’re going now then? To try to find her?’

Hannah pressed her lips together to stop them trembling. She shook her head. ‘She – I think she’s dead now. That’s what I’ve been told. Unless, of course it’s
another lie.’ She’d like to hope it was, but she didn’t dare.

Ted was apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’

Hannah sighed. ‘It’s all right.’

There was a pause, but the young man could not hold back his curiosity. ‘So why are you going now?’

Hannah was silent again for a moment and then, haltingly, she began to explain. And then it all came in a torrent, like the waterfall behind the mill, the words just came flooding out. She told
him everything, finding it strangely easy to talk to a comparative stranger. She told him about her early life, how she had vague memories of a much happier time and then how she and her mother had
gone into the workhouse.

‘I don’t really understand what happened then. I know me gran died – I remember that.’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘I ought to remember more. I was eight when that
happened. I
ought
to remember, but all I can think of is the time in the workhouse.’

‘Why did you end up in the workhouse?’

‘Mam lost her job at the mill.’

‘The mill? What mill?’

‘One of the silk mills in Macclesfield.’ She went on then, describing her life in the workhouse. ‘It was hard, but it was the same for everyone and there was a sort of . . . a
sort of friendliness amongst the inmates.’