The Reckoning (48 page)

‘
Do you know, there is not so much as a single Sunday
school for their children? And the parents as often as not
don't attend a church service from one year's end to the next,'
Albertine added in shocked tones.

Jack did his best to intercept. 'I'm sure Miss Morland ain't
interested in your philanthropist nonsense, Alba – are you,
Miss Morland? It's all such stuff, you know! A young female
wants to dance and enjoy herself, I know. Do you care for
dancing, Miss Morland? You wouldn't want to be about sick
people, I know!'

‘
I visit the poor and sick at home with my mother some
times,' Sophie said, disliking his rough manners and his
bulging eyes. 'But they are our own people, of course. I have
no general mission amongst the needy.'

‘
Ah, but here they will be your people too, many of them,'
Prudence said quickly. 'Hobsbawn Mills employ some four
hundred hands, I believe, and the conditions in which they
live – well, they must be seen to be believed.'

‘
I saw something of it on the way back from the mills on
our first day here,' Sophie said, remembering the squalid
alleys and tenements that had so shocked her.

‘
You've been to the mills?' Prudence said in surprise.
‘There, I told you she was like Fanny,' Agnes said.

‘
I have, but I should not care to go again,' Sophie said.
‘Quite right. That's no place for a lady,' Jack put in eagerly. 'A lady should be –'

‘
I disliked the machines very much. But I am interested in
the plight of the hands. Do tell me more,' Sophie said quickly.

Prudence exchanged a look with Albertine. 'We should be
happy to – and to enlist your support for our little society.
There are too few people willing to commit their time and
energies. Perhaps you would like to come to our meeting
tomorrow, in the Ardwick Hall? And if it would interest you, I
could take you to see some of the conditions for yourself.'

‘
Oh Pm, Miss Morland won't want to go trailing through
those horrible places,' Agnes said. 'She's only here for a short
visit.'

‘
Yes, that's true,' Sophie said, 'but I think I should see for
myself, even if only once, if they are, as you say, our people.'

‘
We'd be delighted to take you,' Prudence said. 'Wouldn't
we, Albertine?'

‘
Yes, of course. This afternoon, if you like. And if you
would care to come to the meeting tomorrow –'

‘
Well, it's no wonder you two never caught yourselves
husbands,' Jack Withington said in disgust, 'the dismal things you do! Don't you go, Miss Morland! It's nothing but dirt and smells and horridness – and philanthropy is a lot of nonsense
anyway. There've always been poor people, and there always
will be. There's nothing anyone can do about it.'

‘
Thank you,' Sophie said to Prudence, ignoring him with
an effort. 'I shall go with you with great pleasure.'

‘Don't count on that,' was Withington's final effort.

*

Héloïse was fully engaged in trying to understand the financial workings of the mills, in gathering opinions as to their
possible future, in replying to invitations, and in trying to arrange a dinner at Hobsbawn House. She was glad, there
fore, that Sophie had found herself an unexceptionable
companion in Miss Pendlebury, and happy to have her enter
tain herself in Miss Pendlebury's company during the
daytime.

She was a little distracted when Sophie asked permission for her outing, or she might have enquired more closely into
the details. As it was she said, 'You want visit the poor? Well,
ma chère,
if it will interest you. But who goes with you?'

‘Miss Pendlebury and Miss Withington.'

‘No older person?'

‘They are both older people, Maman.’

Héloïse smiled at Sophie's idea of age; but when you're
nineteen, twenty-five seems a lifetime away. 'Nevertheless,'
she said, 'it is not what I like, unmarried girls going about
alone together.'

‘
Oh, but they do it all the time, Maman, and it's quite
respectable, I assure you!' Sophie said earnestly. 'They go in
Mrs Pendlebury's carriage, with her coachman and footman
to take care of them, and everyone knows about it, and no-
one objects, because it is philanthropy, you see. You wouldn't
prevent me from visiting the poor at home, would you?’

Héloïse looked at her with curiosity. 'Does it mean so much
to you to go, my Sophie? Well, I would not wish to prevent
you from doing good where you can, but this is Manchester,
not Morland Place, and what is right for Miss Pendlebury
may not be right for you. You shall go, but Alice must go with
you, and stay with you the whole time. Will that suit?'

‘
Yes, Maman. Thank you. And I'll tell you all about it
afterwards.'

‘
Yes,
ma mie,'
Héloïse said distractedly, returning to the
report she had been reading. 'I'm sure you will.’

*

It did not turn out at all the way Sophie expected. To begin
with, she was sure they did not visit the worst places, though
whether that was because of her presence or not she could not
tell. Some of the things they saw were distressing enough, to
be sure, but the streets were nowhere near as bad as those she
had seen from the carriage in the close vicinity of the mills.

The reaction of her companions to the situations they
encountered was very different. Miss Withington's eyes filled
with tears a great deal; she said 'Poor creature' and 'Poor
dear soul' very often, and sighed, and looked grave; and her
advice to the sufferers was usually to read their Bible, say their prayers, and try to attend church more regularly. She
parted with all the small change out of her reticule in various
doles, but she avoided actually touching anyone or anything
in the poor houses they visited.

Miss Pendlebury said a great deal less and never looked in
the least sentimental, but she was much more practical, and
so was her advice. She, too, advocated the Good Book and
regular Communion, but she also had useful information to
give on cleanliness and medical matters, and knew how to
make soup out of almost nothing. Oddly, though, Sophie saw
that Miss Withington was obviously much the better liked of
the two. The poor people appreciated it much more when she
sighed and said of some screaming infant that it was angelic
and the image of its father, than when Miss Pendlebury
pressed its swollen belly and pronounced the colic, and actu
ally produced gripe-water from her basket to dose it with.

Alice plainly disapproved of the whole outing, and
remained as far outside each house they visited as was
possible while still keeping Sophie in her sight. But Sophie reflected that there was nothing she would have to report to
Héloïse of a nature to make her ban further visits, if Sophie
wished to go again.

Sophie was not yet sure on that point. She felt that
they might have been more useful elsewhere, and that she
was being protected from the harsh realities of the mill-
hands' lives; but it was at least better than sitting at home
and sewing all day, and she suspected that was why Miss
Withington associated herself with it. The usual preoccup
ations of unmarried females — clothes and appearances and
dancing-partners — were all very well when there was an
imminent prospect of
getting
married; but when you were too
old, like Miss Withington and Miss Pendlebury, or had had
your heart broken, like Sophie, they lost their savour. Sophie still liked to dance and go to parties, but it was not enough to
fill a life. A useful interest would make the days pass more
quickly.

At last Miss Withington said, 'We ought to take Miss
Morland to the mission, to meet some of the others. It will
give her a better idea of our work, don't you think, Prudence
dear?’

Miss Pendlebury didn't look as though she thoroughly
agreed, but she asked, 'Are you tired, Miss Morland?'

‘
No. Well, perhaps a little. What is this mission you are
speaking of?'

‘
The St Anthony Mission, in Steyne Street. It's where our
Benevolent Society was born, and we have a small meeting-
place there, where our members can collect pamphlets and
ask advice of the missionary in residence, and rest or shelter if
they need to.'

‘
And take tea,' Miss Withington said in a dry voice. 'There
is always a kettle on the hob, you know. Should you not like a
dish of tea, Miss Morland? It has been a hot afternoon, and
you must be very tired.'

‘
Well —'

‘It isn't far from here. Shall we, Prudence?'

‘
Yes, very well,' said Miss Pendlebury, evidently bowing to
the inevitable. 'I suppose Miss Morland ought to see-it.’

Steyne Street was a narrow street in a shabby but respect
able part of town, the sort of area where poor artisans and
printers and 'prentices lived. The carriage stopped in front of
what had once been a shop, but now sported gay dimity
curtains and the words 'St Anthony's Mission' painted in
black and gold across the window. The newly-painted door
was hospitably open, and as they descended from the carriage
a decent-looking woman of the tradesman class came out, and
nodded to them respectfully before walking away down the
street.

‘
One of our worthy helpers,' said Miss Withington. 'We try to interest women of that order in our work. They can be very
useful.' It was she who was taking the lead now, where it had
been Miss Pendlebury who commanded when they were
amongst the paupers. 'This is our little refuge, Miss Morland.
Don't you like it? It used to be such a shabby place, no
comforts at all, but now it is quite a home from home, as
you'll see.’

They went in, and Sophie saw quite quickly. What had
been the main area of the shop had been transformed into a
sort of public parlour, with comfortable chairs and sofas
arranged around the room, and a round table in the centre on
which reposed a bowl of roses and several stacks of pamph
lets. There was a pleasant hum of talk and the tinkle of
spoons against cups, for a number of smartly-dressed ladies of
various ages were sitting about the room chatting and
drinking tea. Now and then a neat woman in an apron came
through from another room at the back, which Sophie
guessed housed a kitchen, bringing more tea and collecting
empty cups.