The Workhouse Girl (10 page)

Grey unwound his muffler and thrust it into her hands. ‘Put it on or you'll freeze.'

She wrapped it around her head and neck. It smelled of the stables and pipe tobacco but it was warm and she managed a smile. ‘Ta, mister. You're a toff.'

He grunted something unintelligible and put his arm around her, pulling her close to his side so that she was sheltered from the worst of the weather. She was tempted to resist, but it was cold and getting colder. She leaned against him, working out her plan of action, but when they did pass through habitation there was no one about. It seemed that they were the only travellers on the road, and that everyone was indoors taking advantage of the holiday to sit round the fire in festive mood. She spotted the occasional farm worker in the fields tending to the livestock, but they were always too far away to be of any help.

Grey stopped several times to allow the horse to drink from a stream or a river, and to make a fresh brew of tea. He produced a cold pie from the back of the cart which they ate at midday, and he gave Sarah an apple. ‘Merry Christmas. I ain't forgotten the day, but there's not much to celebrate. It's all a sham if you ask me.'

Sarah took the piece of fruit. ‘Why is it a sham?'

‘Because it's supposed to be a time for the family.'

She digested this in silence for a moment, but it did not seem to make sense. ‘I don't know what you mean, Grey. I lost my family and that makes me very sad.'

‘Think yourself lucky, kid. Families fall out with each other. They might make a show of everything being all right just for a day, and then it's all over again. Christmas is a nonsense, if you ask me.'

‘Did you fall out with your family? That would be sad too.'

‘I've told you not to ask so many questions. Eat your apple.'

She bit into the firm flesh, chewing thoughtfully. ‘Is that why you haven't got anywhere to go on Christmas Day? Don't you have a home to go to?'

He shot her an exasperated glance. ‘It's none of your business.'

‘I don't think you're as bad as you make out. You've been good to me in your way, and it's not too late for you to take me back to Wellclose Square. You could leave me outside and drive off.'

‘And your master would have the coppers on me before you could blink.'

‘I wouldn't peach on you, Grey. I wouldn't want you to go to prison.'

‘You're goods to be transported, nipper. That's what you are to me; nothing else.' He stared at her for a moment and then turned away. ‘We've got a few more miles to go and it gets dark early this time of year. Get back on the cart.'

They travelled on again, and Sarah lapsed into silence. She knew that it was useless to appeal to his better nature, but she continued to hope that something might happen to make him change his mind. Perhaps Mr Arbuthnot would offer a reward for her return. She would put this to Grey at the first opportunity, but he was deliberately ignoring her and she decided to wait until he was more amenable.

She closed her eyes, and although she was conscious of every rut in the road she must have dozed off, as when she opened them again she noticed a change in the landscape. The flat, wooded countryside had opened out into marshland with a salty tang in the air. Tussocks of reed and grass created small islands surrounded by turgid water, and the mournful cries of seabirds soaring above their heads sent shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with the ice-cold air.

‘We're almost there,' Grey said, pointing to what looked like the ruins of a cottage in the half-light.

‘This is where you're taking me?' Sarah stared at it in dismay. They seemed to be in a wet wilderness miles away from anywhere, and the building appeared to be in a tumbledown state close to dereliction. ‘Take me home, please,' she cried, clutching his arm. ‘Don't leave me in this terrible place.'

He pushed her away. ‘Shut up.' He flicked the whip above the horse's ear and it plodded wearily on along a narrow track until it came to a halt in front of the building. ‘This is it,' he said tersely. ‘Get down.'

She shook her head and clung to the seat. ‘No. I won't. You can't make me.'

He leapt from the cart. ‘There's nowhere to run to, kid. These salt marshes are deadly if you don't know where to put your feet. One false step and you'll be sucked down into the mud and never seen again.' He held out his arms. ‘Don't make me drag you off that seat.'

She realised that it was useless to argue and she allowed him to lift her to the ground. ‘But where is this place? What am I doing here?'

‘It's not for me to say.' He stared at her for a long moment. ‘What a sight you look, kid. Maybe she'll demand her money back.'

‘And you'll take me home?'

‘Maybe, or perhaps I'll sell you in the market. You can't trust me. I'm no good and never will be.' He seized her by the hand and dragged her up the steps onto the wooden platform that ran the width of the building. A thatched lean-to had been added in an attempt to shield the front of the building from the worst of the weather, but it had begun to rain and water dripped through huge gaps where the straw had rotted away. Grey hammered on the door. ‘Ho there, Elsie. Anyone at home?'

Sarah's stomach churned and she felt sick with apprehension. She wanted to run away but Grey's timely warning about the marshland had terrified her, and she slipped her small hand into his. She hoped that no one would come and then he would have to take her away from this dreadful place. She waited, hardly daring to breathe, but just as she thought that her prayers had been answered she heard footsteps and the door opened slowly, grinding on rusty hinges.

‘Who's there?'

‘It's me, Grey. I've brought the goods you ordered.'

A slatternly woman of indeterminable age held up an oil lamp, peering at them through strands of lank auburn hair. ‘Come inside.'

Grey gave Sarah a gentle push and as she stepped over the threshold a dreadful stench caught her at the back of her throat, causing her to retch. He followed her into the dark, evil-smelling interior. ‘Good God, woman. What in the devil's name have you been cooking?'

‘Close the door. You're causing a draught.' She backed towards the rusty range where a cauldron hung above the open fire.

Sarah covered her mouth and nose with her hand. The lines from Shakespeare's
Macbeth
came forcibly to mind. She had seen it being rehearsed by Charles and Ellen Kean, and it had given her nightmares for weeks afterwards. ‘Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble'; never had a quotation seemed more appropriate. The old woman was undoubtedly a witch – there was no other explanation. She huddled closer to Grey. ‘Please take me with you,' she whispered. ‘Don't leave me here.'

‘Not now, nipper. This is Miss Fitch and you're going to be her apprentice.' He moved closer to the woman, who had set the lamp on the table and was attempting to take the cauldron off the heat. ‘That don't smell too good, Elsie.'

She brushed her hair back from her face. ‘Give us a hand, you great lump. It's about to boil over.'

He lifted the pot off the flames. ‘Looks like whatever you're cooking is trying to escape. I hope that's not your supper.'

‘Don't be so cheeky. This is a tried and tested remedy for foot rot.'

‘My feet are fine, I'm glad to say.'

Miss Fitch glared at him, her thin features contorted so that her eyes, nose and lips seemed to form a single feature. ‘It's for sheep, you fool.' She pushed past him and picked up the oil lamp, holding it so that she could examine Sarah from head to toe. ‘So this is my new pupil. She won't do. Take her back – she's too young.'

‘That's your problem, not mine,' Grey said, ramming his hat back on his head. ‘I've done my bit by delivering her, and that'll be ten sovs, as agreed.'

She poked a finger into Sarah's ribs. ‘This girl can't be more than nine or ten years old. I asked for someone older and bigger. She'll not last the winter here.'

‘I'll be ten January.' Sarah gulped and swallowed. ‘But I shouldn't be here, miss. I was taken by force and I want to go home.'

Miss Fitch turned to Grey. ‘So that's it. The child was abducted.'

‘Take it up with Trigg,' he said, shrugging. ‘I paid him and now you pay me. That was the agreement.'

‘I wanted a worker, and you've brought me a child.'

Grey flexed his fingers and was glaring at Miss Fitch, Sarah observed nervously, as though he would like to wring her skinny neck. ‘I've had a long drive and I need to get off these bloody marshes before dark. Now pay up and let me be on my way.'

‘I was wrong to put my trust in that blackguard Trigg.' Miss Fitch squared up to him, seemingly unafraid. ‘Five sovs and we're done.'

‘Seven,' Grey said, holding out his hand.

‘You don't get a penny until you've delivered my stuff.'

Grey raised an eyebrow. ‘And what would that be, Elsie?'

‘Don't play games with me, you reprobate. Hand it over.' She snatched a knife from the table and held it to his throat. ‘If you're trying to extort money from me, Tobias, I swear I'll use this to good effect.'

He produced a small paper package, holding it above her head as she tried to snatch it from him. ‘Let's see the colour of your money first.'

She fished in her pocket and drew out a handful of coins. ‘Seven it is then, you dreadful fellow. Now give it to me.' He passed it to her with a wry quirk to his lips and she dropped the money into his hand. ‘Take it and be off.'

‘No,' Sarah cried, throwing herself at Grey and clinging on for dear life. ‘Don't leave me. I'll die if you leave me here. You heard what the old witch said.'

Miss Fitch let out a shriek of laughter. ‘Witch. Yes, I've been called that and worse, but you've nothing to fear from me, girl. Unless of course you don't do as you're told and then I might well turn you into a toad.'

‘No,' Sarah wailed. ‘Take me with you, Grey.'

He extricated himself from her desperate grasp, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a shake. ‘I can't do anything about it, kid. She might look like a witch but she's a healer. She makes medicines for people and animals. You'll work for her and learn.' He headed for the door but Sarah ran after him, catching him by the coat tails.

‘Take me and sell me in the marketplace if you like. I don't want to be turned into a toad.'

He hesitated, staring down at her, and for a moment she thought that he was weakening, but he shook her off. ‘Think yourself lucky that I didn't do as the Triggs asked and sell you to a whorehouse.'

He wrenched the door open and a gust of cold air almost knocked Sarah off her feet. Seized by panic she tried to run after him but a bony hand grabbed her by the muffler that Grey had wrapped around her neck, and she was jerked backwards with such force that she fell to the floor. ‘Don't leave me,' she gasped. ‘Grey. Come back.'

‘BE QUIET.' MISS
Fitch prodded Sarah with the toe of her boot. ‘I can't stand the sound of caterwauling, which is why I wanted someone older with a bit of sense.'

Sarah loosened the muffler so that she could breathe more easily. ‘You can't keep me locked up, miss. I was taken from my rightful master, Mr Arbuthnot of Wellclose Square.'

‘That's got nothing to do with me. You're here now, bought and paid for, so you'll do as you're told. Get up.'

‘It was the workhouse master who ordered it,' Sarah said, getting slowly to her feet. ‘He's a bad man, miss.'

‘All men are bad, if you ask me.' Miss Fitch folded her arms across her flat chest, giving Sarah a calculating look. ‘Can you read and write?'

‘Yes, miss.'

‘That's something. Have you got a neat hand?'

‘Miss Parfitt seemed to think so.' Sarah's eyes filled with tears at the mention of her idol's name. She would never see her again and Miss Parfitt would forget all about her.

‘Why are you crying? I can't stand babies.'

‘It's Christmas Day and I don't know why I'm here.'

Miss Fitch raised her thin eyebrows. ‘Is it really? I had no idea, but then time matters little out here on the marsh.'

‘I want to go home, miss.'

‘This is your home now, silly child. You will live with me and learn to be an apothecary. If you are quick and bright I can teach you how to heal the sick. Doesn't that appeal to you?'

Sarah shook her head. ‘I want Nettie and Cook and Dorcas.'

‘Stop that now. I won't listen to you drivelling on about what is past and gone. You are here and here you will stay. Tomorrow we will start work, but I can see that you're tired and probably hungry too.' Miss Fitch gazed around the untidy room with a perplexed frown. ‘I can't recall where I put the china bowls.'

Sarah was about to suggest the dresser might be a good place to start, but Miss Fitch had obviously had the same thought. She began to rummage amongst the jumble of items piled one upon the other, tossing notebooks, scraps of paper, quill pens and bunches of dried herbs onto the table until she found two cracked and chipped basins. She filled them from a saucepan that had been simmering on the hob and placed them on the table, pushing one towards Sarah. ‘Sit down and eat.'

‘It's not for foot rot, is it, miss?' Sarah asked nervously, staring at the swirling contents of the bowl. She sniffed, but the smell of the cauldron still lingered in her nostrils and the soup, if that was what it was, did not look much different.

‘It's my own recipe,' Miss Fitch said, hacking a slice from a loaf that she produced from an earthenware crock. ‘It's vegetable broth and it will do you good.' She speared a piece of bread with her knife and flicked it onto the tabletop beside Sarah's plate. ‘You'll feel better with food in your belly.' She took a seat and began to spoon the soup into her mouth. ‘Go on, it won't poison you.'