The Workhouse Girl (21 page)

‘Don't make a scene, kid. Can't you see that they're upset enough?'

‘And I am too. Mr Arbuthnot was like a father to me, but I've been away from here for a long time. I've led a different life and I don't belong here any more. I want to go home.'

‘You can't go back to the village, Sarah. Where would you live? And how would you support yourself?'

‘I could stay with Davey and the children. They need me.'

‘That wouldn't do. Davey Hawkes is a man now, not a boy. It wouldn't be right for you to live with him in that tiny cottage.'

She recoiled as if he had slapped her face. ‘That's a horrible thing to say.'

‘It's only what everyone in the village would think, and you wouldn't be able to work at the school.'

‘But that's silly.'

‘Is it?' He cupped her cheek in his hand, shaking his head. ‘Think about it, Sarah. Grow up and see the world for what it is.' He snatched his hat off the hall table where he had left it and rammed it on his head. ‘I'll sort out the funeral arrangements and let you know when it will be. Ladies do not usually attend an interment, but if you really want to say goodbye to Elsie I'm willing to take you.'

‘Yes, please,' Sarah said, struggling with the overwhelming desire to sob on his shoulder. ‘I want to be there.'

‘All right, but you must stay here in the meantime, and for heaven's sake keep an eye out for Trigg. He's bound to hear that his old enemy has died, but I don't think he'll let matters rest there.'

‘I know, but I'm not scared of him when I'm with you. Please take me with you.' She would have followed him into the street but Nettie had come up behind her and she grabbed her round the waist.

‘Let him go, Sarah.'

‘He lives in a pigsty when he's on his own. He needs someone to look after him.'

‘That's his choice, ducky. He's a grown man and a good-looker too. I reckon he could have any woman he pleased, if he put his mind to it.'

‘I don't think of him in that way.'

‘Come off it, Sarah Scrase. You're a female, ain't you?' Nettie closed the door and leaned against it, grinning widely. ‘I bet you fancy him just as much as I do.'

‘That's not true.'

‘Liar. You're kidding yourself, my girl. But it doesn't make much difference in my opinion, because your Tobias has only got eyes for a certain Miss Perfect, and who's to blame him?'

‘Do you think so?'

Nettie tapped the side of her nose. ‘I know so. I been around much more than you, my little country mouse. I've had a few admirers and I seen the way they look at a girl when they're smitten. Tobias will be back before you know it, even if he only comes on the off chance of seeing our dear Pearl.'

Sarah shook her head. ‘I don't know what's happening to me, Nettie. Everything was going along so well, apart from Mr Wills giving me funny looks and dropping hints, but now everything's changed. I don't know what to do for the best.'

‘It's not as if you've got a lot of choice. You can come with me and hope the girls don't scratch your eyes out for being prettier than them, or you can stay here and help Mrs Arbuthnot keep a roof over her head. It's up to you.' She grabbed her bonnet. ‘As for me, I'm going to share a cab back to Wych Street with your man. Never let it be said that Nettie Bean let an opportunity slip through her fingers.' She wrenched the front door open and ran outside, slamming it behind her.

 

Sarah had little choice other than to remain in Wellclose Square at least until Elsie's funeral, but it was a house in deep mourning. All the clocks had been stopped at the time of Mr Arbuthnot's passing; the curtains were drawn and the mirrors covered with black cloth.

Franz Beckman had paid them a visit the moment he heard the news of his former employer's demise and was ready to help in any way he could, which Dorcas said was a gift from God as she could not shift furniture and it was muscle they needed now and not sympathy. At Mrs Arbuthnot's request Franz and a couple of his fellow sugar bakers had carried the coffin downstairs and placed it on a bier in the parlour. A constant stream of people came to pay their last respects and well-wishers left little notes of sympathy for the bereaved widow. Sarah placed them on a salver in the entrance hall, but Mrs Arbuthnot was too upset to look at them and spent much of her time in her darkened room.

On her first night back in Wellclose Square Sarah was given her old bed but she now shared the room with Dorcas. The commercial travellers occupied all the other bedrooms and that evening they took their supper in the dining room, eating their meal in respectful silence. Sarah helped to serve them and to clear the table when they had finished, but everything seemed strange and she was missing Elsie more than she had thought possible. Her thoughts kept returning to the village and she wondered how Davey and the children were getting on without her. She doubted whether Mary would be able to cope with the twins without her help. Lemuel and Jonah were nine-year-olds with minds of their own and were quite a handful. Sarah went to sleep that night listening to Dorcas snoring and thinking about the little family she had left behind.

Next morning she helped serve breakfast and one of the older gentlemen gave her a threepenny bit as a tip when he left, saying that he would look forward to staying in Wellclose Square on his next trip to London. Some of the commercial travellers would be returning that night, but Dorcas said that most of them would be moving on to other towns and cities. It seemed a callous disregard for Mrs Arbuthnot's feelings to take strangers into the house with the funeral only a couple of days away, but when Sarah mentioned her misgivings to Dorcas her immediate reaction was to shrug her thin shoulders. ‘The money from the paying guests will keep a roof over our heads, Sarah. We've got to be practical,' she said firmly.

Below stairs they tried to maintain their normal routine but a pall of sadness hung over the house. Pearl came every day after school, sometimes accompanied by Franz, or he would appear soon after she arrived, and Sarah realised that this was no coincidence. Cook confirmed her suspicions that the sugar baker was sweet on Miss Parfitt, even though she gave him little encouragement. According to Mrs Burgess it was Dorcas who had a fondness for Franz and she had recently given poor Wally his marching orders. Cook was openly critical of the way in which Dorcas had treated her faithful swain, but Dorcas was unrepentant.

‘One day Franz will open his eyes and see that Miss Perfect don't fancy him,' she said in answer to Cook's criticism. ‘He's the man for me and I don't care who knows it.'

‘Well he's not interested in you, my girl.' Cook folded her lips into a tight line, which was a sure indication that she disapproved of such talk.

Sarah kept out of the argument, not wanting to take sides. She did not know whom to pity the most in this tangle of hearts, but she would not allow anyone to criticise Miss Parfitt who did not go out of her way to attract the attentions of the lovelorn master sugar baker other than by being her gentle, sweet-natured self. If there was anyone whom Sarah would like to emulate it was Pearl, but she knew she would never be as clever or as beautiful as her idol.

In the days that followed Mrs Arbuthnot insisted on sleeping in the four-poster that she and her late husband had occupied, even though Dorcas suggested that they might rent the room to paying guests. Sophia Arbuthnot replied tearfully that she could not bear to have strangers occupying the bed where her husband had breathed his last, and she refused to have the sheets changed declaring that the scent of him lingered and she would not have it washed away.

On the morning of the funeral Dorcas and Cook were becoming even more concerned for Mrs Arbuthnot's state of mind. ‘Some widows go off their heads with grief,' Dorcas said when they were enjoying a cup of tea in the kitchen after the lodgers had finished breakfast and left for work.

‘Some have been known to turn their faces to the wall and die of a broken heart,' Cook added gloomily.

Betty covered her face with her apron and started to wail.

‘Stop that, you silly girl,' Cook said crossly. ‘Do you want me to take the wooden spoon to you, Betty?'

Sarah had been sitting quietly at the table but she leapt to her feet and went over to console Betty. ‘Don't shout at her,' she cried angrily. ‘She's upset.'

‘So are we all.' Dorcas rose to her feet. ‘I'm going upstairs to see if the mistress is ready. She insists on going to the funeral even though the doctor has advised her against it.' She cast a deprecating glance at Betty as she mounted the stairs. ‘Stop her making that noise, Sarah. We don't want the mistress to hear.'

Sarah put her arms around Betty and rocked her like a baby.

Cook poured more tea into her cup. ‘I dunno,' she muttered. ‘A three-pound funeral is not the way to send off an important man like the master. I remember funerals where there were four or even six black horses pulling the hearse, which was glass-sided to show off the oak coffin draped in crimson velvet. There'd be attendants with silk hat bands, dozens of followers and at least two mutes. Those were the days.'

Sarah wiped Betty's eyes with a corner of her apron. ‘Would you like a biscuit and a glass of warm milk?'

Betty nodded wordlessly as she tried to control her sobs.

Cook looked up at the board above the door as one of the bells jangled on its spring. ‘Oh Lord. It's the front door. Dorcas can't answer it; you'd best go, Sarah. It's probably Miss Pearl, or it might even be the undertaker with the hearse and mourning coach, and none of us quite ready, for I won't let the mistress go on her own.'

Sarah gave Betty a biscuit, and satisfied that this had had the desired effect she hurried up the narrow staircase to the entrance hall. She straightened her mobcap and went to open the door, but it was not the undertaker who stood on the front step. Her hand flew to her mouth in dismay.

‘
I HAD A
feeling I might find you here, girlie.' Trigg put his foot over the threshold as she attempted to slam the door. ‘Now that ain't friendly, is it, my dear?' His grey eyes glittered like chips of ice as he pushed past her.

‘Get out,' Sarah shouted, quite forgetting that she was in a house of mourning where no one spoke above a whisper. ‘The master is being buried today. Show some respect.'

He stopped, looking around with a critical eye. ‘Hmm, not bad in its way, but a bit old-fashioned.'

‘Get out of here now, or I'll run to the watch house and fetch a constable. You can't walk in as if you own the place.'

‘But I do, girlie. Go if you want, but the law is on my side.'

Sarah tugged at his sleeve. ‘I'm asking you nicely, please leave. Mrs Arbuthnot has enough to bear on a day like today.'

‘What is all this commotion?' Mrs Arbuthnot appeared at the top of the stairs, a wraithlike figure in widow's weeds. She descended slowly, and her heavy crepe veil billowed around her like a black sail taking up the wind. ‘What is this man doing in my house, Sarah?'

‘It's my house now, lady,' Trigg said with a triumphant smile. ‘All mine.'

Sarah ran to the foot of the stairs. ‘Let me go for the constable, ma'am. I'll have him arrested for breaking and entering.'

Trigg threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘That's a good 'un, girlie. For a start I walked in without touching nothing other than the lion's head doorknocker, and second, I own this drum.'

Mrs Arbuthnot swayed on her feet. ‘What is he saying, Sarah?' She tottered down the last two steps and Sarah helped her to a chair.

‘Sit down, ma'am. I'll go for help.'

‘Stay where you are.' Trigg's false smile was replaced by a snarl. ‘I'll deal with you later, Sal Scratch. This is between me and the woman.' He moved closer, bending over Mrs Arbuthnot. ‘I bought the lease on this property and now I own it.'

‘But my husband purchased the house when we married.'

‘And he mortgaged when he needed to rebuild the mill, but the venture failed miserably, leaving him even further in debt.'

Mrs Arbuthnot raised a trembling hand to her forehead. ‘I – I don't know anything about that.'

‘Leave her alone, you brute,' Sarah cried, beating him with her clenched fists.

He threw her to the ground. ‘That's for a start, girl. Cross me again and see what you'll get. It won't be pretty.'

‘Leave my house, you dreadful man.' Mrs Arbuthnot rose to her feet. ‘I won't have this abominable behaviour under my roof.'

He raised his hand as if to slap her, and then seemed to think better of it as he dropped it to his side with a hoarse chuckle. ‘You've got a bit of spirit, woman, but it won't do you no good. Like I said before, the law is on my side and I want you out of here by the end of the week. I can't say fairer than that.' He shot a scornful glance at Sarah as she scrambled to her feet. ‘You haven't seen the last of me. I'll have you, girl. One way or another you'll repay me for all the trouble you've caused me.'

‘You're a wicked man and I'm not afraid to tell you so to your face.' Sarah turned to Mrs Arbuthnot who had collapsed onto the chair, burying her face in her hands as sobs racked her body. ‘Don't upset yourself, ma'am.'

Dorcas burst through the green baize door brandishing a broomstick. ‘We heard shouting from below stairs. What's he done to you, missis?'

Trigg lunged at her, snatched the broom and snapped it in two over his knee as if it were a twig. ‘I've changed me mind,' he said, curling his lip. ‘I don't want a pack of screeching women in my house. However, I'm a reasonable man and I'll allow you to stay until tomorrow, but I want you out of here by noon, otherwise I'll send the bailiffs in and have you evicted. Let's see how you like living on the street.' He marched towards the front door, opening it to find Franz about to raise the doorknocker. ‘They're all yours, sugar baker.'