The Workhouse Girl (22 page)

Franz stood aside with a bemused look on his face. ‘Was that the workhouse master?'

Dorcas had been fanning Mrs Arbuthnot with her apron but she stopped the moment she saw Franz and ran to him. ‘It was Trigg, and a real brute he is too. He terrified us poor women and we had no one to protect us until you arrived on the doorstep like a knight in shining armour.'

He did not seem to notice her as his attention was fixed on Mrs Arbuthnot. ‘What did that man want? What has he been saying to upset you, ma'am?'

Mrs Arbuthnot's head lolled to one side and Dorcas uttered a shriek. ‘He's killed her, that's what he's done.'

Sarah felt for a pulse as Elsie had shown her many times. ‘It's all right, she's just fainted. It's that terrible man Trigg's doing. He's turning us out of the house, Mr Beckman. He says he's bought it and we must all leave by midday tomorrow.'

‘The bastard!' Franz flushed to the roots of his hair. ‘Begging your pardon, ladies. But it's hard to believe anyone could treat a grieving widow in such a manner.'

Dorcas flashed him a smile. ‘I like a proper gent, and that's what you are, Franz.'

‘Thank you, Miss Dorcas, but I don't like to see women bullied by the likes of him.'

Mrs Arbuthnot moaned and her eyelids fluttered. ‘Has he gone?'

Sarah held her hand. ‘Yes, ma'am.'

‘The carriage will be here soon. I must be ready.' She attempted to rise but Dorcas restrained her with a gentle hand. ‘Stay there for a moment, missis. We'll let you know when it arrives.' She turned to Sarah. ‘Keep an eye on her and I'll fetch a tot of brandy. The poor thing needs something to revive her.'

Franz backed towards the doorway. ‘I'll go outside and wait for the undertaker. Miss Pearl will be here soon; she'll know what to do.'

‘I don't need no schoolmistress to tell me my duty, thank you, Mr Beckman.' Dorcas marched off with an indignant twitch of her shoulders.

‘What did I say?' Franz asked, frowning.

‘Nothing,' Sarah said hastily. ‘We're all upset. I just wish that Grey were here. He'd know what to do about Mr Trigg.'

Franz shook his head. ‘This is a bad day. Frau Arbuthnot should not go to the funeral. She should be looked after in her home and allowed to grieve in peace. That man has no right to throw her out on the streets.'

‘No,' Sarah said sadly. ‘He's a brute. It's all wrong and it's my fault. If Mr Arbuthnot hadn't taken pity on me all those years ago none of this would have happened. He might still be alive and you'd have your job at the sugar mill. Perhaps I am the devil's daughter after all.'

The church of St George in the East was packed with mourners who filed silently into the churchyard for the interment, and stood with heads bowed as James Arbuthnot's coffin was lowered into the ground. Mrs Arbuthnot had maintained a dignified presence throughout but as the handfuls of earth were scattered onto the coffin she collapsed in tears and Franz carried her to the waiting carriage. Sarah and Dorcas had accompanied her, leaving Mrs Burgess, Pearl and Betty at home to prepare the funeral feast. The remaining gentlemen lodgers had contributed generously to the cost of the food, and to a man had expressed their regret on losing their accommodation in such a fine house.

Sarah glanced anxiously at the faces in the crowd as she and Dorcas followed Franz out of the cemetery. She could not understand why Grey had not contacted her as he had promised. It was almost a week since Elsie died but there had been no word from him. She was about to follow Dorcas into the funeral carriage when she spotted Trigg standing on the pavement a little way from the church gates. Anger banished fear and she strode up to him. ‘Are you satisfied? Can't you see how the poor lady is suffering?'

He shrugged his shoulders and bared his rotten teeth in a grin. ‘I don't know the meaning of the word pity. No one helped me and the missis when we was cast out onto the streets. Let's see how you and the widow like it.'

‘You won't win. We'll manage somehow.'

‘Well don't expect your fancy man to save you this time, girlie.' Trigg was about to walk away but she caught him by the sleeve.

‘What do you mean? What have you done to him?'

‘I done nothing. The law caught up with him at last and he's in Whitecross Street prison.'

‘In prison.'

‘That's right, sweetheart.'

‘But isn't that the debtors' jail?'

‘Right again.'

‘He paid you what he owed.'

‘Can you prove that, girlie?'

The breath seemed to have been sucked from her lungs. She stared at him in horror. ‘Why? Why would you do that to him?'

‘Because it pleases me to see him suffer. He'll be an old man by the time he gets out, unless someone can stump up the reddy, and that won't be Mr Arbuthnot or his widow. He's dead and she's headed for the workhouse, as are you, girlie. Without Tobias Grey and his family to protect you, that's where you'll end up, and one of these days you're going to come crawling to me on your bended knees, begging me to take you in. I look forward to that, Sal Scratch. If you think you've been in hell, you ain't seen nothing yet.' He turned away and strolled off, whistling a popular tune.

Sarah could not move. Her feet seemed to be glued to the pavement and her limbs were too heavy to move. She did not want to believe it, but she knew in her heart that Trigg was telling the truth. He had plotted their downfall and now it was complete.

‘Hey, Sarah. Come on. We're waiting for you.' Dorcas stuck her head out of the carriage window, beckoning furiously.

As if the weather had taken a turn to add to the gloom of a funeral, it had begun to rain. Runnels of inky water traced the outline of her fingers and fell like dark tears onto the paving stones as the black dye leached from the gown that Nettie had given her. Her best bonnet had suffered the same fate and she could feel rainwater dripping from the brim to trickle down her cheeks, but a ruined outfit was the least of her worries as Trigg's harsh words came back to her. ‘The law caught up with him and he's in Whitecross Street prison.' But it was nothing to do with justice, she thought bitterly. This was revenge, pure and simple. Trigg had lied, and she had not a shred of proof that he had received Elsie's money in payment of the debt.

Dorcas leapt out of the carriage and ran to her side. ‘What's up? Why are you standing in the rain like a booby? Your face is all streaky and you look like a chimney sweep. I'd split me sides laughing if it was at any other time.'

Sarah clutched her hand. ‘Didn't you see Trigg? He came here to gloat.'

‘All the more reason to get in the carriage and go home.'

‘But it isn't our home now, Dorcas. We've only got until morning and then we must leave. We'll be homeless, and even worse, that dreadful creature has lied to the police and told them that Grey still owes him money. He's in prison and I don't know what to do.'

‘That's not our problem, love.' Dorcas squeezed her fingers. ‘C'mon. We're both getting soaked and the dye is running something chronic.'

Sarah snatched her hand free. ‘You go. I'll come later but I've got to try and help Grey. I'm going to see his uncle in Spital Square. Maybe I can persuade him to pay the debt.'

‘It's not your business. Being homeless is your business, Sarah.'

‘And Grey is the only one who might be able to help us find somewhere to live. Who else is there?'

Dorcas threw up her hands. ‘It's a wild goose chase if you ask me, but I can see that your mind is set on it.'

‘I must do this, but I'll come home as soon as it's done.'

‘Go on then, and good luck. You'll need it.' Dorcas turned on her heel and raced back to the carriage.

Doing her best to ignore the downpour and the amused glances from passers-by, Sarah started walking in the direction of Spital Square.

It was late morning by the time she arrived at her destination. She was soaked to the skin but she barely noticed the discomfort. She rang the bell and waited anxiously.

The door opened and a male servant gave her a cursory glance. ‘Tradesmen's entrance.' He was about to close it again but using her last spurt of energy she sprang forward, throwing her weight against it. The footman staggered backwards into the entrance hall. ‘Hey, what d'you think you're a-doing of, miss? This is a respectable house.'

‘I want to see Mr Fitch,' Sarah said boldly. ‘It's an urgent family matter so don't waste time arguing with me.'

He blinked several times, opening and closing his mouth as if at a loss for words. Sarah pushed home her advantage. ‘Please tell him that Miss Sarah Scrase is here and it's very important that I speak to him about his nephew, Mr Tobias Grey. You might as well do as I say, because I'm not leaving without seeing him.'

‘Wait here.' He pointed to a carved oak hall chair. ‘Sit down and don't move.' He walked off, leaving her alone in the entrance hall that had been designed to impress. She had barely noticed her surroundings during her last visit to the house and it was only now that she realised that the Fitch family must be extremely wealthy. She gazed in awe at the ornate plasterwork on the cornices and the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Even on such a dull day their dancing prisms reflected the light from tall windows draped with velvet curtains. The scent of the beeswax and lavender polish that some poor little slavey had lavished on the rosewood hall tables mingled with the perfume of hothouse flowers spilling from strategically placed urns and vases. Surely Grey's uncle would not begrudge the comparatively small amount that would settle the debt when he had all this?

The footman reappeared, making her jump. ‘Mr Fitch is busy, miss. He can't see you today.'

‘Can he not?' She leapt to her feet. ‘We'll see about that.' She dodged his attempt to stop her and despite his protests she burst into the reception room to find George Fitch deep in conversation with a grey-haired gentleman. ‘What's going on, Dobson?' George demanded angrily. ‘I told you that Mr Moorcroft and I had business to discuss and we weren't to be disturbed.'

The footman cleared his throat nervously. ‘I'm sorry, sir. I told the young person that you did not wish to see her, but she wouldn't take no for an answer.'

‘So I see.' George glared at Sarah. ‘What is the meaning of this outrageous behaviour?'

‘I'm sorry, sir,' Sarah said breathlessly. ‘But I had to speak to you. It's a matter of life and death.'

‘Perhaps I'd better leave you to sort this out.' Mr Moorcroft rose from his seat. ‘We can continue this at a more convenient time.'

‘Sit down, Martin. You're here now so we might as well continue.' George dismissed the footman with a wave of his hand. ‘I'll handle this, Dobson.' He waited until the door closed before turning to Sarah with an ominous frown. ‘You have one minute to state your case.'

Sarah clasped her hands tightly behind her back. She was shaking inwardly but she was not going to let it show. She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. ‘Your nephew, Tobias, has been falsely accused of owing money to a man who is a villain. It's not true. I know that Grey paid Trigg and it's a pack of lies, but he's in Whitecross Street debtors' jail and he needs your help, sir.'

George subsided onto his chair. ‘This is nothing new. Tobias has been in trouble ever since he ran away from home at the age of thirteen.'

Moorcroft stared at him in obvious surprise. ‘Surely you don't mean to let him languish in prison?'

‘Maybe it's what he needs to bring him to his senses, Martin. He has a wild streak as did poor Elsie, and look where it led her.'

‘Your sister was a sad case, but you're a rich man, George. Couldn't you do something for the unfortunate young fellow?'

‘Please listen to the gentleman, sir,' Sarah cried passionately. ‘Grey doesn't deserve to be locked up in that dreadful place.'

Moorcroft's serious expression softened into something like a smile. ‘He has a good advocate in this young woman.'

‘Tobias has always had a way with females, especially young and naïve girls like this creature.' George leaned towards Sarah, his brows drawn into a frown. ‘You have said your piece and the answer is no.'

‘Please . . .'

‘I said no, and I meant no. Tobias got himself mixed up with criminals and it is up to him to pay the price. Now go away and don't bother me again. You're nearer to the bell pull than I am, Martin. Will you please ring for Dobson?'

Moorcroft rose from his seat. ‘I'm leaving now myself, but there is still the business of Elsie's will. My brother sent it to you, I believe.'

‘I haven't had a chance to look at it yet,' George said vaguely. ‘It's here somewhere and I'll examine it in my own time.'

‘Very well, but it's just possible she might have left something to her nephew which would help him now. We can find our own way out. Don't bother Dobson.'

‘I don't pay the servants' wages so that my lawyer can do their work for them. Ring the bell for Dobson, Martin.'

‘It's really not necessary. I have to be in court at three o'clock and I need to call in at my office on the way.' Moorcroft beckoned to Sarah. ‘Come along. I'll see you safely off the premises.'

There seemed to be no option other than to follow him. Sarah shot a wary glance at George Fitch as she left the room, but his features seemed to have turned to stone and she realised that nothing she could say would move him.

Dobson was standing stiffly to attention outside the door but he leapt into action and snatched Moorcroft's hat and cane from a side table.

‘Thank you, Dobson.' Moorcroft accepted them with a nod of his head. ‘I'd be obliged if you'd summon a cab.' He turned to Sarah with a sympathetic smile. ‘You're very wet, my dear. You must allow me to see you safely home.'