The Street Orphans Read online

  Before he could protest further, Bellinger called a cab over. A two-man hackney – not a comfortable ride, after consuming copious amounts of brandy. Relief at the journey coming to an end outweighed Frederick’s trepidation as they reached an area of town that he’d never ventured into before.

  Nothing about the place endeared itself to him: an even narrower street than the one he’d left, and the whole area had an overbearing stench clogging the air. So bad was it that he had to take out his kerchief and cover his nose.

  ‘Good God! Where are we? It smells like a sewer.’

  ‘And that’s just what it is. Welcome to Bott Lane. Ha, never was there a more appropriate name than that, my dear fellow, because here the women will lay on their botts for you, and empty what comes out of there into the gutter outside their house.’

  ‘Really, Simon! I haven’t heard you talk like this since we were schoolboys. It doesn’t become you. You must be drunk. You’re disgusting!’

  ‘Telling it how it is, Freddie, M’Lord. Come to think of it, that title does suit you. You have all the stuffiness it implies. You need to undo a button or two and give yourself some space to breathe. Lower your nose a little and have some fun, for goodness’ sake. Come on, this is the place.’

  As they went to step onto the lowest stair of five leading to the front door of the house, the door opened. What he first thought of as ‘a creature’, hunched over a crutch and crying, had him stepping back and almost knocking Simon over.

  ‘Watch out. Hey, get out of the way, cripple! Go and do your crying elsewhere. You—’

  ‘Don’t, Bellinger. Here, Miss, let me help you.’ The moonlight caught in the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen, as the girl looked up at him. Soft strands of long, dark hair brushed his hand as she flung it back, giving him a glimpse of a face that glistened with tears. A perfect face, from the gentle arch of her eyebrows to the slant of her nose, and lips that had the shape of a sweet, soft bow.

  For a moment Frederick held her eyes with his, and as he did so, he became aware of every part of himself, in a way he never had before.

  ‘Let me go. Please, Sir, I ain’t one of them. I were tricked into coming here. I – I have to find me brothers and sisters.’ The girl tried to pull away, apparently desperate not to be taken back inside the house.

  ‘Leave her go, Freddie. She’s scum. Come on, we’ve a task ahead of us – and a very pleasurable one.’

  ‘No, you go ahead. I’ll make sure she’s all right, then I’ll join you.’

  ‘What? Are you mad? Oh well, on your head be it. I have a pressing need that I have to see to. But take care, there are some weird characters around these parts, and she looks like one of them.’

  ‘I’m not—’

  The gentleman who had said he wanted to help her shushed Ruth and helped her down the steps. His kindness didn’t give her the feeling that he was planning on doing what those inside the house were up to.

  ‘Has someone hurt you, Miss?’

  ‘Me name’s Ruth and, naw, I didn’t give them a chance to. I hit out with me crutch, but they had a mind to do things to me. To sell me, to the likes of you and your friend.’

  ‘What are you doing here then? Are you not willing to work here?’

  ‘I—’ Her legs gave way beneath her as she began to answer him. The last step took her weight with a jolt that reverberated through her whole body.

  Strong arms caught hold of her. ‘Oh dear, you’re exhausted. Have you eaten?’

  ‘They fed me last night, but the woman who runs this house said she wanted me more compliant, and then she’d take care of me needs.’

  ‘Stay here, sit on the step for a moment. I saw a pie-man on the corner as we turned into the street. I’ll go and get you one of his pies. You’ll feel better once you’ve had something to eat.’

  ‘Don’t leave me here, Sir. Please. If they see me, they might drag me back in. They were saying as I’d fetch a good price from anyone who had a leaning towards wanting to do stuff with a cripple. They wouldn’t take naw for an answer. This lass brought me here yesterday. She found me sitting on a bench and said as them as run this place would feed me. I just need a little rest, then I have to find me brothers and sisters.’

  ‘Come along then. If I help you, do you think you could get to the end of the street? It’s only a couple of hundred yards.’

  ‘Aye, I could, if you’ve a mind to have me hanging onto your arm on me good side.’

  He didn’t make any objections, and yet it must be something he’d never done before: walking with – let alone touching – a pauper. And a crippled one at that.

  At the end of the street he set her down on the bench she’d sat on earlier and called the pie-man over, giving the man short shrift when he tried to joke as he handed over a pie and pocketed the money given to him: ‘Eeh, having to feed ’em first now, eh? That’s sommat as I’ve not seen afore. I hope she’s worth it.’

  ‘Be off with you, you insolent—’

  ‘I’m going. Keep your hair on and, if I were you, I’d keep your trousers on an’ all. There’s sommat not right with that one.’ With this, he darted away.

  ‘I’m sorry about that, my dear. Now eat up, and then tell me all about your sisters and brothers and why you are looking for them.’

  During Ruth’s telling of her story of the happenings on the Bowland Hills, and how she’d escaped from the asylum they’d thrown her into, he didn’t stop her, but more than once uttered, ‘Oh, my God.’

  Now, at the end of her story, tiredness weakened every bone in her. Pain creased her back and her gammy foot. The tears that had stopped, with the hope that had crept into her as someone with a bit of clout showed her some kindness, now stung her eyes and wet her cheeks.

  The gentleman didn’t speak for an age and, when he did, he asked her if she’d allow him to find her some lodgings for the night and trust him to make enquiries in the morning as to the whereabouts of her family.

  Though she wanted with all her heart to begin searching that moment, Ruth knew it would be fruitless and that she might even be arrested again and thrown back into that place. ‘What if they find me? They must be looking.’

  ‘They won’t look now. I’ll go to the police station, once I have you settled, to make sure. Stay here a moment while I hail one of those cabs over there.’

  Though it frightened Ruth to think of him going to the police, she could do nothing about it. She hadn’t the strength. She hadn’t even enough energy to get up on her own two feet and, when he realized this, he lifted her into his arms.

  Despite her tiredness, as he carried her across to the cab she felt as though she was on a cloud. As if everything that had gone before was of no consequence, and that her life was beginning at this moment. As the cab driver lifted his oil lamp, the light lit up the gentleman’s face. Ruth caught her breath as his eyes locked onto hers. At that moment she felt as if the whole world had melted away, leaving just the two of them.

  7

  Ruth

  Taking Flight

  Sinking into the clean linen sheets that enveloped her in comfort, Ruth felt for a moment that she couldn’t stay in this hostel and would have to get up and out again and look for the young ’uns. But that moment left her, only to hit her in the face when she woke after what seemed not ten minutes, but was in reality hours later, as now it was morning.

  Panic gripped her as she went to sit up and the pain searing her back wouldn’t allow her to. The thought of her siblings, and where they might be, filled her with anxiety.

  The low winter sun shone through the windows. Someone had opened the curtains and Ruth could see, through the haze of thick muslin nets that still shielded the windows, that the room she was in was on the ground floor.

  Looking around her, she took in her surroundings. To her it was a palatial room, with its beautiful polished furniture. There was a chest of drawers in one corner, a huge wardrobe and a washstand on the far wall. The walls were panelled in
wood and matched the floorboards that edged the square carpet, which was patterned in shades of grey and blue with some green and cream. And the bed! Three people could have slept in it, in comfort, it was that big.

  A young girl stood by the bed with a jug of hot water and what seemed like a pile of fluffy towels.

  ‘Here, Miss. I’ve nearly filled your bath.’ She handed Ruth what she could now see wasn’t a pile, but just one towel. The softness of it was alien to her, as always before in her life she had only dried herself on hessian cloth.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Nigh on ten, Miss. The gentleman who brought you here said we weren’t to disturb you until you woke, then we were to lay on a bath for you and give you a hearty breakfast. You must have served him well, lass.’

  ‘I didn’t . . . I—’ Oh, what was the use? Folk would think bad of her, no matter what. She had the young ’uns to think about. ‘Look, Miss, I can’t stay to have breakfast. I have to get on me way.’

  ‘Well, you can’t leave. The gentleman gave strict instructions that you were to be kept here till he came for you, otherwise he’d not pay us our due. He said to tell you not to worry – he’ll have everything sorted when he comes back for you later this morning.’

  Ruth didn’t argue. Something about the gentleman she’d met last night, and who had done all this for her, told her that she could trust his word.

  The thought of a bath appealed. She’d never had a bath – not one where she could lower herself into the hot water. That Lottie had washed her last night, but she hadn’t sat her in the bath, merely sluiced her down, like her ma used to.

  ‘I’ll need a hand, if you’d be kind enough to hold me while I sit, please.’

  The girl hadn’t objected and now, as Ruth lay back in the bath, she thought herself in heaven. Her ma came to mind again and an ache overwhelmed her. Oh, Ma. Ma!

  Swallowing back the tears that threatened, Ruth tried to be strong. Ma would want that of her.

  When she’d told the gentleman about her ma and how they’d brought her body down on the back of the third horse, he’d said he’d make enquiries at the hospital about her and find out what had happened. But Ruth knew she’d no need to wonder. Most likely they’d sent her ma’s body to a pauper’s grave. They didn’t mess about, not when folk like them passed on. They soon had them under the ground, afraid of disease. It wasn’t like that for the toffs. It seemed the toffs weren’t considered diseased. No doubt they’d bring that Earl of Harrogate’s body back and give him a funeral with all the honours.

  Never in her life had Ruth been violent, until that moment when she’d struck him. Trying to protect her siblings had tapped into instincts that she hadn’t known she possessed. She’d killed one man and near killed another, as she felt certain she’d really hurt the guard who’d been on duty in the asylum.

  Her heart weighed heavy with the guilt of what she’d done. Oh God, I didn’t mean to kill that man, I was only trying to look after the young ’uns. Forgive me – forgive me.

  ‘Let’s get you out. There’s some porridge and slices of bread, and some tatties fried off, for you downstairs.’

  The girl’s voice cut into Ruth’s despair. She might think of Ruth as a whore, but she wasn’t treating her like one.

  ‘Ta, lass, I’m grateful for your help.’

  ‘Eeh, God gave you sommat to contend with, with that foot, lass. But then he gave you a face and a figure to set men’s hearts racing, so no doubt you’ll do all right for yourself. And you haven’t made a bad start. An earl, no less. He introduced himself to us as the new Earl of Harrogate! Eeh, I wish I could get meself one of them. Here, lass, here’s your crutch.’

  Her words struck terror into Ruth and her breath caught in her lungs. My God, the new Earl of Harrogate! He must be the younger brother of . . . No, he can’t be! Such coincidences don’t happen, do they? But logic told her that’s exactly who the gentleman who had helped her was, and now the thought came to her that his kindness was a cover – a way of making sure she stayed where he’d put her. Oh no! He’s going to bring the police! I have to get out of here. If she didn’t, she knew she would be sent back to that cell she’d escaped from, and would face further charges of assaulting the guard. She had to escape before the Earl returned. She had to find Seth and George and Amy, and poor little Elsie.

  Forcing herself to speak in a matter-of-fact way, Ruth told the girl, ‘Look, lass, I’m reet now. I’ll get meself dressed and come through in a mo.’

  ‘Right-o. Just come along the corridor, pass the bottom of the stairs and go through the first door on the left. That’s the saloon where we serve breakfast.’

  As soon as the girl had gone, Ruth hobbled over to the bed where her clothes were laid out. Her back hindered her, as it was stiff with pain. It took an age to get on the silk pantaloons that she had been given by that woman at the whorehouse. And she was all thumbs when it came to her corset. She’d insisted that they let her keep her corset – a garment her ma had bought her from a passing peddler. It had taken everything her ma had in the pot for a rainy day, but Ma had an idea that it would help to support Ruth’s back, keep it from bending over too much and ease the pain she experienced. Ma had been right. Life had changed quite a lot, once she began to wear the stiff-boned garment. Ma had said it was worth the struggle – and the going without – to get it for her. Ruth couldn’t think of not wearing it.

  Becoming anxious, as dressing seemed to be taking forever, Ruth caught her boot in the hem of the long grey skirt of the dress, which showed more than a bit of her bosom. A jagged tear ripped through the material. Fighting back the urge to cry took all the effort Ruth could muster, but this silly incident undid her. By the time she’d wrapped herself in her own shawl and reached the window, the brimming tears had misted her view.

  The quiet of the place unnerved her as she looked at the sash window. She knew she wouldn’t be able to open it without making a lot of noise. Holding onto the window-frame, she used her crutch to knock the catch until it was free.

  The sound of the window sliding up had her holding her breath. Thank goodness the sill was low. She’d throw her crutch out first, then sit on the sill and twist her body until her feet were dangling outside. The drop was only a few feet, but it might as well be twenty feet to her. She’d try to land on her good foot. Slither, rather than jump.

  For a moment when she landed, Ruth sat on the grass. Her fists and teeth clenched against the agony the drop had caused her. Wiping her tears on the back of her hand did no good, as more followed them. They ran down her face, compounding her despair. Where would she go? How should she set about finding the others without going to the police? It was hopeless.

  Cold seeped into her, freezing her to her very soul. She’d have to move.

  Crying out against the pain, she managed to get to her feet. Her armpit, which was still sore, felt bruised as she leaned on her crutch. It took everything Ruth had within her to reach the road. But which way to go? The sign pointed to Clitheroe one way and Darwen the other. In that moment it came to her that her quest to find the others was too dangerous and hopeless a task. The guard had taunted her with the prospect of her going to the gallows. Well, now it would be a certainty, after what she’d done to him. What use would she be to the young ’uns then? What use could she ever be, if it came to that? Even if she found out they weren’t in prison, but in some orphanage, there was nothing she could do. Nothing!

  Whatever she tried would only expose her to recapture. Better that she found help somewhere away from here.

  Her thoughts turned to Whalley Bradstone, the local butcher back in Pradley. He’d shown an interest in her. He’d even asked Da if he could take her, but Da hadn’t wanted her to go. He’d worried that she’d become a lackey, as Whalley was known to be looking for someone to take the place of his ma. She had a few-score years under her belt, and some said she were in her nineties, but still Whalley kept her working and complained that she was too slow, despite
her chopping meat and cooking and cleaning from dawn to dusk.

  Ruth had been grateful to her da, but now – as she saw it – Whalley was her best bet, as she had no idea where her ma’s cousin lived. She hadn’t thought to look for her ma’s purse when they’d lifted her onto that horse; it was likely the address would have been in it. And none of their possessions had been offered back to them, when that policeman took them from the house where they had sought help. So now she knew no one else in the world who might take her in, other than Whalley. Most folk she’d ever known shunned her or cringed from her, and besides, she could keep making discreet enquiries about the young ’uns if she went to Whalley. She’d make it a condition that he help her. She knew Whalley often took a cart to Blackburn with his wares and brought back livestock. She would make it clear to him that no one in authority must be made aware that it was Ruth who wanted to know. He’d have to say that he worried after their welfare, after hearing about an accident they’d been involved in. And he’d have to agree to take the young ’uns in, an’ all, if she could get them back. This thought didn’t worry her, as she knew Whalley would be willing. He’d see them as free labour.

  A small element of hope entered Ruth. Even though the thought of being with Whalley – a fat man three times her age – repulsed her, and the idea of going to his bed made her feel sick, at least she’d have shelter and warmth and food, and the possibility of getting the young ’uns back. And she knew that Whalley wouldn’t let those who would do any harm to her get anywhere near her. He’d shown that in the past. There was once a time when a gang of lads were following her. Their name-calling had hurt her, just as much as their stone-throwing. Whalley had chased them off with a meat cleaver, and they hadn’t bothered Ruth for a while. He’d see she was left alone to live in peace.