The Doorstep Girls Read online

  ‘Probably for ’same reason as we do,’ she teased. She was becoming much bolder now that she realized just how passionate he was about her.

  ‘That’s as maybe,’ he said brusquely. ‘But I don’t want to take the risk.’

  She looked down at him. She knew that she made a pretty picture with her flushed cheeks and tousled hair. ‘So where shall we meet?’

  He sat up beside her and placed his hands around her face. ‘I’m taking a suite of rooms in Wright Street. There will be a woman to take care of the fires and the cleaning, and the shopping if you wish, and we shall be quite, quite private, with no-one to disturb us.’

  ‘A set of rooms!’ She was astounded. ‘Where we shall live?’

  ‘Where you will live, my darling. And where I can visit at any time.’

  Her face dropped. ‘You mean – for me to live on my own?’

  He gave a sudden grin. ‘You didn’t think that I would live there too?’

  ‘Well.’ She was deflated. ‘I hadn’t thought that I would live by myself! I’ve never lived on my own.’

  ‘But you won’t be alone very often.’ He became tender and stroked her throat and naked breasts. ‘It will mean that I shall be able to come at any time when I’m free. I can come in a morning before I go to the mill, or slip out during the day. Or in the evening before – before I go home. We won’t have to book a room in advance as we do now. You must come and look at the rooms. You will be delighted, I know.’

  ‘You’ve chosen them already?’ I’ve no say in the matter, she thought. I’m a kept woman. A mistress. And in spite of the money which she now had and the food which she ate in abundance, she didn’t know why she felt a sudden lowness of spirits.

  ‘Indeed I have. I’ll show them to you on Monday, and you can collect your things and move in.’

  Collect my things and move in, she pondered, as later that night she opened the door to their room in Middle Court, and saw her mother snoring on the mattress. What things? I have nothing! Only the clothes that I’m wearing. I have to think this over. What do I do about Ma? Can she live by herself? I haven’t told Edward about her. Not that he would want to know, or care!

  She took off her boots and lay down on the mattress beside her mother. Not once has he asked me if I have a family, a mother or father, brothers or sisters. Not once has he mentioned Grace, though he knew that we were always together and he must realize that she was finished at the mill. It seems that he is interested in nothing but his own pleasure.

  But then that is what he is paying me for, and he pays me well, she considered. I’ve paid the rent. I’ve paid Jamie what I owed him. Not that he was very pleased. Jamie had been downright aggressive when she had handed over the money she had borrowed, and accused her of going behind his back and making her own arrangements with the man he had procured for her. She had denied it, but worried since, in case he should catch her in the lie.

  At least if I’m living in Wright Street, which is not in Jamie’s territory, he’s not likely to find me out.

  Wright Street was a better area than that in which she lived. It was close by the General Infirmary, the affluent Albion Street, and in proximity to the Public Rooms in Jarratt Street where surgeons, doctors and philosophers met for discussions and lectures. There were rooming houses in Wright Street where visiting lecturers and artists stayed, but it was also an area where businessmen and their families lived.

  Ruby sighed and pulled the blanket over her head. She hadn’t undressed, for the simple reason that she couldn’t reach the buttons on the back of her gown. I’ll worry about everything in ’morning, she thought sleepily, and tucked her hand under her cheek.

  ‘I can’t live on my own, Ruby,’ her mother whined when she told her the next morning. ‘How can I?’

  ‘Then I won’t go,’ Ruby declared. ‘I’ll tell him I’ve to give him up. I’m not that bothered.’

  Bessie was silenced. Then she asked, ‘But what about my loddy? And my dinner?’

  Ruby shrugged. ‘It’s one or ’other, Ma. You decide!’

  ‘I’ll have a think on it.’ Bessie hunched herself on the mattress and sat silently. ‘It’d be nice to have a chair to sit on, ’stead of mattress, now that we’ve got a fire,’ she said, after a few minutes.

  ‘But we won’t have a fire, Ma,’ Ruby said gloomily. ‘Not if I give up my gentleman.’ She had always been careful not to give Edward Newmarch’s name to her mother, who would most certainly have dropped it into conversation with her cronies when she was in her cups.

  ‘No fire?’ She stared at Ruby. ‘So does that mean no hot pie for dinner?’

  Ruby nodded. ‘It means we shall be just as we were afore, Ma.’

  ‘No loddy and no dinner?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Then I’ll just have to manage ’best I can, Ruby.’ Bessie sighed and put on a brave martyr’s face. ‘I can’t have you giving up so much on my account. You’ll come and see me, won’t you?’

  ‘Course I will. Every day. I’ll bring you a hot dinner and—’

  ‘And my loddy,’ Bessie interrupted, her eyes bright and eager. ‘Don’t forget that.’

  ‘I won’t forget,’ Ruby said wearily. ‘I’ll go to see Mr Cooke and pay for a regular dose.’

  She arranged with Mr Cooke the apothecary to provide her mother with a daily dose of laudanum. One small bottle to last her all day. ‘I can’t make her take it a teaspoon at a time, Ruby,’ he said. ‘There are five hundred drops in this bottle, equivalent to five teaspoons or twenty grains of opium. If your mother chooses to take it all at once there’s nothing I can do about it.’

  ‘Just as long as you don’t give her any more than that,’ Ruby implored. ‘She’ll give you all kinds of reasons why she should have extra.’

  He shrugged resignedly and Ruby paid him for a week’s supply. She bought a sack of coal and some firewood and a small bag of potatoes in the hope that her mother might see fit to bake them in the hot coals, and she bought a second-hand blanket for the mattress and a warm shawl.

  In a furniture-shop window there was an old rocking chair, and she wondered how much it was. The shop was closed, but she decided to come back the next day and enquire. Perhaps if I make Ma comfortable at home, she won’t get into trouble. I won’t leave her any money but I’ll make sure she has plenty to eat.

  On the Monday evening she went as arranged to the house in Wright Street. Edward Newmarch was already in the upstairs rooms waiting for her. ‘So what do you think, Ruby? Will they suit?’

  ‘Wonderful,’ she breathed, her doubts melting away. There were comfortable leather chairs by the fire, a dining table and chairs by the window, rugs on the floor and in the bedroom, a large tester bed with cream hangings, a cane chair and a washstand with jug and bowl on it. These she looked at doubtfully, and wondered where the pump was to draw the water. I didn’t notice a pump in the street, she pondered. Perhaps there’s one in the yard, but she didn’t wish to bother Edward with such trivialities and decided she would ask the woman downstairs, who was to do the cleaning and the washing.

  ‘Ruby! Don’t you have another gown to wear?’ he asked as he unbuttoned her. ‘You have worn this each time we have met and it’s crumpled and shabby.’

  ‘No!’ she said. ‘I bought this specially to meet you. I only have ’clothes I wore at ’mill.’

  ‘Then I shall buy you some more, but I can’t come with you to choose in case I’m recognized.’ He ran his hands down her body. ‘You look best without any clothes on at all, but I suppose you must wear them! But don’t get cheap and tawdry like this red gown, change it for something feminine and fashionable.’

  She nodded. She liked the red dress, but if that was what he wanted she would go tomorrow to Rena’s, and she would ask Grace to go with her.

  ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said, as they lay together. ‘If I had the talent to paint you, I would.’

  ‘What!’ Her eyes were wide. ‘You mean naked,’ she whispere
d.

  He laughed. ‘Yes, of course. Men do have portraits painted of their mistresses.’

  She pulled the sheets up against her chin. ‘I couldn’t possibly do that,’ she said, aghast at the thought. ‘It wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘Oh, Ruby,’ he murmured. ‘You’re priceless. So naive. It’s what I love about you.’

  After he’d left to go home, Ruby dressed again, damped down the fire in the hearth and wrapped her old shawl around her. She glanced around the room. Tomorrow, she thought. I’ll come tomorrow. I’ll get up early and I’ll bring Daniel’s stool, which is my only possession and is still at Grace’s house. But I’ll spend tonight at home with Ma.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ‘You’re very preoccupied these days, Edward.’ Martin and Edward were driving into Hull together. ‘Is something troubling you?’

  ‘Troubling me?’ Edward grinned. ‘Certainly not. Everything is fine.’

  ‘You’ve been staying late in Hull,’ Martin persisted. ‘I would have thought you’d be spending time with May. There must be plans you need to discuss for your marriage.’

  Edward’s mouth drew downwards and he said sullenly, ‘It’s all in hand. May and her mother don’t want any interference from me.’

  ‘Even so,’ Martin murmured, and noticed how his brother raised his whip and urged on the mare even though they were on the outskirts of Hull and there was congested traffic of waggons, carts and carriages. ‘It has been mentioned that you don’t seem to be very involved.’

  ‘I said, it’s in hand,’ Edward repeated irritably. ‘I’m spending time at the club,’ he muttered. ‘Making the most of my freedom.’

  ‘You’ve got a mistress, haven’t you?’ Martin asked bluntly. ‘That’s why you leave the office early and come home late.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Edward turned and swore at an old woman who had scurried across the road in front of the chaise, causing him to pull on the reins. ‘And what if I have? It has nothing to do with anyone else what I do.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Edward,’ Martin burst out. ‘You’re to be married in a few weeks! It’s no basis for a marriage. What if May found out? Or her father did?’

  Edward said nothing, but as they approached the road leading to the mill he automatically looked down at the place where he used to see Ruby and her friend walking arm in arm.

  He changed the subject. ‘What happened to—’ he almost said Ruby’s friend, and checked himself just in time, ‘those girls, the one who was sacked for speaking at Dock Green, and who always walked with her friend?’

  Martin frowned. ‘If you mean Grace Sheppard, the official reason for her leaving was the decline in the cotton industry! I know nothing about her friends, but I assume that she found other employment.’ If Edward can lie, then so can I, he deliberated, and, in any case, he knew that his brother wouldn’t be interested in Grace Sheppard’s involvement with social issues.

  ‘You must give her up,’ he stated flatly as they entered the mill gates. ‘This woman, whoever she is. It isn’t fair to May. Your marriage is doomed if you don’t.’ He kept his eyes to the front, not looking at his brother. ‘All right – if you needed to sow wild oats! But have done with her now.’

  Edward too stared in front towards the river, not seeing the boy who was waiting to take the horse and chaise away to the stables. The morning sun gleamed on the normally murky water, tinting it to a burnished russet brown.

  ‘I can’t.’ His voice was husky. ‘I can’t give her up. I’m totally obsessed by her. I think of her night and day.’ He put his hands to his eyes. ‘I want nothing more than to be with her.’

  Martin gave a silent oath. What a mess! ‘Then you must cancel the marriage with May Gregory,’ he said. ‘It’s the only decent thing to do. But you’ll be sued for breach of promise and be ruined.’

  Edward turned and looked at his brother, his eyes dull and hooded as if he hadn’t slept. He shook his head. ‘I can’t do that either.’ His mouth slipped into a cynical lopsided grin. ‘I must marry May. I need her money and her father’s approval.’ He blinked and his expression became lively again. ‘Don’t worry about me, old fellow.’ He threw the reins to the boy who was patiently waiting. ‘It should be rather fun leading two separate lives.’

  Martin sat at his desk. He had a pounding headache. Things were not going well at the mill. The shareholders were becoming more and more demanding. They wanted better returns on their investments and were not concerned about the workers who must suffer because of it. But he was also shattered by Edward’s behaviour. The wedding was merely four weeks away and he thought of the scandal that would ensue if Edward should choose to cancel it.

  I wonder who she is? Not anyone we know, surely? The woman can’t be marriageable, he considered. There’s no money there, otherwise – He gave a grunt. He knew his brother so well. He would have no compunction in cancelling the marriage if it suited him to do so.

  His mind flickered from one thing to another. To May Gregory, who was being so deceived, to her cousin Georgiana, who would be returning early from the ladies’ tour of northern towns in order to be a witness at the marriage, as he was to be also.

  His thoughts slipped to the morning they had departed. He had promised Georgiana that he would see them off, and he had arrived at the Emerson household and been shown into the drawing room. Daisy Emerson was there with Georgiana and they were waiting for Mrs Westwood and Grace to appear.

  They were chatting perfunctorily about their journey and where they would stay, when the door opened and Mrs Westwood came into the room followed by Grace Sheppard. He bowed to Mrs Westwood and she inclined her head, and he turned to Grace to greet her also.

  He was totally unprepared for the change in her and to cover his embarrassment, he gave her a formal bow. She was wearing a grey dress with a high white collar and her fair hair, which was parted in the centre, had been dressed and coiled about her ears, the style emphasizing her high cheekbones. There was, he pondered, an untutored serene elegance about her, but as she bent her knee to greet him and her skirt fell in folds about her feet, he caught a glimpse of scarlet petticoat.

  He smiled at her then and considered that although she seemed so demure, that peek of scarlet showed a defiance. If these ladies think that they can use her for their own ends, I fear they will find they are mistaken, he thought. Grace Sheppard will not be told what to do by these organizing women. She will do what she wants.

  ‘Miss Sheppard is worried that people will not listen to what she has to say about child labour if she is dressed in fine clothes,’ Georgiana had remarked. ‘She considers that they will not believe she has had the experience of which she speaks. What do you think, Mr Newmarch?’

  Martin caught a look of entreaty in Grace’s eyes and was struck, not so much by the steadfastness with which she gazed at him, but by the blueness of her eyes, accentuated by the silver-grey of her gown. ‘I fear you are right, Miss Sheppard,’ he had murmured, answering her directly although Georgiana had asked the question. ‘No-one would believe, looking at you now, that as a child you crawled beneath the machinery at the mill to remove the dust and debris, as I know you must have done.’

  ‘Thank you for your honesty, Mr Newmarch,’ she had replied in a soft shy voice. ‘And would you agree that it’s not right for children to labour under such conditions?’

  He hesitated and before he could answer, she had added, ‘Even though these little bairns are willing, as I was, to add their coppers to ’family purse.’

  He remembered that he had thought that she would do well, especially if she spoke in her natural voice without trying to ape the ladies she was with. People will understand what she is saying and believe in her, but not in those elegant garments.

  He rubbed his forehead and sighing, shuffled some papers on his desk. But whether it will do any good, I have my doubts, he pondered. He had answered her question honestly, as he thought that she would want. ‘I am a shareholder in an indus
try which condones these practices, Miss Sheppard,’ he had told her. ‘I believe in the ten-hour day, but I know that it isn’t working. Mill and factory owners cannot afford to cut down the working hours, the machines must keep on turning and producing. Their livelihoods and the livelihood of those who work there depend on that continuity.’

  She had seemed disappointed, he reflected, yet he had decided that it was right that she knew the truth. She would have many hard questions thrown at her. The public platform was not for the faint-hearted.

  Grace was relieved that Molly was to journey with them to help dress the three ladies. The maid rode on top of the carriage next to the driver. Mr Emerson escorted them on their journey towards Wakefield and left them at the Woodman Inn, a coaching inn near Castleford where their escort the next day was to be the Reverend Rogerson. His wife was to be their hostess during their stay in the West Riding.

  Grace had been enthralled at the difference in the countryside as they journeyed out of the flatlands which surrounded the town of Hull, following the line of the Humber and the Ouse, towards the Aire and Calder river network. She had felt queasy as the carriage negotiated the bumpy roads in the hilly district of the West Riding of Yorkshire.

  She saw the tall chimneys of factories and mills and the thick black pall of smoke and dust which hung over the mean narrow streets of the industrial mining towns. There was a constant rumbling and clattering of heavy machinery, and the wretchedness of poverty showed on the faces of the inhabitants. She saw the dark mountainous heaps with children and adults swarming over them, which Miss Gregory told her were not hills at all but piles of coal waste, and she could smell and taste soot and sulphur at the back of her throat.

  Miss Emerson and Miss Gregory were very animated during supper and talked constantly of their journey, of whom they would meet, of the response to expect during their speech-making, and Grace gathered as she listened to them that this was as new an experience for them as it was for her.

  ‘It was so very kind of Mr Newmarch to see us off,’ Mrs Westwood remarked. ‘He really does seem to believe in our cause, whereas so many gentlemen would consider that we would be better employed with our drawing or embroidery.’