The Doorstep Girls Page 9

  He waited a few moments for maximum effect, then raised his voice and shouted. ‘Is it right? Is it right that children should be expected to work for eight hours out of a twenty-four-hour day, when they should be home with their mothers or playing with their toys?’

  Grace looked at him and held up her hand to speak. The man frowned momentarily, put off his stride, but then raised his eyebrows in permission.

  ‘I didn’t have any toys,’ she said. ‘My ma and da couldn’t afford shop toys.’ She glanced down at her father, ‘But they made me a peg doll when I was little.’

  The speaker lifted his arms and stretched out his hands as if Grace had confirmed all that he had said. Then his voice thundered. ‘Things must change! We must rebel against these factory and mill owners who exploit our children. We must demand a proper wage for adult workers so that they don’t have to send their children to work to put food into their mouths …’

  As Grace looked across the grassy area, she drew in a sharp breath. Strolling along and listening to some of the speakers, she saw, in the company of a lady, one of the Newmarch brothers, a manager of the mill where she worked. Suppose he saw her! Suppose he heard the demands of this speaker who had brought her onto his platform. Just suppose he linked her with him and she lost her job altogether!

  ‘Excuse me,’ she whispered to the speaker, ‘I have to go,’ and she stepped down from the platform.

  ‘Come away, Da.’ She took her father’s arm and pulled him along. ‘Come away.’

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked. ‘You were doing right well up there.’

  ‘I saw somebody – a manager of ’mill. I didn’t want him to see me, he might have thought I was a troublemaker.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘He might.’

  Martin Newmarch had seen Grace, although he didn’t recognize her immediately until she was pointed out.

  ‘Look at that girl,’ his companion laughed. ‘She’s starting young as a speaker.’ She indicated the platform. ‘That’s what I like to see, young women who are thinking for themselves.’

  ‘Georgiana!’ he remonstrated, and narrowed his eyes to look where she was pointing. ‘She’s a child. What can she know of anything?’

  ‘Perhaps her parents have taught her well, mine did.’

  They walked towards the platform, and saw the girl step down. ‘I think she works for our company,’ he said. ‘Yes, I’m sure that she does.’

  She arched her eyebrows, but not in a coquettish manner for that was not Georgiana Gregory’s style. She was merely teasing him. ‘You said she was a child! So how is it that you remember her from all of the hundreds of workers that you employ? What has she done for you to mark her out?’

  ‘It was Edward,’ he said, speaking of his brother. ‘He noticed that girl and her friend as they walked home from the mill. They’re always together,’ he explained, awkwardly. ‘One dark, one fair, and they always walk arm in arm.’

  ‘How very observant of Edward.’ She turned and looked at Martin quizzically. ‘Strange, I never thought of him as the type of man who would notice mill girls.’

  ‘You are so very bold, Georgiana!’ Lightly he mocked. ‘I know of no other young woman who would speak so plainly.’

  ‘But that is because I know that, unlike some gentlemen, I cannot shock you.’ She put up her umbrella as the rain started again and held it over them both, tucking her free arm into his.

  ‘If you married me,’ he persuaded, ‘you could always speak your mind.’

  ‘But I would lose my independence.’ Then she added flippantly, ‘Besides, you don’t love me!’

  ‘I am fond of you, Georgiana, you know that very well, and I know also that you would have no patience with a lovesick man who is all hearts and flowers! But that apart, you would have as much independence, more, in fact, with me than you do now under your uncle’s guardianship. We would suit each other, I am sure of it.’

  She sighed. ‘I dislike intensely being under anyone’s benefaction, but you, Martin, are dependent on your father at present, are you not?’

  ‘If I married I would receive a settlement, and I am doing well at the company. You would have no fears for your future, I am the elder son. Come,’ he said quickly. ‘Where is your chaise? The rain is getting heavier.’

  They hurried across the field, others doing likewise, as the sky became blacker, and he handed her into her aunt’s chaise. ‘Think about what I have said, Georgiana. You are stifled living in your aunt’s house.’

  ‘That is why I escape to stay with May from time to time,’ she agreed. ‘Goodbye, Martin. It was most fortunate that we met. We will meet again soon, I have no doubt.’

  The chaise pulled away and she settled back against the cushions. He’s nice enough, she thought, shaking the wetness from her cloak, a thoughtful man and considerate, but rather self-restrained. She sighed. But I’m poor and poor beggars can’t be choosers. And especially not women.

  Her parents had died in an accident when their carriage had overturned and fallen down a ravine whilst travelling in Cheshire. Her father had never been very good with money matters and had left her only a small legacy. Her uncle, Montague Gregory, her father’s brother and father of May, had generously become Georgiana’s guardian and benefactor, but had stipulated that she should live with his sister, for companionship.

  She never had been able to comprehend how a ten-year-old child could be a suitable companion for a fifty-year-old maiden lady, but she was not consulted. It was decided, and whether her aunt Clarissa had been consulted in the matter either, Georgiana never knew. Aunt Clarissa too was dependent on her brother for her comforts, which included the use of the carriage in which Georgiana was now travelling. The brougham, though rather old-fashioned, was at least keeping her dry, she mused. It was better than having to walk as others were doing. She saw people scurrying along with their heads down. There was that girl! She called to the driver to stop just past her and a man who was hurrying alongside her.

  ‘Can I take you somewhere?’ she called to them. ‘There is room if we squash up.’

  The girl stared up at her, then glanced at the man with her. ‘It’s all right, miss,’ he said. ‘Thank you all ’same. You won’t be going our way.’ The rain was running down his face and neck and the girl’s shawl was soaked.

  ‘Oh do get in,’ Georgiana urged, opening the door. ‘I can drop you off. Where do you want to be?’

  ‘Thank you. George Street please, miss.’ The girl climbed in followed by, Georgiana guessed, her father. ‘We can walk from there.’

  ‘George Street,’ Georgiana called up to the driver. ‘Do you know where that is?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Gregory,’ he said sullenly and muttered, ‘It’s miles out of our way.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s near enough?’ she asked the couple. ‘Don’t take any notice of the coachie. Is that where you live?’

  ‘No, miss.’ The man had taken off his cap as he entered the chaise and she saw that he was as fair as his daughter, though his hair was thinning on top. He touched his forehead. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but you wouldn’t want to come to where we live.’

  ‘Why not?’ she asked bluntly. ‘Would I be shocked by the conditions?’

  He nodded. ‘Aye, I reckon so. It’ll not be what you’re used to.’

  ‘Then I would not wish to offend you by imposing my disposition upon you, though I assure you I am not easily shocked! We shall travel to George Street, it will save you some distance at least.’

  She turned to the girl. ‘I saw you at Dock Green, I think. Weren’t you speaking on a platform?’

  The girl swallowed and seemed nervous. ‘I wasn’t really speaking, miss. I was asked some questions, that’s why I was on ’platform.’

  ‘Ah! A pity.’ Georgiana smiled to put her at her ease. ‘I thought you were a young Radical.’

  ‘Grace isn’t a Radical, miss,’ her father began.

  ‘I don’t know what it means,’ Grace interpose
d. ‘The speaker was asking about my work and how old I was when I started.’

  ‘And how old were you and where do you work?’ Georgiana asked.

  ‘I was nine, miss, and I work at Hull Flax and Cotton Mill.’

  Georgiana nodded. So Martin was right. I wonder what her friend looks like, for this girl is beautiful in spite of her shabby clothes. Her eyes are such a deep blue and her skin so fine it’s almost transparent. She appears so fragile, yet I would stake my allowance that she is not.

  ‘Are you a weaver or a spinner?’

  Grace smiled. ‘Everybody asks me that, miss, and I’m neither. I do whatever I’m asked.’

  ‘I’m sure you do it well, whatever you’re asked to do,’ Georgiana said. ‘I have a friend who works there, but I’m sure he doesn’t work as hard as you.’ She paused. ‘I come quite often to Dock Green to hear the speakers. I hoped when I saw you today that you were going to speak on women’s issues. I belong to an organization which helps the cause of women’s independence. If you are at all interested we could perhaps meet again. Maybe after winter is over? No-one wants to stand out in the rain listening to others, no matter how interesting.’

  The carriage slowed and the driver called down, ‘This is George Street, Miss Gregory. Do them folks want to get out?’

  ‘Thank you, miss,’ Grace’s father said as he opened the door. ‘Most civil of you.’

  ‘Thank you, miss.’ Grace bobbed her knee as she stood in the cobbled road. ‘You’re very kind.’

  Georgiana nodded and the vehicle moved on. ‘I’m not at all kind,’ she murmured as she settled back again. ‘But I am very curious about you, young Grace. Very curious.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ruby was as despondent as she had ever been. She was hungry and she was cold. The fire was low and she didn’t have the energy to walk to the riverbank to find more kindling. Her mother had kept her awake most of the night with her ramblings, and now in desperation she had sent her out with their last few coins to buy another dose of laudanum. It’ll mebbe calm her down if she has a drop more, she thought.

  Her mother had scurried out, finding a rush of energy which Ruby envied, and promising that she wouldn’t spend it all on her loddy, but would bring back some day-old bread as well. Ruby sighed. She would believe that when she saw it clutched in her hand.

  A shrill whistling came from the court and then a sharp rap on the door. Ruby felt a rapid palpitation in her chest; she was forever expecting the landlord’s agent to come back demanding overdue rent. Well, there wasn’t any.

  ‘Ruby!’ Jamie’s cheerful voice sounded from outside the door. ‘It’s onny me!’

  ‘Door’s open,’ she called. ‘Come on in.’

  Jamie put his head round the door and grinned. ‘Saw your ma go out. Thought you might like a bit o’ company.’ He brought his hand from behind his back. ‘And a bit o’ cake!’

  ‘Oh, Jamie. Thank you!’ Eagerly she took it from him. ‘You’re an angel.’

  ‘Is that ’best you can do for a fire?’ he asked. ‘You need some coal.’

  ‘I need a miracle, more like,’ she said, her spirit lightening as she tasted the sweetness of the cake in her mouth.

  ‘I’ll get you a miracle.’ He turned to go out again. ‘Don’t go away.’

  She was licking the crumbs from her fingers when he returned with a few lumps of coal in a paper bag and a bundle of twigs under his arm. ‘There, that’ll soon get it going.’ He glanced around the room. ‘It’s a bit cosier than upstairs I suppose, but you’ve no chair? No table?’

  ‘Luxuries!’ she commented, running her tongue around her lips to catch the last vestige of sugar. ‘Ma sold those years ago.’

  ‘Have you heard owt about your Freddie?’ he asked as he put the coal and twigs on the fire, then sat down on the mattress beside her.

  ‘No,’ she sighed. ‘Agent said we hadn’t to bother him unless it was an emergency.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Jamie looked thoughtful. ‘Poor little chap. I wonder where he is? It would be good to buy him back, wouldn’t it?’

  Ruby felt hot tears pricking her eyelids. ‘I can’t imagine we’ll ever see him again.’

  ‘If you could just get more regular work, and better paid,’ he murmured, ‘then you could save to get him back.’

  ‘If only,’ she began, and laughed. A dry cynical laugh. ‘How could I ever save? There is nothing, nothing but poverty ahead. It’s all I’ve ever known. I don’t long for riches – I wouldn’t know what to do with them, but it’d be nice to have enough to eat, to have a decent pair of boots for my feet, and a fire like this every day.’

  He nodded and took hold of her hand, gazing into the now blazing fire. ‘You could,’ he said after a moment’s hesitation. ‘You could.’

  She shook her head. ‘Don’t, Jamie. Don’t tempt me. I’m feeling so low that I might just fall.’

  He remained silent and gently squeezed her hand, then said, ‘I wish you’d come over and see what my ma has.’ He paused, and continued softly, ‘She has clothes and furniture. We eat every day. And she’s nowhere near as beautiful as you, Ruby. When she was young, she had to take whoever came along. Then I made her become more choosy, to go up a notch with ’men she took.’

  ‘My ma disapproves of what you do,’ she told him.

  ‘But not what my ma does?’

  ‘No. Odd that, isn’t it?’

  ‘Nell’s getting past it now.’ He sighed and pursed his lips. ‘She gets tired. I’d like her to stop but she won’t, she’s got regular clients who she likes.’

  ‘Who she likes!’ Ruby was astonished.

  ‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘She says she doesn’t want to let them down. Not until somebody younger comes along who can take over from her.’

  ‘Oh! I see!’ Ruby leaned backwards and appraised him. ‘You’re softening me up.’

  He grinned. ‘I know how successful you could be, Ruby.’ He put his arm around her. ‘Let me tell you what I want.’

  She shrugged his arm away. ‘I’ll not do it, Jamie.’

  ‘Waiting for a knight in shining armour?’ he sneered. ‘Somebody who’ll value your virginity and virtue?’

  She had a sudden mental picture of Daniel, and the expression on his face as he’d looked at Grace. ‘Maybe,’ she murmured. But not Daniel. He’s committed, even though Grace doesn’t know it. ‘Go on, then. What is it that you want?’

  ‘I want – I want to have a team of women who’ll work for me. I’ll make sure they onny get decent men, no roughnecks, and, eventually, I’d like my own place where ’women would feel safe and men would come to them.’

  ‘A brothel!’ It was her turn to sneer. ‘Don’t include me, thanks!’

  ‘Not a brothel!’ he snapped back. ‘A nice house, warm and with good curtains and cushions and suchlike.’

  She was silent. Curtains and cushions, and warm. It was appealing. Clothes too, maybe, not the rags she was wearing now. Perhaps she could be coaxed. But the men! What would they be like? What would they expect from me? She gave a shudder and then sighed. Why would I ever hope for romance in my life? My mother never had it. Nobody I know ever did. Nobody around here or at the mill. So why don’t I accept? Why not?

  ‘So why not, Ruby?’ Jamie’s voice was soft in her ear. ‘You could mebbe run it eventually. Be in charge, you and Nell. I’d look after ’finances.’

  ‘Have you got anybody special, Jamie?’ she asked curiously. She’d never seen him with anyone.

  ‘Me? No!’ He gave a sly grin. ‘I’ll tek my pick when I’m set up.’ He saw the look on her face. ‘Onny, not wi’ you, Ruby. No, you’re my friend. It wouldn’t be right.’

  No, it wouldn’t. And somehow she was reassured by his pledge.

  ‘Will you think about it?’ he coaxed. ‘You see, I’d need somebody reliable. Somebody I could trust.’

  ‘But you haven’t got anywhere yet. No house. No women.’

  ‘Teks time, Ruby.’ He pinched her cheek. ‘We’d have
to start slowly. First thing I’d do is set you up wi’ somebody decent – seeing as it’d be your first time. It would be ’first time, wouldn’t it?’ he asked anxiously.

  She nodded and whispered, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Ah!’ He breathed out a soft sigh. Twice as much then, for first-timer. He began to feel an expectant thrill about preparing her, choosing the right person, somebody who would appreciate her youth, her innocence, let alone her beauty.

  ‘You’re ready, I know, Ruby.’ He leaned towards her and kissed her cheek, flushed from the fire. ‘I’m onny sorry that it can’t be me. But like I say, it wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘I haven’t said yes!’ She was suddenly defiant. ‘But I’ll think on it.’

  ‘Here.’ He jumped to his feet and put his hand in his pocket. ‘Tek this.’ He put a shilling in her hand. ‘Just to show that I’d look after you, Ruby.’

  She stood up and stared at the coin. ‘A shilling! I can’t take all that.’

  ‘Course you can! There’s more where that came from.’

  ‘But – your ma –’

  ‘No. That’s mine. That’s my cut from what she earns.’ His eyes pierced hers. ‘I find her work, then tek a percentage.’

  It sounded so businesslike that for a moment she forgot just what it was that his mother did to earn her living.

  ‘Like I say, Jamie. I’ll think about it.’

  He nodded. ‘Like I say, Ruby. I think you’re ready.’

  She watched him through the window as he walked jauntily across the court and into his own house, then glanced down at the coin in her hand. No. I’m not ready. But I am hungry.

  She rinsed her hands and face under the pump and dried herself with a fairly clean rag. Then she smoothed her thick hair and went out shopping. She bought a hot meat pie and a fresh new loaf, a jug of ale and two potatoes which she intended putting into the hot coals. If the fire kept in they would be cooked by the evening. She looked for her mother in the Market Place but didn’t see her, and with a sinking feeling guessed that she would be ensconced in an alehouse with some of her cronies, where they would stay until asked to leave.