The Winter Orphan. Cathy Sharp
five minutes in the furnace room. I’ll give her to you, Annie. You’re near yer time and exhausted, and I’d not see yer die before my son draws breath.’
Annie nodded, putting a hand to her back. She ached so much that all she wanted was to lie down and sleep forever. Her life was almost as hard as the wretches that worked for her husband in his forge; he worked them hard and showed no compassion. It surprised her that he had given this girl to her to ease her burden – she knew that he cared little for her – but of course, she thought, he wanted a son! Their first two children had been girls – and both had died in their cots within days of being born. If Annie had been rebellious enough to have such thoughts she might have wondered if her husband had smothered her daughters; he had not wanted them, scowling savagely at her each time he discovered that she’d given him a daughter. However, she was a docile girl and accepted that she must obey her husband in all things. Her father had beaten her when she was at home and Karl had not yet raised his hand to her, even though he never praised her for keeping a good table and a clean kitchen. Yet she had fallen for three children in less than three years and knew that she pleased him in this. If she gave him a healthy son he might be kinder to her.
Annie breathed easier as her husband went back to his forge. He never liked to be away too long for he believed the men and women who worked for him would cheat him if they could – though as they were paid for the work they did by weight it was not possible.
‘Well, girl, what is yer name?’ Annie asked irritably. She felt tired, dirty and huge and she wanted to be rid of the burden inside her womb but knew that only if she gave birth to a living boy might her husband let her rest for a while. If she lost this child, or bore a daughter, he would make certain her belly was full again before she’d had time to heal.
‘Bella,’ the girl said in a whisper. ‘What can I do for you, mistress?’
Annie sighed with relief. She’d feared the girl would be sullen and a trouble, for why else would Mistress Brent wish her dead? Now she saw that Bella was lovely, her sweet gentle face looking anxious but not cowed. She smiled, because it seemed Karl had given her a more precious gift than he’d realised.
‘My name is Annie but yer had best call me mistress or Karl will have the hide off yer back. He’s a harsh man, though he’s never beaten me yet, but there are other ways to break a woman’s spirit and at times I’ve been close. Yer lucky he brought yer to me, Bella, for yer would have died in the heat of the forge. I shall need yer to work hard, for I’m near worn out carrying his son – and I do not want to lose the babe.’
‘I can scrub and clean, sew and write my name – but I do not know how to cook,’ Bella said and looked anxious.
‘Yer can peel spuds fer his dinner,’ Annie said, ‘and put the kettle on the hob, Bella. I need to sit down afore I fall down. I’ll teach yer to cook – me ma taught me afore she died and there was not another cook better than Ma in the whole of England.’
‘The food in the workhouse was terrible,’ Bella said. ‘We ate gruel and bread and a thin stew sometimes – on a Sunday.’
Annie nodded, for she knew the workhouse near Sculfield, which was less than five miles from her own village of Fornham, its reputation well known to locals as being an awful place where none in their right mind would go unless they were starving.
‘You’ll eat better than that here,’ Annie said. She went to the table and cut a slice of fresh bread, spread it with butter and then a thick layer of strawberry preserve and handed it to Bella as she placed the kettle on the hob. ‘Get that down yer, child. Yer will labour ’ard because there is much to do ’ere. Karl has two nephews who live with us; they work in the furnace room and oversee the others – and they’re always ’ungry. I never seem to stop washing and cooking – and the mess they make!’ She shook her head. ‘Karl is jealous of his brother for having two sons. His first wife died ’aving a fourth child – and none of them lived beyond a few weeks. They were all girls. Karl wants sons to take over the chain works when he dies. It would grieve him to leave it to his brother’s sons.’
Bella ate her bread and jam quickly, half fearing that the huge man would return and snatch it from her. She wiped her sticky fingers on the dark-blue apron she wore over her workhouse dress.
‘Didn’t they teach you to wash yer ’ands at that place?’
‘We wasn’t allowed to,’ Bella said. ‘Only in the mornings and at night.’
‘Well, there’s a sink over there – so go and wash them now,’ Annie directed. ‘You’ll wear that thing you’ve got on for workin’ and I’ll get yer another for when I take yer to church.’ She smiled and nodded. ‘See that wicker basket over there?’ Bella nodded. ‘That’s their shirts and breeches – and they all need ironing. You’ll have to heat the flatiron on the range and yer need to press hard, but they’re still damp so they should be easy ter smooth.’
Bella nodded. She fetched the basket to the table and Annie spread the ironing blanket, which was covered by a piece of old sheet. She nodded to the pile of washing.
‘Get on with it then, girl. I could do with a rest – and if you want some supper, it had best be finished when I come back down.’
Annie left the girl to it. She was too tired to care what Bella did. If she ruined some shirts Karl and his nephews would be furious, but he’d brought the girl here so it was hardly her fault if Bella proved useless. He would probably thrash her and might take her back whence she came, but at this moment Annie didn’t really care …
Bella hesitated for a moment before picking up the first iron that her new mistress had put to heat. She held it a little way from her face and felt the fierce heat, then tested it on the edge of a shirt, as Florrie had shown her when she worked in the sewing room at the workhouse. Because the linen was damp, it hissed and smoothed over the coarse material. Bella nodded and proceeded to iron the first of what looked like more than a dozen similar shirts. When the iron was no longer hot, she replaced it on the range and picked up the second before testing it at the edge of the shirt as before.
It was hard work, because she had to press heavily to achieve a smooth surface that she could hang over the back of a chair to air. Her back was already beginning to feel the strain but she knew that she was lucky. They had passed the forge on their way here and Bella had smelled the awful stink coming from it. It was the smell of heat, molten metal and sweat. Even outside the heat met them and she could not imagine what it must be like inside. She was fortunate that the chain-maker’s wife was close to her time and she’d been given to her as her servant. Bella knew that it would have been much harder for her at the chain works.
She had been fortunate, despite her surly master, and she decided that she would help the mistress, who seemed more weary than unkind, as much as she could. Indeed, she was probably lucky, more fortunate than poor Jane who had been turned out from the shelter of the workhouse on a snowy night. Regardless of her own plight, Bella spared a thought for the woman she’d seen from the landing window.
‘I don’t know where you are, Jane, but I hope you’re warm and I pray that one day you will find your baby …’
Arthur’s attention was caught by a slight noise. The young woman was stirring at last. She’d slept all night and most of the morning, swallowing a little brandy and water when coaxed to it, but falling back into her state of semi-unconsciousness almost at once. He stood looking down at her as she opened her eyes and stared at him, more in puzzlement than fear. Arthur thought her eyes were a lovely shade of azure fringed by golden lashes. With her hair washed and dressed in decent clothes she would be a beauty and he thought it was probably her looks that had brought her down: many men would desire a woman like this one.
‘You are awake at last,’ he said as he saw the first awareness and unease in those wonderful eyes. ‘How do you feel? When we found you on the road I feared you might not last the night.’
She pushed herself up against the pillows, glancing down at the clean linen nightgown that was much too large for her. ‘Who undressed me?’
‘Sally