A Surprising Legacy. Ernest Swain
said her name was Fletcher”, said Ruth.
“Right, well I’ve got to visit someone. I don’t know how long it will take but I want you to wait here and keep your eye on Maggie. Will you do that for me?” asked Amos, and Ruth nodded with a mouthful of food.
Whilst he had been to buy the food he took the opportunity to find out where the office of the clerk to the justices was located, and he headed in that direction. The main street was busy with people and with carriages – their iron tyres creating quite a din on the cobbled street. At last, there was the large, black painted door with the big polished brass knocker, just as described to him. He knocked and entered as he was bid. There was the tall, thin man with the hooked nose that he was looking to meet.
“Good morning to you sir. If my information is correct you are Mr. Simms, the clerk to the Justices of this town?” said Amos. “Indeed Sir, you are correct. What can I do for you?” Simms replied.
“I am here sir, to try to trace an unfortunate young woman who appeared before your court but a few days ago. Her name is Sarah Fletcher and from the information that I have she was arrested for begging”.
Simms adjusted his pince-nez on that peculiar nose, opened the large leather-bound ledger before him and flicked through the pages until he found what he was looking for.
“Might I inquire of your reasons for requiring this information; are you a relative?” he asked.
“No Mr. Simms, I’m not a relative of the lady, but I’m the guardian of her child and there are certain legal niceties that I must clarify”, replied Amos, trying to impress upon the clerk the need for his assistance.
“Then I can assist you sir. The lady you refer to did indeed appear before the Justices last week when she was convicted of the misdemeanour of begging to the annoyance of passengers and residents. As she was without means it was decided that she would be detained in the local gaol for fourteen days, and that is where she currently resides”, Simms replied closing his ledger. “It’s a rather unpleasant matter, but there are so many itinerants wandering the streets begging, they are becoming a nuisance and something has to be done to maintain order”, he continued as he again adjusted those spectacles. Amos thanked him profusely and left. The gaol was but a mile along the Stafford road. His face beamed as he approached Ruth and she knew instinctively that he had exciting news to tell.
Chapter 5.
A forbidding place to say the least, thought Amos as he approached the big wooden doors. A shudder went down his spine at the prospect of entering the place. He pulled down on the long iron handle that operated the bell which responded with quite a resonant clang. He looked around him but not a soul stirred. He turned his back to the doors and resigned himself to the wait. He looked back pensively to where Ruth waited with Maggie. After some short time he felt disposed to ring again but just at that moment he heard movement behind the doors, then slowly one door opened to reveal a rather portly fellow in a rather drab prison uniform.
“What’s your business?” he asked rather brusquely.
“Sir”, began Amos, - he had the sense to always address anyone in a position of perceived authority as ‘Sir’,
“I have but only a short time since, left Mr. Simms, the clerk to the Justices, and he has directed me here with regards to a prisoner who is in your custody. I would be grateful to see someone of authority who could confirm certain details”, trying to sound as business like as he could.
“Wait there”, said our portly guard, and without warning slammed the door shut again. Amos stood back and looked up at the building and tried to imagine what lay inside, beyond those dirty, inhospitable, sandstone walls. Ruth watched somewhat mystified by the delay. Some time passed and Amos occupied himself walking back and forth across the entrance. It seemed like an eternity but he thought that nothing was ever done in a hurry inside such a place.
Eventually the gate again swung open and the same portly guard bade him enter. The door was again slammed shut behind him. It was a strange unsettling feeling to be on the wrong side of those locked gates. He was led along a dingy corridor and into an office lit by a single oil lamp. The lamp needed a good clean and its wick trimmed, the neglect was causing it to smoke and the slightly acrid vapour filled the air. His throat caught on the smoke but he said nothing. The fumes from the lamp seemed to be fighting the smell of bad breath from the guard. Again he was told to wait and he sat on one of the two hard wooden chairs that faced a large desk.
The guard left the room and Amos was alone with his thoughts. He observed the cleanliness of the stone flagged floor which contrasted with the grubby state of the ceiling and said to himself, “That’s what comes of failing to trim your lamp”. Just then his thoughts were jolted back to the purpose in hand when he heard approaching footsteps and he rose to his feet and turned to see a huge woman in prison uniform enter the room. She was obviously someone of authority, her uniform was clean and neat and carried silver buttons that must be insignia of some sort. She had an air of dominance about her. “I’m Chief Warden Somers. Who are you sir, and what is your business?” she asked.
Amos felt a little over-awed in her presence but he tried hard not to let it show.
“My name will mean little to you, but I am Amos Carlisle. My business is a prisoner held here from the Leeke court last week. Her name is Sarah Fletcher and she was charged with begging”, said Amos.
“I see, but how can I be of assistance?” asked the Chief Warden.
“Well, I’m hoping that first you can confirm that she is held here. Next I need to know her date of release. The fact is that I am the guardian of her child and I feel a duty to help her upon release. She is apparently destitute – nowhere to shelter and no means to support herself. Without help her only course is to resort to begging again and she will undoubtedly return again to this establishment, unless someone is prepared to help her”, he said.
The Chief Warden’s attitude visibly softened, and she stepped behind the desk and raised a huge ledger from within. Holding the open ledger towards to lamp she read out, “Fletcher. Sarah. Sentence; fourteen days for begging to the annoyance of passengers and residents. Leeke Justices Court, September, twentyfourth.” She continued, “That, as you can work out for yourself, makes the release date the eighth of October. She will be released at ten o’clock in the morning. Does that answer your questions?” Amos thanked her profoundly and said, “I’ll be waiting outside for her when she is released”.
Having achieved all the information he had sought, he was ready to leave, but Chief Warden Somers asked him to remain where he was. She went to the door and summoned the guard who had led Amos to the office. There was a quiet conversation between the two and the guard left. She again turned to Amos and said,
“I’ve sent for Fletcher. I’m sure you would wish to speak with her”, and Amos replied,
“Thank you ma’am. I fear she won’t know me but I’m quite sure she’ll be pleased to learn of her daughter”.
Some minutes passed and Amos was left alone in the room again. The waiting was unbearable, the expectation of at last meeting this lady, Sarah, and the worry that she wouldn’t accept his good intentions. Footsteps along the corridor, accompanied by a persistent cough, announced the entrance of Sarah with both the Chief Warden and the portly guard. The Chief Warden said,
“Fletcher, this is Mr. Carlisle. He wishes to help you and he has news of your daughter. I’ll leave you alone for a moment or two. The guard will be outside the door”, and turning to Amos continued,
“Goodbye Mr. Carlisle, there is no need for me to see you again. The guard will see you out when you have finished”, and with that she turned away and was gone.
Even in the poor light of the oil lamp Amos could see only too well Sarah’s emaciated form. The sunken cheeks and that cough were evidence enough of how she had been living. In the few seconds before either of them spoke he could see beyond the sunken cheeks, the red eyes from her crying, and her lank, unwashed hair, that there was a certain beauty that could be