The Beggar Maid (19 page)

‘What is it, Vi? Are you all right?'

‘Ma knows.' Violet lowered her voice when she saw Dorrie, who was supposed to be dusting the book stands but was looking at the illustrations in a volume of
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
.

‘How did she find out?' Charity asked in a whisper.

‘She heard me being sick in the privy this morning. She said she'd suspected for some time and she clouted me round the lughole.' Violet nursed her reddened ear, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I begged her not to tell Pa, but it's only a matter of time before he finds out. What am I going to do?'

‘You could try telling the young men you think might be the father,' Charity suggested hopefully. ‘Maybe one of them might have a streak of decency in him.'

Violet uttered a hollow laugh and began to sob uncontrollably. ‘You know that won't happen. I'm done for, Charity. It's the river for me.'

CHARITY STOOD IN
the shop, gazing out of the window at the deserted street. It was Sunday and it was the first day of a new year, but the future was an unfriendly place and she could see nothing ahead but destitution. She had done reasonably well as far as trading went on Saturday, but had not taken nearly enough to satisfy Seth Wood's greed. She suspected that the extra ten per cent he had demanded would have gone into his own pocket had she been able to raise that amount, but as she had nothing like it she knew she would receive little sympathy from him or the bailiffs. With the huge rise in the rent each month it would happen again and again until there was nothing left for them to take. This was the last day she would spend in the place she had come to think of as her own. Students would have to find somewhere else to purchase the books they needed for their studies and the shop would be closed. The building would ultimately be torn down and several centuries of history would be razed to the ground.

She had racked her brains to think of a solution, but the only one that came to mind was to pack up her belongings and move out before she had to suffer the humiliation of being evicted. She would take Dorrie and go in search of cheap accommodation in the part of the city she knew best, but that would mean leaving Violet to face her future alone. Charity knew she was not responsible for her friend, but Violet's plight was grim indeed and Bert Chapman was not a forgiving man. He was mean when sober and brutish when drunk.

Charity was about to return to the kitchen, where she had left Dorrie sleeping peacefully, when she heard the rumble of carriage wheels and the clip-clop of a horse's hooves. It was unusually early for anyone to be out and about particularly if they had been revelling on New Year's Eve. She was even more surprised when the hansom cab drew up outside and a familiar figure dressed in a caped overcoat and top hat leapt to the ground. She hurried to open the door. ‘You're the last person I expected to see today,' she said as Harry Elliott breezed into the shop.

‘Good morning, Miss Crosse. You're up bright and early.'

‘I thought you were in Devon, visiting your mother and stepfather.'

He took off his hat and tossed it onto the counter. ‘I was and I did my duty, but the countryside bores me, and I couldn't wait to get back to London.'

‘And the lure of the gaming clubs, I suppose.'

‘You have my measure, but I came hotfoot to give you a message from Daniel. He asked me to thank you for the book.'

‘And you came all the way here to tell me?' She stared at him in amazement. ‘It was his uncle who paid for it.'

‘Well, you have me there. As a matter of fact Daniel asked me to make sure you were all right. I told him that Wilmot had behaved badly towards you and he was concerned. My brother is a kindly fellow and a solid citizen, unlike me.'

‘I think you like to make yourself out to be a villain.'

He gave her a searching look. ‘You look tired. Is everything all right? Wilmot hasn't been pestering you, has he?'

She dropped her gaze, clutching her hands together in an attempt to stop them from trembling. ‘The bailiffs are coming tomorrow. They'll take part of my stock and we'll be evicted.'

‘We? Is there someone else?'

‘Dorrie. She's just a child – it's a long story.'

He took her by the shoulders and pressed her down on the chair reserved for elderly or infirm customers. ‘Never mind her for now. Why are you being evicted?'

‘The landlord raised the rent so high that I'll never make enough to cover it.'

‘Have you tried reasoning with the rent collector? Maybe you could come to a mutually agreeable solution?'

‘He won't listen, and trade is bad.' She raised her head to look him in the eye. ‘I can't let them take my books. They're mine – Jethro left all the stock to me.'

Harry was silent for a moment. ‘In that case, I'd suggest a moonlight flit. I've taken that course many times in the past when I was being dunned by debt collectors.'

‘You have? But you're rich.'

‘Far from it,' he said, chuckling. ‘I live by my wits, and sometimes fate is capricious and I find myself financially embarrassed.' His smile faded. ‘But I do understand your predicament, and it's fortunate that I returned to London at this particular time.'

‘Can you help me?'

‘I'm a bit short of funds at the moment or I'd gladly stump up for the rent, but as it is I can only see one way out.'

‘I couldn't take your money,' Charity said firmly. ‘I'm sure I can find a cheap lodging house in the city, but I don't want to leave my books.'

He frowned thoughtfully. ‘I suppose they are a saleable commodity, but they won't make your fortune, as you've already discovered. It might be better to cut your losses and beat a hasty retreat.'

‘I just need a barrow,' Charity said, warming to the subject. ‘A handcart would do. I could take at least some of them and sell them in one of the street markets. It will keep Dorrie and me until I can find work.'

‘I can see that you're determined, but finding something suitable will be difficult on a Sunday, especially at this time of the year.'

‘Does that mean you'll help me?'

‘I returned to London thinking I would be almost as bored here on a Sunday as I was in the country, and now you've issued me with a challenge.'

‘I can be ready in no time at all.'

He laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘Take the advice of someone who has vast experience in such things and wait until after dark. Pack your books in bundles while you wait, but keep them out of sight. If the landlord gets wind of your intentions he'll try to stop you.' He snatched up his hat and put it on at an angle. ‘I'll see what I can do, but don't expect me back until this evening.'

She leapt to her feet. ‘I don't know how to thank you.'

‘Don't expect miracles, but I'll do all I can to help you. It's not often I get the chance to be a knight in shining armour. I'm usually cast as a libertine.' He doffed his hat and let himself out into the street.

Charity watched his tall figure striding down the street towards Leather Lane. She turned and walked slowly amongst the stands, working out which books she would take and which she would have to abandon. It was not going to be an easy decision to make, but she had to be practical.

Later that morning, having enlisted Dorrie's help, she began sorting and making bundles of the volumes she intended to save from the grasping hands of the bailiffs. Dorrie had been upset when she discovered the reason for all this activity and Charity had tried to make their impending departure sound like a great adventure, although deep down she was just as scared as Dorrie. She had put her trust in Harry and all she could do now was wait and hope that he would bring transport, but what she would do then and where they would go remained a problem to which there seemed no easy solution.

It was dark outside, but the night air sparkled with frost and Charity's feet crunched on the frozen slush in the back yard as she made her way to the privy. The door was shut and she waited for a moment or two before knocking on the slatted wood. ‘Is anyone in there?'

A low moan answered her question and Charity lifted the latch, but the door only opened a crack before it came up against an obstacle. ‘Are you all right?' Her stomach clenched with anxiety. She had a horrible feeling that she knew who was slumped on the dirt floor. ‘Vi, is that you?' She put her shoulder to the wood, pushing gently. A groan confirmed her suspicions, and after a great deal of manoeuvring she managed to get into the privy. She helped Violet to her feet. ‘What happened? Are you hurt?' It was too dark to see but as she brushed a lock of hair from Violet's face she felt something warm and sticky. ‘You're bleeding.'

Violet leaned against her. ‘Me dad knows,' she gasped. ‘He done this to me.'

‘Let's get you indoors.' Charity looped Violet's arm around her shoulders. ‘Slowly does it.'

‘I can't do it no other way,' Violet murmured with a hint of wry humour. ‘I thought he was going to kill me.'

They made their way across the yard and as soon as they were safely inside the scullery Charity locked and bolted the door. ‘You're safe now, Vi. Come into the kitchen and let's have a look at you.'

Dorrie had been sitting at the table but she jumped to her feet at they entered the room. ‘What happened? Has she had another fall?'

‘She slipped on the ice,' Charity said hastily. ‘Why don't you make her a nice hot cup of tea? I'm sure that would make her feel better.'

Dorrie rushed over to the range and placed the kettle on the hob. ‘Will she be all right?'

‘Don't worry about me, young 'un,' Vi said stoutly.

Charity filled a bowl with warm water from the kettle and replaced it on the heat. ‘We'll soon have you fixed up,' she said, making an attempt to sound cheerful for Dorrie's sake.

The head wound appeared to be superficial, although Charity suspected that Violet would have a nasty scar on her forehead when it healed. She was badly bruised and had obviously endured a severe beating. Her lip was split and she had lost a front tooth. ‘You'll have a real shiner tomorrow morning,' Charity murmured as she bathed Violet's face and applied arnica to the bruises. ‘Have you pain anywhere else?' She lowered her voice. ‘You know what I mean.'

‘I don't think so. I dunno really because I ache all over. Maybe I could sleep here tonight?' She cast a wary look at Dorrie, who was taking it all in. ‘I don't think I could make it up them steps, Charity.'

‘We're leaving soon,' Dorrie said eagerly. ‘We're going on a big adventure. Charity said so.'

‘What?' Violet caught Charity by the hand. ‘Leaving? Why? What's happened?'

‘Don't get upset, Vi. We've got to go or the bailiffs will take everything. Woods is threatening to evict us tomorrow anyway.'

Violet released her with a cry of disgust. ‘You were going to leave without telling me. I can't believe you'd do that.'

‘I was going to come upstairs when I thought your pa would be sleeping off the booze.'

‘You could have told me sooner.'

‘I only decided today and then Harry turned up and . . .'

‘You're running away with that chap you told me about?'

‘No, of course not. I hardly know him.'

Violet held her hand to her head. ‘I don't understand all this. I thought you had the rent money.'

‘I didn't have quite enough.'

‘It was because you took me to the doctor's, wasn't it?' Violet's swollen lips trembled and her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘This is all my fault, and now you're leaving me.'

‘You can come too,' Dorrie said excitedly. ‘Me and Charity will take care of you and make you better.'

‘Ta, Dorrie, but you don't know the whole of it.' Violet raised her head to give Charity a beseeching look. ‘I c-can't stay here, and I don't think I've got the courage to throw myself in the river. It'll be the workhouse for me. I've no choice now.'

Charity knew she was beaten. With Dorrie gazing at her expectantly and Violet having lost the will to live, she had no choice. ‘Of course you must come with us, Vi. I'm not sure where we're going but Harry should be here soon with some sort of transport. We just have to wait for him to arrive.' She turned to Dorrie. ‘Where's that tea? I'm sure we could all benefit from something warm in our stomachs before we set off on our big adventure.'

It was close to midnight before the shop bell rang announcing Harry's arrival. Charity had been keeping watch in the shop for an hour or more, while the others snatched some sleep in the kitchen. As the minutes ticked by she was on the point of giving up, thinking that he had either been lured away by a game of cards or had been unable to find a suitable vehicle, but he had proved her wrong. She rushed to unlock the door. ‘I thought you weren't coming,' she said breathlessly.

He entered on a blast of cold air. ‘I always keep my promises, but it wasn't an easy task. Anyway, I'm here now.'

She glanced out into the street. ‘That's a private carriage. Is it yours?'

‘You might say that someone is returning a favour.' He beckoned to the coachman who climbed down from his box and came to join them. ‘Yes, sir?'

‘These are Sir Hedley's books.' Harry indicated the bundles with a casual wave of his hand. ‘Load as many of them into the growler as possible, Jackson.'

‘At once, sir.' The coachman picked up several bundles and took them out to the waiting carriage.

‘Who is Sir Hedley?' Charity asked anxiously. ‘You haven't sold my books, have you?'

‘I found them and you a temporary home.'

‘But the carriage and the titled gentleman – I don't understand.'

‘A little gentle persuasion secured a place of safety for you and the child, and your wretched books.'