The Dwelling Place, page 18
‘Aye, I think you could.’ The cook scrutinised her for a moment, then added, ‘Do you like sugar?’
And at this Cissie merely nodded.
‘There; drink it up.’ The cook pushed the mug into her hand, then watched her gulp at the scalding tea.
After a moment she asked, ‘How’s the bairn?’ And Cissie, after drawing in a long breath, answered, ‘He’s all right, thank you.’
The cook now turned to the girl and said, ‘You go and tell her.’ Then looking at Cissie again, she added, ‘You can take your time with that, it’ll be five minutes afore she comes. She’s like that; feels her position.’ Bending closer to Cissie now, she said in an undertone, ‘’Tisn’t Bella’s fault; she was led away by that young Nancy Price. The things they found under her mattress, you wouldn’t believe. But still, they haven’t got them all. They only found the hanky under Bella’s, but that was enough. Miss Christine has only four hankies of that kind left out of a dozen. It was the missing of the hankies that did it. You see, Miss Christine’s granny had made them, she has fine hands.’
At this moment the door opened and there entered a woman of medium height, wearing a trim black dress and white starched cap. As she crossed the room the cook returned to her business at the table and Cissie pulled herself to her feet, and the housekeeper stared at her for a moment before saying abruptly, ‘Disgraceful business.’ And Cissie answered, ‘Yes, Miss.’
‘My name is Mrs Pain.’
At this Cissie nodded.
‘You know this is a very serious business.’
‘Yes.’
‘The mistress is indignant; she only engaged her out of pity for your circumstances.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘And it’s a way to be repaid, isn’t it?’
‘I’m…I’m sorry. I never believed Bella would do such a thing; she was brought up decent.’
‘Decent! Thieving?’ As the housekeeper’s chest rose and fell so did her joined hands lying against it. She now said, ‘You are to take her back with you, but have her at the Justices’ Court in Shields at ten o’clock on Monday morning. The mistress says to tell you, if she tries to run away you’ll be held responsible, you understand?’
Again Cissie nodded, dumbly now.
‘Come this way.’ She now turned and led the way out of the kitchen and across the yard to a low door, and there, unlocking it, she looked down some steps and called into the darkness, ‘You Bella! Come up here.’ And like an animal emerging out of the earth Bella crawled up the ladder. She was shivering from head to foot; her eyes were staring out of her head, and her whole face was swollen with crying. She closed her eyes against the light, but when she opened them again and saw Cissie her mouth fell into a wide gape and her tongue wobbled, and she cried as she flung herself forward, ‘Oh, our Cissie! Our Cissie.’
And Cissie, putting one arm about her, said brokenly, ‘There now. There now.’ All her anger against the child had vanished; the sight of her crawling out of the dark cellar had turned it against…them. They were cruel and inhuman. But a dark cellar would be nothing to the treatment she would get in the House of Correction. There, she would be herded with terrible people. She trembled at the thought of such people: harlots, pickpockets, women who maimed their children so that they could take them begging, who put black beetles in half walnut shells and strapped them to babies’ backs to keep them howling for pity, women who sold their children for awful purposes. Her da had told them all about the kind of people who got into the House of Correction as a deterrent never to do anything that would get themselves there. And now Bella was heading straight for it.
The housekeeper didn’t allow them into the house again but ordered the kitchen maid to bring Bella’s cloak and her possessions. Among the scanty few, there was the brooch, the ribbon and the fancy petticoat she had bought from the tallyman, and when Cissie saw these last articles she pointed to them and said harshly, ‘She won’t want them. Give them back to the traveller and tell him he can’t be paid, so he’d better take them.’ And on this she turned and walked across the wide yard, with Bella clinging to her skirt and crying all the while. And the housekeeper’s voice followed them. ‘Remember, ten o’clock on Monday morning at the Court House…!’
Twice during the journey home she felt she was gong to faint; at one time she had to ask Bella to hold the child. Now, crossing the fells on the last stretch of the journey and the faintness attacking her again, she once more gave the child to Bella and sat down on a wet stone and drooped her head forward. It was then that Cunningham came up to her.
Bending over her, he said, ‘Can I help you?’ and she lifted her head and muttered, ‘No, I’m all right; it’s only the cold got me.’
He looked at the girl holding the child. Her face was red and tear-stained. He looked back at Cissie and said, ‘I would get indoors as quickly as possible; you could catch your death of cold in this wind, and it’s beginning to sleet.’
When she rose to her feet and swayed, he put his hand out and caught her elbow; and like that he walked her forward, while Bella followed behind with the child. And when they reached the dwelling and the children opened the door he led her inside and placed her on the chair, saying to them as they bustled around her, ‘I would leave your sister quiet for a moment, she is not feeling very well.’
Cissie now looked towards Bella and said, ‘Put him in the basket.’ Then turning to Sarah, who was standing by her side anxious and disturbed, she murmured, ‘Make me a drop tea, Sarah, will you?’ And Sarah said quickly, ‘Aye, Cissie, aye.’
After a moment she drew in a long breath and, looking up at the man said, ‘Thank you very much; it was kind of you to help me.’
He knew he was being dismissed again, but he couldn’t go until he had delivered his message, an ultimatum. And he was sorry to the heart that he had been called upon to do this, at this particular time, but His Lordship was getting impatient, and that was putting it mildly.
His Lordship, he felt, had become possessed of only one idea of late, and that was to have this child under his care. He had even gone to the extraordinary lengths of ordering all the nursery floor to be redecorated. This had set the whole household agog. There was one thing certain to Cunningham: His Lordship would have his grandson by fair means or foul, and so he must convey his message to her. But he must do it gently, for she was in a distressed state, that was evident, and on the point of collapse.
Merely in order to make conversation and to give her time to recover before he began to talk seriously to her, he said, ‘You have walked too far. Have you been to the hamlet?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘To Shields.’
‘Shields?’ His eyebrows moved upwards. ‘That is a long way on any day, and the wind is piercing.’ He glanced towards Bella now, sensing that this child was the reason for the journey into Shields, and he said, ‘Is this another sister? I haven’t seen her before.’ And when Bella’s head drooped, Cissie explained hesitantly, ‘She’s been away in service. I…I had to bring her back.’
‘Oh!’
Cissie now looked up at this man. Besides the minister, he was the only adult she had spoken to for weeks. Moreover, he was a man of some refinement, and undoubtedly he would have knowledge of the ways of the law. She would tell him about Bella, she had to tell somebody. She looked around at the children now and said, ‘Go in next door, you can leave Annie. An’ you, Bella; go along o’ them.’
When they had obeyed her, Cissie looked up at the man and said, ‘Would you like to sit down a minute?’ and she indicated a backless chair by the side of the table. When he had seated himself she said simply, ‘We’re in trouble.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. May I ask the nature of your trouble?’
‘It’s…it’s Bella. She was workin’ in Mr Braithwaite’s in Pinewood House in Westoe, Shields, and—’ she lowered her head against the shame of it for a moment, and now, her voice scarcely audible, she ended, ‘She’s been stealin’.’
‘Stealing?’ His expression showed that he was shocked.
She nodded. ‘It wasn’t her fault as far as I can gather. The girl above her in the laundry had been helpin’ herself to all kinds of things and she gave her a handkerchief. She shouldn’t have taken it because she knew it was the young mistress’, but she took it.’ She did not add that she had brought it home for herself, but went on. ‘And then she gave her another one. And when the things were missin’ they found one of the handkerchiefs under her bed and…and so they sent for me. And she’s got to be at the Court House on Monday by ten. What…what do you think they’ll do to her?’
Cunningham was about to say soothingly, ‘Well, I shouldn’t worry. She’s only a child—they won’t be so hard on her; they’ll likely put her in the House of Correction for a few weeks.’ But he didn’t say this because it came to him suddenly that this was a situation from which His Lordship could profit. The girl was unusual in that she seemed to love all these children, and they her, and he imagined that she would be prepared to do almost anything to save her sister from the punishment due to her because of her thieving.
His Lordship, although not dabbling in public life now, had himself at one time been a magistrate and dealt out justice; he knew all the ins and outs of law appertaining to local matters. Moreover, he still had many prominent friends and was held in deep respect by them. He had the power to set wheels in motion, or, on the other hand, to stop wheels turning. Very likely a word in the right place and the charge against this child would be eliminated. He would put the matter, as he saw it, to His Lordship. But now he paved the way for his master’s success by shaking his head and saying, ‘People in Court, magistrates and their like, have great power. Very often justice becomes unjust in that the punishment they mete out far exceeds the crime. You say it was only two handkerchiefs, whereas this other girl stole many articles, yet I should imagine they will be made to share the blame.’
He hated himself for a moment when he saw the whiteness of her face turn to grey, and, feeling slightly ashamed, he stood up to take his departure. He would leave her to stew in her worry, poor thing, then return tomorrow and lay before her the proposal.
When she looked up at him dumbly he said in a low tone, ‘I’m afraid I haven’t been of much help, but I haven’t much power.’ He seemed always to be stressing the word ‘power’. ‘It needs people like, well’—he spread his hands out—‘like His Lordship to make an impression on such a case as this.’
He had dropped the seed, and on this he nodded sympathetically at her and went out; and she stared at the door for some time before turning and looking down into the basket where the child lay.
There was a black frost in the night and it turned the sleet of the previous evening into moulded glass that covered every hump and hollow, hill and valley of the fells. It provided slides for Annie, Joe and Charlotte, and Nellie, who made them laugh as each attempt brought her flat on her bottom. But Sarah did not join in the sliding; she sat in the dwelling working on two flour sacks to make capes for the younger ones, while Bella sat hunched close to the fire on a low cracket, her joined hands pinned tightly between her knees; fear was imprinted on her face, and she burst into tears every time she was spoken to. That her terror was great was proved when she refused food, because above all things Bella loved food.
Cissie had risen in the middle of the night to comfort her when her sobbing had kept the others awake, and, taking her into the room and close to the banked-down fire, she had held her as she would have Annie or Nellie and said, ‘There, there; it’ll be all right,’ while Bella had asked her over and over again, ‘What will they do to me, Cissie? Where will they send me?’
Today was Thursday; there was Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to go before she would know what they would do with Bella. She’d had wild thoughts about what she herself could do. She could take her somewhere and hide her. But then, that woman had said they would hold herself responsible; and if they took her what was to become of the others? They would be taken to the House and all her efforts would have been in vain.
She had no hope in her mind that the justices would be lenient with Bella because of her age. Eight, they would say, was an age when she knew right from wrong. Just last year they had hanged a man for stealing a sheep, and two men had got five years for poaching. That was after one of them had been shot all over by a spring gun which took out one of his eyes. But they were lucky; they could have been hanged because they were carrying a gun. But Bella hadn’t stolen sheep, and she hadn’t a gun, she had only taken two hankies, and they, back in the house, had only proof that she had taken one, and if they had come and searched the dwelling they wouldn’t have found the second one for it was now buried two feet down in the soft mud near the river.
If only she had someone to talk to, someone to advise her. Not Parson Hedley; she felt he wouldn’t be much comfort at this time because he was dealing with sin; and sin, even by the parson’s standards, must always be punished. She wanted someone…someone like Matthew. If only Matthew would stop by. If only it was Sunday and she could tell Jimmy. Jimmy would go back and tell him, then he would come. But even so it would be too late, ’cos Jimmy wouldn’t see him until Monday now that he lived at the mill, and she had to be in Shields with Bella by ten o’clock on the Monday. She couldn’t tell William to tell him in case she should overhear. William wasn’t as wise as Jimmy.
She was sick with worry and striving; she felt very, very tired. She wished…What did she wish? That she would die in the night. Stupid thinking, weak thinking. What would become of the others if anything happened to her? But oh, she was tired, she was so tired these days that she kept telling herself that she was tired…
The man came just after she had doled out the small helpings of broth to each of them. She had chastised Joe for gulping at his and not eating it slowly, warning him that there was no more for him, when there came the three small knocks on the door, and when she opened it and saw him standing there she felt for a moment glad to see him. He was, in a strange way, and in spite of her fear of him, almost like a friend. He glanced at the children standing round the table, then said, ‘I wonder if I could speak to you a moment; would it be too cold for you to walk a little way?’
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and then she said, ‘No; no. I’ll just get me shawl.’
She went out with him and walked a few yards away from the dwelling; then he stopped and looked at her and said, ‘I was greatly concerned about you yesterday and your trouble and I took the liberty of putting your case before His Lordship. As I said, it is only people such as His Lordship that have the power to alter the course of justice. Well—’ He paused and rubbed his gloved hands together and seemed disinclined to go on, but after a moment, when she remained silent, her eyes fixed tight on his face, he added, ‘His Lordship thinks that he could persuade Mr Braithwaite to overlook the case against your sister, but…but he would expect you to do something for him in return. And’—he swallowed deeply—‘I don’t need to have to put that into words, do I?’
She overlapped the shawl across her neck; the knuckles of her thumbs digging into the sides of her windpipe almost stopped her breathing; then she moved her head twice, but in such a way that he did not take it as a refusal; he just waited while, unblinking, she stared at him. And the seed he had dropped last night and that had been growing rapidly in her mind sprang into poisonous growth before her eyes, and as if defending herself against something visible she thrust out her hand and backed from him, crying, ‘No, no, I won’t!’
He stood with his head bent, making no movement. After a while he looked at her and said sadly, ‘I…I did my best. I was only trying to help you. And…and I must give you a message. His Lordship wished it. He said that if you consented, the offer he made to you in the beginning would still hold good. You would have twenty-five shillings a week as long as the child remained with him.’ He half turned from her now; then looking at her across his shoulders, he said, ‘There’s not much time left. If…if your sister isn’t to come before the justice on Monday then His Lordship would have to set wheels in motion by tomorrow. If…if you should change your mind you’ve only to come up to the House. The porter at either Lodge will admit you.’
She watched him walking across the slippery earth towards the track. His shoulders were stooped and his body conveyed a sadness to her that was reflected in herself a thousandfold.
Bella cried in the night again, and Cissie got out of bed and dragged her away from the others and into the room, and there she shook her, while hissing at her, ‘Give over! Will you give over?’ until Bella stopped and, her head hanging back on her shoulders, whimpered, ‘I’m frightened, our Cissie, I’m frightened.’ At this Cissie slowly lowered herself on to the chair and stared at her. Then reaching out, she took her hand and said, ‘Go on back to bed…it’ll be all right. I’ll think of something.’ And Bella went back to bed somewhat comforted because it was the first time that Cissie had indicated that she would put things right, and like Joe, like them all, she believed that their Cissie could put things right…
It was raining when at eleven o’clock in the morning she went out of the door with the child in her arms. The drops hit her face like pellets of ice, the wind lifted the shawl from around her shoulders and whirled it over her head and would have taken it off but for the string round her neck. Over the top of the child’s shawl she had put a sack to keep the rain from soaking through.
She made her way to the North Lodge because it was nearer. The porter let her through the gate without a word, and she did not speak to him. She walked up the long grass drive between the high tangle of brushwood along the side of the wall and the wood itself. She passed the place where she had climbed the wall that far-off day, the climbing that was the cause of her walking towards the Hall now. She kept on straight through the park until, in the far distance, like a grey cloud on the horizon she saw the house. She passed keepers who made no attempt to stop her. She walked across a garden and up broad steps on to a gravel drive, then up more steps, and then she was standing under the shelter of a porch and before a great black oak door studded with brass nails. Here she took the sack from off the child and dropped it on to the flags of the terrace. Then she pulled a handle attached to the wall and the bell clanged.
