The Girl in the Ragged Shawl

Eliza vaguely heard their conversation and then the sound of a door closing. ‘Where am I?’ she asked, her voice cracked and hoarse. ‘Can I have some more water please?’

‘You’re in the infirmary and I be told to look after you. The master said I am not to leave you until you’re better, my lovely. I will bring you some warm milk sweetened with honey and you must drink it, a little at a time, for it will make you strong again. When your throat’s better you shall have bread and milk and Cook says she shall save you a little of the stew from the master’s dinner, for she always cooks too much.’

‘Kind …’ Eliza murmured and drifted away into sleep.

She did not know how long she lay without stirring, but then she became aware of a man bending over her, touching her, and she cried out in fear.

‘Now then, child, there’s nought to fear.’ The doctor’s voice calmed her, for she had seen him tend other sick inmates. ‘There’s no real harm done. It’s fortunate your friend found you or you might have died in your hiding place.’

‘No …’ Eliza tried to deny the lie, but her words did not reach her lips. ‘She shut me in there …’

‘What is she saying?’ a voice Eliza did not recognise asked. ‘She seems distressed.’

‘It is just the ordeal she has suffered,’ the doctor said. ‘There is nothing to worry about, Mr Stoneham, I do assure you. Bed rest, nourishing food and the care of this good woman here and all will be well.’ The doctor turned to Ruth. ‘Remember, keep her warm, feed her – and a bath would not come amiss. I think it must be a long time since this young lady was properly bathed; her hair is crawling with lice and this dirt on her skin did not get there in three days. It is a sin not to clean yourself and the girl must be told this. So make sure she is bathed and has clean clothes – can you do that?’

‘Yes, if the mistress permits,’ Ruth said.

‘You must do exactly as the doctor tells you,’ Mistress Simpkins said in a soft caressing voice that Eliza did not recognise. The sound of it made her whimper and try to deny her lies, but her moans just made the doctor laugh.

‘These children do not like soap and water, Mistress Simpkins, but cleanliness is next to godliness – and I think she must learn to keep herself clean and to pray. I do hope you take your inmates to church every Sunday while your chapel is out of order?’

‘Of course, sir. I am not sure it makes any impression on them, for many of them are base and idle, but we try our utmost to keep them clean in body and mind.’

‘Our good queen sets us all an example by her conduct,’ the doctor said in a pious tone and the mistress agreed, for since the attack on Queen Victoria’s life some years earlier the people had taken her firmly to their hearts. ‘We must all attempt to live godly lives.’

A tear ran down Eliza’s cheek, because being dirty was one of the punishments heaped on her for disobedience. She had not been allowed to wash for weeks because she was deemed to be unworthy of the privilege. Feeling a gentle but firm hand on hers, Eliza tried to look at the man bending over her, but her eyes wouldn’t focus properly.

‘Things will improve, I promise,’ he said in a soft whisper that only she was meant to hear. ‘Have faith, child.’

Eliza’s fingers fluttered, trying to communicate her need, but he’d removed his hand and he and the doctor were leaving. She closed her eyes and waited until she heard the sound of the mistress’s footsteps returning.

‘If ever you dare to tell Mr Stoneham or the doctor that I shut you in the cellar I shall kill you!’ she hissed

Eliza opened her eyes and stared at her. The mistress met her look for a moment and then walked away. Eliza believed her threat, because children often died of fever or near starvation in this fearful place and one more would not be noticed. The mistress stood in place of a matron, which every workhouse was meant to have, but she cared little for the health of her inmates and anyone who was sick was left to rot in the infirmary unless Ruth or one of the other women cared for them.

‘Eliza, are you awake at last?’ Ruth’s face was bending over. ‘Can you drink a little milk now, my lovely?’

‘Yes please.’ Eliza felt herself raised against the hard pillows and a cup was held to her mouth. ‘She will punish us, Ruth. Just as soon as she thinks it safe, she will punish us again.’

CHAPTER 2 (#uec02cbf0-eff7-50ea-8863-d17798bf3a4e)

‘I swear there is something badly wrong at the workhouse in Whitechapel,’ Arthur Stoneham said to his companion as they lingered over the good dinner of roast beef and several removes Arthur’s housekeeper had served them. ‘I saw a child there today and she was barely alive. The tale was that she’d fallen down the stairs of the cellar when hiding to avoid doing her work – but those bruises looked to me very like she’d been beaten, and the idea of her having locked herself in the cellar is ludicrous.’

‘What do you mean to do about it?’ Toby Rattan asked. The younger son of Lord Rosenburg, Toby tended to spend his days in idle pursuits, gambling on the horses and cards, riding and indulging his love of good wine and beautiful women. He yawned behind his hand, for at times Arthur could be a dull dog, unlike the bold adventurer he’d been when the pair was first on the town in 1867 when they were both nineteen years of age. Something had happened about that time and it had sobered Arthur, making him more serious, though Toby had never known what had taken that devil-may-care look from his friend’s eyes, but their friendship had held for more years than he could recall since then, despite the change in Arthur’s manner.

‘I am trying to change things, but it is very slow, for although some of the board are well-meaning men they believe the poor to be undeserving,’ Arthur said and laughed as he saw Toby’s expression. ‘You did not dine with me this evening to hear about such dull stuff as this, I’ll wager.’

‘If only you would wager,’ Toby said and smiled oddly, because he was inordinately fond of his friend, even though he did consider him slow company when he got on his high horse about the state of the poor. ‘Actually, I agree with you, my dear fellow. If it would not bore me to death I would sit on the Board of Governors with you and help you get rid of that wretched woman.’

‘Ah, dear Toby, as if I would ask you to sacrifice so much,’ Arthur said and arched his left eyebrow mockingly. Toby was as fair as Arthur was dark and the two men were of a similar build and well-matched in form and looks, turning heads whenever they entered a room together. Toby grinned, for his sense of humour matched Arthur’s. ‘Fear not, all I would ask of you is that you donate a small portion of your obscene fortune to helping me repair and reform the workhouse.’

‘In what way?’ Toby smiled affectionately, because he admired his friend’s unswerving purpose in trying to rescue unfortunates from poverty and worse. ‘Are you going to install gas lighting or new drains?’

‘Firstly, they need a new roof, and I have already installed some new water pipes, but there was an outbreak of cholera in that area recently and I fear more needs to be done in the area as a whole,’ Arthur said and laughed as Toby’s lazy attitude fell away and he sat forward, suddenly intent. ‘Gas lighting is going a little too far for the moment, but I was hoping for both money and your help with changing opinions. For most the workhouse is a place of correction—’

‘Was that not its true purpose?’ Toby interrupted.

‘In 1834, because the demands of the destitute were so heavy on some parishes, the law was changed so that the poor could not claim on the parish unless they entered the workhouse,’ Arthur informed him, though he doubted his friend was ignorant of the law. ‘However, it was meant as a place of refuge where men, women and children would be cared for in return for work. The rules are strict, because they have to be – but I think Mistress Simpkins is not the only one who abuses them.’

‘In what way?’

‘I am fairly certain that they interpret the laws, using them for their own benefit. That girl had been in the cellar for three days, when the legal punishment in solitary confinement is one day, and she was lucky to be alive. Only a week or so back a boy died in mysterious circumstances in that same house and I believe the conditions to be much the same in many other workhouses.’

‘You do not hold to the opinion that the poor are shiftless and undeserving?’ Toby murmured one eyebrow lifting. ‘Most would say they have to prove their worth.’

‘Money is a privilege, not a right,’ Arthur said. ‘If I had a lazy servant to whom I paid good wages I would dismiss him – but I spoke to some of the men in that place and I believe that they are ready to work and care for their families. When they do have a situation, the wages are so poor that they can save nothing for the times when there is no work and so are forced into the workhouse through no fault of their own.’

‘You are a reformer, my friend,’ Toby chided. ‘You should take my father’s seat in the House of Lords.’

‘I leave the law-making to men like your father, Toby, but I would ask you to beg him to add his voice to those who seek reform. It is time the poor were treated with respect and given help in a way that does not rob them of their pride. Men should not be forced to take their families into the workhouse – and women should not be forced to prostitution to keep from starving. I also have it in mind to set up a place of refuge for such women.’

‘You know I am in agreement with that.’

‘Yes, I know – but I need help with these reforms at the workhouse.’

‘You have my promise,’ Toby said. ‘And if you need money for your reforms I will offer you five thousand immediately.’

‘I was sure I could count on you,’ Arthur murmured. ‘What I need most is your support. The more voices raised against those dens of iniquity the better, Toby, and I speak now of the whorehouses, not the spike, as the unfortunates within its walls call the workhouse. I would wish to have all brothels closed down, but every time I try to raise the subject I am told that such women are more at risk on the streets. At least in the brothels they are protected from violence and their health is monitored, so they tell me – and I fear it may be true, poor wretches.’

‘It is the children certain men abduct and initiate into their disgusting ways that disturbs me,’ Toby said, all pretence of being a fop gone now that Arthur had raised a subject that angered him. Toby enjoyed a dalliance with a beautiful woman as much as the next man, but he chose married or widowed women from his own class, women who were bored with their lives and enjoyed the company of a younger man. Visiting whores at houses of ill repute was something he had not done since he’d seen for himself the terrible consequences such places inflicted on the women forced to serve them. ‘If a woman chooses to support herself in this way it is her prerogative, but to force mere children! I told you of my groom’s twelve-year-old daughter who was snatched from her own lane, not two yards from her home?’

‘Yes, you did. When she was eventually found two years later, she had syphilis and was deranged. I know how that angered you, Toby.’ It was sadly but one case of many. Victorian society was outwardly God-fearing and often pious to the extreme, but it hid a cesspool of depravity and injustice that no decent man could tolerate.

‘Had I found the person that snatched poor Mary, I should have killed him,’ Toby vowed.

‘Exactly so.’ Arthur smiled at him. ‘I knew you were of the same mind, my dear friend. In our society the whore is thought of as the lowest of the low, but who brought her to that state? Men – and a State that cares nothing that a woman may be starving and forced to sell herself to feed her children.’

‘Yes, true enough, we are all culpable, but the ladies of the night do have a choice in many cases – the children sold into these places do not, Arthur. It is the children we must protect.’

Arthur reached forward to fill his wine glass. ‘We are in agreement. Thank you, Toby. I shall put your name at the top of my list – and I know of one or two influential ladies who will add theirs, but it is men we need, because for the most part they have the money and the power.’

‘I shall ask my father and brother to add their names. They will not do more, though of course I can usually extract a few thousand from my father for a good cause.’ Toby smiled, because he knew that his father indulged him. ‘I find the ladies are more vociferous when it comes to demanding change.’

Arthur raised his glass. ‘To your good health, Toby. Now tell me, have you visited the theatre of late?’

Arthur looked at himself in the dressing mirror as he prepared for bed. It was three in the morning and Toby had just departed to visit a certain widow of whom he was fond, and she of him. Their arrangement had lasted more than a year and Arthur thought it might endure for some time because the pair were suited in many ways, and Toby was too restless to marry.

He envied his friend in having found a lady so much to his liking. Arthur had thought of marriage once or twice but at the last he had drawn back, perhaps because he was still haunted by that time … No, damn it! He would not let himself remember that which shamed him even now. It was gone, finished, and he had become a better man, and yet he had not married because of his secret. He could never wed a young and beautiful girl, for he would soil her with his touch, and as yet he had not found a woman of more mature years of whom he might grow fond. Perhaps it was his punishment that he could not find love in his heart.