A Mother's Shame Page 11

  ‘I do not think Kitty would betray us,’ Maria answered, and they then waited for the sound of the key in the lock at the end of the long corridor.

  Kitty appeared some minutes later with a flushed face and her mob cap all askew. Maria was waiting for her on the landing and she wasted no time in putting the idea to the girl.

  ‘Kitty, how would you feel about getting out of this place?’

  Kitty stared at her with wide eyes. ‘Eeh, miss, whatever are yer talkin’ about?’

  ‘As you are probably aware, Miss Isabelle’s mother has just paid her an impromptu visit and she is trying to arrange for her to go to stay with her uncle in Tasmania.’

  ‘Tasmania?’ Kitty gulped as her hand flew to her throat. She had had little or no education but even she knew that this was a long way away. ‘But ain’t that on t’other side o’ the world?’

  ‘Yes, it is, and you and I have the chance to go with Miss Isabelle and her brother.’

  ‘But how would we get there?’

  ‘On a ship, of course. Mrs Montgomery is going to book the passages very soon. Think of it, Kitty! It could be the start of a whole new life for you.’

  Kitty still looked uncertain. She had always longed to see the world beyond the walls of Hatter’s Hall, but now the chance was being offered to her on a plate the thought of leaving was daunting.

  ‘When would we be going?’ she asked now as Maria took her hand and gently rubbed it. It was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

  ‘We would be gone from here by the end of next week. Oh, do please consider it, Kitty, and until you have decided, promise me that you will mention this to no one.’

  ‘I promise,’ Kitty answered immediately.

  ‘Very well. Now go down and fetch up some more logs, would you, otherwise Mrs Bradshaw will wonder why we rang for you. And remember . . . not a word!’

  Kitty scuttled away, her small face creased in wonder at the opportunity that was being offered to her but still not quite able to take it in.

  It was the following morning after she had set out the breakfast trays that Kitty drew Maria out into the corridor. ‘I’ve decided,’ she told her, wiping her hands nervously down the front of her long calico apron. ‘I’s a comin’ wi’ you . . . that’s if yer still want me to, that is.’

  ‘Oh, Kitty, I’m so pleased.’ Maria hugged her, bringing a flush of pleasure to the girl’s cheeks. She had never known affection before. ‘Now what you must do is pack your things and be ready to go when Mrs Montgomery comes for us. She will be here by Tuesday at the latest.’

  ‘Huh, that won’t take long,’ Kitty said caustically. ‘I only ’ave what I’m stood up in an’ one other change o’ clothes.’

  Maria gave her a final hug before hurrying away to tell Isabelle the good news. Now it just remained to inform her mother of her plans – a daunting prospect and not something she was looking forward to.

  Chapter Eleven

  Bunching her skirts into her hands, Maria picked her way across the slushy puddles. There had been a thaw during the night although it was still bitterly cold, and everywhere looked wet and miserable just as she felt. Her precious wages were tucked deep into the pocket of her dress, and this week Maria was determined that her mother should have every penny of them. It was the last that Maria would be able to give her, for the foreseeable future at least, and although she had grown used to the idea of the adventure she was about to embark on, she still dreaded the thought of leaving her family behind.

  The walk to the cottage seemed to take twice as long as it normally did, for the ground underfoot was slippery and treacherous, but at last it came into sight, a thin plume of smoke rising from its chimney.

  ‘Hello, pet.’ Martha was sitting with a pile of mending when Maria entered the kitchen but she immediately stopped what she doing and hurried across to kiss her daughter firmly on the cheek. Emma was clinging to her big sister’s skirts by now, her face upturned and beaming, and Maria felt a stab of regret. She would miss them all so much.

  ‘Hello, Ria.’ Henry had been stacking the fallen logs he had carried from the nearby wood at the side of the hearth, but he too straightened up to greet her. A quick glance around assured Maria that her father was not there and she was relieved. It would not hurt her to leave without saying goodbye to him.

  Soon she was seated at the side of the fire with a steaming mug of tea in her hand and a scone to go with it. The four of them chatted quietly, simply glad to be together again, and when Maria had finished her tea, she asked timidly, ‘Could we go into the front parlour, Mother? I have something I need to talk to you about.’

  Looking vaguely surprised, Martha nodded. It was cold in there as there was no fire lit and she knew that Maria would not want to linger in it for long.

  As Maria entered what her mother had always referred to as her ‘best room’ her eyes flicked about. Here, Martha kept her best pieces, few as they were. There was a large aspidistra plant balanced in a big pot on a wooden stand, and dainty crocheted arm-covers that her mother had spent long hours making on the two mismatched overstuffed armchairs. A small number of chipped plaster ornaments that her mother had won on a stall one year at the Coventry Pot Fair stood on a table, and a gaily coloured peg rug had pride of place in front of the fireplace. It was pitifully little to show for all the years of hard work the woman had spent bringing up her family, but she expected no more.

  ‘I have something to tell you,’ Maria told her when the door was closed. There was no point in beating about the bush. ‘I . . . I have been given the opportunity to travel to Tasmania to act as Miss Isabelle’s maid – and – and I have accepted it.’

  Martha’s face paled as her hand flew to her mouth and she dropped heavily onto the nearest chair.

  ‘We will be going to stay with Miss Isabelle’s uncle until her confinement is over . . . and mine,’ Maria ended lamely. Seeing her mother’s stricken expression she placed an arm about her shoulders. ‘Don’t you see? It’s better this way,’ she said gently. ‘I cannot hide my condition for much longer and this could be a whole new start for me.’

  ‘I . . . I don’t want you to go,’ Martha sobbed, bereft at the thought of losing this child who meant so much to her.

  ‘I don’t want to go either,’ Maria said with a catch in her voice. ‘But what will happen once Father learns about the baby? He will turn me out onto the streets or put me in the workhouse – and we all know that once I go in there, I may never come out.’

  ‘Will you ever come back?’ Martha eventually asked in a small voice. She knew that Maria was speaking the truth, and although she felt as if her heart was being torn out of her, she couldn’t bear to think of her daughter suffering either of those fates.

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ Maria sighed, then suddenly remembering the money in her pocket, she quickly withdrew it and pressed it into her mother’s hand.

  She had expected Martha to continue to object; to tell her that she was not allowed to go, but surprisingly the woman conceded: ‘It is better this way, as you say. You will have a brand new start there. But how will you manage when the child comes?’

  ‘Miss Isabelle is fully aware of my condition and she has assured me that she will help me. But no one must know that we are going. Mrs Montgomery is coming to fetch us some time on Tuesday whilst her husband is away on business in Manchester. It was Isabelle’s father who placed her in Hatter’s Hall, you see, and should he find out he would not allow her to go.’

  So the rumours that had been flying about the village were true then, Martha thought. People were whispering that the Montgomery girl had gone and got herself into trouble. But who would ever have thought that her daughter would be acting as lady’s maid to the likes of the Montgomerys? They were the closest thing to gentry in the whole of the county, and not people to be trifled with – as many of the locals had found to their cost. Charles Montgomery owned over half of all the businesses in the town, and many a man had been given his marching orders for
going against his wishes.

  She rose and hugged her daughter, and they went back to the others and for the rest of the afternoon they treasured each moment, knowing that they might well be the last they would ever spend together. All too soon the afternoon began to draw in and Maria knew that it was time to go. She hugged and kissed Emma till the child squirmed in her arms. Henry had gone out some time before so now it only remained to say her goodbyes to her mother.

  There were tears in their eyes and Maria was shaking as they clung together at the door but then Martha nudged her gently away. ‘Go on, pet,’ she urged. ‘And try to write to me when you are settled.’ Already she could guess at the gossip that would do the rounds when a letter all the way from Tasmania and addressed to her arrived at the post office.

  Maria staggered away on feet that felt like lead, blinded by tears and glad of the warm cape that Mrs Bradshaw had once again kindly allowed her to wear. At least the hood would shield her upset from prying eyes.

  Once she had left the little straggle of cottages behind, she paused to wipe her streaming cheeks and blow her nose before walking on. There was no going back now.

  By the time Tuesday morning dawned both Kitty and Isabelle were all of a dither, but Maria was remarkably calm. She had prayed for a solution to her problem and this was the one the Good Lord had sent her. Isabelle’s trunks were packed, along with an overnight valise containing essentials that would tide her over until they reached the ship. Kitty’s few paltry things were all ready to go too, and Maria’s were tied into a neat bundle hidden beneath her bed. If Mrs Bradshaw should enter their rooms before Mrs Montgomery arrived, Maria had ensured that she would see nothing that could give rise to suspicion.

  The day passed ominously slowly with Isabelle constantly at the window peering off down the drive. Neither she nor Maria had been able to eat a single thing, and by two o’clock in the afternoon Isabelle was pacing frantically.

  She had dressed in her warmest gown, a full crinoline over numerous petticoats made of the finest wool that money could buy, and Maria had also selected a thick silklined cloak for her to wear over it.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure something has gone wrong!’ Isabelle wailed, wringing her hands in frustration. ‘Mama should surely have been here by now!’

  Maria had already heard the same words at least a dozen times during the course of the day and now she had given up trying to reassure her. It was then that the sound of horses’ hooves could be heard approaching on the drive outside and Isabelle dashed to the window again, her face ecstatic. ‘She’s here at last!’ Her joyous shout echoed around the room and now Maria raced across to join her and peer over her shoulder. A fine coach and four perfectly matched black horses had drawn up outside the entrance, but although the girls craned their necks they could not see anyone get out. Holding their breath, they waited – and sure enough, minutes later they heard the click of the key in the lock of the landing door and raised voices.

  ‘This is really most irregular!’ Mrs Bradshaw screeched. And then the door was opened and Isabelle rushed into her mother’s arms.

  ‘Have you packed your things?’ Helena asked, her face grim.

  Isabelle nodded and snatched up her cloak as Mrs Bradshaw’s face turned an alarming shade of purple.

  ‘I . . . I really cannot allow you to take Miss Isabelle, madam,’ she blustered. ‘Your husband left her here in my safekeeping, with the express instruction that she was not even to be allowed out into the gardens.’

  ‘Yes, well, there has been a change of plan,’ Helena said coolly. ‘And now I am taking my daughter back into my safekeeping. But don’t be concerned, Matron. I shall make absolutely sure that Charles knows this was none of your doing, and you will not be out of pocket, I assure you. And now, I wish to see Miss er . . . Kitty, I believe her name is.’

  ‘Kitty has no other name,’ Mrs Bradshaw said repressively. ‘Her mother was a pauper found outside the gates just over sixteen years ago. She was heavily pregnant at the time and we gave her shelter, but she died shortly afterwards giving birth. Kitty was the result and I have cared for the girl ever since. But why would you wish to see her?’

  Helena could just imagine the sort of ’care’ the poor girl must have received. She had probably been worked almost to death, and beaten if she so much as put one foot wrong. ‘Because I intend to take her, and also Miss Mundy, out of here too,’ Helena informed the Matron imperiously.

  ‘I could ring for her,’ Maria suggested, knowing that Kitty would be on the alert. Helena nodded then turned back to Mrs Bradshaw, who was clutching at her heart.

  ‘B-but this is preposterous,’ she stuttered. Kitty was one of her hardest workers. She had never asked for anything – nor been given anything, if it came to that – except for food and shelter.

  Seconds later, light footsteps sounded in the corridor and Kitty appeared, clutching a small bundle, her cheeks flushed and excited. She shuffled from foot to foot, still not quite believing that a new life was about to begin.

  A man followed her into the room now and Helena told him, ‘Hoskins, kindly take these trunks and the young ladies down to the carriage for me.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He hoisted the first of Miss Isabelle’s trunks up onto his shoulder as if it weighed no more than a feather then left the room with Maria and Kitty trailing after him, keeping a fearful eye on Mrs Bradshaw who looked as if she was about to explode with rage. As Kitty went to pass her, Mrs Bradshaw made a lunge for her arm but racing across to the woman, Helena smacked it away.

  ‘Let the child go,’ she ordered, her eyes flashing blue fire. ‘You have no right to keep her here if she wishes to leave. She is not a prisoner or a lunatic.’

  Mrs Bradshaw looked on helplessly as Kitty scuttled away.

  ‘You wicked, ungrateful girl,’ she hurled at her receding figure. ‘Is this all the thanks I am to get after all the years I have nurtured you?’

  Helena snorted. If Kitty had been ‘nurtured’, she dreaded to think what state the unfortunates who were locked away here were in. The poor little soul looked as if one good puff of wind would blow her away. And the girl was so pale she resembled a corpse! She stood there glowering at Mrs Bradshaw until Hoskins had carried all the luggage down, then sweeping towards the door in a rustle of silk she said to the Matron, ‘Good day to you. My husband will be in touch shortly to settle whatever we owe you.’ And with that she followed Hoskins without another word, leaving Mrs Bradshaw in a state of shock and bristling with indignation.

  Helena found the girls waiting in the carriage for her, Isabelle on one side and Maria and Kitty on the other. Kitty’s face was streaked with tears and she was crying bitterly, as she nestled deeper into Maria’s arms

  ‘Do you not wish to come, my dear?’ Helena asked her kindly. ‘And do you not have a shawl? You are shivering.’

  Kitty sniffed in a most unladylike manner as she wiped the tears from the end of her nose with the back of her hand.

  ‘I ain’t got a shawl, missus,’ she said. ‘An’ I ain’t cryin’ ’cos I don’t wanna go. I’m cryin’ ’cos I do, if yer get what I mean?’

  ‘I think I do,’ Helena said softly before leaning from the window as she shouted, ‘Drive on, Hoskins.’

  The carriage began to lurch slightly as it pulled away and Kitty clung on to Maria for dear life, terrified that something might still happen to prevent her leaving. But soon the old watchman had let them through the gates and as Kitty stared from the window, her eyes grew almost as large as saucers. Her whole life had taken place within the confines of Hatter’s Hall and the world was far bigger than she could ever have imagined. The fields seemed to go on forever and she gazed in amazement at the cottages they passed. Everything was new and exciting, and yet she felt fearful too; very small and insignificant. What would become of her now if things should go wrong? Her whole life had been bound by strict routine but now there could be no going back, and she realised in that moment that her life as she had known it was abou
t to change forever. Her eyes stretched wider as they passed the parish church and she gasped in awe at the stained-glass windows sparkling in the frosty air. She felt like a blind person whose sight has been miraculously restored to them, and in her heart she knew that she had made the right decision.

  ‘So what will happen now, Mama?’ Isabelle looked so relieved that her mother could not help but smile.

  ‘You will travel by train to Liverpool and board the ship on Thursday evening; it will sail at noon on Friday. I have managed to secure all your passages. Isabelle, you will have a double cabin that you will share with Miss Mundy. Joshua will have a single cabin and Kitty, as a general maid, will be in the single women’s quarters.’

  ‘W-will I ever be able to come back to England?’ Kitty dared to ask and Helena immediately reassured her.

  ‘When Miss Isabelle eventually returns home you may accompany her if you wish – and the same applies to Miss Mundy.’

  ‘Where is Joshua?’ Isabelle asked now, suddenly noticing his absence.

  ‘He will be waiting for you at the station in Liverpool. I have booked you all into a hotel for tomorrow night, do not fear. Everything is arranged. You will even have time to do a little shopping for appropriate clothes.’ She glanced at Kitty as she spoke. The poor little mite would certainly need something more substantial than the threadbare rags she was wearing now before they set sail, and she had supplied Joshua with adequate funds to ensure that she got them.

  Kitty was reeling from everything she had been told. A boat. A train. And full steam ahead for a pauper girl who had never even left the confines of Hatter’s Hall! It was a lot to take in.

  ‘Which ship shall we be sailing on, Mama?’ Isabelle asked now, as if sailing to the other side of the world was an everyday occurrence.

  ‘You will be on the Northern Lights sailing to Melbourne, Australia,’ Helena responded. ‘But I should warn you it is not luxury accommodation. The better cabins had all been taken. It was the best I could do at such short notice, but I’m sure you will manage.’