The Orphans of Ardwick Read online

  ‘Why you …’ Nostrils flaring, the lady walked towards them; instinctively, Pip’s arm went around Mack protectively and she pressed closer to Simon at her side. She thought the lady would strike her but instead, she spoke on in her icy tone: ‘How dare you! You deem yourself on a par with this family, with me? Friends?’

  ‘Just you leave Pip alone.’ Eyes boring into Caroline’s, Simon half rose from his seat. ‘She meant nowt by it, was being nice is all. It’s just her way.’

  The room fell quiet. Though his boldness must surely have surprised her, Mrs Goldthorpe’s features altered not an inch. She smiled. ‘I’ll see to it that you’re gone from this house by the end of the week. Mark my words.’ Arching a shapely eyebrow, her smile grew and her tone dropped. ‘Cook isn’t the only one who can wrap that old man upstairs around her finger.’

  A moment later, she was gone. The door breezed shut and the children looked to each other in silence.

  ‘You’d do well to keep one eye at your back.’

  Pip swivelled her head. Hardman, leaning against the wall by the window, nodded. If not exactly friendly, she continued evenly:

  ‘Sour bitch, she is. And snidy as they come when she’s a mind for it. Aye. Watch her.’

  ‘Thought you hated us, wanted us gone from here?’

  The housemaid folded her arms. Rather than focusing her stare on Simon when answering his questions, her eyes bore into the door Caroline had just exited through. ‘I do.’

  ‘Why the warning, then?’

  ‘Because my feelings, on both counts you mentioned, run deeper for that one just now than the three of thee.’

  Hardman dislikes and wants rid of Caroline even more than she does us? Pip frowned. Then remembering the housemaid and cook’s heated discussion in this very room earlier, her cheeks grew hot. She stole a glance at her. Jess was rather bonny looking in her own way, she admitted. By, but she couldn’t imagine her and Mr Philip together! Was his wife aware? She doubted it – from what she’d just seen of her, surely Hardman would be from this house in a heartbeat? It was a rum do, all right. Messing with the maids – and him a gentleman, too. Mind you, Pip reminded herself, that status meant not a thing, did it? Look at the filthy piece who tried to lure Mack away that day. He’d been a gentleman as well, hadn’t he? Rank and wealth meant nothing really in some respects. You were either good or you were not, regardless of class. It was that simple.

  Her thoughts switched back to Mrs Goldthorpe. What did she have planned for them? Would she make good on her threat? Surely the master wouldn’t let her convince him to make them leave? He didn’t appear to hold his daughter-in-law in much regard if his tone was anything to go by when he’d told his son she’d do well to remember whose house this was. Oh, but why couldn’t they all just get along? Pip asked herself again. Was it really hoping for too much? Would the few who for whatever reason had taken an instant dislike to her and the lads one day change their opinion? She prayed so. It was all she could do.

  When Tabby re-entered the kitchen, Pip rushed to her side. ‘What on earth happened? Is Miss Josephine all right, now?’

  ‘Aye. Least she will be. Cook’s with her, promised her she’d stay at her side till she falls asleep. Don’t fret, the lady shall be fine.’ Before Pip could ask more, the scullery maid glanced to Hardman. ‘You may as well retire for the night. The guests should be leaving shortly but if the family need owt in between, I’ll see to them. Same goes for you, little ’un,’ she added to Mack, who was nodding off by the fire.

  ‘Aye, go on, lad. Me and Simon shall join you soon,’ Pip told him, and on her reassurance he took himself off to bed.

  Likewise, Hardman needed no second telling – shrugging, she escaped to her room.

  ‘Silly sow.’ Tabby jerked her head after the housemaid. ‘Fancy her getting herself mixed up with the son. And him what’s had a piece of nigh on every servant to ever grace his father’s doorstep.’

  Pip slipped into a chair at the table beside the older girl. ‘Aye?’

  ‘Cook liked to think he’d curb his roving-hands ways upon his marriage to Mrs Goldthorpe – clearly not.’ She lowered her tone. ‘You noticed that likeness in her room upstairs?’

  ‘Cook’s room?’

  ‘Aye, the one of the young girl wedged behind the mirror?’

  Simon nodded. ‘We were wondering over that.’

  ‘Well.’ Tabby leaned closer. ‘That there’s Cook’s daughter.’

  ‘Where is she now?’ asked Pip.

  ‘The master springs from Bolton town some ten miles from here. His parents were farming folk but it were never their son’s calling. Upon their deaths, he sold the land and went into the mill business. He knew what he were about, all right; cotton were quickly becoming king and he struck at the right time. Quickly made a fortune, he did. You’ve noticed he don’t quite speak as the nobs do, though he’s striven most of his life to better hisself, to prove he were just as good as the rest of the rich?’

  At Pip and Simon’s nods, she shrugged. ‘He’s none the worse for it. His roots shaped him into the kindly being he is the day. You are who you are – no getting away from the fact for most, nay.’ Leaning back, Tabby folded her arms. ‘Anyroad, Cook went to work for the master and his wife shortly after their marriage. In time, she fell for and wed their groom, the master gave them a little cottage to dwell in on the grounds, and they had their one and only child some years later – Lydia, behind the mirror.

  ‘Now, as you’ve seen for yourselfs, the master don’t stand on ceremony. Though he ensured Miss Josephine and Mr Philip were raised proper, summat I reckon he’d have liked for hisself, old habits die hard; Lydia were allowed to mix with the young lady and gentleman. They grew together, were inseparable, became as though they were each from the same womb. But course, this couldn’t last and the passing years drew them in directions more becoming of their stations. Miss Josephine’s time were swallowed by lessons with her mother: pianoforte and embroidery, social engagements and suchlike – skills she’d need to find herself a suitable husband – whilst her brother were sent away to school. Lydia followed Cook into servitude as housemaid.’

  ‘How d’you know all this? You’d not have been employed here in them days. You’re little older than Pip and me,’ Simon pointed out.

  ‘Aye, you’re right. The master plucked me from the workhouse and brought me to work in his household shortly afore he moved the family here to Manchester.’ The scullery maid motioned to the beer barrel across the room. ‘It were Cook what regaled me with the history, had five too many one night and grew maudlin over Lydia, as she’s wont to do at times.’

  Fascinated by the glimpse into these people’s pasts, feeling she’d gained a better understanding of them already, Pip was keen to steer the conversation back. ‘So what occurred, Tabby?’ she pressed before Simon could enquire about anything else. ‘Where’s Lydia now?’

  ‘No one knows. Not even her own mam. And it’s Mr Philip to thank for it.’

  Pip exchanged a look with Simon. It was he who asked quietly, ‘Why’s that then? What did he do?’

  ‘Cook said he changed at school, wasn’t the selfsame lad whenever he returned for the holidays. In his place developed a spoilt and selfish piece. Whether down to his rich new student friends or the professors what taught them, she couldn’t rightly say. He began addressing her as Cook rather than Mabel as the family had allus done. He’d often retreat to this very table to seek out her hugs and sage advice whenever he were troubled as a lad; now, he steered clear of the servants’ domain, no longer spoke to her unless to bark an order. This hurt – she’d been more like a second mam to him than a mere domestic. He began throwing scorn on the master and what he deemed his lowly beginnings, which upset both his father and mam, and criticised Miss Josephine for her over-familiar ways with the servants. He’d changed for good, for the worst. The house was allus glad to see the back of him.

  ‘All but Lydia, that is. Though he snubbed her as he did Co
ok and the rest, she saw only the childhood friend she loved. Pity for her, he saw her now as the gentry are often wont to with their maids: a plaything to be used and discarded. He had his way with her, got her with child, then denied all wrongdoing. She, having been convinced he’d wed her upon discovering her condition, grew mad in the head. Cook wanted to tear his head from his body for him, but Lydia pleaded with her. She loved him still. And the pain and shame that she were unmarried and carrying a child as well as the truth that he’d turned his back on her, didn’t return her love as she’d believed, drove her from the house.’

  Pity and disbelief held Pip’s tongue; she didn’t know what to say. She nodded when Simon muttered something about Mr Philip being a swine, then managed to whisper, ‘Oh, poor Lydia. Cook, an’ all.’

  ‘Aye, on all counts. Despite the best efforts of Cook and the master, who were beside hisself as much as her over the loss and his son’s behaviour, they never did find her. She seemed to have vanished from God’s earth. Cook prayed daily her daughter would return one day, when she were ready, awaited it with all her heart. When the master sold his Bolton mill and purchased the bigger one he owns now, and the family upped sticks here to Manchester so he could be closer to his premises a few years back, Cook fretted herself ill with thoughts of Lydia returning and not finding them at their old residence. Aye, that much I were witness to. She put the word out to neighbouring servants and their employers alike to direct her here should she ever reappear, who promised they would. Poor wench is still convinced her daughter will appear on the step one day. Me, I’m not so sure.

  ‘As for Mr Philip …’ Tabby took a swig of her tea before continuing. ‘A swine, aye, he certainly is. And that wife of his is no better, found a sound match in her, he has. Mind, ’taint love what binds them, oh no, least not on his part. It’s the dowry she fetched upon their marriage, no doubt, what snared him. His filthy ways with countless maids since is proof.’ She lifted an eyebrow knowingly. ‘Servants talk, you see, and word soon spreads amongst us. The master don’t know the half of it. Cook’s hushed up much of the goings-on to save him the heartache and shame.’

  Simon nodded slowly. ‘And now Hardman.’

  ‘Aye. Seems she’s the latest. It’ll end in nowt but tears – hers, that is, you mark my words. Mind, there’s little point in warning her. Hard faced as she is, she’d only say we were spouting falsehoods to spite her.’ Tabby tossed her head. ‘He’d think twice were he to put his mucky hands on me.’

  ‘Or you.’ Simon was looking at Pip with the expression he had earlier with Cook – his eyes burned with protectiveness and she flushed, realising now the meaning.

  ‘I’d break his face for him, I would,’ finished Tabby.

  ‘Miss Lucy’s nice, mind,’ Pip had to say after a silence. Despite her parents’ rottenness, she’d turned out differently, only good. Pip felt compelled to point this out, defend her.

  Tabby and even Simon nodded agreement.

  ‘Mind,’ Pip continued, ‘one thing I can’t fathom: why didn’t Cook leave? How could she bear to stay under the same roof with someone what had treated her daughter so?’

  ‘The master,’ Tabby answered simply. ‘She loves him – Miss Josephine, too – as though they were her own kin. Albert Goldthorpe begged her to remain with the family and she agreed. Mind, as is to be expected, she can’t stand the sight of Mr Philip no more. But for his father and sister, she’d be gone from his life like a shot. All she can do is avoid his presence as much as she’s able. Not such an easy task, that though, now he’s back beneath the master’s roof with his tail betwixt his legs.’

  ‘Aye, I’ve been wondering on that, an’ all. The master upstairs made mention earlier how Mr Philip’s at fault entirely for his situation.’

  At this from Simon, a mirthless smile touched Tabby’s lips. ‘Then good on the master! I wish I could have been there to see his face – that son of his needs telling, all right.’

  ‘He were purple with anger.’

  The girl laughed, but again no amusement showed in her face. ‘I’ll bet. You see, he’s a weakness for the gambling. Frittered all his and his wife’s brass besides a fair chunk from the mill. There were blue air in this house when the master discovered his son’s antics, I can tell you. Stealing like that from your own father, I ask you. It’s a good thing the master found out the way of things when he did. He could have been facing ruin, else. When Mr Philip’s home were seized by creditors, the master had no option but to let him and his family move in here. Worst luck. Hope they’re for buggering off out of it again soon. Put a black cloud over this house, they have, and it’s showing. Bar Miss Lucy, of course,’ she added with a quick grin and roll of her eyes when Pip made to open her mouth in defence of the girl again.

  Pip returned the smile, then her brow wrinkled and she sighed. ‘Mrs Goldthorpe had a few choice words for us earlier.’

  ‘Threatened to be rid of us,’ added Simon.

  However, Tabby wasn’t concerned at this: ‘Ah, ignore her. She’s no say on much here. The master’ll not be bent by that one.’

  Warm reassurance touched Pip. Hadn’t she suspected as much? She smiled again.

  ‘It’s bitter she’ll be ’cause you’ve come to work here and youse ain’t of her choosing. Had to leave most of her servants behind, she did, for the master refused to fork out for their wages. Who can blame him, with the debts he’s forced to pay off what his son’s racked up? Aye, scattered to the four winds when they moved here – all but Finch, that is. The master relented on that one for Miss Lucy’s sake.’

  ‘But Miss Lucy hates her.’

  ‘Aye! Eeh. They’re a rum lot these money-folk, eh?’

  ‘You’ve got that right.’ Simon pulled a face at them in turn. The three of them chuckled quietly.

  When later Pip and Simon lay close either side of Mack, the moon’s silver stroking the peaceful room through the crack in the curtains, she said, ‘I reckon we’ve not to repeat owt we’ve been told the night, lad. Tabby could get into bother, else. Cook mightn’t be best pleased we’ve been tongue-wagging about her and the family.’

  Simon agreed. ‘Is the owd ’un for stopping out the night through d’you think?’

  Turning her eyes to the empty chair in which Cook should have been slumbering by now, Pip frowned. ‘Happen Miss Josephine’s still bad, like. What d’you think it is what ails her, lad?’ She felt him shrug. ‘Cook were about to tell us till the ladies interrupted. I should have asked Tabby again but the matter left my mind what with everything else we’ve learned the night.’ She’d try again tomorrow, she determined. Whatever it was, this bad blood business didn’t sound good and she felt wholly sorry for the master’s daughter, who from what she’d seen and heard of her didn’t seem a bad sort. By, but this was a troubled household and no mistake.

  Soon, Simon’s breathing steadied and, following suit, Pip pushed her thoughts aside and settled deeper in the bed.

  When they awoke early next morning, Cook still hadn’t returned to the room.

  Chapter 9

  THE SECOND DAY of Christmastide meant more to some at Bracken House than others.

  British tradition stipulated that, since the wealthy needed to be waited on on Christmas Day, the servants were permitted the following day off to visit their own families. Gratuities given by the master for good service rendered to him throughout the year was common practice; a Christmas box was presented to all who served his home, from his live-in domestics to the weekly washerwoman and even the shops’ delivery boys. A direct acknowledgement was becoming at this time of year – a belief that Albert Goldthorpe rigorously observed and always had.

  For Cook and Tabby, its arrival was greeted with little more than a passing glance. Without kith or kin, for the girl it was a day like all the rest. Cook did have a married sister dwelling in Manchester but the woman had sent word not to visit, as her husband had a mighty cold and Cook might carry germs back and contaminate the whole of Bracken House, whic
h would never do. And so, the two servants did as they normally would: whiled away the hours in the kitchen. Though work was considerably lighter at least; they spent much of the time sitting around the fire indulging in well-earned rest.

  Hardman and the nursemaid Finch, however, had donned their hats and, with unaccustomed smiles, left to visit their respective families for a few hours. Clutched in their hands were their boxes, each containing a small gift: a new looking glass and matching comb set, as well as a monetary bonus and paper-wrapped package of leftover food from the previous day’s fare. Their relatives would be doubly pleased to see them.

  Insisting the newcomers were not to be excluded, the master had presented Pip and the boys with a shiny florin apiece, much to their shocked delight. They had thought it a mistake when Cook informed them they were to accompany her and the other servants into the study, where the gifts were always presented. Only Albert was present – Pip had breathed a sigh of relief on observing this. As Finch was away, Mr Philip and his wife had taken Miss Lucy out for the day. Those two, boring holes into their heads with their disapproving glares, would have spoilt the moment. And a special one it was, for it spelled acceptance, that they were now fully acknowledged as part of this house.

  One by one, they had approached the master’s large mahogany desk. His ankle and chest still weak, he hadn’t risen, had greeted them smilingly from his plush leather chair. Seasonal good wishes were given and returned, hands were shaken, boxes presented and murmured thank yous followed, which Albert received with nods and further smiles. When it was the orphans’ turn to approach, he’d leaned forward as though pleased to see them again.

  ‘So, young ones. And how are you faring at Bracken House thus far?’

  ‘We’re faring well, sir, aye. Very good, ta,’ Pip had responded for them all, desperate to show gratitude, her eyes flicking about his face shyly. ‘By, it’s in heaven we are here.’ It was true. Despite those who were determined to put a damper on their presence.