Pauper's Gold Page 17

  ‘It’s nothing like that. There’s nothing between me and Luke—’

  Josiah raised his eyebrows. ‘So you do know who I was talking about then?’

  Hannah’s blush deepened. ‘Stop trying to put words in my mouth,’ she cried angrily. ‘Is Mr Edmund here – or not?’

  ‘No, he isn’t.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, her tone heavy with sarcasm. She turned to go. As she pulled open the door to leave, Josiah said airily, ‘Not had a letter lately, have you?’

  Hannah stopped in her tracks and looked back at him. ‘What . . . what do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, nothing.’ He paused and then added, calculatingly, ‘I expect Mrs Goodbody has got sick of writing. It can’t be easy making up lovey-dovey letters, pretending to be your mother.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean? Pretending to be my mother?’

  Josiah’s lip curled. Still harbouring bitterness at Mr Edmund’s decision to pass him over and bring home a mere youth to be manager of the mill, he said, ‘Those letters aren’t from your mother, girl. Mrs Goodbody wrote them all. Every last one of them.’

  Hannah was still puzzled. ‘My mother can’t write herself, but—’

  ‘Of course your mother can’t write now – even if she ever could. She’s dead.’ Hannah clutched at the door to steady herself as Josiah continued vindictively, ‘She’s been dead for three years. Ever since a few months after you came here.’

  Hannah felt the colour drain from her face, and felt her legs tremble weakly as if they would no longer support her. ‘But . . . but Mr Edmund . . . ?’

  ‘He deceived you. Him and Mr Goodbody wanted to keep you here. Keep you happy. They cooked up the little scheme of Matilda Goodbody writing to you – just so you’d think that your dear mama was still well and happy.’

  Hannah gasped. ‘I don’t believe you. You’re a wicked liar, Mr Roper.’

  Josiah shrugged. ‘Think what you like. It doesn’t bother me. But what would I have to gain by telling you lies?’

  She stared at him for a long moment, her thoughts in turmoil. ‘I . . . I . . .’ she began, but she could think of nothing to say, so she turned and ran. Ran to find Luke, all thoughts of the second reason for her visit to the office – to ask about Nell – driven from her mind.

  It was not Luke she found, but Adam Critchlow.

  Running wildly across the yard towards the gate, she ran smack into him and would have lost her balance and fallen had he not caught hold of her.

  For a moment he held her close and then, when she was steady on her feet, though gasping for breath through her sobbing, he held her a little from him and looked down at her. His eyes darkened as he saw her distress.

  ‘Hannah, what is it? Whatever’s the matter?’

  ‘You – you and your family. He’s . . . he’s lied to me. All this time, I believed him. I’ve been loyal. I’ve worked hard – and all I get in return is lies and deceit.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.’

  ‘My mother’s dead. And he never told me. He’s lied to me. Kept me believing she was alive and well and . . . and happy and all the time . . .’

  She broke into fresh, hiccuping sobs.

  ‘No! I don’t believe it. My grandfather wouldn’t do something like that.’

  ‘It wasn’t your grandfather – it was your father.’

  ‘My father?’ His look was incredulous.

  Hannah nodded grimly. ‘It was all a plot hatched up between him and the master of the workhouse to keep me quiet.’ Her voice broke and she sobbed afresh.

  ‘You’re saying my father did that?’ Adam asked slowly.

  ‘You don’t believe me, do you? Why will no one ever believe me?’ she cried passionately. She realized he was still holding her and she tore herself free. ‘Let me go! Let me go! You’re – you’re all the same. You’ll be just the same.’

  Adam’s face blanched. ‘No, I won’t. I promise I’d never do anything like that.’ She could still hear the doubt in his voice. He couldn’t believe such a thing of his own father.

  Her eyes blazing now, rage drying her tears. ‘Oh yes, you will. You’ll be just like him. You won’t be able to help yourself. When you have us all in your – in your power, you’ll be as bad as him. He’ll make you just like him. There’s a lot you don’t know about your father. You’ve not been here to see it. But things are very different for us workers since your grandfather was taken ill. Very different.’

  Then she ran. Out of the gate and up the steep slope, not stopping until she’d rushed into the apprentice house and slammed the kitchen door behind her. She leaned against it, sobbing and breathless.

  ‘What on earth . . . !’ Ethel Bramwell began angrily, but when she saw the state of the young girl, she laid down her rolling pin at once and, wiping her floury hands on her copious white apron, she hurried forward. ‘Oh, my dear, what’s happened? Don’t tell me there’s been another accident.’

  She led Hannah forward and pushed her into a chair near the kitchen range and then poured a cup of tea from the huge teapot sitting in the hearth. ‘There, there. Tell me all about it.’

  The story flooded out and even Ethel Bramwell, who’d worked for the Critchlows for years, was astonished.

  ‘Mr Critchlow? Old man Critchlow?’ Her tone was disbelieving. ‘He was party to this?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. It was Mr Edmund mainly and Mr Roper was in on it too. It . . . it was always him who gave me the letters an’ . . . and posted mine. If he ever did post them,’ she ended flatly. It didn’t matter now whether he had or not. Her loving letters would never have reached the person for whom they were intended anyway.

  Mrs Bramwell sighed. ‘I don’t like to think the old man knew about it. I’d’ve thought better of him.’

  Hannah’s face hardened. Her blue eyes turned cold. ‘They’re all the same. Every one of them. Master Adam’ll be just the same, when he’s older.’

  Once, Ethel would have leaped to the young boy’s defence. But now she could think of nothing to say.

  Twenty-One

  ‘So, you’re causing trouble again are you?’

  Early the following evening, Hannah was making her way round the back of the mill along the path towards the waterfall where Luke would be waiting for her. The mill was still working, the millhands trying to catch the last of the daylight. The huge wheel thundered round and round, the water rushing along the race to feed its hungry teeth. Suddenly, a figure loomed up out of the shadows, and before she could step around him, Edmund Critchlow had grasped her arm in a vice-like grip. ‘You need teaching a lesson, girl.’

  ‘You’re hurting.’ She tried to twist herself free, but he held her fast.

  ‘Oh, I’ll hurt you girl. I’ll give you a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry. Now Nell’s no use to me, you can take her place. I fancy me a young tender piece . . .’

  Hannah struggled, trying to free herself, trying to get away. She twisted and lashed out at him with her free hand, but he caught hold of that too. Then she kicked out, catching him on the shin. He let out a yelp of pain, but instead of releasing his hold, he gripped her even more tightly. She screamed, but no one could hear her cries above the roar of the churning water. Edmund raised his hand and dealt her a stinging blow to the side of her face. She reeled and would have fallen if he had not still been holding her. ‘You little bitch,’ he snarled.

  The last vestige of her resistance was almost gone; he was too strong for her. And then suddenly, miraculously, a figure hurtled towards them, waving his arms and yelling, ‘Let her go. Leave her alone.’

  ‘Oh, Luke, Luke,’ Hannah sobbed thankfully.

  He’d been standing on the path leading to the waterfall, watching for Hannah and had seen it all. Now he stood a yard away from them, his hands clenched at his side, every sinew in his body poised, tensed to spring, but he did not touch either Hannah or Edmund. Instead, his steely eyes bored into the older
man’s. ‘Let – her – go,’ he yelled.

  Edmund threw back his head and laughed. ‘And who’s going to stop me?’ He pointed at Luke with a derisory gesture. ‘You?’

  Luke took a step towards them. ‘Yes. Me.’

  He was not as tall as Edmund or as strong. He was still only a youth, but at this moment he was defending the girl he loved. And his anger lent him strength.

  For a brief moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Edmund’s face, but then it was gone and he was once more the master, the powerful owner of the mill who ruled all their lives. But in that brief moment, Hannah had felt the tiniest relaxation of his hold on her and she twisted herself out of his grasp.

  ‘Run, Hannah,’ Luke ordered. ‘Go home – to the house and stay there.’

  ‘No – I—’

  ‘Go!’ Luke’s tone was a whip crack, demanding obedience.

  Hannah went, running along the path and up to the house. ‘Oh, please, please come and help Luke,’ she cried as she fell into the kitchen, panting and breathless.

  ‘What’s to do?’ Arthur Bramwell strode towards her and grasped her arms to steady her.

  ‘It’s Luke and . . . and Mr Edmund. Fighting,’ she gasped.

  ‘Fighting?’ Arthur Bramwell was incredulous. It was unheard of – an apprentice fighting with the master. Even strong Arthur Bramwell quailed at the thought. He released her and rushed from the house. Several of the boys and a few of the girls followed, chattering excitedly. ‘A fight. There’s a fight between Luke and the master.’

  Hannah followed, pushing her way through them to get there first.

  There were other figures, looming out of the shadows coming from the mill to stand watching – and waiting. But no one moved forward.

  ‘He’ll be for it, fighting with the master.’

  ‘Where’s Mr Scarsfield? He might be able to—’

  ‘Mr Bramwell’s there. Look.’

  ‘He’ll not step in. This is mill business.’

  ‘But the lad’s from the house.’

  ‘Help him,’ Hannah begged. ‘Please – help Luke.’

  But no one moved.

  ‘We’d like to, lass,’ one of the men murmured. ‘But it’s our jobs – our homes. We daren’t.’

  ‘He’s right,’ another muttered. ‘I’d like to give that Mr Edmund a taste of his own medicine. Been wanting to punch him in the face for years, but I’ve me wife and young ’uns to think of.’

  ‘I’m sorry, lass. The lad’s on his own.’

  Hannah cast about wildly, but no one moved. No one went to Luke’s aid. But there was one who she knew would come running.

  ‘Where’s Daniel?’ she cried.

  ‘Working. He’s on the late shift. Best leave him, Hannah. If you fetch him here, he’ll be in trouble too. Luke wouldn’t want that. He’ll deal with this on his own.’

  She tugged at Mr Bramwell’s arm. ‘Stop them. Oh, please, stop them.’

  The big man shook his head sadly. ‘I can’t. It’s out of my hands.’

  Hannah bit her lip and a sob escaped her. She stood with her hands over her mouth, watching the scene with terrified eyes.

  ‘Oh, please, Luke, don’t,’ she cried.

  The muttering fell silent as the onlookers watched the two figures stalking each other like a pair of fighting cocks.

  ‘Taking wagers, are we?’ someone murmured, but no one took him up on the suggestion. No one spoke. All eyes were riveted on the two men. This was a serious business.

  Edmund, six inches taller than Luke, looked down at him disdainfully. Above the roar of the water, he shouted, ‘Go on, then. Hit me. If you dare.’

  Luke’s eyes were glittering with hatred and loathing. He would’ve liked nothing better than to smash this man’s face to a pulp. Yet he held back. He had rescued Hannah. That was what mattered. They’d have to think what to do next – after this – but for the moment, she was safe.

  ‘I’ve no wish to hit you, sir, but you’ve no right to touch the girls. Specially not my Hannah.’

  Edmund laughed humourlessly. ‘Oho, your Hannah, is she? Well, well. We’ll have to see about that. Fornication in the apprentice house? Dear me. The Bramwells have been neglectful in their duties. They’ll be out on their ear—’

  ‘There’s been no . . . no fornication. I love Hannah. I wouldn’t hurt her.’

  Edmund thrust his face close to Luke’s. ‘You won’t get the chance. You’re sacked. You’ll be on your way back to the workhouse before this night’s out. Back where you belong. You and your mealy-mouthed brother.’

  It was the insult to his twin that finally tipped Luke over the edge. He swung an ungainly right hand at Edmund’s chin and caught him a glancing blow as Edmund ducked. Though a big man, Edmund was quick and light on his feet. Rumour had it that as a young man at university he’d indulged in all the raffish pursuits: drinking, gambling and a little bare-knuckle fighting. And anyone who’d had a wager on Edmund Critchlow to win had always gone home a happy man at night.

  Now, Edmund’s fist landed in the centre of Luke’s face with a sickening crack. Bone splintered and blood spurted from the younger man’s nose. Luke tottered backwards, but then the vision of Edmund grasping Hannah so roughly, dragging her along, swam before his eyes. He straightened up and lunged at Edmund, but he was no match for the older, stronger man. Luke had little knowledge of fighting. In the odd boyish scrap in the workhouse yard, there had always been the two of them. Him and Daniel against the world.

  Where was Daniel? Why wasn’t he here, standing shoulder to shoulder with his twin?

  Edmund’s blows rained thick and fast. Two more to the head, one just below Luke’s ribs, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to bend double. And each blow drove him backwards. There was no let up. A blow to the side of his head sent him reeling, closer and closer to the edge of the bank above the wheel. The watchers moved forward, shouting, but above the roar of the churning water neither Edmund nor Luke could hear them. Luke was almost senseless, still on his feet but only with tremendous willpower. And on Edmund’s face was murderous intent.

  The watchers knew it was going to happen. They could see it. Hannah, Arthur Bramwell and one or two others ran forward, shouting a warning, but it was too late. With one last vicious blow, Edmund sent Luke flailing backwards over the edge and down, down into the cavernous centre of the giant wheel. His body was tossed and tumbled until his features were scarcely recognizable.

  The wheel ploughed on relentlessly, but Edmund stood on the edge looking down, watching with fists clenched, jaw hard and unrepentant, and making no move to stop it.

  Hannah rushed towards the edge and would have fallen in too, but Arthur Bramwell caught hold of her. She struggled against him, screaming, ‘Stop the wheel. Stop it.’

  Others arrived at the edge, staring helplessly down at Luke being thrown around the inside of the wheel.

  Arthur’s grasp tightened on her arms briefly. ‘Stay here,’ he ordered and then he ran into the mill.

  The wheel was slowing, the water settling. A gasp rippled amongst the onlookers as they saw Luke’s battered body fall to the bottom and lie there, a mass of blood and shattered bone.

  And then Hannah began to scream as if she would never stop.

  ‘It’s all your fault. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d’ve been with him.’

  Hannah gasped. Her eyes were blotchy from two days of constant weeping. She was inconsolable, but Daniel was angry, vitriolic.

  ‘And now he’s dead – all because of you!’

  She had no answer.

  ‘I’d’ve been with him,’ he ranted on. ‘We were always together. Always. Until you came along. Then he’d rather be with you than with me.’ He glared at her, hatred in his eyes. ‘I ’spect you were making a play for the master, were you?’

  Now, Hannah was startled out of her lethargy. ‘No.’ She was horrified. ‘How can you even think such a thing of me? I loved Luke. You know I did.’ Tears welled again in her ey
es and she covered her face and sobbed. ‘How can you even think that, Daniel?’

  He was silent, unapologetic. He was hurting, just like Hannah, and his only weapon was to lash out at her to try to assuage his own guilt at not being at his twin’s side when Luke had needed him the most. But it wasn’t working. He could not pass the guilt onto her shoulders. Daniel would carry the burden for the rest of his life. And so would Hannah, for she blamed herself just as much as Daniel did.

  Her sobs quietened and for the first time since the tragedy, calmness came over her. ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she said in a flat, emotionless voice. ‘And it wasn’t really mine, even though I shall feel it was for the rest of me life. There’s only one person to blame and that’s Edmund Critchlow, and as God is my witness, I’ll pay him back for this.’ Her tone took on a steely edge and even Daniel was forced to believe her. ‘I’ll never forgive and I’ll never forget. And one day, I’ll make him pay.’

  Twenty-Two

  Luke was buried in a pauper’s grave alongside Jane.

  The mill worked on as usual and no one was granted official leave to attend the funeral. Only those who dared to defy the rules and take time off from their work were there. Daniel, Hannah and Ernest Scarsfield together with Ethel and Arthur Bramwell, even though they all knew they’d be fined for doing so.

  They’d thought that no one from the Critchlow family would have the audacity to show their faces, yet as they followed the coffin on its final, sorrowful journey, another figure fell into step at the very back just as he had at Jane’s funeral.

  Adam Critchlow.

  He was an unwelcome presence, but later, as Arthur Bramwell remarked, ‘The lad was brave to come. Think about it. His father caused Luke’s death. We all know that. And there were enough of us there to bear witness, yet there’s been no inquiry. It’s all been hushed up. There’s a few bribes changed hands, if you ask me.’ It was the first time that Hannah had ever heard the taciturn Arthur Bramwell speak out against his employers. ‘The poor lad’s been pushed into a pauper’s grave and forgotten about. The Critchlows haven’t even had the decency to pay for a proper burial for him.’