of me.’ Arthur nodded. ‘I will make no promises, except that I can find you a home to stay in while your memory returns. As for your child, I shall see if Mistress Brent will yield the truth to me.’
‘She will lie to you as she did to me.’
‘Very likely, but there are other people who may not be as tight-lipped. Money will make some folk talk – and as it happens, I know one of the guardians of the Sculfield workhouse slightly. Now, you mentioned someone called Bella?’
‘Bella is a child of perhaps eleven summers. She brought me food and milk and, the night I was thrown out, told me she had seen my babe given away. But I do not think she knows more. The master of the workhouse is a man called Walter Brent and his wife is the mistress. He is a harsh man. I have seen him strike an elderly man down, and the boys go in terror of him. I think even his wife suffers at his hands, though she is spiteful and cruel. You should take care, sir, for they are evil people.’
‘As I said, I promise nothing except that I shall try.’ He smiled at her. ‘I shall leave you and Sally will bring you clothes that belonged to one of her maids. Perhaps not what you would wish to wear, but better than the rags we found you in.’
‘Thank you, you are very kind. The clothes will do very well.’
‘I shall find better for you as soon as it may be arranged.’
‘Why will you do so much for me? You know nothing of me.’
‘I hate injustice,’ Arthur said. ‘I believe that Fate brought you to me last evening and who knows, She may yet be kinder still. I shall visit this workhouse and discover what I can …’
‘You wished to see me, sir?’ Mistress Brent looked at Arthur uneasily as he was shown into her sitting room. She offered her hand a little tentatively. ‘I am Norma Brent.’
‘Good day, madam. My name is Arthur Stoneham,’ he said and he spoke evenly, giving no hint of his anger. ‘I have come to make inquiries on behalf of my cousin by marriage – Mistress Meg Stoneham. She recently gave birth within these walls to a living child – a girl. Meg tells me that you took the babe from her and told her it had died.’
‘That gypsy wretch your cousin?’ Mistress Brent looked at him in disbelief. ‘I do not believe it – how could that be?’
‘She had an unfortunate accident upon the road and was set upon by some rogues. My cousin and I have been searching for his wife for some weeks and had almost given up until we were told of a young woman taken ill and brought here,’ Arthur lied easily. He had decided that this woman would lie whatever he did and the only way was to scare her – or bribe her. ‘We had offered a reward for her recovery because my cousin loves her and is anxious to hold his child …’
He could see her mind working as her eyes tried to avoid his. She was deciding whether it would be worth telling him the truth and risk being accused of stealing a child or easier to lie to him.
‘Then I wish that I had better news for you, sir,’ she said, making up her mind to stick to her story. ‘We called the young woman Jane, for she could not recall her own name, and she wore no wedding ring …’
‘We believe it was stolen from her along with her clothes, all of which were expensive,’ Arthur said embroidering on his tale of misfortune. ‘But you have news of the child, I hope?’
‘I fear that the babe died almost immediately it was born.’ Mistress Brent held fast to her story. Arthur was sure she lied. There was something in her eyes and a slight unease in her manner. He had not been sure of the truth until then, for Meg might have been mistaken. Though he believed her an honest woman, a woman in the aftermath of a hard labour could easily have misheard, believing she heard her child cry when there was no cry at all. ‘We tried to tell her but she became abusive and we were forced to put her out.’
‘Into the bitter chill of night? Had she not been found and cared for she might have died,’ Arthur said sternly. ‘I do not think that Sir Arnold and Lady Rowntree would be pleased to hear of such heartless behaviour, madam. Nor do I believe that the babe died. There are witnesses who will testify otherwise.’
‘Liars all!’ Mistress Brent said furiously, her face red with temper now. ‘Besides, none would dare to speak against me. And if you blacken my name you will be sorry. You can prove nothing!’
‘You think not?’ He smiled wryly. ‘I have met bullies before, madam. I assure you that my word goes a long way in influential circles. As it happens, I know Lady Rowntree – we have served on a charity committee together in the past. She and her husband set this workhouse up to help the poor of this parish. I cannot think she knows what goes on here. Once I tell them of your cruelty – and explain that I think you sell the children and babies—’
‘Lies! You can prove nothing.’
Arthur’s eyebrows rose. ‘I wonder how many more children you’ve sold, madam. How many years does your reign of tyranny stretch? How many lives have you ruined or blighted?’ He was merely guessing, using Meg’s rather vague memories of her time here and his own instinct, gained from years of experience, but the look in her eyes was enough to make him certain he knew, though he had no proof.
‘My husband will thrash you for slighting our good name!’ she blustered but Arthur had seen the fear and guilt in her eyes. It was as he’d thought, and his bold verbal attack on her had paid off. She must have many lives on her conscience.
‘He is welcome to try, madam,’ Arthur said. ‘I shall be speaking to Lady Rowntree and I think you will both find yourselves dismissed before much longer. Indeed, that may not be the limit of your woes. I shall do my utmost to see you both behind prison bars!’
Arthur left her fuming. As he went down the stairs he saw a woman of perhaps forty years standing at the bottom, clearly waiting for him.
‘I heard some of what you said to the mistress,’ Florrie told him and clutched anxiously at his arm. ‘I pray you will not believe her lies.’
‘I do not,’ Arthur said. ‘Meg believes her child lives and someone told her that it was given away.’
‘I know the child lived at birth,’ Florrie said, ‘and Bella saw the babe given to someone in a carriage but I did not – though I know it has happened in the past. And I know she sold Bella to a brute who will work her to death. He owns a forge in the village of Fornham some four miles or so hence on the Alton road, and I have heard that he makes chain and works his people hard.’
‘Your name is?’ Arthur’s brows lifted.
‘Florrie Stewart, sir. I came here when I was close to starving years ago and, though I am a skilled seamstress, I have feared to leave this place though some of the things that go on here make me sick to my stomach.’ She clutched at his arm. ‘Will you see if Bella is all right, sir? I fear she is too delicate for the work she has been set to.’
‘And you care for her?’
‘Yes, sir. I helped care for Bella since she was a baby.’
‘Rest easy, Mistress Stewart. I shall make it my business to see if the girl is safe. I am staying at the Three Pheasants Inn, which is some nine
