his glass. ‘It would be amusing – and goodness knows we need something to cheer us all up.’
‘Speaking of which, have you seen Miss Katharine recently?’ Toby asked with an air of studied innocence. ‘I understand she intends to have herself appointed as one of the governors of your workhouse.’
‘It is not my workhouse, God forbid,’ Arthur said and frowned. ‘If it were, I should make changes instantly and not have to argue for months over something fundamental, like a new water closet for the women.’ Only a few years earlier cholera had been rife in the crowded towns, but a new system of fresh water, piped daily, had improved the health of many. Arthur had personally paid for new pipes at the workhouse in Whitechapel. He nodded thoughtfully now. ‘I understand Katharine is taking a keen interest in such things these days, but I have not encouraged it. Her aunt wishes her to marry advantageously – in fact, I rather think she has her eye on you as a suitable husband for her niece, Toby.’
‘Well, her aunt may look at me,’ Toby countered mischievously, ‘but I believe Miss Katharine is more inclined to glance your way, Arthur!’
His friend did not answer. He’d asked Katharine to marry him some months earlier and she had intimated that she might, but had told him he must court her to win her aunt’s approval. He had since accepted invitations to dine and to social evenings that bored him stiff, but although Katharine teased him and flirted with him, she had not yet given him any reason to believe that she was ready to be proposed to a second time. She was disappointed that, as yet, despite engaging agents, he had found no trace of her sister, Marianne, and seemed to blame Arthur – yet she had always known it was unlikely her sister could be found after nearly thirteen years.
‘I think Katharine’s aunt has taken a dislike to me.’
‘Ridiculous,’ Toby retorted. ‘I don’t know what murky secrets lie in your past, but I do know that you have atoned for them many times, my friend. If you care for Katharine, you should tell her – before it’s too late. I must warn you, Sir Roger Beamish is very interested and I think her aunt is pushing Katharine his way.’
‘Beamish is a cad and worse!’ Arthur exclaimed, indignant that a man he thought beneath regard was pursuing the woman he desired above all others. ‘That brute is not worthy of her. I have not spoken to him since I caught him cheating at the card table.’
‘Then do something about it.’ Toby finished his wine and stood. ‘I am for my bed – do you care to share a cab with me or shall we walk?’
‘It’s a fine night, let us walk,’ Arthur said and took up his walking cane, which had a fine silver knob and was also a sword stick, used more than once against rogues who had tried to rob him. ‘We’ll come to no harm …’ He brandished his stick and Toby laughed, for he, like Arthur, was ready for an adventure if one should come their way.
Arthur was aware that the contrast between his exclusive club and the dining room of the workhouse he visited the following morning could not have been more marked and he took a keen interest in all that he saw, listening to Master Docherty’s anxiety concerning the roof above the long dining hall intently.
‘I fear the roof has been patched so many times that one big storm might bring it down,’ the workhouse master told Arthur. ‘And I do not believe that the present budget will stretch to a new roof, sir.’
‘Nor I,’ Arthur replied. ‘Leave it with me, Docherty, and I shall request some advice regarding the cost.’ It would not be easy to convince the governors that more money was needed for the upkeep of the workhouse, and Arthur was aware that much of the cost of a new roof would fall on him. However, to leave it much longer would be to risk it giving way in the first storm.
The men had already eaten their meal and left to get on with the work they did here at the workhouse. Several of them recognised Arthur and tipped their heads to him, though a few had looked at him resentfully. Now the women and girls were coming in to take their places at the long tables. Once, the inmates had all been served together but the new mistress preferred that the women and girls eat separately but he noticed that some whispering went on as the two groups passed at the door.
Arthur watched as the women quietly took their places, voices low and respectful. He watched the women serving the meal and noticed one elderly woman in particular. She wore a grey puritan bonnet, a grey wool dress and a white apron, much as the other women, but there was something about her that was different. As Arthur watched, seeing the hands, misshapen and gnarled with age, she lifted her head and looked at him – and then very deliberately winked before returning to her task of ladling out stew into the enamelled plates.
‘That woman is a little old to be working, isn’t she?’ Arthur murmured to the warden beside him.
Master Docherty looked at her and frowned. ‘That’s old Moll,’ he said. ‘She is old, but stronger than you’d think. I imagine she’s had a hard life, though I know little of her. She turned up a few weeks ago and said she’d decided to come in because she was ready.’
Arthur nodded. That wink had told him that Moll had more spirit than most of the inmates. If she was ‘ready’, then she had quite probably decided that she would come here to die. Many of the older folk did that once the struggle for life outside became too hard.
‘Take care of her,’ he said to Master Docherty. ‘It won’t hurt her to do light work if she’s up to it – but give her a few extra perks, please, and I will reimburse you for them.’
‘Certainly, sir,’ the master said and nodded. ‘I rather think Moll enjoys her beer. An extra ration at night now and then won’t hurt.’
‘No, indeed,’ Arthur said and smiled. ‘Well, Master Docherty, I shall see what can be done about your roof. I congratulate you on the cleanliness of the place. It is a vast improvement on what it was.’
‘That is down to my wife,’ the master said, looking pleased. ‘Mistress Docherty is a good woman and will be sorry to have missed you, sir, but she was called out to visit an elderly couple. They cannot manage now he is too old to work but they are reluctant to come in.’
Arthur nodded. There was a stigma about the workhouse and few would willingly come in, unless they had good reason like Moll, who, he was almost sure, had come here to die in a bed rather than on the streets.
Arthur took his leave. Some young lads were sweeping the yard as he crossed it and one of them grinned, doffed his cap and bowed. ‘Do yer need someone to ’old yer ’orses, sir?’
‘I’m walking today,’ Arthur said and smiled. Taking a shilling from his pocket, he tossed it to the boy. ‘Come to me when you’re fifteen and I’ll see what I can do …’
‘Jem Carter’s me name, sir!’
Arthur smiled as the lad caught the shilling and called out his thanks. Some it was easy to please, for others there was little he could do …
It was spring, now, and the weather was beginning to get warmer. Her mother was dead and Lucy felt the weight of sorrow heavy on her shoulders. A few weeks before she died, her mother had called Lucy into the bedroom and told her that her time was short.
‘I’ve done my best by you since your father died, but have little to leave you,’ she’d said tonelessly. ‘My sister would
