Cathy Sharp - The Barefoot Child

In recent months Toby had taken more interest in such affairs, though he’d given up in disgust at the intransigent guardians of the workhouse, who had installed a harsh-looking woman and her husband to run the workhouse in Whitechapel.

‘And as for that block of ice they installed at the workhouse …’ Toby’s voice trailed off in revulsion. ‘She has not an ounce of humanity in her.’

‘I think in some ways she may prove worse than Joan Simpkins – though I do not accuse her of the vile crime of selling children into whorehouses.’

‘Then she will suit your fellow guardians, Arthur, for they are a harsh lot, despite their good works. Some of them probably think you are too lenient towards the poor, for you give and expect nothing in return.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Arthur said wryly and twisted his delicate wineglass, watching the way the glass spiralled up the stem. ‘A good vintage, this claret, Toby. I had some of it last Christmas from your father. How is he these days?’

‘A little better again, I think. His chest was bad with the bronchitis this last winter, as you know, but I think he makes progress now. I certainly pray for it.’

‘Yes, I imagine you do,’ Arthur acknowledged. Toby and Arthur’s friendship went back years, since their schooldays, and they had remained friends even through the years of Arthur’s wilderness, when he had lost himself in drink to forget the wrong he’d done a gentle girl, Sarah, the girl he ought to have married had he not been too young and arrogant to see it; Sarah, who had borne his child. He’d paid for his arrogance with regret after she’d died and now suffered from uncertainty over what to do about the young girl that he believed to be his daughter by Sarah.

He’d rescued Eliza Jones from the fate that Joan Simpkins had planned for her – well, Eliza had, in fact, rescued herself from an evil man by her own ingenuity, escaping to the protection of a young gipsy boy with whom she’d formed a friendship, but with the shadow of murder hanging over her. It had been Arthur’s duty and pleasure to find her and tell her that she had merely stunned the man who had sought to defile her, and that he had been arrested for his vile crimes.

Eliza had allowed him to take her back to Miss Edith, the apothecary with whom she lived now. She was learning that profession and helping Miss Edith, who was unfortunately ill much of the time. Now sure that Eliza was his daughter, Arthur felt unable to claim her. She was doing well, despite her unfortunate beginnings in the workhouse, and seemed happy in her new life, though he seldom visited. Arthur longed to give Eliza gifts of pretty clothes and trinkets of value, but knew he must not, for it would be misunderstood.

‘Well, are you planning to attend?’

Arthur’s thoughts had strayed and he suddenly became aware that Toby was addressing him. ‘Forgive me; my mind was elsewhere.’

‘I was asking if you intended to accompany me tomorrow evening, to the lecture about the situation in the Transvaal and where the end of the Boer War leaves us as a nation.’

‘Ah, yes, I remember you had an interest in that business. Your father has some financial concern out there, I think?’

‘He bought shares in some land, which was to be used by the railway – but now he thinks British interest is lost to the Boers and his investment will be sunk.’

‘I daresay,’ Arthur said. ‘It was, in any event, a risky investment for your father, Toby. Look what has happened here – they said the railway would be a blessing but with all the fatal accidents we’ve had since they were built I sometimes wonder if we should have done better to stick to horses.’ The coming of the railways had changed the face of England, destroying with their noise and the bustle of the traffic they brought, the tranquillity of sleepy country towns that had existed for centuries. ‘Would it really be feasible in Africa with all its problems?’

‘I think it may be the only way to conquer its vastness.’

‘Yes, perhaps …’

‘Queen Victoria herself approves of the train as a form of transport. Besides, the railways will be a big help to the poor in time.’ Toby was insistent. ‘My father is certain of it. It enables men to seek work further afield and thus alleviate some of the hardships when work is scarce in the country or the mines, which has often resulted in starvation in the past – and food can be brought fresher to London. That must be of benefit even to you.’ His eyes twinkled with good humour.

‘And what of the overcrowding it brings to towns, the noisome slums created by the sheer force of people who have nowhere to live?’

‘We must simply build more homes and do away with the rookeries of these slums,’ Toby said. ‘Come now, you must see some benefits?’

‘Food is fresher brought in by train, I admit. Yet I still prefer to travel by horseback,’ Arthur said thoughtfully. ‘I like to be in control and not at the mercy of some drunken fool of a train driver as I heard was the cause of one recent accident on the railway.’

Toby could not argue with that. ‘As it happens, I have heard of a pair of greys I believe you might like; shall we take a look together?’

‘Yes, why not?’ Arthur raised 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?’