The Barefoot Child. Cathy Sharp

shame me going about in a man’s boots,’ her mother said harshly. ‘Besides, I could do with that five shillings …’

      Lucy turned away biting her lip. She’d thought her mother’s concern was for her but it was merely for appearances.

       CHAPTER 2

      ‘Well, Hetty, shall you like it here?’ Arthur Stoneham asked of the woman he’d appointed as the new mistress of his house for destitute women and children. The cook he’d brought from the workhouse when it was first opened had surprised everyone by finding herself a husband and leaving and Ruth had taken over the cooking, relieved to hand the book-keeping to another. ‘Your rooms are perhaps a little spartan but I daresay you can make them more comfortable?’

      ‘I’m sure I shall be comfortable.’ Hetty Worsley smiled at the attractive and charismatic man, who had spent hours persuading her to take on this job. ‘My rooms are easy to transform, Mr Stoneham – but you’ve set me a much larger task.’

      ‘All it needs is kindness mixed with firmness and common sense, which you have in abundance,’ Arthur insisted. ‘And no formality – I’ve always been Arthur to you, Hetty.’

      ‘But that was when I held you in my arms and let you rant out your grief,’ Hetty said, reminding him of the days when she’d been a whore and he’d sought comfort from her because of his tearing grief over the woman he’d loved and lost. ‘If I am to be mistress here, I must show respect.’

      ‘I’ve always thought you one of the finest women I know. What fate made you once is of no importance. You changed your life to one of respectability, and it was your kindness to me – and your wisdom – that made me ask you to take on this post. These women and children have been sorely mistreated by life, Hetty.’ Arthur sighed. ‘I had hoped that you might take over the workhouse in Whitechapel and I fought for it, but to no avail. The woman the guardians chose is no doubt respectable, but I doubt she has any kindness in her. She will rule with a rod of iron and her husband is a careful man and, I fear, under her thumb. I do what I can to ease the life of the inmates there – but here I am determined that they shall be treated decently.’

      ‘You have shown trust in me by bringing me here and I shall do all I can to earn it.’ Hetty smiled. At three and thirty she was past the first flush of beauty and youth, but there was a sensual warmth about her smile and her figure was still as trim as when she had given Arthur the love and trust he’d needed to regain his self-respect all those years ago. ‘What exactly do you want to provide here, Mr Stoneham?’

      ‘Firstly, their basic needs of clean beds and clothes and good food. The children need to be taught at least the beginning of arithmetic and writing, so often denied them by the workhouse because the guardians believe they need only know how to sign their name and learn how to work. Some of the women may wish to find honest employment once they have a home – and my friend, Miss Katharine Ross, has offered to give any who wish for it, instruction in needlework. She may also assist you in educating the children.’

      The look in his eyes told Hetty that Katharine Ross was special to him, and she was glad of it, because she better than anyone knew the remorse and regret that lived inside him.

      ‘I am partial to good cooking myself,’ Hetty told him firmly. ‘You can rely on me to make sure that our people are fed properly.’

      ‘Then, I think I can safely leave you to settle in,’ Arthur said. ‘Good luck, Hetty – and I hope you won’t hate me for taking you from your comfortable home.’

      ‘It was not as comfortable as you suppose,’ Hetty said, her voice reflecting humour. ‘When the school I worked at closed, I took a post as a housekeeper and my employer imagined that, as his housekeeper, I should also warm his bed, which I declined.’

      ‘And how is your daughter?’ Arthur asked, preparing to take his leave. He was smoothing his gloves between the fingers and did not see the sudden wary look in her eyes. ‘I trust she thrives at that expensive school you sent her to?’

      ‘Oh, yes, Sylvia does very well,’ Hetty told him and smiled as he turned to her. ‘She is intelligent, and I think she will go on to achieve something worthwhile – perhaps become a teacher or a nurse like Miss Nightingale.’

      ‘If your daughter is as beautiful as her mother, she will marry well,’ Arthur said but Hetty shook her head.

      ‘Sylvia shall not be dependent on any man, Arthur. I want her to be independent and earn her own living in a way that gives her respect.’

      ‘You do not want her to marry?’

      ‘Perhaps, if she could marry the right sort of man – but how likely is it that she will?’

      ‘When the time is right, I could help her to mix in the right circles …’

      ‘The daughter of a whore and an unknown father?’ Hetty’s eyes flashed a challenge at him. ‘I do not think that would wash well with your high society friends, Arthur.’

      ‘I have other friends. I would help you and your daughter achieve whatever you asked, Hetty – but I know well you will not ask.’

      ‘I’ve won my independence, Arthur,’ Hetty said. ‘It was hard won and I would not give it up for any man – even you.’ That last was a lie, but she would never permit him to see her true feelings, because his heart belonged to another.

      Arthur laughed and took his leave of her. Hetty smothered her sigh and went through to the bedroom where three trunks had been deposited. Arthur would never learn the truth of Sylvia’s birth from her, or that she herself was entitled to hold her head high as the daughter of a gentleman. Hetty had never asked for favours since a man of high birth had spat in her face and told her to find her own way in the world. Disgraced, alone, and with only a few shillings to her name, Hetty had chosen the only way she knew of surviving – but she was determined that her daughter would have a better life.

      Sylvia had been given a good education and she would grow up to be respectable; and if she married, it would be to a working man who respected and loved her.

      Hetty knew that Arthur Stoneham had once wronged a woman, but he had been young and careless and, afterwards, he’d tried to repair the damage but it had been too late – and for that he’d never forgiven himself. The man who had wronged Hetty was cruel and took pleasure in her downfall, but with Arthur’s help she had won back her freedom and her self-respect. For that she loved him, though he did not know it and never would. She smiled a little wryly as she began to unpack her things. It was a huge task that she’d taken on to please Arthur Stoneham and she only hoped that she would manage it well.

      ‘So, my friend,’ Toby Rattan said as he met Arthur that evening in the exclusive gentleman’s club they frequented. ‘Is it all settled – is Hetty installed as the mistress of your refuge?’

      ‘Yes, and I think she is happy enough,’ Arthur said. ‘I shall send her a few things she might like to furnish her rooms with; Hetty Worsley is a woman of sense and she will make it her home for the foreseeable future.’

      ‘You do not think she will end her days there?’

      ‘I very much doubt it – nor would I ask it of her,’ Arthur said. ‘I hope she will find content in marriage one day, but first she may make the lives of others happier.’

      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