Arabella (17 page)

She regretted now that she had spent most of the money on things for the child.  Harry needed help.  She must find money for him somehow…He loved her and she must go to him as soon as she could.

              Twenty guineas were all she had left of the money he had given her.  He was welcome to that, of course, but it would not last long in prison, for everything he wanted would be charged at double the cost.  The wardens made money from buying food for the inmates, and everyone knew they cheated the poor souls who could not get out to purchase their own food, and had no relatives to do it for them.

             
What could she sell to help him?  If she could find enough money he might be able to pay the most pressing of his debts and then they might release him.  She fingered her mother's pearl pendant, thinking with reluctance that it was the only thing she had of value, and then she remembered the brooch Lord Roxbourne had given her.

             
It was not hers to sell, not truly.  She ought not to sell it.  She ought not to have taken it in the first place, but she had and it was too late for regrets.  Besides, although valuable, she had been assured it was a mere trifle to Lord Roxbourne.

             
He would be angry if he knew his gift had been sold to help a man he hated, but he need never know.  If Arabella could raise sufficient money to settle some of Harry's debts they could leave London and go back to the country.  He might even be grateful enough to marry her, and then she could go home and beg her father to take them in.

             
Arabella had been aware of Harry's reluctance to live in the country, but surely now he would see that it was the only way for them.  She did not know how much she would get for the brooch, but it would surely be enough to pay a few of Harry's debts.

The goldsmith looked long and hard at the woman who had brought him the costly jewel.  It was always difficult to know how to handle the purchase of something like this.  The emerald was fine and rare in that it had few flaws.  Greed tempted him to offer her a few guineas for it, but she looked as though she were gently born and might have influential friends, and it would do his business no good to have it said that he had cheated her.  The brooch had probably cost the purchaser at least five hundred pounds in his estimation, though because of its rarity it might be more.  He must think of his profit, but he would offer a fair price.

             
'I'll give you two hundred and fifty pounds for it,' he said and held his breath.

             
Arabella held back her gasp of dismay.  She had expected to be offered no more than a hundred guineas at most, and she hesitated for a moment.  If the brooch was so valuable perhaps she ought to find a way of returning it the marquis.

             
The goldsmith mistook the reason for her hesitation.  Having offered for the brooch he did not now want to lose it.

             
'Very well, three hundred pounds – and that's my last offer.  You won't get more, mistress.'

             
Three hundred pounds!  It seemed a small fortune to her.  She squashed her scruples.  She must not allow her doubts to stop her helping Harry as much as she could.

             
'I will take it,' she said before he could change his mind.

             
She tucked the money into a small pouch and placed it inside the bodice of her gown, pulling her cloak tightly about her.  Knowing she was carrying such a large sum of money made Arabella nervous as she summoned the driver of a rather shabby coach, which was waiting at the side of the road for hire. 

She asked to be driven to the Fleet debtors' prison.  He looked her over, taking in the shabby condition of her clothes, and demanded payment of two shillings in advance.

Arabella paid him from a purse at her waist, which contained only a few shillings and coppers.  She could see from the man's expression that he thought her the wife of some poor devil who had been condemned to the prison and had little hope of release, unless he could find someone who would settle his debts for him.

The Fleet ditch had once been notorious for its stench, which came from all the filth that had been thrown into its murky waters.  The criminals who lived in the narrow courts and alleys of this district often disposed of dead bodies there.  After the Great Fire of London, the ditch was converted into Bridewell Dock, extending from Fleet Street to the river.  It had been arched over in 1765, giving place to New Bridge Street, but many of the wretched hovels still remained and it was a far from wholesome place to visit.

The prison itself stood on the east side of Farringdon Street.  The main building was four stories high, and in these miserable galleries as they were called whole families sometimes existed on what they could beg from friends.  Family of the person imprisoned was free to come and go as they pleased and for the payment of 1s.3d a week easement would be granted.  The common room was free but unpleasant, the food scarcely eatable, and the privacy of a better apartment in one of the upper galleries could be bought for the sum of 4s.6d a week.

Those who could not raise these pitiful amounts were forced to rely on the charity of people who placed coins in a box outside the prison, and the prisoners often begged for succour from passers by through a grill.

And it was to this terrible place that Harry had been brought!  Arabella felt pity for the other poor wretches confined here as she was conducted through the exercise yard to one of the upper galleries.    She was surprised but delighted to discover that Harry had the apartment to himself.

'I was fortunate enough to have a few coins in my pocket when I was arrested,' Harry said when she kissed him and told him she was happy he had not been forced to endure the indignity of the common room.  'But I have scarcely enough left to pay for food this week.'

Arabella had brought a basket containing bread, cheese and a bottle of wine.  She gave it to him and then took the pouch of money from her bodice, offering it to him anxiously.

'This is all I could manage,' she said.  'Three hundred pounds – is it enough to settle your debts?'

'Three hundred…' He took it from her eagerly.  'It would settle one or two, but it will keep me in comfort here for some time.'  He smiled at her.  'I suppose you have sold something, Bella.  You should have kept the money for yourself, but I am grateful for what you have done.'

'Then it will not secure your release?' she asked, disappointed.

'I fear that ten times as much would not do that,' Harry said.  'I owe four thousand pounds to tradesmen and more than ten to Roxbourne.'

'But surely he would not press for payment of a gambling debt?  It is a debt of honour but you cannot be held here for that.'

'If I could pay the tradesmen I could secure my release.'  He looked at her, suddenly alert.  'Do you have anything else you could sell?'

She shook her head, holding her tears barely in check.  'No – I am sorry.  I could never raise that sum.'

'Then I must stay here until I can find some way of paying,' he said and looked at her.  The strange expression in his eyes chilled her.  'You should go away and forget me, Arabella.  You must find your own way now.'

'No, Harry…' she cried and felt the misery rise up inside her, catching at her like a physical pain in her belly.  'I cannot just leave you here.  I shall visit from time to time with food and a little money of I can earn it somehow.'

'No!  His tone shocked her because it was so harsh, so final.  'I do not want you to come here again.  Please give me your word that you will not.'

'Harry…' She bit her lip, because she could see that he meant it.  'What am I to do?'

              'I cannot help you,' he replied coldly.  'You must make your own life now.  After the child is born you should visit your cousin and ask her if she could introduce you to one of her friends.  You should find yourself a wealthy protector, Arabella.'

             
'No!' she cried, the tightness in her chest making her feel that she could scarcely breathe.  Her head was beginning to spin and she felt ill.  'You cannot mean that?  You cannot mean that you want me to become the mistress of another man?'

             
'Unless you can find a wealthy cit to marry you,' Harry replied in a dismissive tone.  'You have no other choice, Bella.  It is either a protector or the streets for you.  No gentleman would take you now.  Surely you know that?'

             
How could he say something like that to her so coldly?  It was cruel and it hurt her more than she had thought possible.  She stared at him, but he was not looking at her and she sensed his own misery.  He was being cruel to be kind, she realised.  He did not believe that he would ever be released from prison and wanted her to make a new life for herself – which must mean that he did still care for her a little.

             
Blinking back her tears, she went to kiss his cheek.  'I shall come back when I have money for you,' she promised softly.  'Do not give up hope, my dearest.  Perhaps there may yet be a way to get you out of here.'

             
Harry did not reply.  He had walked away from her and was looking for a place to hide the money she had given him.  Arabella turned away sadly.  She was so close to tears and she did not want to weep in front of him; it was obvious to her that he was suffering terribly and she could not bear to see him so low.

             
Arabella was thoughtful as she left the prison and began to walk along the street, hardly knowing or caring where she was going.  She was conscious of a pain beginning in her back, but gave no thought to what might be the cause.  Her heart felt as if it was breaking, but she did not know what she could do about her situation.

             
Harry had told her to find herself a rich protector, but no one would want her as she was now.  She could do nothing until her child was born, but afterwards…Was she prepared to sell herself?

             
The idea horrified her, and yet she knew that Harry had spoken only the truth.  No gentleman would marry her if he knew the truth of her situation.  It was possible that she might…

             
Arabella's thoughts were brought back to the present abruptly as the pain ripped through her.  Was her child about to be born?  She had not thought it would happen for another week or more, but she could feel something damp between her legs and she believed her waters might have started to break.

             
She clutched at herself as the pain made her bend over double.  What was she going to do?  She couldn't give birth here in the street, but her house was too far away for her to walk in this condition.  She must look for a carriage to take her home to Betsy – if one could be found to take a woman who was about to give birth.

             
Seeing a driver standing by the roadside talking to a man unloading a wagon, she went over to him, trying to keep herself from crying out with the pain.  If the driver guessed what was happening he might refuse to have her in his carriage, shabby as it was.

             
'Would you please take me to Hampstead?' she asked, and then a loud cry was forced from her as the pain struck again.  The baby was coming!  She was sure she could feel it pressing down on her.  'Help me… help me please.'

             
'She's 'avin' a kid,' the wagon driver said.  'Gawd luv us!  She's gonna 'ave it 'ere in the road if yer don't 'elp the poor bitch.'

             
'Not flamin' likely,' the carriage driver said.  'It were bad enough when my missus 'had 'er last.  I ain't 'avin' no woman in me carriage screamin' 'er 'ead orf.'

             
Arabella grabbed his arm, but he pushed her away and she staggered, falling to the ground, where she lay writhing in agony and begging for help.

             
'Please, please help me…' she wept, but the men walked away.  People were crossing the street to avoid her. 

             
She was going to die… She would die because she could not bear this terrible pain that ripped through her every few seconds.  She did not have the strength to get up and walk anywhere.  Besides, there was nowhere to go.

             
'What is going on here?'  She heard a woman's voice dimly through the mist of pain that had rendered her almost unconscious.  'Oh, you poor soul.  Is there no one who will help you?  May I send to your home?'

             
'I live in Hampstead,' Arabella whispered.  'Please help me.  My child is coming early…'

             
'Yes, of course I will help, the woman said.  'Here!  You over there.  Help get this woman into my carriage and I shall pay you a shilling each.'

             
Arabella closed her eyes as three men bent over her.  She moaned in protest as they lifted her none too gently, carrying her to a carriage that had stopped in the middle of the road and was now blocking the way for wagons and other carriages.

             
'Careful you dolt!' the woman said sharply.  'I do not want her harmed or you will find yourself in prison for murdering a poor woman.  Treat her kindly.  She needs your consideration.'