Prue Phillipson - Hordens of Horden Hall (24 page)

‘My poor William prophesied dire punishment on the city and the court for all the wickedness and profanity he said was going on and he included his parents in that for he hated us to be prosperous and now we may not be wealthy at all with such disasters falling about our ears and yet he didn’t predict his own death or his poor innocent daughter’s.

‘I am in such a state you must forgive me for not having mentioned yet your last letter, Arabella, in which you told me your sad news of your mother-in-law’s death. Of course I send my sympathy to you and Cousin Nathaniel but the old lady had run her course and death at that age is natural. Clifford is a good deal younger than she was I believe and he has rarely ailed anything.’
It is here,” Nat said, “that she mentions Daniel but he knows nothing of it yet. She says she leaves it to us to tell him about Eunice if we think fit. She wouldn’t know how to get word to him and she thinks it would be cruel to tell him when he may be ordered to sea any moment. Here you may read it all through yourself now, Bel.”

Bel took the letter. “I will tell him nothing about Eunice till we know with more certainty what happened to her. Have there not been proper records kept of the names of the dead? Of course Celia is too troubled at present to make inquiries but I would like to go to London myself and find out more. This lad, Tom. I would like to question him more particularly about that day they left London. William’s death seems certain if Eunice called out that he was dead, although even that is no proof. William might have been insensible and recovered later and they might both have escaped the city.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine William succumbing to the plague. He would fight it as he fought the devil with the whole armour of God. Yes, I would like to go to London, Nat, and comfort poor Celia. Ursula and I could set out as soon as Christmas is over though I scarcely feel in a festive mood for that.”

Nat folded his arms and looked at her very steadily. “So you propose going without me –”

“You should not leave the parish and someone must be here to keep things running smoothly.”

“What you are hoping is that you will have a chance to see Dan. If his ship is still in dock you will certainly force your way on board.”

“Well of course I would.”

“I am sorry, Bel, but no one is making that journey in mid-winter. I absolutely forbid it. Maybe when the summer comes we will all go. You know you can trust Sam Turner to keep his eye on the estate. I have taken no time away from my parish and many vicars do so frequently. The Bishop will understand the family circumstances and there are now several young men coming forward for ordination who could be placed as curates where help is needed.”

“But summer is so far away. It will be much harder to trace what happened.”

“Nevertheless a winter journey is not to be considered. There is no sense in hazarding life and limb on such a quest. Where would be the gain if more deaths or injuries or sickness were the outcome?”

Bel thought she had never seen Nat’s mild grey eyes so steely, nor his gentle face so determined. It was good that he was stronger and more assertive than his father Joseph but that didn’t mean she would submit.

She got up with compressed lips and Ursula said, “Come, my pretty, back to the greenery.”

For now she agreed and returned to the pile of holly, fir and mistletoe on the wooden floor of the hall to pick out the best pieces to decorate the Horden crest. I do not believe Eunice is dead, she kept saying to herself. If Daniel does care for her deep in his heart I will not have him thwarted of his bride. She may not have the beauty or stature expected of the lady of Horden Hall but if he wants her he must have her. Please God keep her alive and safe for him.

Patience Porter was the new maid at the home of a rope-maker in Woolwich. It had taken Eunice four days to walk from St Paul’s Cathedral and she had survived the hazard of being seized by drunken sailors in Shoreditch after she had crossed London Bridge the first day. She escaped by screaming at them that she had the plague. After she had used up her provisions two days later hunger drove her to offer her services to an old barrow-man whose barrow had been tipped over by some mischievous youths. Luckily the market area had just been strewn with fresh straw and his fruit was not spoiled. When she had quickly righted the barrow and picked up all the fruit he wordlessly handed her some apples, oranges and a bag of figs. At intervals she would come to a conduit and fill her mug for a drink.

When she reached Woolwich in the middle of a fine autumn afternoon she was thrilled to see ships in the docks. Not knowing what they were she asked a waterman, sitting smoking his pipe on a low wall.

“Yon’s a small frigate,” he said, “and the bigger one is a ship of the line but only a fourth-rate.”

“Do you get larger vessels in here?”

“Not of the first and second rate. But we built the
Mary
here, when it was called the
Speaker
. She’s a third rate. The King changed many of the names from the Protector’s time. Had the new ones painted on before he’d been a day on the throne.” He took his pipe out of his mouth and spat on the ground. Eunice sensed a fellow republican but just smiled in the hope he would talk more for she wanted to lap up all the information she could. “Ay,” he said, “if it’s great ships you want to see, mistress, you’ll need to go on to Chatham. Nay, I forget, we had the
Royal James
in here three or four years back and a great trouble it was to get her in, I can tell you. Just the head of her and then shored her up to wait for the tide. Is your man a seaman then?”

She blushed, but remembering who she was, she shook her head. “I’m looking for work. I’m the only one left in my family from the plague. I came here to get away from it.”

“Ay, it’s a place to keep away from is London just now.” He eyed her up and down. “What sort o’ work can a little mite like you do?”

“Oh, shop work. I can read and write and add up. But I’ll do anything –sweeping, scrubbing, washing. I’m strong.”

He grinned. “There’s Harrison, the rope-maker. His wife lost her maid the other day. She’s not found anyone yet to take her place.” He grinned again and Eunice was not too sure what the grin signified.

“Can you point me out the house? Is it far?”

With the stem of his pipe he indicated a sign on a long low building a little way inland and Eunice read Harrison, Rope-maker. “That’s the ropery and very handy it is too, for down there is the ropeyard where they stores everything for the rigging of every blessed ship that comes in here. So he does all right, does Billy Harrison.”

“And does he live next door to his long shed?”

“Bless you, no, girl. Mistress Harrison has grander ideas than that, but if you go along to the ropery and say Jack sent you he’ll take you home with him when he quits work.”

“I thank you.” Eunice followed a cart track to the long shed, sorry to leave the river where a fresh easterly breeze carried what she supposed must be the smell of the sea. As she approached she saw the big wooden doors standing open and a rattling and banging of machinery coming from within. Several men were working at different benches, turning wooden handles which twisted three strands of rope into one thicker one. The ropes stretched the whole length of the shed and she stood for a few minutes watching the process fascinated.

A shaggy, thick-set man approached her. “What do you want here?” he demanded.

“Mr Harrison?”

“That’s myself.”

She waved her hand toward the dockside. “A man called Jack told me your wife needs a maid. I am from London looking for work.”

He backed a little from her. “You’ve not been near the plague have you?”

Eunice, answering for Patience, shook her head but the lying gesture dug into her conscience. What would her father have said?

“What’s your name?”

“Patience Porter.”

His grim, hairy face relaxed into a grin like the waterman’s.

“Patience you may need, girl. Well, you’re small. Can you work hard?”

“Certainly I can.” Eunice was beginning to feel apprehensive but she was very hungry and the thought of food and a bed which surely she would be given made her determined to endure anything. She had seen on a milestone at the outskirts of Woolwich how far it was to Chatham and felt she could not go another step today.

Mr Harrison took her arm then and drew her out to the centre of the cart track and pointed to a church. “My house is forty paces to the east of that church. It stands on its own and has a porch with cherry trees either side. Go round to the back door and knock. I reckon she’ll take you on.”

He was turning back into the shed when she asked, “What will I earn if you please, sir?”

“You’ll get your keep. If she likes you maybe three shillings a week.”

Eunice nodded and giving him a little bob to show Patience’s submissive nature she set her tired legs to follow a cobbled lane towards the church.

The house was easily found and to Eunice looked spacious compared with the hovel she and her father had lived in for most of her life. It was next door to the vicarage and suggested that Billy Harrison for all his uncouth appearance had some status in the town of Woolwich.

Seeing a path to the rear she turned down it and found a small gate in the wall leading to the back door. Beside the door was a large buck-basket full of dirty linen.

She knocked and presently a woman put her head round suspiciously. “Yes?”

“Mistress Harrison?”

“Ye-es.”

Eunice could hardly see more than a sliver of the face with black ringlets and one dark eye.

“I understand you are looking for a maid. Your husband said I could come.”

The door was opened further and a hand shot out and pulled her in.

The woman was about fifty but her hair was dressed like a young girl’s, tied in ribbons either side of her head so the curls dangled forward round her face which was made up very pink and white. Her dress was youthful too, low cut with her bosom pushed up and her waist pinched in.

She fixed her eye on the bundle Eunice lowered from her shoulder.

“What’s in there?”

“All I have in the world.”

“Are there bugs in it? I will have no fleas or bed bugs in my house.” Eunice began to open the bag to show her but she stopped her. “Leave it outside. You will be sleeping in the stable loft. You saw a basket of washing by the door. Do it.”

“You are taking me on?”

“Do the washing and we’ll see.”

Eunice looked round the room which was a large square kitchen but she saw no buck-tub. Mistress Harrison pulled her across the room and shoved her at a door to a washroom where a large buck-tub stood with an under-buck ready below the tap and a worn table and scrubbing brush for obstinate stains. To do a big wash like this was a long process and Eunice doubted whether she had the strength.

“Where do I draw water?”

“We have our own well. Out there behind the stable. Take your bag up the ladder at the back and you’ll find your room.”

This suggested she was staying so Eunice went outside again, saw the well and the stable and clambered up the ladder to the little room above. There was a truckle bed with very thin bedding but she didn’t stop to look about. At least it was better than sleeping on the streets. Dropping her bag onto the bed she climbed down again, drew a bucket of water and carried it in. Mrs Harrison had disappeared.

She drew in the buck basket of washing and sorted it into piles, personal linen, stockings, bed linen and towels. While the water was heating she looked round the kitchen. Father would not have approved. He insisted on their tiny house being cleaned daily. Here the shelves for pots and pans had not been cleaned for some days and the floor needed sweeping. Nothing she supposed had been done since the other maid had left. Hanging from a hook in a corner were several rope ends. She wondered what they were for but she supposed a rope-maker would have lengths to cut off and would bring them home for tying up boxes or bundles.

When the water was hot she knew she would not be able to lift the boiler so she took some out with the copper jug and replenished it from the bucket.

Now she got to work with the washing. There was a poss-stick and the wooden table-top to scrub things on if necessary so she was hard at work when Mrs Harrison came back.

“You’ll suit me. What shall I call you?”

“My name is Patience Porter.”

“One of these Puritans eh? With a name like that?”

“I was brought up that way.”

“Can you use a flat-iron on Mr Harrison’s shirts.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Can I trust you with my lace collars?”

“I haven’t been used to lace but I would be very careful. May I ask you something, Mistress?”

The woman brought her brows together and her doll-like face took on a sinister look. “What?”

“I am very hungry since I haven’t eaten for many hours. If I could have just a crust of bread so that I will have the strength to finish this work –?”

To her astonishment the woman snatched down a length of rope from the hook and struck her across the shoulders.