was she going and what would happen to her now? Bella had no true friends, though Florrie had been patient with her, teaching her how to refine her skills as a seamstress, so she would not break her heart over those she left behind, but she was terrified of this man who said he was her master and she lay shivering as the dusk gathered around them and they were driven away from all she had known.
Florrie’s anger had begun to smoulder after the brute she knew to be a chain-maker in the village of Fornham, which was some four miles or so from the Sculfield workhouse, took Bella away. She liked the young girl who had refused to be cowed by the harsh regime at the workhouse, enjoying the time they spent together in the sewing room and teaching her to improve her skills. Now the talent Bella had shown in her needlework would be wasted. She would be put to the drudgery of chain-making, which was hard enough for strong men but a destroyer of women and innocent children. The young ones often lasted only a few months, for the work was both tiring and dangerous – the heat of the furnaces was intense and it burned the unwary, scarring arms, legs and searing faces. Bella’s delicate complexion would be lost if she toiled over those wicked fires.
Women and children earned only a few pennies a day, because the work was paid for by weight. Men made the thick chains used by ships and heavy industry and were paid a fair price for their labour, but chain-making was known to be a bad trade for women and girls. The chains they made were smaller and lighter and yet they took many hours to fashion; it was a trade only the desperate would choose, when there was no other work to be had – and Bella had no choice. She’d been indentured to a master who would work her to death and that was what Mistress Brent hoped for. Florrie suspected it was unlawful for the Mistress to sell Bella the way she had, but Mistress Brent cared nothing for the law. The guardians of the workhouse trusted her and neglected to inspect or control her and she ruled much as she pleased with none to gainsay her. Bella had dared to defy her – as had Bella’s mother – and this was her revenge, Florrie knew.
Florrie recalled the delicate young woman who had spent some three weeks in the workhouse before running away from its strict regime. Later, Florrie had heard that Bella’s mother had given birth one cold winter’s night and died in the fields. She had told the warden that her name was Marie but Florrie thought it was not truly her name. She herself had only recently come to the workhouse at that time and had formed a friendship with Bella’s mother who’d told Florrie a part of her story.
‘I was attacked,’ Marie had confided as they sat together over their sewing, her eyes dark-shadowed as she remembered. ‘I was alone in the woods and – and I was attacked and – and violated. I never saw his face, for he was masked with a thick scarf …’
‘Oh, you poor girl,’ Florrie said.
Marie smothered a sob. ‘I was unconscious when Jez found me, Florrie. He and his sister Bathsheba are gypsies. They took me in and cared for me, and I was ill for a long time.’
‘How awful for you!’ Florrie could hardly envisage such a terrible fate. ‘Why did they not take you to your home?’
‘I did not remember my name or where I lived, then – and besides, Jez was afraid he would be blamed for what had happened to me. He was not supposed to be in those woods.’
‘But you remember your past now?’
‘Some things,’ Marie said. ‘I remember that I had a sister named Kathy and Papa was a parson but I do not remember where we lived or anything more of my life and I do not know why I was in the woods that night, though I think I may have quarrelled with someone, but I cannot remember him.’
‘I am so sorry,’ Florrie had told her, holding Marie’s hand as she saw her tremble. ‘Could the gypsies not help you find your home?’
‘Bathsheba wanted to take me back to where Jez had found me when I was recovered from my fever. She thought then I might remember more and she could help me find my family.’
‘But then you discovered you were with child?’ Florrie guessed and the young woman nodded. Marie was of a good family, a parson’s daughter, she thought, and would have been too ashamed to return to her home once she knew of her condition, even if she could.
Marie’s face clouded. ‘Yes … I could not go home to shame my family. Kathy would never have found a husband and Papa could never hold up his head again. Jez told me I should stay with them.’
‘Then why are you here?’
Marie shook her head. She could not be persuaded to finish her story and a few days later she had run away from the workhouse. Florrie had been distressed, especially when she learned that the girl had died in the fields. But why had she run from the gypsies who had befriended her? It was a mystery and had haunted Florrie all these years. During that time Florrie had found work outside the workhouse, but it never lasted for more than a few months and so she had returned to seek shelter – and something else drew her back time and again.
When Marie’s baby was brought to the workhouse, Florrie had asked to be allowed to care for her. Florrie had never had the chance to marry and have a child of her own and she’d been glad to do what she could for the motherless babe. She cared for the babe as if Bella were her own and, even when she left the workhouse for a short time, her thoughts were with the child she cared for, though she did not dare to show it for fear of reprisals from the unkind mistress.
For the first few years of Bella’s life she was left to the care of anyone who took pity on her. Mostly, that was Florrie and a young woman, Maggie, who had taken her to her own breast. Maggie had given birth to a stillborn child in the workhouse and so was able to suckle Bella. She’d been kind enough in her way, but she ran away when Bella was weaned. She’d told Florrie what she intended and asked her to care for the child.
‘I would take her with me, but I must find work as a housemaid and with a babe I would have no chance. Still, she is like my own and I pray you care for her.’
Florrie had promised. She would have cared for Bella in any case, because she too loved the child and she’d shielded her as much as she could from the mistress’s spite, but it was impossible to prevent Mistress Brent venting her temper on the girl as she grew older, for the more she resembled her mother, the more the mistress hated her. Had Florrie been able to find permanent work she might have taken the child with her, but that had never been her fortune – especially after she had been accused of theft, and though it was a lie, most employers believed it and dismissed her once they learned of it. So, in the end, Florrie had given up all hope of a life outside the workhouse and took what comfort she could from her work and the child.
Florrie had never understood why the mistress hated little Bella so much. How would the child fare at the chain-maker’s forge? Florrie could not think that she would survive the terrible conditions for long – but what could she do to help the young girl she loved? She had only a few shillings and she feared she would starve if she left this place, as so many did when they could not earn their keep.
The only person who might help her was Lady Rowntree. Florrie only ever visited her grand home when she was summoned. The work was more usually sent in and the mistress received payment but Florrie was given a few shillings a week and excused rough work so that her hands were always soft. She had considered it a reasonable exchange for her labour, because outside the workhouse she would have to find her own board and lodgings and, even if Lady Rowntree had still given her work, she might struggle to pay for rent and food. Yet now she wondered if it might be possible to make a home for herself and Bella elsewhere. She made up her mind to speak to Lady Rowntree when they next met – but what of Bella in the meantime?
Florrie’s eyes stung with tears. She knew that a change in her circumstances might come too late for Bella. Even if she could find regular work and a place to live, she would still have to save the money to buy Bella’s bond, and by then the girl might have fallen ill and died …
‘Mistress Brent asked me to put her to chain-making,’ Karl said to the