‘Good grief! You would turn society on its head,’ Sir Henry said, staring at him with eyes that bulged in disbelief. ‘You cannot imagine what chaos could ensue, my dear Stoneham. Your compassion does you credit – but they are cunning wretches. You must not believe a word they say. A servant who complains of his master’s whip has probably stolen from him – and if dealt with firmly would be sent for a year’s hard labour. He is lucky to escape with a beating.’
‘Come, sir,’ Toby said and raised a lazy eyebrow. ‘Are all the poor undeserving wretches?’
‘Most – and if not they are usually insolent and impertinent and should be kept in their place or a man will not be able to keep hold of his property. Only those that prove their worth and know their place should be promoted.’
‘And what if I had proof that the rules were being abused and vulnerable girls harmed?’ Arthur asked.
‘Well, in certain circumstances we might have to replace the master and the woman who assists him as matron or whatever.’ Sir Henry yawned, obviously bored. ‘These meetings are tiresome. I must be off to my club – good-day, gentlemen.’ He tipped his hat and went on his way muttering about reformers.
‘You see what I am up against,’ Arthur said, and his gaze followed the baronet in disgust. ‘Any mention of reform and they fear for their property.’
‘Sir Henry does not speak for us all,’ a deep voice said from behind them and they turned to see another of the governors looking at them with interest. ‘I agree that the rules may need updating.’
‘Major Cartwright …’ Arthur nodded. He was not inclined to make an ally of the old soldier and yet it seemed that he might have to take what votes he could get. ‘I believe that some of the punishments used on children are too severe.’
‘Ah yes, the poor young ones,’ the major said but looked odd. ‘Well, I am not against reform. You may rely on me if you need my vote – good day, gentlemen.’
Arthur watched him leave. ‘Why don’t I trust that man?’
‘I’ve met his sort before …’ Toby shook his head. ‘Not sure you are right not to trust him, but he might be an ally if you need one, Arthur.’
‘I’m glad you decided to sit in this morning,’ Arthur said. ‘Now, I propose to treat you to a dinner at my club to make up for all the boring chatter you’ve been forced to endure.’
‘And so I should think,’ Toby said and twirled his Malacca cane with its silver knob. ‘At least you got the money for the new drains passed so it’s not all bad, my friend.’
‘Tell me, Molly, is that my brat in there?’ Master Simpkins smiled and touched her swollen belly. ‘I dare swear I’ve swived you enough to claim it.’
Molly laughed and reached for the tankard of strong ale on the table beside her, drinking deeply from it and wiping her chin with the back of her hand before kissing him on the mouth and thrusting her tongue inside. He tasted of strong ale and his breath smelled, but she’d known worse and she tolerated him. Robbie could be coarse, and he’d taken her virginity by force when she was a young girl, but she’d more or less forgiven him because she accepted that it was her lot in life. Robbie wasn’t the worst of the men she served and these days she used him as much as he used her. He was weak, a creature of lust and greed, and yet he could be generous if he chose. Because of Robbie, Molly was able to come here to have her child and leave again when she chose.
Few knew that he was part owner of the whorehouse where she worked and lived, though he had nothing to do with its daily life, but Molly had discovered it long since. It made her smile to think that his sister was ignorant of what her brother got up to in his quarters.
Oh, Mistress Simpkins had her own dirty little schemes but Molly would bet that Robbie was as ignorant of what his sister was up to as she was of his part-ownership of the brothel. However, whereas Molly could accept Robbie’s involvement, she hated his sister and what she did with a deep vengeance. Grown women selling themselves for money and a life of comparative ease was one thing, but condemning children to the brutality of the evil men that used them was quite another. If she’d thought that she could stop Joan Simpkins from selling the children she would have told Robbie, but she knew he would either disbelieve her or be unable to control his sister; Joan was the stronger of the two and though she held her post through him, he seldom interfered with her.
‘You’re not a bad old sod,’ she told him now. ‘I can’t let yer ride me, Robbie love, ‘cos I’m too big – but I’ll give yer a treat if yer like.’ She moved her hand suggestively to his bulging breeches and smiled. ‘You’m be hung like a horse, me darling. It must be painful fer yer with yer breeches so tight … let Molly ease yer.’
‘Yer the best, Molly. Yer always look after me,’ he said and pulled her in for a kiss. ‘Get on with it then – and take your time.’
Joan Simpkins paused outside her brother’s door listening to the disgusting sounds coming from inside. He and his whores thought she was ignorant of what they did in his rooms, but she’d learned what he was long ago – even before his wife died. To hear him speak of his wife anyone would think he’d adored the woman he called a saint, but if he had loved her it had never stopped him indulging his baser needs with whores.
She frowned and turned away, making her own secret tour of all the wards while her brother was otherwise engaged. He had no idea that she overlooked his side of the workhouse, but she knew all the spyholes and enjoyed watching men, women and children as they moved about their quarters or lay in their beds, believing that no one but their companions knew of what they did in the hours of darkness; their misery satisfied her and eased her own self-pity.
Joan had learned of the baseness of these creatures when she was but a young girl. Spying on them, she saw the furtive couplings between certain types of men, and it pleased her that she knew their secrets – the filthy beasts were no better than animals to her mind. She grudged what comfort their couplings gave them for she thrived on the suffering of others. When gentlemen instructed that these creatures should be treated as human beings she hardly knew how to contain her ire. Men like Mr Stoneham, used to the luxury of clean linen, warm fires, and all the wine and choice foods he desired, had no idea what kind of beasts they dealt with here; ignorant, filthy, base creatures who would do nothing to help themselves unless prodded to it. They rutted like animals and deserved no better treatment.
Joan also knew that some of the men fought off those others and sought their pleasures with the women, sometimes their wives if they could find a way, but often another young woman taken with her consent and, at times, without. The strict rules meant that the men and women were segregated and locked in their own wings to prevent this kind of thing, but they were cunning and some had discovered how to move about the workhouse even after the doors were locked at night. When she discovered where their illicit key was hidden she would take great pleasure in punishing the culprits. For the moment it amused her that they believed themselves safe.
Joan had not interfered even when she witnessed the rape of a young girl by her own brother. It had amused her to watch for the girl was nothing but an impertinent upstart – and pretty. She deserved her fate.
Soon afterwards, the girl had come to her and confessed she was with child. Joan had told her she had her just deserts for fornicating and offered her a choice – she might go to an asylum for correction or enter a whorehouse. The girl had chosen the life of a whore, which just showed that Joan was perfectly justified in her opinion of her character.
Molly was a slut and always had been. She was a whore at heart and there was no more to be said, but it irked Joan that she seemed to enjoy her life. Why should she be happy and free to come and go when Joan was tied to her post, not by duty but the need for money? When she left this place it would be for good and she needed a great deal of money to live in comfort – or she would one day find herself once more in a place like this but as an inmate.
Eliza lay