Farewell to Lancashire (22 page)

‘I don’t know. A lady’s coming to see you tonight, the one who arranged all this.’

It was as if Cassandra’s brain suddenly started working again. ‘She’s my aunt.’

‘Your aunt?’

‘Yes. She hates me, hates us all.’

‘Well, don’t say a word about who she is to anyone else. I’m to inform you that if you tell anyone her name, she’ll have you killed. And if you’ll take my advice, you won’t say anything except yes and no when she speaks to you. She’s – not a kind person and she has enough money to get people to do whatever she wants.’ Jane hesitated then added, ‘If you say a word about what I’m going to tell you next, I’ll let
him
have you again before you leave.’

Cassandra shuddered and said hastily, ‘I won’t. I promise I won’t.’

‘I thought you should know that your sisters have already left England. She’s sent them to Australia.’

The room spun round Cassandra and she couldn’t breathe properly.

‘It’s all round the town that they’re sending about sixty young women from Lancashire out to Australia, ones who have no family left. They need servants there, apparently. And your sisters are among them.’

‘My sisters have left the country?’
She wanted to scream and protest, beg her companion to say that it wasn’t true. It was a struggle to say quietly, ‘I can’t understand why she didn’t send me with them.’

‘Nor I. I shouldn’t really have told you. You’ll never be able to keep it to yourself.’

It was as if the apathy and dullness that had surrounded Cassandra like a cloud for the past few days had suddenly lifted. ‘I’ll not say a word, I promise you, Jane. And I’m grateful for that information. Very grateful. It’ll help me stay in control of myself when she taunts me with it.’

‘I can’t do anything else to help you. I’ve my own safety to think of.’

This was, Cassandra thought when the other woman came back to sit with her, like one of the Greek tragedies her father had so loved. Only now was she beginning to understand how deeply such events affected people, how scarred you could feel inside from the things that happened to you.

And she still didn’t know what was to become of her, whether hers would be a tragedy that ended in death – or whether her aunt had something else in store for her. It’d not be pleasant, whatever it was. Of that at least she was certain.

When her aunt was shown in, Cassandra said nothing.

Radiating triumph, Isabel sat down. Her eyes were fixed on her niece as she adjusted her full black skirts and leaned back in the chair.

‘Leave us alone,’ she told Jane.

As the door closed, she turned back to Cassandra. ‘If you wish to live, you’ll do exactly as I say. Your sisters were wise enough to obey me.’

It would look better to say something, so she did. ‘What do you mean? What’s happened to my sisters?’

‘They’re on the way to Australia. I’ve got rid of them once and for all.’

Cassandra gasped, murmured, ‘Oh, no!’ and clapped her hands to her face. She was grateful that Jane had given her this information earlier, that she had been able to plan how to respond.

‘It only remains to get rid of you.’

Cassandra pretended to wipe away tears, found that there really were tears. She looked up at this. ‘Are you going to have me killed?’

‘No. That’d be too easy.’ She waited, clearly enjoying her power.

‘What are you going to do with me? Send me to Australia, too?’

‘No. You’re the worst of them all and you don’t deserve that chance. You’ll be left in Manchester and you’ll have to do the best you can to make a living for yourself. You’ll probably enjoy being on the streets. I saw you pressing yourself against that man in the churchyard, you slut! No, don’t say another word. Just listen.’ She leaned forward and said slowly, emphasising the words. ‘If you
ever
come back to Outham, I’ll have you killed. These people will do anything I ask if I pay them.’ She laughed and went on laughing for a long time, hiccupping and gulping as if she found it hard to control the laughter.

Cassandra and her sisters had suspected that their aunt had had her husband killed and now, seeing the expression on the older woman’s face, she felt sure of it.

‘Well? Aren’t you going to plead with me to send you to join your sisters?’

‘Would it do any good?’

‘No.’ Isabel smiled.

‘How did you persuade them to go?’

‘Showed them your hair, told them it’d be your thumb next.’ She laughed at the sight of her niece’s shock, another shrill laugh, but this one cut off suddenly as she clapped one hand to her mouth and muttered something.

Cassandra prayed for the strength to keep silent, wondering how long the taunting would go on.

‘The men will come for you tomorrow afternoon,’ that hateful, gloating voice continued, ‘and take you into Manchester. You’ll be left there with nothing but the clothes you stand up in.’

She glanced at her fob watch and stood up. ‘Well, I must go. My maid will be wondering where I am.’

She turned the door handle. ‘I shall remember the sight of your face today, the horror on it, how white you look. I shall enjoy that memory as I live my comfortable life and run my shop.’

Without another word she left.

As one of the other women came back in to sit with her, Cassandra closed her eyes and tried to think. She still had trouble believing this was happening, that her aunt was able to do such things. It was like a gothic novel from the library, but without the haunted castles and ghosts. Only it was much worse than those tales, because it was true – horribly, painfully true.

Why did no one else realise her aunt was mad? She was sure her uncle had known. Perhaps that was why he’d been killed?

And how was Cassandra going to manage on her own in Manchester?

When he’d shown the old hag out and pocketed the guinea she always slipped him, Pete went to see Jane. ‘I’m to take your guest into Manchester and leave her on the street with only the clothes on her back.’

‘Poor bitch.’

‘Proper waste, that’d be, if you ask me. She’s not bad looking and she’s almost a virgin.’ He laughed heartily at his own joke. ‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t take a little more benefit from this. There are whore houses who’d pay good money for a fresh young woman like her.’

‘You’d not sell her into one of those places!’

‘Of course I would. She’s worth ten guineas at least, perhaps more. I want you to find her something nicer to wear, though, something that shows off her attractions.’

‘All right. But I’ll want a share of the money.’

He smiled. ‘I’ll pay you two guineas, that’s all.’

‘You’re a mean sod.’

‘You’re no different. You’ll do anything for money.’

‘I like my comforts.’

Jane came into the room and again dismissed the woman guarding Cassandra. ‘Listen carefully.’ She explained what Pete intended to do.

‘I’ll kill myself first.’

‘They won’t let you once they get you into one of those places. They have ways of taming young women who don’t behave, drugging them, beating them till they beg for mercy.’

‘And you’ll let Pete do this to me?’

Jane glanced at the door and raised her voice slightly. ‘I can’t stop him so I might as well make myself some extra money. Now, I’ll find you some nicer clothes to wear than those rags. If you look pretty and behave yourself, you’ll be treated better.’

Cassandra looked at her in horror, terror roiling inside her belly. She thought she’d experienced the most dreadful thing possible for a woman, but it seemed there was worse to come.

Two hours later one of the young girl servants brought up a tray of food and Jane followed her carrying a pile of clothes. She waited till they were alone and moved closer to Cassandra, whispering as she took a piece of cake from the tray, ‘If you want to escape, this is the time to do it.’

Cassandra shot her a puzzled look. Was this another way to trick her?

‘Take something to eat. You need to keep up your strength,’ Jane said loudly, then lowered her voice to add, ‘Do you have somewhere to go, someone who’ll hide you until you can get out of town?’

Cassandra nodded.

‘When I give you the word, you must hit me on the head and make your way out of here.’

‘I can’t
hit
you.’

‘Mmm. Good cake, this,’ she said loudly, then whispered through a mouthful of crumbs, ‘Unless you do, I shan’t let you escape. If they think I’ve helped you, they’ll make me sorry. You’ll have to hit me hard enough to raise a bad bruise then I’ll pretend to be unconscious.’

Cassandra swallowed a mouthful of cake that felt like grit going down her throat. ‘All right.’

Jane took another bite. ‘Once you’re out of the room, turn left and use the back stairs. It’s up to you after that. I can’t tell whether the stairs will be clear, but at least I can give you a chance of getting away.’ She raised her voice, ‘Eat up! We don’t want you fainting on us.’

Cassandra swallowed another mouthful, giving a tiny nod as she did so.

Another whisper. ‘One more thing. After you’ve escaped, stay hidden. Don’t try to bring the police into this. They’ll believe your aunt rather than you. She’s great friends with that fat Vicar and he believes whatever she tells him.’

‘That’d mean letting her get away with it.’

‘People like them do get away with things, especially ladies who seem respectable. You should see the
gentlemen
who come in here. Pillars of the church, some of them. Now, we’ve no time to argue. Eat something else and I’ll ring for the tray to be taken away.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You don’t know where your next meal is coming from. Eat.’

As the maid cleared away the tray and left, Jane went to open the door for her, saying loudly before she closed it, ‘Change into these clothes now. I’m sick of seeing you in rags.’ She almost closed the door, listening intently as she peered through the narrow gap. ‘Right. He’s gone. But he’ll be back. So be quick about it.’

Cassandra took off her clothes, glancing nervously towards the door. The bodice she’d been given was cut very low and she hesitated to put it on.

‘Do it quickly before I regret my generosity.’ Jane was back at the door, keeping watch. When Cassandra was dressed, she came across to her. ‘Now hit me from behind so I can’t see it coming. Quick, before I change my mind.’

Cassandra picked up an ornament and took a quick swipe at Jane, who crumpled to the ground and didn’t stir. She looked down at herself, horrified at the sight of her half-exposed breasts. She couldn’t go out like this. She pulled the shawl from around Jane’s shoulders, but the other still didn’t stir. Out in the street Cassandra would need to put it round her head to hide the short hair that people would be bound to notice. But inside here, she needed to look like the others, so she draped the shawl over one arm.

With a last regretful glance at Jane, she moved quickly to the door, listening to make sure no one was outside, opening it slightly to look, then slipping out and down the narrow back stairs. At the bottom a door shut the back stairs off from the next landing. She started to open it, heard voices and jerked back, peeping through the gap.

A man walked past, fondling a young woman and they disappeared into a room.

Her heart pounding so hard she had difficulty breathing, Cassandra listened to check that no one else was coming then crept down the next flight of stairs. This time there was no door at the bottom and to her horror a man came out of a room just as she stepped on to the landing. Somehow she found the courage to force a smile and walk past him as if she had a right to be there.

He strolled down the front stairs, hardly giving her a second glance. She could hear voices and laughter below. The sounds seemed to echo in her head and for a moment she froze from fear of going further. Then she pulled herself together and hurried down the final flight of back stairs.

At the bottom she paused again to get her bearings. The kitchen area was to one side and people were bustling around, one tired-looking man pouring wine into glasses, an old woman drawing a jug of beer from a barrel in one corner. They saw her but didn’t give her a second glance.

A young woman came in from outside and walked into the kitchen, saying, ‘That’s better. I was bursting.’

Cassandra guessed the door led out to the privy. She wanted to run, but forced herself to walk slowly towards it. Almost sobbing with relief that no one had tried to stop her, she opened the heavy outer door and stepped outside.

The chill of the night air made her brain feel more alert and as another door nearer the front of the building opened, she moved quickly across the yard into the shadows. There she waited until a man had gone across to a low building which smelled like the privy.

She went in the same direction but opened the back gate and went out into an alley between the rows of houses. Only then did she give in to the temptation to run, moaning in her throat and stumbling along like a drunkard.

At the end of the alley, where it met the next street, she stopped, out of breath. Recognising where she was, she pulled the shawl tightly over her head and round her shoulders then set off walking through the streets. The skirt was fuller than she was used to, the petticoats swishing as she walked, and she was petrified of meeting someone she knew. Or worse still, meeting someone who thought she was a streetwalker. She was sure she looked like one.