Hope - Lesley Pearse [110]
Up until today Hope had watched and listened to what went on at number 5 with some amusement, remembering dignified Baines who ran Briargate like clockwork, yet kept the respect and affection of all his staff. She knew he would throw up his hands in horror at her contemplating taking up a position in a household which was managed in such an inept fashion.
Yet it wasn’t just the difficulties she might encounter at number 5 that daunted her; she felt it was disloyal to leave Gussie and Betsy. But for their generosity, protection and the survival skills they’d taught her she would not have survived a month in Lewins Mead. Their room in Lamb Lane might be squalid and rat-ridden, but within it she’d felt safe. The meek little Hope Renton who’d slunk away from the gatehouse on Albert’s orders had become strong and resourceful. She wasn’t even sure she had the ability to be anyone’s servant again.
She had lost her respect for the gentry when she saw Sir William in bed with Albert, and since living in Bristol she’d seen and heard about too many other ‘gentlemen’ who liked boys, or very young girls, to think Sir William was exceptional. As for their ladies, she despised them even more for their hypocrisy. They flocked to their churches in silks and satins and prayed for the poor and the sick, but they never lifted a finger to help those less fortunate than themselves. Hundreds of destitute men, women and children from famine-ridden Ireland disembarked from ships each week in Bristol, but there was no sympathy for their plight. These poor souls could barely stand, they were so emaciated from starvation, yet the gentry brayed that they should be driven out of the city. As it was, most of them were forced to live like animals in the festering, derelict houses down by the river Frome, and with no food or medical help they were dying like flies.
Hope had heard Mr Edwards remark that if he had his way he would order the military to set fire to these unsanitary places, and that he hoped the people within them would perish too. Could she really work for such a man?
It was Friday today, and on Monday morning she was due back at the Crescent with her decision. Unfortunately she was pretty certain that if she turned down Mrs Toms’s offer, the woman was spiteful enough to refuse to give her any further work at all.
But on seeing Betsy so obviously unwell, Hope put aside her own problems and rushed to help her friend. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked as she caught hold of her arm.
‘I feel bad,’ Betsy groaned. ‘Me belly aches, I’ve been sick, I never felt this way before, I feel like I’m gonna die.’
Betsy was the toughest person Hope had ever known, she didn’t ever complain when she was hurt or sick, so that in itself was enough to make Hope worried. Betsy hadn’t been herself last night; she was pale and listless and hadn’t wanted anything to eat. She’d insisted it was just the heat. But heat alone wouldn’t give someone pain or make them sick, so it had to be something far more serious.
In the last few days there had been talk that there was fever among the Irish, and that if they weren’t moved on it would spread throughout the city. Hope had dismissed this as scaremongering, but what if it was true?
She didn’t intend to alarm Betsy with such a suggestion, so she put her arm round her to support her. ‘I’ll get you home,’ she said. ‘I expect you’ve eaten something bad. But I’ll take care of you.’
‘I need a drink of water,’ Betsy moaned as they went up the stairs. She was really frightening Hope now for her movements were slow and laboured and she was shivering even though it was so hot.
‘I’ll make you some cinnamon tea,’ Hope said. She had never liked the taste of Bristol water, so she never drank it other than in tea. Putting a stick of cinnamon in boiling water had been her mother’s remedy for sickness or bellyache, for she had claimed that giving a