Page 25 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
“What Mr. Smith does isman’swork.”
“Does he work harder than you intend to work for me?”
“Oh no!” the girl cried, an undertone of pride in her voice. “Ma says I work twice as hard as anyone—and I’ll work even harder for you, Mrs. Ward, never you fret about that.”
“Then,” Etty said, “if a woman—or in your case, a girl—works harder than a man, she should, at the very least, be paid the same. Perhaps this Mr. Smith expects to be paid more merely because he drinks most of his wages, leaving little for his unfortunate wife.”
“Loveday Smith is able to make her housekeeping stretch ever so far—or so Ma says, though she’ll be returning to her position soon, at the big house”—Frances hesitated, a flicker of apprehension in her eyes—“at least, when she’s well enough.”
“Your mother sounds like a gossip,” Etty said.
The girl blushed. “It’s not that, Mrs. Ward, but my ma cares ever so much for Loveday Smith. She’s Ma’s cousin, you see, and Ma says Loveday reminds her of our Freda. She has the most beautiful baby girl—she said I’ve looked after her ever so well. You can ask her yourself if you like, Mrs. Ward, ma’am, before deciding whether to take me on.”
“I’ve already decided, Frances, dear,” Etty said, her heart aching at the eager girl’s expression, “and I’m sure Mrs. Smith wouldn’t relish a visit from me. I am, after all, a stranger.”
“Ma says Loveday Smith needs visitors, even if she don’t like them. Mr. Staines visits her a lot.”
“Why does she need visitors?” Etty asked.
“She’s always hurting herself,” came the reply. “She broke her arm last year and couldn’t work. Mr. Smith was ever so cross about it. Then just before she had baby Anna, she fell down the stairs and sprained her wrist. She had an awful big bruise on her face when Ma and I visited her yesterday. Walked into the door, she said. Mr. Smith said she was a clumsy fool, and Ma got ever so cross with him before he left.”
“He left?”
“Aye, he spends most evenings in the Sailor now the baby’s here. Da says he should be at home tending to his wife like any good husband, but Ma said he’s better out of the house. She said it’s better for Loveday—but how can it be if she’s always having accidents? What if she fell and her husband wasn’t there?”
“Perhaps Loveday Smith has fewer accidents when her husband is not at home,” Etty said.
“That’s what Jimmy says,” the girl said. “And Ma says she’ll be all better once she’s working again.”
“You mean she has towork?” Etty asked. “When she’s just had a baby?”
“Aye, she works at the big house helping out with the mending. Ma says it’s better for her, though not by much,provided she stays below stairs. Loveday’s ma takes care of her children,” Frances said. “I asked if I could help, but Ma said I wasn’t to visit her on my own. I don’t know why. We were friends at school, until she left to work at the big house.”
“She’s your friend?” Etty asked. “And she has two children? Heavens above, how old is she?”
“Seventeen last summer, but Mrs. Swain taught us all just the same.”
Etty shook her head. A young girl—barely out of childhood—and already with two children and a drunkard for a husband. But perhaps Frances was mistaken.
“How old are you, Frances?”
“I was twelve last Sunday,” the girl said, pride in her voice. “Ma says that makes me all grown up.”
“Did you do anything special to mark the occasion?”
“We visited Freda’s grave like we always do, then Mrs. Ham from the Sailor brought round a fruitcake special. There’s some left. I could bring you a slice.”
“Do you miss Freda?”
“I never knew her,” the girl said. “She died before I was born.”
What had been inscribed on the headstone?d Aug 13th1805
August the thirteenth had been last Sunday.
Which meant Frances had been born the day her sister died.
Something of a coincidence…or perhaps not?
