No one knew for certain where Miriam had gone. But we knew she’d disappeared after Ma Dwyer’s visit, so it was assumed she must be living at the Black Horse.
‘Do you think she’s working there, too?’ I asked John one evening.
He shrugged. ‘Ma Dwyer doesn’t seem the type to keep anyone for nothing.’
‘So your father was right about her all along,’ I said.
‘It would seem so, Rose,’ he said sadly. ‘I was very fond of Miriam. I’d had hopes of better things for her than this. I feel …’
I interrupted quickly. ‘You mustn’t feel guilty, John, or blame yourself in any way. We all had hopes for Miriam, but she is what she is and there is no changing a person’s nature.’
He cast a long glance towards the dormitory where Emma was sleeping in her cot.
‘You mustn’t be anxious about the child. She is being cared for by good people now. She has,’ I said, clearing my throat, feeling a little awkward, ‘she has your blood in her, too, John. Good, Christian blood. She isn’t entirely made up of filth, and I am certain that with the right care, she will do well.’
‘I hope you’re right, Rose,’ he said, and walked heavily away.
I returned to my work in the kitchen. There was a new nursery maid now, who had taken on the jobs that used to be Miriam’s, but the governors were insistent that I must help with the cooking and cleaning when I could – experience had shown us all that it was too big a task for one girl to tackle by herself. Certainly, it wasn’t enjoyable work, but it was easy enough, and when finished I could devote myself to looking after the babies, though I spent as much time as I could with Emma. She was small and weak, and needed devotion. Miriam herself had cared nothing at all for her.
My plans for one day taking over the nursery were growing more defined. I thought how I could keep Emma and, when my yellow ticket was issued, Arabella could join us too. The three of us would live as a family until I were granted leave to return to England, where we could be reunited with my other two children. It felt like the safer option – safer, in any case, than running away and being caught, then sent back to Cascades for years.
After my conversation with John, I was preparing for the next morning’s breakfast when Reverend Sutton suddenly walked in. ‘Hello, sir,’ I said politely enough, though I had no desire to encourage him to stay. Being alone with him made me fearful.
He looked keenly at me. ‘How are you, Mrs Winter?’
‘Well, thank you.’
‘My son tells me you will be making an application to take over the nursery.’
‘Does he say that?’ I asked, then continued pouring flour, as though I cared nothing for his conversation.
‘He does indeed. Is this your plan?’
‘I have no clear plans, sir, apart from returning to England one day. But that day is far off.’
‘I’m sure the governors will be keen to appoint you should you apply.’
I said nothing in response.
‘But tell me,’ he said, moving close enough to make me wince, ‘if they were to research your history, would they still be keen to let you look after babies?’
‘I don’t know what you mean, sir.’
He pulled some sheets of paper out of his pocket and unfolded them. ‘This,’ he said.
I felt myself growing cold. I knew exactly what it was and, though I’d never read it myself, I was certain of what it said.
The reverend continued. ‘This is a written report by your last employer to the judge in your case. Everything is in here. I had my suspicions about you and found it all out, Rose. All of it. Theft, my eye! You’re nothing more than a …’
He stood in front of me and held me so I couldn’t move. He kept his voice low. ‘If you want a nursery of your own, Rose, you’d better hope the governors don’t get hold of this report.’ As he spoke, he lifted my skirt with his other hand.
‘Please, sir,’ I said.
He snarled at me. ‘Oh, no. There’s to be no begging, my dear. None at all. You got away last time, but if you want to protect yourself now, I suggest you oblige me.’