September 1838
The Thames, London
In the weeks that followed, Charles suffered with a bad cold, the result of his night-time excursion. He was plagued by facial spasms and was in a terrible mood: either completely silent, not speaking at all, or anxious and irritable. I did not dare to ask him a word about Forster. It was the arrival of a letter requesting his help that at last lifted him out of his gloom. After reading it carefully, he folded it in two and hurried to his study to make a reply.
My Dear Miss Burdett-Coutts
I am honoured to place myself at your disposal, and will do all that you ask of me and more, if I can, to assist the young woman in question. I will gladly arrange the passage as you have asked and take the ticket to her.
Your sister shows the same charitable spirit as yourself in what she does for these young women. You are right when you say that we must not sit in judgement, but that those of us that have the means to help, must do so.
I await your further instructions.
Your sincere friend,
Charles Dickens
Within our huge City there were often unmarried women who found themselves with child. Cast out, their only refuge was the workhouse, which was often a sure passage to death for mother or child, sometimes both. Angela Burdett-Coutts, I learned, had a sister who had emigrated to Australia and had set up a hostel for these poor unfortunates. Here they could start a new life, away from a hypocritical society, and find hope of a better future.
Charles later told me how he had wandered down to the docks.
‘Do you know, Kate, I passed children as young as two years old, picking their way through stinking rubbish in the hope of finding food. It was heartbreaking to see.’
In the loft of a dilapidated boathouse he had found the girl. She was no more than sixteen and was huddled beneath a fraying sackcloth. Her fair hair hung about her delicate face like rats’ tails.
‘Who told you I was ’ere?’ she had called fearfully. ‘Keep away from me, or I’ll skin you wiv’ me knife.’ She shuffled back into the corner and flashed the blade in warning.
‘I won’t harm you, little miss,’ Charles had reassured. ‘I’ve come to help. I heard what happened to you.’
The girl held up a lantern, seeking sincerity in her visitor’s eyes.
‘I know that you had a good position until your master’s son brought these circumstances upon you.’
The girl nodded cautiously, ‘Sir Robert Bradbury-Kent’s son, up at the big house on Upper Thames Street.’
Charles knew the family. Generations of money had not instilled good character in any of them, it had only robbed them of morals and filled them with arrogance instead.
‘I have something for you,’ said Charles, crouching down and moving a little closer. He had held out a ticket and a small purse of money. The girl eyed him suspiciously.
‘A lady will meet you at the railway station tomorrow at eight, under the station clock. You must not speak to her or appear to accompany her, but she will be your silent chaperon on the train journey. She will be wearing a green velvet bonnet. When you arrive at the docks a ship will be waiting, bound for Australia. Here is your passage.’ Charles had said, holding out the ticket.
The girl held back, not convinced, ‘Why are you doin’ this? Wot’s in it for you? You don’t know me at all. I could run away wiv that money and sell the ticket for a good price, you know that don’t ya?’ She rubbed a dirty hand back and forth across her nose.
‘That is your choice of course, little miss, but there will be small chance for you here in London.’
The girl had hesitated for a moment, not at all sure if she could ever trust another man, then cautiously got to her feet and took a step towards Charles. The fragile creature did not have any idea at all that she stood before a famous author, but looked into his kind eyes and recognized that they swam with tears of pity. She snatched the ticket and the bag of coins from Charles’s hand and then made a quick retreat to her bed of sacking.
Charles bid her goodbye and then turned to leave. She whispered softly, ‘Mister? If I should survive, then I will always remember your kindness, but if I should die, then I will ask God in person to bless you for what you have done.’
‘It is the lady and her sister that you have to thank, I am just their errand boy.’ He smiled. ‘But all that will become known to you when you reach the other side of the world.’ He shook her tiny hand and they said goodbye.
Walking past the little children by the docks once more, he resolved to see what could be done for them. He would speak to Miss Burdett-Coutts about it. Charles had seen the letter from her as a sign of her continued good will, and that she had not forsaken him after all. This was the first of many occasions when he worked with Angela Burdett-Coutts in her acts of charity. Sometimes he would receive word of how the lives of the young women he helped her to support, had turned out and it would always lift his mood, knowing that he had been able to make a small difference by doing some social good.