Among the Darkness Stirs

“It’s the truth. Some of them kids have lost a lot and they are wee little ones. Makes you sad to think of it.” The corner of his mouth dipped down.

“That’s very true.”

“Don’t be too hard on them but don’t be too soft neither.” He waggled his finger. “Find something in the middle.”

“That’s very wise, Levi,” she told him. “Thank you.”

He puffed his chest out at the compliment. “Be cautious of Matron. She’s a tough old bird. Old Matron before her was soft as butter and sweet as sugar. This one…” He let his words trail off.

“I’ll watch my step.” Audrey looked about the medieval city with its quaint buildings, steepled churches, and cobblestone streets. It was a large city, though not as big as London. It was much smaller than the Kent village she had called home for so long.

“It’s a large city, Norwich,” he told her. “Norwich used to be filthy and overcrowded, but since the Improvement Commissioners was formed, they pave and light the streets, and we have our own police force.”

“Impressive,” she said.

“We also have a piped water supply and a network of sewers. They were built in the last decade,” he told her. “We also opened the first public library in 1857.”

“A library?” Her eyes widened. “That’s excellent. You must show me where it is,” she said, thinking it would be in the future.

“Of course, I will,” he said, moving in a different direction to show her the library that was housed in the Guildhall building. She looked up at the grand structure and marveled at the chequerboard pattern in flint and freestone that covered the east face of the building. Levi explained that the Guildhall was the largest municipal building in England outside London. It was used for council meetings and courts of justice.

After the library, they resumed the course to the workhouse.

“We’re famous for leatherwork and shoemaking, miss,” he told her. “And mustard making.”

She frowned. She hadn’t expected that. “Mustard making?”

He dipped his head. “Aye. J & J Colman. Their factory is on Carrow Road. In 1866, they were granted the Royal Warrant as manufacturers of mustard to the queen herself,” he said matter-of-factly.

He turned the small buggy and horse down a path, and Audrey saw the workhouse for the first time. She recognized it from Henry Ryland’s letter. The red brick stood out from the road, and the white bricks stood out against the red. Although her first impression of the large building was impressive, it also seemed sinister, as if it belonged in a Wilkie Collins novel.

“Welcome to Bowthorpe Road Workhouse,” Levi said.

“It is quite imposing,” she said as she looked up at the expansive building.

“Is it? I never think of it that way. It’s been home for so long.” He pulled the cart to the left, and they entered into a side entrance. When the horse was still, he helped her out of the cart. “I’ll get your trunk,” he offered helpfully.

Audrey looked up at the building and was in awe at the massive structure. As she turned around, she heard footsteps behind her.

“What time do you call this to be coming in, Mr. Penn? We expected you a half hour ago,” a woman said, hands on her hips. She was an older woman of expansive girth with a large bosom and a very serious face. She wore a velvet gown of deep purple with no frills or decoration.

“I stopped off to show the miss our library, as she’s fond of books,” Levi told her as he set Audrey’s trunk next to her.

The Matron gave him a steely gaze. “She can visit the library on her day off, Mr. Penn. See to the horse.”

As he left, he winked at Audrey, who bit back a smile. The Matron turned her gaze on Audrey, and Audrey met her eyes directly.

“Come with me. I’ll have someone take your trunk to your room,” she said as she gestured to a young boy to do just that.

She followed the woman through a series of hallways and passed several people cleaning the floors and whitewashing the walls. Audrey and the Matron came to a small room with a desk and two chairs. The stern-faced woman took the chair behind the desk, and Audrey took the one facing her.

“Miss Audrey Wakefield,” she said to Audrey, a statement, not a question.

Audrey clasped her hands in her lap. “Yes. I am Audrey Wakefield.”

“I am Elspeth Meacham. Matron of the Bowthorpe Road Workhouse. I received a letter from our esteemed Board of Guardian Mr. Henry Ryland. It appears you are to be our new schoolmistress.” She pulled out a folder from her desk.

“Yes.”