Redemption offered to you at the eleventh hour.’
‘I’m not marrying him . I don’t even know the man.’
‘Watch that sharp tongue of yours, girl. You’ll have ample opportunity to get to know him.’
‘Never!’ Ruby’s defiant stance was not having at all the effect she had hoped for. Barthram Stobbs was clearly highly amused by her spluttering protests, and the Chairman showed not the least concern.
‘You are being given the opportunity to achieve respectability and security. Are you saying you would prefer to go to jail? If so the alternative is three months imprisonment for inciting a riot. Is that what you would prefer?’
Ruby fell silent, all rebellion draining from her at this awful prospect. She’d heard about the inside of the Bridewell, and once having suffered incarceration there, the slide into the gutter was generally unstoppable.
Taking her silence for agreement, the Chairman pulled out his watch to check the hour, as if to indicate that he was a busy man with better things to do with his time than listen to silly girls. He beamed upon her beneficently. ‘What’s more, you can now expect to be invited to take part in the annual treat on the first Monday of the New Year, to partake of tea and bun-loaf and to collect your ten shillings reward money in return for producing your wedding certificate. How very splendid! These moments of success are what make our reforming task worthwhile.’
‘Success? But I. . .’Ruby began.
‘Enough! You are, I repeat, a most fortunate young woman to be spared incarceration and would do well to show proper gratitude. Say thank you to Mr Stobbs for his generous offer, and to us for our efforts on your behalf.’
Silence.
‘Say it!’
Ruby pressed her lips together and glared mutinously at the floor.
The Chairman grunted his disapproval. ‘You see what we have to contend with? Complete obduracy. I wish you every success, sir, in your Christian endeavour. Every good wish.’ And the two men shook hands, thus acknowledging that the deal had been struck.
‘What’s this when it’s at home?’ Ruby stared in stunned disbelief at the sight which met her eyes. ‘This don’t look like no big fancy house. Pardon me if I’ve been struck blind, but I’d say there’s some mistake here.’
‘No mistake, Ruby.’
‘It’s no more than a scrubby old wash tub!’ This was, perhaps, an unfair description of the steam tug lying at anchor on a quiet stretch of the Duke of Bridgewater’s Canal. It gleamed with varnish, its wheelhouse encased in oak-grained planking, a funnel painted in high gloss black, and steam pipe and whistle plated with polished copper. Inscribed in shiny brass lettering on the side of the boat was its name: the Blackbird. Behind the tug, and obviously in tow, lay a pair of filthy barges, currently empty but stinking of household refuse, cotton waste and coal dust. In no way could the entire rig be taken for a house, nor to be in need of a housemaid.
‘Is this some kind of joke?’ Ruby asked. ‘Because it doesn’t tickle my funny bone one bit.’
‘You wanted to escape the reformatory and you have, so stop complaining, get on board and put the kettle on.’
Ruby realised that not only had she been married against her will, to a complete stranger, but she’d also been hoodwinked into believing there would be a comfortable house at the end of the day. She’d hoped at least for some sort of respectability and security, as the Chairman of Governors had indicated. Now it would seem even that had been a trick.
Barthram Stobbs’s expression would have given weaker spirits pause for thought before tackling him head on about the situation, but Ruby stubbornly stood her ground. `You can’t get away with this. The Board of Guardians will want to know how I’m doing as your “good wife and helpmeet” in a proper house. not on a flippin’ boat.’
‘Then they’re going to be disappointed, as are you. And even if they come
‘I’m not marrying him . I don’t even know the man.’
‘Watch that sharp tongue of yours, girl. You’ll have ample opportunity to get to know him.’
‘Never!’ Ruby’s defiant stance was not having at all the effect she had hoped for. Barthram Stobbs was clearly highly amused by her spluttering protests, and the Chairman showed not the least concern.
‘You are being given the opportunity to achieve respectability and security. Are you saying you would prefer to go to jail? If so the alternative is three months imprisonment for inciting a riot. Is that what you would prefer?’
Ruby fell silent, all rebellion draining from her at this awful prospect. She’d heard about the inside of the Bridewell, and once having suffered incarceration there, the slide into the gutter was generally unstoppable.
Taking her silence for agreement, the Chairman pulled out his watch to check the hour, as if to indicate that he was a busy man with better things to do with his time than listen to silly girls. He beamed upon her beneficently. ‘What’s more, you can now expect to be invited to take part in the annual treat on the first Monday of the New Year, to partake of tea and bun-loaf and to collect your ten shillings reward money in return for producing your wedding certificate. How very splendid! These moments of success are what make our reforming task worthwhile.’
‘Success? But I. . .’Ruby began.
‘Enough! You are, I repeat, a most fortunate young woman to be spared incarceration and would do well to show proper gratitude. Say thank you to Mr Stobbs for his generous offer, and to us for our efforts on your behalf.’
Silence.
‘Say it!’
Ruby pressed her lips together and glared mutinously at the floor.
The Chairman grunted his disapproval. ‘You see what we have to contend with? Complete obduracy. I wish you every success, sir, in your Christian endeavour. Every good wish.’ And the two men shook hands, thus acknowledging that the deal had been struck.
‘What’s this when it’s at home?’ Ruby stared in stunned disbelief at the sight which met her eyes. ‘This don’t look like no big fancy house. Pardon me if I’ve been struck blind, but I’d say there’s some mistake here.’
‘No mistake, Ruby.’
‘It’s no more than a scrubby old wash tub!’ This was, perhaps, an unfair description of the steam tug lying at anchor on a quiet stretch of the Duke of Bridgewater’s Canal. It gleamed with varnish, its wheelhouse encased in oak-grained planking, a funnel painted in high gloss black, and steam pipe and whistle plated with polished copper. Inscribed in shiny brass lettering on the side of the boat was its name: the Blackbird. Behind the tug, and obviously in tow, lay a pair of filthy barges, currently empty but stinking of household refuse, cotton waste and coal dust. In no way could the entire rig be taken for a house, nor to be in need of a housemaid.
‘Is this some kind of joke?’ Ruby asked. ‘Because it doesn’t tickle my funny bone one bit.’
‘You wanted to escape the reformatory and you have, so stop complaining, get on board and put the kettle on.’
Ruby realised that not only had she been married against her will, to a complete stranger, but she’d also been hoodwinked into believing there would be a comfortable house at the end of the day. She’d hoped at least for some sort of respectability and security, as the Chairman of Governors had indicated. Now it would seem even that had been a trick.
Barthram Stobbs’s expression would have given weaker spirits pause for thought before tackling him head on about the situation, but Ruby stubbornly stood her ground. `You can’t get away with this. The Board of Guardians will want to know how I’m doing as your “good wife and helpmeet” in a proper house. not on a flippin’ boat.’
‘Then they’re going to be disappointed, as are you. And even if they come
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