“Of course, I will,” he said.
Henry’s food arrived, and he looked down at it but didn’t touch it. Guy’s food arrived a minute later.
“She’s fine,” Guy said suddenly, but Henry said nothing. “It’s awkward as hell, but it doesn’t have to affect us. We’re still friends. Unless you prefer we aren’t.”
Henry didn’t answer immediately. “You’re right, of course. It doesn’t have to affect us.”
Henry picked up his utensils and began to eat his pudding, and Guy began to as well.
“What brings you t
o London?” Henry asked his friend from university.
Guy took a bite and swallowed before speaking. “Just some frivolous shopping. Nothing that would interest you.”
Henry sighed. He was here for her, he realized, and he didn’t want to tell him. He didn’t want to hurt Henry, and that was something at least.
“We should get together more often, Henry. As we used to,” Guy said.
“We should.”
They finished their meal together without much being said and parted amicably.
Chapter Six
Augusta watched her daughter pack her trunk for the journey to Norwich and sighed audibly. “I don’t think this a good idea.”
“What isn’t a good idea, Mother?” Audrey asked, not faltering in her packing. “The traveling alone, which I did at college, or my month away from you to give this a try… which I also did at college.”
Augusta wisely said nothing and looked at her youngest playing with her doll on the bed. “Frances, go ask Cook for a glass of milk,” she told her daughter, who left the room. “I’m worried for you,” she said simply when Frances was gone.
Audrey paused in folding her clothes neatly into her suitcase and glanced at Augusta. “I know you are. I’m worried for me. But this is the first chance I’ve gotten to make a living and take you both with me. I have to try.”
“I’ve heard stories about the workhouses,” Augusta admitted.
“Well, we’re joining it as staff and family of staff. We aren’t in the workhouse.”
“I feel guilty. I wish I had thought to ask your father about such things as money. I never thought we’d be in such a predicament.” Augusta sighed.
Audrey came to sit beside Augusta on the bed. “This isn’t so dire. I know what I’m capable of. I know what I can and can’t do. If this is too much for me, I’ll tell you. We can make a change if it doesn’t work.” Augusta said nothing. “Just be patient. And trust me.”
“I do. I just wish… I wish we could go back to the way things were.” Augusta’s eyes filled with tears.
Audrey hugged her tightly. “We can’t go back but we can move forward. Together.”
Audrey sat back in the train seat and pulled out the correspondence she had received from Henry Ryland. After their fateful meeting, she had returned home and waited. Several days later, she had received word that she had been accepted as the next schoolmistress of the Bowthorpe Road Workhouse.
With his letter had been a small bit of correspondence she had read quickly at first and then again at her leisure. Henry Ryland had written to her about the Norwich Workhouse and explained that it had originally been set up as the Norwich Incorporation in 1712. The Incorporation had set up a workhouse on Bridge Street in the parish of St Andrew’s. In 1802, an addition of new buildings had been set up that could accommodate 600 inmates. The able-bodied were employed in the manufacture of worsted and cotton goods.
In 1859, at the north side of Bowthorpe Road, a new workhouse had been erected that could house 885 inmates.
In his writing, Audrey read that the new workhouse building was one of the most perfect of its kind, nearly ten acres of land. The external walls were faced with red bricks with white brick dressings. The workhouse encompassed the main building, a chapel, the infirmary, the lunatic wards, and the principal building.
On the ground floor, there were sixty-three rooms, including the spacious dining room. There was a kitchen, a scullery, an engine room, and the masters’ and matrons’ room.
On the first floor, there were forty-nine rooms that were mostly dormitories. The entire workhouse was heated by open fireplaces and ventilating turrets in the roofs. The workhouse was a T-shaped main block with projections in each wing. A variety of workshops, laundries, outbuildings, and cottages stood to the rear.
He wrote in detail of the staff he felt she should be aware of. According to his letter, Mr. Cuthbert Meacham was the Master of the workhouse and had been there for ten years. The Master was responsible for the day to day running of the workhouse. His duties were numerous, and he answered to the Board of Guardians.