Jeremiah’s aplomb was returning. Drawing himself up, he said coldly, ‘I am aware you are distressed but that does not excuse your impertinence to me or your mistress. We will deal with our ward as we see fit, do you understand?’
‘Oh aye, I understand all right.’ Bridget’s Irish side was to the fore and nothing could have stopped her now. It had taken all of Kitty’s and Patrick’s strength to hold on to her when she had heard Sophy screaming, and when she had finally been able to fling them off and make for the hall, the silence from the morning room had been worse than the child’s cries. ‘Your lady wife beats her half to death and works the bairn like a dog, and you turn a blind eye. I’m sure some of your high-falutin’ friends would be interested to hear what really goes on in this house.’
‘How dare you.’ Patience and Mary had reached the landing, and confident that his wife wasn’t going to further complicate matters, Jeremiah was now every inch the master of the house. ‘If you don’t want to find yourself up before the magistrate, who happens to be one of those high-faluting friends you spoke of, I suggest you put some good distance between this town and yourselves. Slander is a serious offence and carries a custodial sentence, and I would make sure you and your parents get the maximum penalty. I don’t know how you would fare in prison but I do know they are most unpleasant places with a large portion of unsavoury characters.’ It had become obvious to him that there was no way he could retain the servants, so the only alternative was to put the fear of God in them. ‘And at your parents’ age’, he glanced icily at Kitty and Patrick standing at their daughter’s elbow, ‘the only place from there would be the workhouse, which is perhaps more unpleasant than prison in some cases. Do I make myself clear?’
Bridget’s high colour had drained away and she looked pale, but she still said stubbornly, ‘I want to see the bairn.’
‘Come away, lass.’ Kitty pulled at her daughter’s arm. ‘You can do nothing here.’
‘I will give each of you a month’s pay, which is extremely generous in the circumstances, but I want you out of this house by lunchtime and on your way.’ Jeremiah was praying the child wouldn’t rouse herself and begin to cry out. ‘And if I hear so much as a whisper about the affairs of this house I promise you will regret the day you were born. All of you.’
Patrick hadn’t said a word thus far but had stood, his jaw working, listening to the others. Now he looked Jeremiah straight in the eye. ‘And references, master?’
Jeremiah stared back at him. ‘I have never found any fault with your work and Kitty is a good cook. Yes, I am prepared to give you references – even you, Bridget.’
Bridget knew what he was saying. Without references they would be hard-pressed to find good employment, especially her parents. She might find something, she was young enough, but them . . . The master had mentioned the workhouse and she knew it was a spectre that haunted her parents, even though she had promised them she would never see them put into one of those hell-holes. But would she be able to keep that promise without the master’s references? He was bribing her, he knew it and she knew it. But the bairn, she couldn’t leave the bairn.
It was Kitty, tugging on her arm again, who settled the matter. ‘Come away, lass,’ she repeated softly. ‘The bairn’ll be all right and after all, she isn’t yours. You have no rights concernin’ her and you can’t do nowt. I always told you it was wrong to get over-fond of her, didn’t I?’
It hurt, not so much what her mother had said but the way she had said it, because it suggested her mother held her responsible for the fact they were being turned out on their ear. Knowing she was beaten and a pain tearing her apart that couldn’t be worse if she was being disembowelled, Bridget’s voice was weak when she said, ‘She’ll do for the bairn one day, the mistress. You know that, don’t you? She’s not right in the head where that little ’un’s concerned.’ She swung round to face Jeremiah again. ‘And it’ll be you God holds responsible, because you can’t pretend you don’t know what’s goin’ on after this.’