Free The Murder of Patience Brooke by J C Briggs

Sesina laughed about it, but ’e’s a good man. ’E was kind to me – sometimes spoke to me after church. ’E said he was sure I was a good girl – ’e don’t know, though, do ’e? Don’t know nothin’ about girls like me. ’E don’t know wot’s wrong with me – if ’e did, ’e’d ’ate me.’
    She cried again for the girl she could never be. There was something so hopeless in her sorrow that Dickens was stirred to pity. She was not one of his favourites; she was often sullen and listless, and the lessons bored her, but he could see that she had no faith in herself.
    â€˜You must be hopeful, Lizzie. That is why you are here. The Home is here to help you start again, a new life, in a new land. Think about Julia Mosley, Martha Goldsmith and Jane Westaway on board The Calcutta now, sailing for Australia and a new life – you can do that too, Lizzie.’
    â€˜I ain’t never seen the sea,’ she sniffed, ‘and I ’ates that river.’
    Dickens could have laughed. She was a child, really for all her rotten experience. He thought of Eleanor Brim, half her age and twice as sensible.
    â€˜We believe in you, Lizzie, and we know that you have not done wrong on purpose.’
    â€˜But I ’ave!’ she cried. ‘You don’t know wot I done.’
    â€˜Not unless you tell us,’ said Mrs Morson, patiently.
    Dickens was alarmed. What had she done? What did she know? Did she know that Patience was dead? He made himself be calm. ‘Tell us, Lizzie, and you will feel better.’
    â€˜â€™E gave me a note – Mr Fidge – for Patience – we met ’im – Mary-Ann and me when we woz at the shops with Mrs Morson last Thursday. ’E said to give it ’er.’
    â€˜Did you?’ Dickens sensed Mrs Morson holding her breath as he was doing. The answer was crucial.
    â€˜No.’ Dickens heard Mrs Morson breathe out as he did.
    Gently, he asked, ‘What did you do with it?’
    â€˜I tore it up, an’ I let it float away.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Why should ’e write to ’er?’ Lizzie was passionate now in her anger against Patience Brooke. ‘She was stuck-up. She didn’t like ’im; she thought she was too good for ’im. I like ’im – ’e ain’t much to look at but I like ’im but he don’t see me.’ The words tumbled out of her. ‘I didn’t like ’er – it was like she was pretendin’ to like us when she didn’t, really. She thought she was better than us. Well she’s gone now an’ I bet she don’t come back.’ Now she was sobbing again.
    â€˜Did you read it?’ Dickens had to be sure. Had Francis Fidge wanted a meeting?
    â€˜No, I just tore it up and threw it away – in the gutter –in the water.’
    Dickens looked at Mrs Morson. She would know what to say.
    â€˜Well, Lizzie, it doesn’t seem so bad to me. If Miss Brooke did not like him, then perhaps you did her a good turn. You must not think of it again. See, Mr Dickens is not angry.’
    Lizzie gave Dickens a weak smile. ‘I’m sorry, sir. It was temper, I know.’
    â€˜Good. Now, cheer up Lizzie and think on the better things to come.’
    â€˜I’ll try, sir.’
    â€˜Go upstairs, Lizzie and wash your face. Then go in to your lunch.’ Mrs Morson stood up to open the door.
    Lizzie went out, turning as she went to say, ‘Thank you, sir.’
    â€˜Phew!’ Dickens said. ‘I was terrified for a moment. I really thought she had done something terrible. Just jealousy and frustration. She is usually so dull and quiet, but underneath that there is the same anger and restlessness that they all have.’
    â€˜Yes, I do feel sorry for her – it is hard for her to believe that there will be a future. It is as if most of the time she is too depressed to care