THE DEPRIVED... Chapter 3... Part 2.

A continuation of my book.

That night Kilpatrick lay awake with his own thoughts. He had not noticed how beautiful Beth was becoming, her pale face accentuated by the sparkled look to her blue eyes which seemed to smile with her laugh and the fair hair which seemed to flow and curl with a curving jingle of life which reminded him of the River Bride at Waterford in his youth, waters which rose and scented the air as it lifted and fell to the tides. He had not noticed her swell into womanhood until earlier today as he worked in the market. It was when he saw a man, dressed swell in top hat and tails who spent time in looking at Beth in a most admiring way. That was the second man to stop in this way and, after the second man, Kilpatrick had stopped in his work to study Beth in this new light and with an intention that he could make Beth’s beauty pay when the time was ripe and whether Beth would agree.
“I see a way of upping our qualities of living.” he said to himself as he lay.
Kilpatrick prepared himself for sleep.

 

It was at the market the next day when the tall man ranged his thoughts of the previous night as he lifted a crate of apples onto the barrow. There across the way stood a man who gazed at Beth.
“Do you see yon man as is giving you the once-over, Beth? There, across the way? Do you see that handsome fellow in the yellow britches and velvet coat?”
Beth stared round and blushed, hiding her face beneath her shawl when she saw the man who stood from across the row of stalls gazing at her in rapt attention.
“He’s an old man with whiskers and a portly appetite by the looks of him!” she whispered fiercely.
“That he is and I’ve a mind to give him a crack on the bonce with me knob-stick!” chuckled Kilpatrick, before continuing. “But I can’t say as I blame him. You’ve a bonny look and much to a man’s fancy, Beth.”
Beth blushed again and hid her face, not knowing what to say.
“That man yonder is in wealth I fancy, with a nice watch and fob to his waistcoat, along with a few sovereigns hiding in his purse, I’ll bet.”
Beth raised her head and turned to look at the man who still stood in open admiration across the way. Seeing her look, the man smiled at her before doffing his hat. Beth readily pulled a face at him in return before continuing to help Kilpatrick lift a sack of potatoes onto the barrow.
“It’s a clout he’s needing and no mistake.” she said cheerfully.
“Perhaps.” began Kilpatrick slowly. “If he comes in a similar way tomorrow, I might be leading him down some alleyway and doing just that for his cheek.” he promised, giving Beth a crafty look as he said the words.
“And that will give him a just deserve.” answered Beth with a laugh.
“Tomorrow then.” was all Kilpatrick said as he hefted the handles to the barrow and began pulling it along the cobbled streets to the lock-up.

 

Sam was full of his time’s adventure, bragging how he had chased the Mudlarkers away from their belongings, brandishing the knife in a most ferocious way and unaware that John Cutter had been the reason why the Mudlarkers would not go too close to Sam’s fire. Kilpatrick listened to Sam’s bragging and  applauded him for his manly behaviour, smiling on seeing that Sam had now lost his scowl and sullen looks and more intent in carrying out his duties.
The three of them ate, sitting round the fire.
“It might be, come tomorrow, that we may be in upper quality. It might well be that we can afford some renting money and move away from here.” said Kilpatrick.
“Might we?” questioned Beth. “And how’s that to be gained?”
Kilpatrick tapped his nose as to the secret and simply alluded to some posh gent willing to spare the money out of kindness and a good heart.
Beth giggled and told Kilpatrick off for his story-telling.
“Tomorrow might just tell the tale.” concluded the tall man and having finished eating he rose to wander over to the knot of men who gambled for pennies.

 

It was the next day in the marketplace that Kilpatrick tapped Beth on the shoulder.
“There’s that fine gent again as comes a-courting you, young Beth.” he said.
Beth looked up from her work of stacking boxes.
“Well he can stand and look. That’s all he’ll get.” she replied.
Kilpatrick took up his stout club and hefted it.
“Well it’s bothering me, that it does. I’m not into having some Fancy-Dan to peeping at you that way, Beth. And I’m thinking to give him a real taste of me clouting-stick.”
“Take no notice of him.” said Beth, bending once more to her work.  “It will happen he’ll get tired and pass on to more importance, of things which will take his notice.”
“I can’t let that happen, young ‘un. I’m not in temperament as to see some old codger casting a longing eye at you.”
This time Beth looked across the way to see the man raise his stove-pipe hat and smile at her.
“What I’m telling you is to walk a ways yonder, in front of me to that alleyway further to the left. Do you see it?” muttered Kilpatrick.
“I see it.” replied Beth, shading her eyes as she peered to see the dark slip of alleyway.
“Take a slow walk and I’ll be there directly, off you go.”
“But he’s doing me no harm.” uttered Beth, now beginning to worry at the way Kilpatrick stood, his hand grasping the club.
“Do as I say, girl. There’s a time as some need a lesson and if the lesson aint in quick time then there comes a liberty from them as not learned to respect you.”
Beth sensed the urgency in the tall man’s voice and put down the crate she held, beginning to slowly walk between the stalls, not looking back and then peeling away as she disappeared down the alleyway.