The Winter Orphan

by Cathy Sharp

  ‘Your mother loves you,’ the gypsy woman had told her once and Eliza had begged her to tell her more but she had had nothing to tell. Arthur Stoneham had just told her the true story of her birth and she felt the wonder of it overcoming the stunned disbelief, filling her with a warmth she had never known. She had a mother, and her mother’s name was Sarah.

  Her father held out his hand towards her, asking for her to take it and forgive him. ‘I would like the chance to make it up to you – to show you a father’s love if you are prepared to give me a chance.’

  ‘You said that if you took me into your house, I would be brought up by servants, neglected and unloved?’ She was puzzled, not understanding what he was offering or asking.

  ‘Things have changed,’ Arthur said and gave her the smile that seldom failed to charm. ‘I have a loving home to offer now – and I have learned what a family could be. It does not have to be the way mine was, Eliza, and I pray that you might one day be a part of my home and my family.’

  ‘Tell me what has changed,’ she asked gently, for she saw something in his eyes that spoke of hope and happiness.

  Her father’s face softened as he told her of his love for Hetty. He spoke at length of their plans – of the journey to the manor when he’d jumped into the river after a small child and discovered what it felt like to know real happiness, the contentment of family and friends, and Eliza’s tears flowed. She understood that he too had known loneliness, not just of the person but of the spirit; he had suffered as much as she because her mother’s brother had destroyed the chance for them to be a family when he lied to Arthur and told him Sarah was dead while she yet lived.

  ‘Yes, I do see that things have changed and that there would be a chance for us all to begin again.’ Eliza looked at him and there was tenderness and understanding in her eyes.

  ‘You have your mother’s capacity for kindness, Eliza. I see it in you – and it humbles me.’

  ‘My poor father,’ she said and got up. She put her arms about him and put her face to his chest, holding him. ‘I think you were very lonely – more than I ever was in the workhouse.’

  Arthur caressed her blonde locks with a father’s hand. ‘Do you truly forgive me?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she said and looked up at him. She had admired him for a long time, now she believed that she could love him and be proud that he was her father. Eliza knew that from now on she would be acknowledged as his daughter and loved, as she should always have been. ‘I should like to live with you and one day I will ask you to come and fetch me, Father – but not yet.’ Her eyes went to Miss Edith who was stirring and she left him and went to the sick woman, kneeling down to smile at her. ‘Mr Stoneham came to visit us, Miss Edith – was that not kind of him?’

  ‘Goodness!’ Miss Edith said, startled. ‘Did you offer him some tea, Eliza? You should have done, my dear.’ She looked at Arthur. ‘We have tea and cake and you are very welcome to share.’

  ‘You are very kind, dear lady,’ Arthur said in a gentle voice, for she was clearly fragile, ‘but I shall take no more of Eliza’s precious time. I hope to see you better soon, Miss Edith – and if there is anything you need you have only to send word. My own doctor shall call if you wish it.’

  Miss Edith smiled and shook her head. ‘Eliza knows how to look after me, dear Mr Stoneham. And you have been so very kind to us.’

  He went to take her hand, looking down into a face so pale and delicate that he knew she could not live long. His gaze returned to Eliza and the smile he gave her told of love and reassurance.

  ‘Take care of your friend, Eliza, and send for me whenever you need me.’

  ‘I shall, you may be certain.’ Eliza’s eyes smiled at him. ‘If you’re sure you will not stop for tea, sir …?’

  He saw the hint of wickedness in her eyes and smiled. ‘One day you and Miss Edith will have the pleasure of sharing a pot of tea with me – on the day of my wedding to Hetty …’

  Eliza had a new dress for her father’s wedding. Hetty visited her and brought a large box containing the dress, a hat, shoes, silk underwear and stockings and little white lace gloves.

  ‘It is a gift from both of us,’ Hetty said. She had also brought a box of almond comfits for Miss Edith that Ruth had baked for her, but the poor lady was ill in bed and unable to eat them.

  ‘She will be sorry to have missed you,’ Eliza said. ‘I thank you for the new dress and the comfits, Miss Hetty, but I fear I shall not be able to attend the wedding, though I do wish you both much happiness.’

  ‘You do not wish to leave your friend?’ Hetty nodded her understanding. ‘You would never forgive yourself if she passed while you were gone.’

  ‘Thank you for realising why I cannot come,’ Eliza said. ‘Ruth offered to sit with her but I will not leave her. I love her for her kindness to me – and I hope my father will not feel that I have slighted him or you.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Hetty said and took her hand. Eliza was on the verge of tears and grateful for her warmth. ‘Arthur very much wants you to live with us when you are ready – but he knows this shop is to be yours and that you may wish to continue in your work.’

  ‘I shall certainly continue my work,’ Eliza said. ‘As for the rest – I hardly know. Trade has not been as brisk since Miss Edith no longer runs the shop and I might not be able to carry on. In the eyes of the law I am still a child and Miss Edith’s cousin and his mother may try to take the shop from me by any means they can.’

  ‘Eliza, we will stand by you – and if it is your wish to continue …?’

  ‘For the moment I cannot think ahead,’ Eliza said sadly. ‘My place is here – and I do sincerely wish you both happiness and a good life.’

  ‘I am excited by what lies ahead,’ Hetty told her. ‘If you asked, Eliza, your father would send you to school – you could learn more of herbs and medicines. And if you wish to continue with your healing when you are older the schooling will only lend credit to your cures.’

  For the moment Eliza could not think of her future. She knew that once Miss Edith was dead and buried the legal wrangles with Miss Edith’s relations would begin. Even if the will was watertight they would make trouble for her – and already some of her clients questioned whether she was able to make their medicines up properly. It might be better to have that schooling so that she could claim more knowledge than even Miss Edith had – but that really was for the future.

  She glanced at the clock on the mantel. ‘It is almost time for Miss Edith’s medicine,’ she said. ‘Thank you again for my dress – and I do wish you great happiness.’

  Hetty stood up and moved to kiss her cheek. ‘I am glad I came to see you. I know Arthur wondered if you could truly forgive him but I see that you have. Take care, dearest Eliza, and remember that we will come to you if you need us. You have only to send us word …’

  Eliza thanked her and impulsively hugged her. ‘I am so glad he has found you,’ she said. ‘I think he was very lonely and unhappy for a long time – and he is a good man.’

  ‘Arthur does not think of himself in that way,’ Hetty said and her love for Eliza’s father was in her face. ‘He does kind, generous and thoughtful things but always finds himself lacking. I know that I am lucky to have found love and that I shall be happy. I shall pray for Miss Edith and for you.’

  Eliza went to the door with her. The shop had been closed for a few days now, because the bell disturbed Miss Edith and she needed peace. Returning to the kitchen, Eliza began to grind the herbs, nettles and berries that would give her friend ease for a few hours, sieving the mixture and adding water. The mixture was strong and too much would give Edith the everlasting sleep that men called death, but Eliza regulated the dose carefully so that her friend felt hardly any pain and yet was able to talk and drink a cup of the tea she so much enjoyed. Eliza hated the thought of losing her, cherishing these last precious days and every moment that they spent together. She wished she could cure her dearest friend, but there wa
s no cure, only the kindness of freedom from pain.

  She would think of Hetty and her father the next day as they married and wished them well, but she would not leave Miss Hetty even for an hour. She hoped her father would understand and not think she was angry with him or resentful. Hetty had told her they were having a short honeymoon in France but would be home in a couple of weeks.

  ‘We have too much to do setting up the estate as we wish it to stay away long,’ she’d said. ‘Once it is up and running it will be a good place to live for as many as we can take in.’

  ‘I like the way you want to live,’ Eliza told her. ‘Like you, I could never live in my father’s London house – but the life you describe sounds as if it could be interesting and fun, as well as serving others.’

  ‘I’m glad you see it as we do – it will benefit us as much as those we give a home,’ Hetty said. ‘It is a life I can live with Arthur and be truly happy.’

  She’d given Eliza Arthur’s address in the country. ‘Ruth has it too,’ she said, ‘and you can contact us there – or a letter to his London house will reach him; he intends to sell that great house, though he keeps his refuge for fallen women.’ She’d smiled at Eliza. ‘Everyone would be happy if you came to live with us – but it is your choice.’

  Eliza was not sure what she would do when the time came, because she did not wish to think about it. Miss Edith was her friend and when she was sedated she was still happy to sit and talk and Eliza was content to be with her. There was time enough to think of Eliza’s future, though knowing she had a father who cared for her made her feel warm and happy inside.

  The wedding ceremony was short and held in a small church that was more than adequate for the few guests invited. A reception at Arthur’s house had been arranged for those of his London friends he’d chosen to invite, and a much larger family party would be held when they returned from their visit to France.

  Arthur lifted the small veil that covered Hetty’s face and kissed her softly. ‘You look beautiful, my love,’ he said. ‘I do not deserve such happiness …’

  ‘Foolish one,’ Hetty returned and touched his cheek with her hand. ‘We shall discuss this later, dearest Arthur. For now we must see to our guests …’

  ‘I am sorry Miss Edith was too ill to come,’ Arthur said and could not keep the disappointment from his voice. ‘I had hoped Eliza might.’

  ‘As I told you, she does not want to leave her friend just now,’ Hetty said. ‘Yet she wished us happy … and I am sure she meant it, and I believe she will come to us when the time is right.’

  ‘Yes, I am certain you are right,’ Arthur agreed. ‘She has her mother’s generosity. I do understand that she could not leave Miss Edith.’

  He took her hand and led her from the small church to the sound of joyous bells. Ruth showered them with rose petals and Bella and Hannah, dressed in pretty clothes fitted to their new lives, gave Hetty a shiny horseshoe tied up with blue ribbons and lace. Lucy and Kitty, Cousin Matthew’s daughters, gave Hetty a beautiful basket, lace-trimmed and filled with scented flowers in blue and pink.

  ‘You look lovely, Miss Hetty,’ Bella said and Hetty bent to kiss her cheek. ‘I cannot tell you how happy I am to be here today. Until Mr Stoneham found me I had known nothing but abuse and unhappiness – now I have friends and all I could want.’

  ‘He is happy to have found you, and you should hold up your head, Bella. You are the daughter of a gentlewoman brought down through no fault of her own. She saved your life by taking you to the church the night she died in the snow and though her mind was disturbed by what had happened to her, I am certain that she loved you. Her mind was clear enough to place you where you would be found and cared for. She could not have known that you would be cruelly treated by that woman …’

  Bella’s cheeks were wet with tears, but they were happy ones, and she hugged Hetty as she thanked her for her kindness.

  ‘Mr Stoneham looks handsome,’ Hannah said to Ruth and sighed. ‘He’s sending me to school to learn to be a teacher – is that not kind of him?’

  ‘It’s Mr Stoneham’s way,’ Ruth told her and smiled. ‘Lovely man, he be! He rescued me and Cook from the workhouse – that’s ’er over there talkin’ to Mr Rattan and ’is lady. Married, Cook be now, and happy as a lark.’

  ‘Bella told me about her,’ Hannah said. ‘Mr Rattan looks handsome too in his way – but his lady seems more interested in her baby than him …’

  Ruth nodded and frowned. ‘Aye, well, she lost the babe for a while, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, so Bella told me. It was wonderful that Mr Rattan got her back for Meg, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, wonderful,’ Ruth said but her frown didn’t lift. ‘Though, it was a bit odd …’ She broke off as the bride and groom were driven off to their reception in a carriage tied with horseshoes and white ribbons. ‘We’ve been invited to the reception. I’m lookin’ forward to seein’ inside that big ’ouse of his.’

  ‘Yes, we’re all going,’ Hannah said. ‘I bet the food will be lovely. I’m going to eat and eat and eat!’

  ‘Don’t make yerself sick,’ Ruth warned and went off to join Cook, Meg and Toby, who had married quietly, with their baby as the other carriages drew up to convey the guests to the reception.

  The reception was over and their guests had all gone. Hetty was alone in the bedroom they would use for this one night before leaving for the coast and their ship to the South of France. She had just undressed with the help of her new maid, Minnie, and was now sitting in her elegant silk and lace negligee before the dressing table, brushing her hair. She turned to glance at Arthur as he entered the bedchamber and dismissed the girl.

  ‘Thank you, Minnie, I can manage now.’

  Arthur came to stand behind her as the maid left. He looked at her in the dressing mirror, taking the ivory-backed brush to stroke it over her hair, which reached below her shoulders, a slight wave in the rich reddish brown where she had taken it down from the coils that had held it in place earlier.

  ‘You should wear your hair down more,’ he said and kissed the top of her head. ‘You smell of flowers …’

  ‘I am not a young girl,’ Hetty said and laughed at him in the mirror. ‘Besides, I wear it down at night for the only man I wish to admire it …’ Her eyes lit with mischief and he bent over her to kiss her throat, making her tingle with need. His fingers caressed her neck and the white skin at the nape, lifting her hair to kiss her on her most sensitive spot. She shivered with pleasure as she felt the tip of his tongue licking sensuously at her there.

  ‘You remembered,’ she said softly, because it was many years since they had pleasured each other. Hetty had been a whore then and Arthur had been the only man who had ever taken the time to discover what aroused and pleased her instead of simply taking his own pleasure. It was no wonder that she had never allowed another man to touch her after she’d discovered what it was to find true happiness in a man’s embrace. He had been the spur she needed to try again – and because he’d shown her kindness and helped her, she had found a new life for herself. And now at last, she knew that the man she’d adored all those years loved her in return.

  ‘Of course,’ he said huskily and drew her up into his arms so that she felt the length of his strong body holding her against him and his arms enfolding her in an embrace that told her she was where she belonged. ‘I was such a fool not to know what a treasure was mine all these years … forgive me for the wasted years, my love.’

  Hetty turned to face him, reaching up for his kiss, quivering with the need and desire she had suppressed through so many long years when she had believed she could never have what she longed for – would never hear him say such words. Now at last she had her heart’s desire and she wanted him so much that she burned with need and longing to lie with him and feel him possess her once more.

  ‘I love you, Arthur,’ she said. ‘I want you so much. I did from the first moment I held you and gave you comfort all those years ago. I
knew then that you were the only man I had ever loved or would love – and I never expected that one day you would love me but I was prepared to accept friendship as long as you were happy …’

  ‘It took me much time and pain to learn,’ he said humbly. ‘Can you forgive and forget all that went before – and look only to the future and to mutual happiness?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said simply and pressed her lips to his, feeling the heat of his desire as he pressed her against him. The time for words was over and now was the time for love, pleasure and a future yet to be explored; a future that would include friends and family and touch the lives of many yet unknown.

  They had both travelled a hard road but together life would be sweeter and they could face whatever came. Secure in love, they would devote their lives to saving and caring for those less fortunate – the lost and lonely, the destitute, the sick and the poor – and most of all, the children of the workhouse.

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  About the Author

  Cathy Sharp is happily married and lives with her husband in a small Cambridgeshire village. They like visiting Spain together and enjoy the benefits of sunshine and pleasant walks, while at home they love their garden and visiting the Norfolk seaside.

  Cathy loves writing because it gives pleasure to others, she finds writing an extension of herself and it gives her great satisfaction. Cathy says, ‘There is nothing like seeing your book in print, because so much loving care has been given to bringing that book into being.’

  Also by Cathy Sharp