A Dream of Redemption

by Bronwen Evans

  She nodded in reply, totally unsure if she could manage what she was being asked to do. Then she looked at the sly smile on the woman’s face and straightened her shoulders. She was here for the children and she wasn’t about to let this woman frighten her, or stop her from doing what she’d come here to do.

  “What is your name?” Helen asked sternly.

  “Nancy, my lady,” and suddenly unsure of herself she curtseyed.

  “Lead on.” If the kitchen was as filthy as this hallway and the outside of the building, it was no wonder the children were getting sick and dying.

  “This is appalling. I cannot believe people live like this,” Antonia said under her breath.

  Helen was almost ashamed of the luxury she lived in. For a fleeting moment she was suddenly very thankful for the parents she’d had, regardless of the fact they were despicable human beings.

  As they descended the stairs, the smell of freshly baked bread began to smother the stink of the dirt. To Helen’s surprise when she entered the kitchen, it was spotless. The woman who turned to greet them was tidy, clean, and her apron, though covered in flour, was starch white. She gave Nancy a withering look and curtseyed.

  “Your Grace, I have been waiting for your arrival. I’d like to report how badly this place is being run.”

  Nancy took a step toward her with hands curled into fists.

  Helen smiled, but was not sure if the cook had simply cleaned up the place since she knew the orphanage had a new benefactor or if she always kept it clean. “I’m Lady Helen Hawkestone, Her Grace’s sister.”

  “I’m Mrs. Thorn, my lady. I have only been here two months, and I was hoping Her Grace would have come as soon as she took over.”

  “Well, I’m here now so, Mary, take Peters and Nancy and get her to show you the female staff accommodations then meet us back here, while Antonia and I chat to Mrs. Thorn.”

  Once Mary had ushered Nancy back upstairs, Mrs. Thorn indicated two chairs near the fire, which was burning bright, and the ladies sat while Mrs. Thorn pulled up a stool.

  “I’ve been praying for Her Grace’s visit. I wouldn’t keep my pigs in this hovel let alone little children. I do what I can but the money they give me for food is pennies. I have tried to get the children washed, and I help to darn their clothes but really all the bedding and clothes should be burned. Full of lice and other nasties.”

  “How is it that you seem to have a nice warm fire and the rest of the house remains cold and damp?”

  “I threatened to write to Her Grace. Glover believed me, but I can’t write that’s why I didn’t let her know sooner. Still he gave me enough wood but I have to light the fire myself. The children help me as it gives them a chance to get warm.”

  “He didn’t try to get rid of you?” Antonia asked.

  “He likes his food too much. He eats differently to the children.”

  “What else can you tell us, Mrs. Thorn?”

  “Other than I suspect he’s pocketing the donations? Something else is going on here. I can’t put my finger on it but there are comings and goings here at all hours of the night. Men arriving, and he has secret meetings with Nancy.”

  Just then Mary arrived back, and she looked like she was about to cry. “This place is dreadful. We can’t leave the children like this; it has to be cleaned immediately. Why don’t we send for some of Her Grace’s staff and your brother’s staff, and clean this place from top to bottom.”

  “No need. Mr. Brown’s team will be arriving soon.” Mr. Homeward stood in the doorway, his clothes slightly messy, as if he’d been in a physical altercation. “I’ve shown Mr. Glover and Nancy the door. I’ll stay on until the others arrive and oversee the cleanup. And who have we here?”

  “Mrs. Thorn is the cook and has been telling us about Mr. Glover. I would like to retain her services.”

  Mr. Homeward looked around and nodded, obviously noting how well maintained the kitchen was. “Mrs. Thorn, I promise we will have a new overseer and matron very soon. Could you start by heating water for baths? I suspect the children will be as dirty as the house.”

  She jumped to her feet. “If I can have some of the young lads down here to help lift the pots and fetch the water it won’t take long. I’ll have two tubs in the girls’ dorm and two in the boys’ dorm within the hour.”

  “You have enough coal and wood?”

  She nodded. “I’ve been stocking it behind the coal shed, which is also full, knowing you’d be along any day.”

  “Good work, Mrs. Thorn. I’ll go and inspect the boys’ dormitory and perhaps you could inspect the girls?” he asked of Helen.

  Helen stood. “Of course. Antonia, why don’t you stay and help Mrs. Thorn organize the baths and perhaps a warm drink for the children. Mary, perhaps you could show me the way.”

  Chapter 4

  It was far worse than anything Helen had been expecting. She wanted to take each and every child home with her and—and what? She had never felt so angry at the world and disappointed in human nature. Who could treat a dog, let alone children, like this?

  Together with Antonia and Mary, Helen organized the children into groups. The older girls helped the younger ones get ready for their baths. The filthy mattresses and bedding were tossed out the window and soon a pile was burning in the courtyard out back.

  Mrs. Thorn and the older boys and girls began scrubbing the building from top to bottom, starting with the dormitories so they could sleep clean tonight.

  Eventually the team that Mr. Brown had assembled arrived. Thankfully the wagons carried new bedding and clothes for the children. The children had gotten over their initial fear of the visitors bringing sweeping changes, and with some hearty food in their bellies and fresh clean clothes over clean bodies, the look of awe and joy on their faces at seeing their new beds with clean sheets and warm blankets would stay in Helen’s memory forever.

  Simple basic needs that she took for granted every day of her life and these children thought it was Christmas.

  The doctor was still upstairs. He’d been called as soon as she saw the state of them. He was overseeing those who were sickly and undernourished. In fact, she would ensure that all the children were given a thorough examination before the doctor left.

  “You look exhausted. Why don’t you ladies go home? I’ll stay here tonight and oversee the cleaning of the rest of the building and the new staff. I still want to talk with the children too.”

  Her heart began to pick up its beat as soon as she heard Clary’s voice. She had not had time to miss his company. Helen watched him smile at the little girl hiding behind her skirts, and just like the little girl she fell under his spell. His white shirt was covered in grime, his breeches covered in dust, and his curly hair was a mess, but he still looked handsome beyond words. She instinctively ran a hand through her hair and down her gown. Thank goodness for the apron Marisa had given her. She must look a mess too.

  “I haven’t finished talking to the children either, but perhaps Antonia and Mary might like to leave.”

  She could see the look of relief on Antonia’s face but the young girl had done as much work as anyone. She was proud of her. Mary nodded too.

  “No. It’s safe—I mean better, if you all go home. You’ve done more than enough, my lady.”

  Helen looked across the long dormitory at the little girl learning how to make her bed from one of the ladies Mr. Brown had supplied and shook her head. “No. I’m staying. I too wish to talk to the children. It’s what Marisa would do.”

  She watched annoyance flash over Mr. Homeward’s features and her shoulders stiffened. Soon she was going to force Mr. Homeward to tell her why he disliked her so, but not until she was less tired. She hated being a slave to her emotions and when she was tired her temper usually flared.

  Her parents had given in to their emotions at every opportunity and life for those around them, caught in the cross fire, had been awful. She would not inflict her anger in an atmosphere where children were p
resent.

  “I shall have Nancy’s old room cleaned up for you to use.” With that he turned on his heels and left the dormitory.

  “Are you sure you will not come home with us?” Mary almost pleaded.

  “Marisa entrusted me with this job, and she has been known to spend a few days at the orphanages when needed.”

  “She is a married lady; you are not.”

  “No one knows I’m here, and I’m unlikely to bump into anyone I know in Southwark.”

  Antonia slipped her hand in hers. “I will come back if you need me. You only have to send word. It’s just that it’s Lord and Lady Beauchon’s ball tomorrow—or is it tonight? I’m so tired I can barely think.”

  “You go home. I don’t want you to miss the ball.”

  Antonia pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you. Don’t wear yourself out trying to impress Marisa. She will be proud of what you have done today.”

  “She would be proud of all of us.”

  “I shall stay with you as chaperone,” Mary declared.

  “I have Mrs. Thorn for that and Antonia needs you to ride with her.”

  “It’s not right. Mrs. Thorn has no standing in society’s eyes.”

  “Then we shall have to ensure no one learns I stayed here.”

  Mary did not look happy but also did not argue. “I shall return after I see Antonia home.”

  Helen hugged her. “Thank you.”

  Once Mary and Antonia had left she went back to braiding little Daisy’s hair. She’d almost finished when she happened to note an older girl watching her with her lower lip nibbled between her teeth. She’d been doing that since they had finished setting up the new dormitory with clean bedding.

  “Who’s the older girl watching us?”

  Daisy looked up. “That’s Anne. She’s nice. She shared her bread with me once.”

  She finished Daisy’s hair. “Could you ask Mrs. Thorn if I could have another cup of tea?” Once Daisy scurried off Helen beckoned Anne over.

  “Come sit. Would you like me to brush your hair?” When Helen had been a very young girl, she’d loved it when her mother used to come to her room and brush her hair.

  Anne said nothing but sat at her feet quietly as she began to brush.

  “How old are you, Anne?”

  “I turned thirteen a month ago,” came the stilted reply.

  Mr. Homeward had told her not to ask the children personal questions until they knew her because they likely did not trust any adults, but she couldn’t help but want to learn more.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Not long, two months perhaps.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters here?”

  She shook her head. “They died with my parents.”

  Helen stopped brushing and bent and hugged Anne where she sat at her feet. The girl stiffened but after a few moments she relaxed into Helen’s embrace.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” Her heart wanted to weep for Anne. She’d never have survived losing her whole family, let alone being taken to a place like this. Now she knew why asking questions was not the thing to do. The word “sorry” felt so inadequate and meaningless.

  She swore to herself that the children here would never have to live in these conditions ever again. No wonder Marisa continued to become patron of other orphanages. Now she understood why her sister pushed to do more. She would start helping Marisa raise funds. If the ladies of her acquaintance could only see this, Helen was sure they would be more generous.

  “I wish I could take your pain away,” Helen whispered against Anne’s hair.

  Anne quietly said, “I had a friend, Claire. But she’s gone missing.”

  Helen pulled back and tilted Anne’s face toward her. “Missing?”

  Anne became animated. “They told me she’d run away but she would not have left without me. I just know she wouldn’t. Something has happened to her. I know it deep in my gut.” She watched tears form in Anne’s eyes.

  “When did you last see her?”

  “Two nights ago. The matron called her downstairs and she never came back. When I asked where she was, I got told she’d run away. I said she never would have left me behind and that they needed to look for her. But Matron threatened me with the cellar.”

  Helen hated to ask but…“What’s the cellar?”

  She saw Anne shudder. “The small children call it the dungeon. It’s a room no bigger than a coffin, down in the cellar. There is no light, no food or bedding. It’s damp and cold and when you fall asleep from exhaustion the rats come nibbling.”

  Helen barely kept the horror from her face. “Have you been in the cellar?”

  Anne shook her head. “We do everything they tell us in fear of the cellar.”

  She briefly closed her eyes. She hoped Mr. Glover rotted in hell for this.

  “Please can you help me find her? She must be alone and so scared.” With that Anne burst into tears.

  “Don’t cry, darling. I will talk with Mr. Homeward and Mrs. Thorn and see what we can learn.” Helen thought of the crossed out names on the orphan list and someone walked down her spine in big boots.

  It was almost ten o’clock at night when Mrs. Thorn came to find her. Helen had stayed in the girls’ dormitory until the children had slipped into clean, warm beds and fallen asleep. It didn’t take long. For the first time in a long while they were warm, their bellies had food, and they were exhausted from the cleaning and lack of food and sleep. The doctor had done all he could for the children.

  “I’ve made you a late supper. Mr. Homeward insists you come and eat something. Mary has returned too and is seeing to an extra cot being brought into your room.”

  She nodded at the new matron who was staying with the girls. They had replaced the naked candles with lanterns to offer more protection from fire. A single light still glowed in the dorm to chase away the younger ones’ nightmares.

  Helen knew nothing would ever chase away the nightmare of this day.

  * * *

  —

  Clary let his anger rollick and kick deep in his gut. He had to let it out somehow and so he went outside, stripped off his jacket, and began chopping more kindling. This inspection was worse than anything he’d seen before.

  Sometimes he thought Angelo’s had not been the worst thing that could have happened to him.

  Once he’d chopped enough to make his anger dissipate, he straightened his shirt and donned his jacket, making sure his key was safe. Then, needing warmth, he had made his way back into the study he’d set up in Glover’s old office.

  He’d drunk almost a full glass of brandy when the door opened and Lady Helen entered; he could see distress written on her face. Her eyes no longer shone with hope and light, and her face was not smiling as it usually was. He hated that he’d taken the joy from her life.

  “You look as tired as I feel,” she uttered on a wan smile. She took a chair at the small table near a now roaring fire, and he passed her a glass of wine he had just poured for her. “Is every orphanage my sister acquires this bad?”

  “No. I’m sorry but you have been inducted into a particularly horrid one.”

  “This is probably the first night the children have been remotely warm. A fire is in the grate of the dorm, and they have plenty of bedding and hot food in their bellies. Speaking of food, I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast, except the toast Mrs. Thorn made me,” and she reached for the plate of sliced roast chicken.

  “I have made Mr. Hamilton, the new master, board up the glassless windows. Replacement glass may take a few weeks to be delivered.” He’d never envied a piece of chicken more as he watched her pop the succulent meat in her mouth.

  “Have you eaten?” she asked.

  “Help yourself.” He was hungry, but not for food. He always wanted to be held by a woman when he witnessed the cruelties of life, but the lady sitting across from him could never give him what he needed.

  “Now I unders
tand why Marisa is so passionate about her work. If I’d known the conditions in which these children had to live, I would have tried to do more before now.” She sat up straighter and added, “I will do more.” She held out her glass for more wine. “But first I want to discuss that list of crossed out names.”

  Damn. He should have known she’d pick up where they left off.

  “A young girl told me her friend went missing two nights ago. They told Anne that Claire had run away, but Anne swears Claire would not have left without her.”

  He swallowed back bile. “How old was Claire?”

  Lady Helen shrugged. “Same age as Anne, I suspect, around thirteen years of age. What has that got to do with it?”

  Everything and nothing. He rubbed the back of his neck desperately thinking of something to tell her that would make her leave the investigation to him.

  “Mr. Brown and I are aware of activity around the children, and we are making inquiries.”

  “Good. Please keep me updated.”

  He’d almost let out a sigh of relief when she suddenly stopped eating and said, “Activity round the children? You already have an idea of what has happened to the missing children.” She must have read his face. “But you don’t want to tell me? Are you afraid to upset my delicate disposition?”

  Absolutely. He doubted she could fathom why anyone would steal a child. He’d already quizzed Mrs. Thorn and learned what he had suspected, that every child who went missing was attractive. He thought back to when he’d found himself living on the street with Simon. While he’d hated every minute working for Angelo, he was intelligent enough to realize that had he not had his looks, he and Simon would have died on those streets in a gutter, either from cold, disease, or starvation. Instead, they had been used and abused but kept healthy long enough to be given a chance to live another life.

  But the ghosts of his past remained…and always would.

  After the first time Angelo had given him to a customer, Clary had gone to the kitchen and found a knife. He’d been about to slash his face to pieces so that he wasn’t so attractive, but one of the few women in Angelo’s employ explained that his face was his way of staying alive. By using his looks he could perhaps escape this life. Without them he’d be dead in the gutter within six months and then Simon would have no one to watch over him.