One day before 10 March, I sneaked from my room as usual as quietness fell over the convent. I crept down the hall away from the cells. As I rounded the corner into the hall leading to the courtyard, I picked up my pace. My bare feet slapped against the cold floor as I skipped along. Despite the chilliness still in the air, I preferred to stay barefooted until I reached the courtyard.
I made it halfway down the hall before my lighthearted scampering ground to a halt. I stood motionless, every muscle tense as I stared at the end of the hall. My eyes went wide, and my throat closed as I tried to swallow.
A figured stepped from the shadows at the end of the hall. Even in the dim light, I realized she was not a member of the dead. The white of her habit was visible even in the dark. As she moved into the moonlit hall, I recognized the face of the Mother Superior.
The stern expression she wore made her disapproval obvious. She approached, looming over me. I stared up at her, my hands clasped in front of me. “Mother,” I greeted her.
She did not speak for a moment, her mouth set in a grim line. “What are you doing, Lenora?” she barked after a moment.
I considered my response. Should I lie or tell the truth? I decided honesty was the best policy. “I was going to the garden for some air.”
“Going to the garden?!” she exclaimed. “You are meant to be in bed.”
“I spend all day in my room,” I countered. “I only wanted to get out for a bit.”
“What you want and what you should have are separate things, Lenora,” she lectured me. “You spend all day in your room to correct the illness from which you suffer. At night, you are not to do as you please. You are a child. You are to be in bed, sleeping like a normal child would be at this hour.”
“I am not ill,” I insisted.
Mother Superior grasped me by the arm, dragging me back toward the cells. “You ARE ill, child. Illness is not always physical. You suffer from a spiritual illness. The devil taunts you with these visions.”
I struggled against her, but to no avail. Despite her age, she still possessed strength beyond that of a small girl. “They are real,” I argued. “I am not ill!”
We arrived at my door and she opened it, shoving me inside without a word. The door slammed shut and the clank of the lock fastening sounded throughout the room. It echoed in my ears long after it settled into place.
I climbed into my bed, snuggling under my blanket as tears formed in my eyes. I still had the hair pin I used to unlock my door, but I dared not use it again tonight. I blinked back my tears and focused my energy on how I might avoid a punishment for my misbehavior.
The following morning, no one retrieved me as usual before breakfast. I huddled on my bed, my knees drawn to my chest as I heard the convent come to life. The hall became quiet again as the sisters gathered for morning devotions and breakfast. Perhaps this was my punishment, I reflected, as silence settled around me. I was to go without breakfast. While my stomach growled, the punishment was not so terrible. I could withstand it, I told myself.
The morning wore on with no one approaching my door. The sounds of the day carried on outside my room as I sat in the dark cell. As the lunch hour approached, the clanking of the lock releasing sounded throughout my room. The door cracked open, and I squinted against the light as it shined in from the hallway.
The outline of Mother Superior was framed by the back light. I climbed from my bed as she hovered at the door. “Lunch,” she said, leaving a tray on the floor inside the doorway. The door swung shut, and I heard the lock engage.
A small candle glowed from the tray, giving me enough light to retrieve the lunch setting and return to my bed to eat it. I set the candle on my night table and picked at the cold oatmeal in the bowl. The food, clearly left over from breakfast, had hardened into a lump. Even my intense hunger failed to make the meal appetizing.
I forced a small amount of the oatmeal down, gagging as it stuck in my throat. I pushed its hardened mass around the bowl as I pondered eating another bite. I scooped a small amount of the sludge from the bowl and brought it to my mouth. My lips formed a grimace as a whiff of it passed through my nostrils. I dropped the spoon into the bowl. It clattered against the dish, resounding through the room.
I sat crossed legged on my bed, my chin in my hands as I stared at the inedible food. My stomach ceased growling, the unappetizing food turning it enough to stop me from desiring to eat. With no window and no outlet from my room, I could not dispose of the food. I would surely earn myself another punishment for leaving it uneaten, but I could not stomach it.
The sound of the lock unlatching reverberated through the room. I leapt from my bed, my bare feet touching the cold floor. Mother Superior stood in the doorway, her features flinty in the flickering candlelight. She glanced at the barely touched food, then back to me. “Get dressed, Lenora,” she said curtly.
I stood silent for a moment. “Now, Lenora!” she said, raising her voice. “And when you have finished pack your things.”
My eyes widened and my breath caught. “Pack my things?” I questioned.
“Do not quibble with me,” Mother Superior warned. “Do as you are told.”
“But…” I began again.
“But nothing!” she snapped at me. “And finish your lunch.” She spun on her heel, slamming and locking the door behind her.
The room darkened with only the light of the small candle flickering its feeble flame from my night table. My heart thudded in my chest as I pulled my tattered suitcase from under the bed. I changed into a dress, folding my nightgown and placing it in my suitcase. Why must I pack, I wondered? My heart skipped a beat. Perhaps my mother returned for me! The notion hurried my pace. This must be the reason Mother Superior requested me to pack.
I placed my limited belongings into the suitcase. I snapped it shut and set it on the floor near my bed. I used the dim light to ensure my dress was clean and unsullied. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands folded in my lap. I wanted to be sure I was ready the moment my mother arrived. After one year, four months and ten days, I would finally be reunited with my mother.
Not wanting to wrinkle my dress, I sat unmoving. My muscles began to ache after an hour of waiting. Still, I sat unflinching on that lumpy bed until the lock released and the door swung open. I stood as the form of Mother Superior appeared rimmed in the hall’s light. I searched behind her but found no one. Mother must be waiting in the foyer, I mused.
I gazed into Mother Superior’s face, searching for answers as the candlelight flickered across her features. She glanced to my suitcase, then to me. “Are you packed?”
I nodded. “Yes,” I answered, my voice breathless.
Mother Superior glanced to my bed. “You did not finish your meal?”
I followed her gaze, staring at the inedible lump of food in the bowl. My heart leapt into my throat and my mouth went dry. I hoped it would not be the reason I was kept from my mother for a second longer. I licked my lips, preparing to reply. My mouth opened and closed, but no sounds emerged.
Before I could respond, Mother Superior spoke again. “No matter,” she said. “Come, Lenora.”
A smile crept across my face and I grasped my suitcase’s handle. I hurried across the room and followed Mother Superior into the hallway. The hall was empty of others. Mother Superior ambled down the corridor to the main entrance, her black habit flowing around her, making her appear to float. I nearly floated behind her, my excitement building with each step.
We reached the foyer. The late afternoon sun shined through the stained glass, painting the floor a rainbow of colors. My eyes darted around the space, searching for my mother. I found no one outside of Sister Mary Margaret. The young nun stood by the doors, a handkerchief clutched in her hand.
As we approached the door, Sister Mary Margaret sniffled, a tear escaping her eye. “Pull yourself together, Sister,” Mother Superior warned. “Or I shall ask you to leave.”
Sister Mary Margaret nodded, wiping the tear a
way and clenching her jaw. My brow knitted in confusion. As I approached her, she knelt on the stone floor in front of me. She offered me a genuine but wavering smile as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She choked them back, pushing my hair behind my shoulders.
Of all the nuns, young Sister Mary Margaret had always been kind to me. On Christmas, she snuck me an orange and a small piece of chocolate. A family member had visited her and gifted them to her, and she had shared her bounty with me. On a separate occasion, she brought a small doll back, gifting it to me as a belated birthday present. Over my stay here, she had given me several other small items. Once or twice, she was caught and reprimanded for indulging me. It did not stop her.
“God loves you, Lenora,” she whispered. “You are a special child. Remember that. No matter what they say.”
I nodded. “I will,” I promised.
“Be a good girl,” she said, choking back a sob.
“I will,” I reiterated. “Do not cry, Sister Mary. I shall be happy now. And I shall visit you when I am able!”
The statement seemed to upset her. She gulped back another sob and nodded in response. Sister Mary Margaret glanced to Mother Superior. “Come, Lenora,” Mother Superior said, “it is time to go.”
Before we parted, Sister Mary Margaret pulled me into a tight embrace, kissing my cheek. I returned her embrace before Mother Superior tugged at my arm. “Come along, Lenora,” she instructed.
Sister Mary Margaret clutched my hand, giving it a squeeze. I returned the gesture before letting her hand drop. I offered one final smile as Mother Superior guided me through the door. We stepped into the cool March air. I expected to find my mother waiting on the sidewalk below. Instead, I found no one. A carriage awaited us on the road below. We descended the stone steps and climbed into the carriage.
Funny that Mother did not come for me. She must have sent for me instead, I surmised. I placed my suitcase on my lap as the carriage set off. As we wound through the streets, I wondered how long the journey home might be. My parents did not live in Glasgow, but rather in a small country town outside of it called Glenrock.
I searched the depths of my mind, trying to recall how long the journey took when my mother brought me to the convent. Just shy of six years old, I could not remember the duration of our trip. It did not matter, by nightfall I should be asleep in my own bed, I was certain. Contentment swelled in me. At long last, I would return to my home, to my mother and father, to my life. A smile passed over my lips as I gazed out the window, the buildings racing past me.
We continued for another fifteen minutes before the carriage slowed to a stop. My brow crinkled in confusion. Despite not recalling the exact duration of the journey between the convent and my home, I knew it was not this short. Outside the window, a ramshackle building rose multiple stories above the street.
Mother Superior disembarked from the carriage, suggesting I do the same. “Come, Lenora,” she said.
I did not budge for a moment, still confused. Mother Superior’s head popped back into the carriage. “I said come along, girl!” she exclaimed.
I climbed out of the carriage to the sidewalk, my suitcase in hand. My eyes lifted upward to study the battered building looming over me. What was this place, I wondered?
Mother Superior was already climbing the steps leading to the peeling black doors. I rushed to catch up to her. “Where are we?” I inquired.
“Hush, girl,” she answered as she knocked at the door.
A child, slightly older than me, answered the door. “Yes?” she inquired.
“Sister Mary Xavier to see Headmistress Williamson. We spoke earlier this morning.”
“Please, come in,” the child instructed, standing aside as we entered the foyer. I gaped around, noting the dismal décor. A backless wooden bench sat outside a doorway. A wide staircase, paint peeling from the banister, led to another floor. A lone chandelier hung in the middle of the room, lighting the space dimly. No other items graced the area.
The child crossed the cheerless space, knocking at the door near the bench. After a moment, she entered the room, then returned to retrieve Mother Superior. “Wait here, Lenora,” Mother Superior instructed, motioning to the bench. She disappeared through the doorway.
I set my suitcase next to the bench and climbed up to sit. My legs dangled in the air and I took care not to let them swing too much. A behavior unbecoming of a lady. I folded my hands in my lap as voices floated into the foyer from the room next to me.
It soon became clear to me why we were here. “Good evening, Headmistress Williamson,” Mother Superior said.
“Ah, Sister Mary, welcome back. Please have a seat. You brought the child?” a woman’s voice answered.
“I have,” Mother Superior confirmed.
“Sister,” the voice answered, “are you certain you cannot care for the child?”
“Yes,” Mother Superior replied. “It is unfortunate, but the child is not normal.”
“Yet you want to place her here.”
“Your focus is different,” Mother Superior said. “We struggle to educate the girl, to provide for her. And her… otherworldly capabilities scare some of the other sisters. I fear for their souls with her in our convent.”
“At St. Mary’s we attempt to offer a stable environment for these girls. If you fear for the souls of your own nuns, should not I be concerned for my girls?”
“I fear for the loss of faith. Your girls have not committed themselves to God.”
“But they fear God. We train good God-fearing girls here, sister.”
“I do not mean to impugn your reputation. Nor upset the balance of your school, but the girl is running wild with us.”
“Sister, I find it difficult to believe you cannot manage a small child.”
“We have no means to manage a small child. We have attempted to keep her isolated in the hopes it cured her. However, her behavior persists. And she has developed other poor habits.”
“Poor habits?” the woman questioned.
“The girl needs a firmer hand,” Mother Superior said, sidestepping the question neatly. “Guidance from a professional. She needs routine, structure.”
“She will receive plenty of that here.” There was a pause in the conversation, then the woman’s voice continued. “And this strange behavior of hers, has she some mental disorder? We are not prepared to care for a child of this nature.”
“No, the girl does not suffer from a mental disorder. She is disturbed, but not mentally. I prefer not to imagine the source of her troubles.”
“Forgive me, sister, but I prefer to understand fully what trouble we may bring into this school.”
Mother Superior sighed. “With the proper guidance, perhaps you will not invite any trouble.”
“You place a heavy burden upon me, my teachers and my pupils.”
“You are a school for orphans, are you not?” Mother Superior inquired.
There was a pause before the other woman responded. “Why, yes. Though I am not sure I understand the reason for your query.”
“The reason, Headmistress, is that I did not need to request placement from you. I could merely have dropped the girl on your steps. As a woman of God, I chose to consult you. To make you aware of what to expect.”
Another pause. “So, in other words, you have every intention of leaving the girl here regardless of our discussion.”
“In short, Headmistress, yes. It is in the best interest of the girl. We cannot care for her.” A rustling sound emanated from the room. “And now, Headmistress, I shall leave you to your work.”
Mother Superior appeared in the doorway. She offered me a brief side-eyed glance before proceeding across the foyer. “Mother Superior?” I cried, a mix of emotions coursing through me. I leapt from the bench and ran after her, pulling on her habit.
She spun to face me. “Goodbye, Lenora,” she said in a firm tone. “You must stay here now. It is in your best interest.”
“But… but I tho
ught you were taking me home!” I squawked, sobs filling my voice.
“Lenora, enough. I never told you that. Now unhand me.”
Tears streamed down my face and thoughts raced about in my mind. Why was I being discarded? The convent, while not my home, was the only thing I had known after my mother left me. How would my mother find me if I was moved?
A voice boomed from across the room. “Miss Hastings!” the voice shouted.
I ignored her. “Please,” I begged Mother Superior. “Take me back. I shall behave!”
Footsteps sounded behind me and the woman approached. She swatted my behind twice before smacking my hands away from Mother Superior. “I shall take it from here, sister,” she assured Mother Superior.
Mother Superior nodded, her habit flaring out as she spun and crossed the foyer, disappearing through the door. I called after her, but the door slammed shut. I never saw her again. “That is quite enough!” the woman shouted at me. I fought against her, trying to break free of her grip.
It proved fruitless. She kept a firm hold on me, dragging me across the room and into her office. She let go of my arms and slammed the door shut behind us. I jumped at the harsh sound.
The woman spun to face me, her green eyes cold. Her eyes narrowed, and she set her mouth in a firm line. She stood in silence, assessing me before she spoke. “Now, girl,” she said, “I shall not tolerate this inappropriate behavior further. You may have evaded punishment at the convent, but you shall not at St. Mary’s Orphanage for Girls! You will learn manners and proper behavior here! If you do not, you will be punished. Harshly, if necessary. Do you understand?”
I did not open my mouth. My mind struggled to comprehend everything that occurred. In an instant, I had been abandoned for a second time. Dumped unceremoniously in another place. This time in a home for orphans. A tear threatened to roll down my cheek.
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