Christmas Child: an absolutely heartbreaking and emotional Victorian romance

by Carol Rivers

  All heads bowed and Mrs Powell’s voice intoned a few brief lines of thanksgiving to God and the absent benefactors, the family.

  ‘A very merry Christmas,’ said Mr Gane, raising his glass. ‘And grateful thanks to Cook for our dinner.’

  Cook gave a little choke of appreciation and a cheerful applause was returned from the rest of the company. All except Mary, who whispered, ‘And tomorrow we’ll have to work twice as bloody hard, see if we don’t.’

  But as she enjoyed the succulent slices of beef and chicken that filled her plate, together with a generous serving of punch, her gaze slipped to Jim, whom Ettie noted, returned her glance.

  ‘Have you two made up?’ Ettie asked curiously.

  ‘Might have.’ Her eyes shifted in Jim’s direction.

  ‘I’m very glad to hear it.’

  ‘What’s it to you then?’ Mary snapped.

  ‘Nothing, but you look prettier when you’re happy.’

  To this, Mary opened her mouth and closed it again as if thinking better of making a smart retort. Ettie noticed how Mary’s blush deepened and the corners of her mouth lifted into a trembling smile as her gaze returned to Jim.

  Chapter 61

  That evening, after Christmas dinner and the giving of gifts was over, Mr Gane returned to his pantry and Mrs Powell to her sitting room, where she invited Cook and the uppers to enjoy a glass of sherry. Meanwhile the other servants dispersed either to their own quarters or to sing carols around the piano in the hall as they enjoyed their gifts.

  ‘I got mittens,’ complained Mary as she helped Ettie in the scullery to wash, clean and sweep up after the long day’s celebrations. She nodded to their gifts; fingerless woollen gloves and Ettie’s warm scarf, deposited on the chair. ‘What am I supposed to do with them?’

  ‘We can swap, if you like.’ Ettie hung the very last pan on its hook above the range. It had been a labour-intensive hour of work in the scullery, but Cook had rewarded them with a bag of her homemade toffee. ‘A scarf might look nicer when you go out with Jim.’

  ‘I don’t know when that will be.’

  ‘He’s probably waiting to see you in the hall. Let’s go back there after we’re finished.’

  Mary grinned. ‘I’ll just do me hair in Cook’s mirror.’

  A little later Ettie and Mary walked arm in arm along the passage towards the servants’ hall. The sound of voices singing, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen took Ettie back to the orphanage and the sweet voices of the orphans as they gathered in the schoolroom, eager to open the small gifts the nuns had wrapped for them. The memory caused a warm feeling inside her and she wondered if, at last, she had found somewhere in this big wide world to belong.

  Suddenly Mary stopped. ‘There’s Jim,’ she said excitedly pointing to a figure in the doorway.

  ‘He’s been waiting for you.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘Of course, Mary.’

  But just as Mary moved forward, a voice called out.

  ‘O’Reilly!’

  Both girls turned sharply to see Head.

  ‘Crikey what does she want you for?’ whispered Mary in alarm.

  ‘Come this way,’ Head called sternly.

  Ettie had no to time to reply and followed, trying hard to keep up with the long strides. As they went, she wondered what could be the matter? Was Mrs Powell dissatisfied with her work? Had she done something wrong? Ettie felt sure this was so. As they rounded the stairwells, she felt her legs weaken.

  By the time they reached Head’s room, Ettie could barely contain her fear. Sweeping her long, straight skirt to one side, Head took a seat behind her small desk. The expression on her gaunt face hardened.

  Ettie felt about to faint. She stood with clenched hands wondering what was to befall her now?

  ‘O’Reilly, you have been with us over a month.’

  ‘Yes, Head.’

  ‘Did you understand Mrs Powell when she explained your position in this household was to be reviewed?’

  Ettie swallowed. ‘Yes, Head.’ Was she to be sent back to the workhouse? Had they found a decent girl to replace her?

  ‘Mrs Powell finds you satisfactory – for the moment.’

  Ettie’s heart galloped. What did this mean?

  ‘You are to be employed here until further notice.’

  Ettie didn’t hear what was said next. Her body filled with joy. Her knees went weak with relief.

  ‘Did you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, Head. Thank you, Head.’

  ‘Observe the rules and you won’t go far wrong.’ Head’s voice softened a little. ‘One thing more.’

  Ettie blinked. ‘Yes, Head?’

  ‘You are sixteen years today, are you not?’

  Held-back tears felt like grit in Ettie’s eyes. Head had remembered her birthday! ‘Y … yes, Head,’ she stammered.

  ‘This is yours. Happy Birthday.’ Head placed a small cloth on her desk.

  Hesitantly Ettie picked it up.

  ‘You are not singled out from the others. All the lower staff are given a new cap to wear on commencement of a position.’

  Ettie held the cap against her chest. ‘Thank you – thank you, Head.’

  A small smile flickered on the compressed lips. ‘You may go.’

  Ettie left the room on wings. She could not believe what had just happened. Had she dreamed it? Standing outside the nursery, she felt the tears finally release. Slowly she went up the stairs to the attic room. A Christmas moon sent slats of welcome light across her bed.

  She was not to return to the workhouse!

  Was this the place she might finally call home?

  Chapter 62

  Part Four

  A New Era

  June 1897

  Ettie stood for the very first time under the vaulted ceilings of Chancery House’s drawing room. She had never been inside the main house before and could not believe she was enjoying such a privilege.

  All the staff were gathered, lined up beneath the collections of magnificent paintings hung on every wall, studded by smaller gilt-framed artworks. Ettie had never imagined such beauty could be contained in one house. Cook had informed her there were many more rooms where the mahogany woodwork and antique furnishings had been restored to modern-day style by Lord Marsden himself.

  The sitting room, she explained, and its inlaid-marble chimney-pieces dated back to the late seventeenth century. But Cook had forgotten to describe the breathtaking hall through which all the servants had just entered. Waxed, stone flags and painted panels gleamed under the light of a chandelier. Great ceramic pots that were taller even than Ettie herself took her breath away.

  The wide, red-carpeted regal stairs were embellished with brass fittings. The staircase flowed upwards to the first floor and wound higher. Every wall boasted a work of art or a sculpture. Light beamed from the beautiful recessed windows and a banister of ornate polished wood coiled into the centre of the house.

  Ettie had almost missed her footing as she gazed up at the ceilings and their frescos; with figures of plump cherubs and reclining maidens attended by creatures of the forest and little imps. But, with no time to appreciate the marvels, and pushed forward by the retinue, she now found herself in the stately drawing room, crammed with cushioned sofas and chairs that gleamed green, gold and ruby in the morning shafts of sunlight from the long windows.

  A sudden clap of hands from Mr Gane, who had positioned himself by the great fireplace, brought everyone’s attention to the moment.

  ‘You are all to greet Lord and Lady Marsden and the family. So straight backs, please. Hands to your sides and chins up. And, of course, silence as the announcement is made on this auspicious occasion.’

  Ettie felt the assembly, including Mary to her left, stand to attention. A few moment’s silence reigned until a door opened at the far end of the room. Lord Marsden entered, a tall man, whom Ettie had glimpsed before from the windows of the nursery. In his early fifties, he was dark-haired with no hint
of grey and clean shaven. Below his stiff collar and tie he wore a sporty silk waistcoat and a shorter jacket of striped greys.

  Lady Marsden followed, her coiffured golden hair and fresh, youthful skin accentuated by the deep blue of her long gown. Holding the hand of a small boy with a tangle of blond curls, Ettie recognized four-year-old George. Nanny brought up the rear, with three-year-old Amelia, and the children’s governess, a short, fidgety little woman of middle age. Behind her filed Head and Mrs Powell.

  Much to Mary’s disapproval, Ettie had become acquainted with George and Amelia. One of the nursemaids had once asked her to hold Amelia as she sat on the rocking horse. With her arms around the cuddly little body, Ettie had laughed and giggled with the child. Brushing the infant’s silky corn-coloured hair from her blue eyes, she had returned to the happy days in the orphanage schoolroom. George, she had found quick to learn. The little boy’s attention rarely strayed from the stories Ettie offered to read to him in between her duties. These stolen moments with the children were the times Ettie loved best of all.

  ‘Good day,’ said Lord Marsden in a deep and official voice. ‘Thank you for joining Lady Marsden and I this morning.’ He turned to give a polite nod to his wife. ‘I am sure you are all aware of the tremendous importance of the impending celebration.’

  The room stirred a little but soon returned to silence as Lord Marsden continued.

  ‘You may know that Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, has worn the crown longer than any other sovereign in our history. She has made Great Britain the most powerful country on this earth. The British Empire has dominion over more than a quarter of the world’s population.’

  Another little ripple went through the room and Ettie strained to hear every word.

  ‘Our Queen’s Diamond Jubilee will be celebrated on Sunday June 20th. We shall consider this day the beginning of the Festival of the British Empire!’

  To this exclamation, Mr Gane led the applause until the room became a sea of jubilant faces.

  ‘Indeed, indeed,’ agreed Lord Marsden, raising his hand for order. ‘Our monarch will begin the day with a private thanksgiving service at Windsor Castle. Our Colonial Secretary Joseph Chamberlain has proposed that we celebrate with the representatives of all the countries in our magnificent Empire. The following day at Buckingham Palace, Queen Victoria will entertain heads of state including Archduke Franz Ferdinand, at a state banquet.’

  Ettie glanced at Mary who was idly inspecting her nails. That was, until the speaker, in a deeper and more energetic tone, added, ‘Therefore, Tuesday June 22nd, has been designated a public holiday.’

  The gathering could not contain itself. Even Mary’s head came up with a snap. The applause was loud and the footmen and valets cheered. Even Mrs Powell, Ettie saw, made an exception of smiling, though the smile was brief. The two children tugged excitedly at their mother’s skirts and were eventually led off by Nanny.

  ‘My wife and I and the children have been invited to celebrate at parliament and will be away for the week. Therefore, you will all be given free time on Tuesday for your own celebrations. May we wish you a happy Diamond Jubilee in honour of our most beloved monarch.’ He offered a few private words to the butler, then gestured his wife to lead out the entourage.

  The moment the last figure departed, a hubbub of excited chatter began.

  ‘We’re to have a holiday,’ Ettie said to Mary. ‘Isn’t that wonderful?’

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘It’s Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee. We’ve been given permission to celebrate. Perhaps we could go up to the city?’

  ‘Then who’s gonna cook the dinners? And clean up after that?’

  ‘Cook will let us off for an hour or two, I’m sure.’

  Mary frowned and tossed her head as if she didn’t care. But Ettie knew that she did. For regularly every morning now, it was Mary who visited the slops room. And Ettie guessed the reason why. Mary’s rosy cheeks, bright eyes and defiant expression as she tucked her hair into her cap, left very little to the imagination. Cook had labelled her only yesterday, as looking like the cat who’d got the cream.

  And Ettie certainly wouldn’t disagree with Cook.

  Chapter 63

  Tuesday 22nd June arrived and Ettie could barely contain her excitement. She and Mary were to be released for the half day; and Jim had secured the use of the cart as transport for all the lowers. As it was such a special occasion, Ettie had arranged her copper-coloured waves into a neat plait that fell down her spine. She had borrowed a navy-blue skirt and white blouse from one of the nursery maids.

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs Powell jumps out of the bushes and stops us from going,’ said Mary as she took off her uniform. ‘This ain’t never happened before.’

  ‘There’s never been a Queen’s Diamond Jubilee before,’ Ettie reminded her friend.

  ‘Do I look all right?’ Mary pushed her hands over her green frock, the only one she possessed. ‘What about my hair?’

  ‘Shall I pin it up for you?’

  Mary plonked herself down on the bed. ‘Put this slide into the back please.’ She fished in her pocket.

  ‘I’ve never seen you wear this clip before. It’s tortoiseshell, isn’t it?’

  ‘The fastening is broken.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Ettie fought a hard battle to tame Mary’s wilful mop. But at last it was neatly pleated, with the exception of a few delicate tendrils over her ears. The clip though, refused to snap shut.

  ‘I’m not having much luck. I don’t trust it to stay in your hair.’

  Mary’s brow furrowed as she gave an irritated sigh. ‘Well, if you can’t, you can’t, I s’pose.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Ettie apologized, not wanting Mary to fall into a mood. ‘If only we had a mirror, you could see how nice you look.’

  Mary sprang to her feet. ‘I’ve got one.’ From under her pillow she drew out a small hand mirror.

  ‘It’s beautiful, Mary.’ Ettie admired the delicate pattern of tulips winding around the handle.

  ‘A gift from Jim,’ said Mary coyly. ‘It’s silver.’

  ‘He must think a lot of you.’

  ‘He does. He told me so.’ Mary gazed at her reflection. ‘You’re right, I don’t need the slide.’ She glanced at Ettie. ‘I’m glad we’ve made friends. I wasn’t very kind to you when you first came.’

  ‘We’re friends now and that’s all that matters.’

  ‘Ettie, I’ve never said this before, but don’t let no one walk all over you. Not like they’ve done to me.’ Mary’s eyes filled with tears.

  Ettie placed the mirror and slide on the washstand. She put her arms around the stiff little figure. ‘Hush now, there’s nothing to be upset about. Today is very special.’

  ‘I know. And you are, too.’ She quickly stood up. ‘I’m going soft, that’s what I am. Come on, the others will be waiting.’

  As Mary had predicted, Jim was downstairs, cap in hand. His hair was neatly combed to one side. He wore a smart grey suit that Ettie had never seen before. When Mary saw him, she looked happier than Ettie had ever seen her look before.

  Ettie knew instantly that Jim and Mary had fallen in love. This must be the reason for her friend’s unusual behaviour. It seemed a true romance had blossomed, thanks to Jim’s persistence.

  ‘Well, then, shall we get going?’ Jim invited.

  The two girls followed through the house to the boot room and garden beyond. Unlike Christmas Eve, when they had walked to church in the freezing cold, today was warm and overcast. Jim led the way to the cart in the lane, already crammed with the lowers. Ettie climbed into the rear. All heads turned in surprise as Mary took the dickie seat next to Jim.

  Ettie’s heart lifted, for she understood that this was Mary’s way of telling everyone that she and Jim were a couple. What better occasion could there be for Mary to announce her feelings for Jim?

  To add to the atmosphere of celebration, there was a bubbl
e of excitement in every street. Ettie watched in wonder as people set out chairs and tables for the parties to be held that day. Streamers of bunting blew overhead in the soft breeze; barrel organs, pianos pulled onto the cobbles, church bands and choirs, stalls of muffins, toffee, bagels, and pies and pastry, abounded. A variety of street traders rushed eagerly to satisfy the hungry citizens.

  Ettie decided that if the East End was a riotous mass of celebration, then the city itself was completely transformed. From Ludgate Hill to the parks bordering the palace walls, hundreds of thousands had gathered to watch the royal parade that very morning.

  Jim found an empty space for the cart close to London Bridge and all the lowers quickly dismounted.

  The stable boy was left in charge of the horses and Jim took Mary’s arm.

  ‘I’ll walk you both. You won’t mind, will you Mary?’

  ‘As it’s Ettie, no I shan’t mind. But keep your hands to yourself, Jim my boy,’ Mary retorted, giving Ettie a shy wink.

  The trio walked joyfully through the crowds, laughing and jesting with the vendors of flags, chinaware, books and hats. The picket line of bayonetted soldiers who had formed the Queen’s escort earlier, was now dispersing.

  ‘She still wore black,’ the lady stall-holder told them as they paused to buy ice cream. ‘She loved her Albert, that she did. Refused to set aside her widow’s weeds. Came right by here she did. Could see her little face. Like a doll she was. We all sang, “God Save the Queen” as she passed and blow me down, I swear she wiped a tear from her eye.’

  After, they went to Trafalgar Square, where under the tall spire of Nelson’s Column, people were splashing in the fountains.

  ‘Let’s rest awhile,’ Jim suggested as they sat on a bench.