Christmas Child: an absolutely heartbreaking and emotional Victorian romance by Carol Rivers (classic english novels txt) 📕

reminded her of the convent laundry. Of those freezing days, when her fingers turned blue with cold as she wrung out the nuns’ wimples and folded them over the rack. And, the summer afternoons, when a flood of sweat oozed from her every pore.

Ettie often allowed herself a reverie as she worked in the nursery. Sometimes she sat on her heels and rocked an imaginary baby. Sometimes she whispered words of love or sang hymns. And at night, should the future child wake, she would rush to comfort and soothe. Just as she had done for Kathy, Megan and Amy.

If only she had a small crucifix to hang on the wall! Jesus would watch over His dear child and keep Clara and her baby safe on the long journey back to England.

Ettie knew there was only one place she could find this gift.

The mid-day Angelus was ringing out over Soho as the pony and trap arrived outside the salon. Ettie climbed aboard, dressed in her Sunday best. She wore a soft blue wool summer coat purchased from Aggie and a straw Panama hat with an upturned brim. Ettie had covered an unsightly hole in the base of the crown with a pale blue ribbon. To keep it steady on her head she had folded her long, thick hair into a neat coppery bun, pinning it accordingly. Before she left home, she had taken her rosary from the crib and tucked it in her pocket. Perhaps the nuns would allow her a half hour’s prayer in the chapel.

Ettie leaned forward to pay her fare in advance. She had hired the driver’s services yesterday as he’d passed by the salon. He wore a cap over his eyes and was not very talkative as he sat up on the dicky seat but he agreed to take her all across London and back to the East End for a fair rate.

It was now over a month since she’d seen Michael. The ache inside her heart had not healed but time had brought acceptance. And with it, came a desire to make peace with the past. A flicker of excitement went through her as she began the journey back to her old home.

Out the pony trotted from the dingy, dishevelled terraces and shops of Soho and into the wide streets of London city. They passed grand mansions with their gleaming white stucco exteriors and pretty front doors, black-painted railings and top-hatted gentlemen, stately hansom cabs, landaus and carriages, shady greens and flowery borders. London was a city resting from its busy week.

Ettie recalled her last journey to Oxford Street to buy Clara’s new clothes. Perhaps her next visit would be made with Clara and the baby?

When Buckingham Palace appeared in all its shining glory, Ettie took a breath. One day she intended to push the perambulator past the red-coated sentries who stood to attention in their tall black hats and tell her tiny charge about how the young Victoria had inherited the throne at just eighteen. How she had fallen in love and married her first cousin, Prince Albert. And best of all, how the couple had won the people’s hearts and minds.

As the pony trotted towards the great River Thames, Ettie began to think of the news she would give to the nuns. How she had learned to keep accounts and open the salon in Lucas’s absence. Sister Patrick would raise an eyebrow at the gentlemen’s conversations on politics and the military. But then there was the problem of mentioning the decanters and their regular filling to keep the patrons happy. This perhaps, could be no better or worse than the incident of the green fairy.

Ettie’s pale cheeks flushed in confusion as the warm breeze rushed past blowing whips of coppery hair around her face. Might she spoil all her positive news with an event so bad?

After some thought, as the green trees of the parks passed by, Ettie came to a decision. She would instead, describe the magnificent mountains of Switzerland and the good Dr Ruegg who had cured Clara of her malady. For if anyone appeared to be a saint it was this clever man. Only praise could be heaped on his head, a far more wholesome topic of conversation. And one that shed a far better light on Ettie’s new life. A life that Mother Superior herself had arranged. A life that had been approved by Sister Patrick.

Chapter 28

All the sights that Ettie had witnessed on the day she travelled to Soho, returned again. The magnificent Houses of Parliament reflected in the water of the great river, Cleopatra’s Needle pointing upward to the heavens, the steamers and river traffic, an Embankment enjoyed by the Sunday strollers and the Tower of London and its looming shadow that gave Ettie a chill on the back of her neck.

This time they went by way of Ludgate Hill and Ettie glimpsed the spectacular dome of Saint Paul’s Cathedral. She held her breath as the clouds parted and a ladder of sunshine reached down to its summit. It was a sign, Ettie decided, that her plans for the day had received God’s blessing.

It was at the bottom of the hill that the pony tired a little and the trap bounced slowly over the rough cobbles of the East End. Ettie recognized the sights and sounds of the Commercial Road and her heart beat even quicker. For just a little further on was Poplar and her destination.

By the time they arrived in the East India Dock Road, the old nag refused to continue.

‘You’d better get off here, Miss. I’ll water and feed her in the tavern stables,’ the driver told her. ‘You know where you are?’

Ettie nodded as he helped her dismount. ‘The convent isn’t far from here.’

‘Hope you find it,’ he replied, taking the reins and beginning to lead the pony towards the drinking house. ‘Can’t say as I’ve heard of it but then I’m not from round this way.’

‘Where shall I meet