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

Ettie went over that moment many times in her mind. She heard the animated voices around her and the cries of astonishment as fireworks soared high into the night sky. She thought about Jim and Mary and wondered where they were and if they would reach Scotland.

The stable lad drove the cart into the lane behind Chancery House and the voices quietened as the lowers prepared to resume their duties. Ettie joined the hungry queue into the boot room, but she avoided the kitchen where Cook had left a cold buffet for the staff. The thought of eating held no appeal as she climbed the back stairs to the attic.

Tonight she would sleep alone. She couldn’t quite believe that Mary had gone. Or that she would not lay awake listening to Mary’s snores. Or that, in the morning, she would not watch Mary dress hurriedly in order to meet her sweetheart. For all Mary’s black moods, she had become a good friend.

To Ettie’s surprise, there was a light under the door of their room. Perhaps it was the reflection of fireworks and bonfires through the window? But as she opened the door, a long shadow fell over Ettie.

Head’s face was grim in the light of the candle she held. Ettie guessed immediately that Mr Gane had found Jim’s letter.

Chapter 66

‘So, you’ve returned at last,’ Head accused. ‘You were told to be back by seven o’clock. It’s now nearly eight.’

‘I’m sorry, Head.’

Ettie knew better than to offer excuses as Head swept past her. ‘My room in five minutes,’ she barked.

The door closed with a loud thud. Ettie pressed down her blouse and skirt with trembling hands. Had Mr Gane discovered Jim’s letter?

When Ettie opened the door to the nursery, she found it deserted. Most of the nursery staff had accompanied the family to the city. An eerie silence filled the air as Ettie stood outside Head’s door. What was she to say to the questioning? As much as she considered the problem, Ettie knew she could not disclose Jim and Mary’s whereabouts.

‘Enter,’ summoned the voice after Ettie knocked.

She had only visited Head’s room once before, a space no larger than a broom cupboard. She stood stiffly before the small desk where Head was seated. Her thin face and arched eyebrows were drawn into a grim expression.

‘Do you recognize these?’ The unexpected question came as a bolt from the blue. Head lowered her eyes to the table. On its surface lay Mary’s hand mirror and tortoiseshell slide. ‘I found them in your room on the washstand,’ Head continued. ‘Make a full and honest confession and you may not be prosecuted.’

Ettie’s stomach dropped. Prosecuted? For what reason? The slide and mirror belonged to Mary. ’I don’t understand, Head,’ she said bewildered.

‘You know very well that these two items belong to the laundry maid. She reported them missing from her cupboard over a week ago. You visit the slops room each morning and have access to the cupboards.’

Ettie swallowed, her throat suddenly thick with bile. It was not her, but Mary who visited the slops room in order to meet Jim. And Mary who had told her the mirror was a gift from Jim.

‘Seizing your opportunity, you helped yourself,’ accused Head.

‘No! No … I …’ Ettie stopped, realizing that if she denied the accusation, she must also implicate Mary.

‘Yes, O’Reilly? You were about to say?’ Head steepled her long, bony fingers.

Ettie looked down at the hand mirror. Its pretty tulip engraving caught the light of the gas lamp. What could have possessed Mary to steal these things? Mary may have told small lies and exaggerated the truth, but she was no thief. Ettie couldn’t believe she was. And yet here was proof to the contrary.

‘Have you nothing to say for yourself?’ Head demanded.

Ettie could only shake her head as she tried to think of an answer. But whatever she said in her defence, must also shift the blame to Mary.

‘The theft and admission of it, will be reported to Mrs Powell and the authorities in the morning. Have your bags packed and the attic tidied.’

Ettie felt her blood run cold as she waited, hoping this was a terrible mistake. But Head’s accusing black eyes left no room for doubt.

The blame for the stolen articles was now placed squarely on Ettie’s shoulders.

Early the next morning, she stood before Mrs Powell, Mr Gane and Head, in the butler’s pantry. Mr Gane had informed her that a serious infringement of her duties was the reason she had been summoned there to face judgement. Suspected of being a thief, punishable by immediate dismissal, Mrs Powell had also voiced the threat of prosecution.

Ettie had never before seen inside this cavernous room with its long, spotlessly scrubbed dining table and many chairs tucked under its length. Surrounded by cabinets full of the best china, silver and brass, Ettie felt as though she was in a courtroom and three stern judges were assessing her.

In reply to their repeated questioning, she had been unable to give answers. Had she done so, any one of them may have incriminated Mary. Not one question though, had been put to her about their disappearance. It was as if she no longer counted as part and parcel of the lowers. Instead, she had been found guilty and was to be exorcised from their midst.

The early morning light shone bleakly down on the cold stone flags at her feet. Her workshop clogs reminded her of the day she had arrived here. Now she stood once again in the clothes she had worn then; a workhouse shift, her moth-eaten shawl and an expression of hopelessness on her face.

‘You have offered no reason or apology for your actions,’ Mr Gane decided at last. His chin was raised over his stiff collar and his back ramrod-straight under his black jacket. ‘We must assume it was greed and greed only that led you to committing the crime. You have betrayed our trust, O’Reilly,