Christmas Child: an absolutely heartbreaking and emotional Victorian romance by Carol Rivers (i wanna iguana read aloud .txt) 📗

‘Of course, my dear.’ The concerned young man turned to exit through the inner door.

As Ettie followed, another, much stranger smell caused Ettie to frown in dismay. It caused her to think of the orphanage sick room and the strong disinfectant the nuns used to mask the unpleasant odours.

Chapter 9

They left Clara seated by the fire in the small but comfortable drawing room and paused in the room adjacent. Above the mantle hung a gold-framed portrait of a handsome young woman. Her sandy-coloured hair was dressed with modest ringlets and she wore a high-necked gown that covered her throat. Her confident eyes were like Lucas’s, a startling sky-blue.

‘Rose Benjamin,’ announced Lucas in a proud voice, ‘my Mama as a young girl – a stunner, wouldn’t you say?’

Ettie thought of her own mother, Colleen, and wished not for the first time that she had some keepsake to remember her by. A small fragment of handkerchief, or even a book she might have read. But all she possessed was the story Sister Patrick had told her.

‘You will join us for meals,’ Lucas said suddenly. ‘This room is far too large for two. At last it will fulfil a purpose.’

Ettie gazed admiringly at the gleaming polished dining table and its six upholstered chairs. How grand it was in comparison to the nuns’ simple refectory table and benches. She felt more at home in the kitchen where there were many pots and pans hanging on hooks from the shelves. The dirty black-leaded stove needed cleaning, as did the battered copper kettle on the range. The sink was piled high with unwashed dishes. Ettie felt the urge to put things right immediately.

‘A small scullery and washroom leads to the privy,’ Lucas explained as he pointed through a small window. ‘We have running water in the tap and a pump in the yard.’

Ettie followed her new employer into a short passage and negotiated two flights of stairs, which were cluttered with boxes similar to those she had seen in the salon. When they came to the top, he pushed open a door.

‘I do hope this room is suitable,’ he mumbled. ‘The outlook is not very impressive I am afraid. It can be quite noisy sometimes. The tavern spills out the drunkards and the women cat-call after them. But we have tried to make the space as pleasant as possible.’

Ettie gazed around the bedroom. Compared to the rest of the untidy and disordered house, it was immaculate! She could hardly believe her eyes. Daylight spilled in from a sash window decorated with lined flowery curtains and lace. Beneath was a single bed with a matching coverlet, two plump pillows and an extra fluffy white blanket folded at the foot. A tall chest stood next to a marble-topped washstand. Placed upon the stand was a pretty blue and white patterned china bowl and ewer. In the far corner stood a vast wardrobe with two tall doors and drawer beneath, its light oak wood embellished in an ebony trim.

‘This room is …’ Ettie hesitated, for she was surprised at the effort that it must have taken to prepare her quarters. ‘Very lovely indeed.’

Lucas breathed out on a relieved sigh. ‘Thank goodness for that. My wife is very particular – at least she was before her small health hiccup.’ He went a bright pink. ‘Clara gave me her orders and I carried them out. I hope I have done both her and you, justice.’

‘Indeed, Sir. I couldn’t want for more.’

‘Delighted my dear – that’s what I am, delighted,’ whistled Lucas through his two prominent front teeth. ‘This was Maggie Rowe’s room, our previous maid. You’ll find her uniform in the wardrobe. She was about your size. My wife has had it laundered.’

‘Thank you,’ Ettie said again.

‘Is there anything you need?’

Ettie looked around the room once more. The strange smell was chased away by the breeze flowing in from the half open window. The pretty flowered curtains fluttered gently over a comfortable easy chair. The thick rug on which she stood felt warm beneath her feet. There was even a bar of soap on the washstand and a soft towel folded neatly beside it. Her eyes lingered admiringly on the pretty floral coverlet of the bed. In comparison to the girls’ dormitory at the orphanage, this room was a delight!

‘No. I am most grateful, Sir.’

‘Good!’ He rubbed his hands together and beamed a relieved smile. ‘In that case, I shall leave you to rest.’

But Ettie recalled Sister Patrick’s words of advice; she was to be diligent and hard working at all times. ‘I should like to begin my duties, Sir.’

Lucas nodded approvingly. ‘And so you shall. But all in good time. Please enjoy an hour to refresh. At six o’clock we shall eat supper. You will hear the gong. Please join us.’ And with that, he turned and quietly left the room.

Ettie felt a faint sense of relief replacing her earlier dread on leaving the convent. Sister Patrick had assured her she would be found a good home and it seemed that this was true. Lucas and Clara Benjamin had welcomed her warmly, going to a great deal of trouble to prepare her room. Clara Benjamin had even got up from her sick bed to greet her. Ettie wondered again what was wrong with the pretty young woman.

Taking off her coat and shawl, she opened the wardrobe. It was so spacious she felt as though she could climb inside and sleep there! Hanging from a rail was a grey, formal looking dress and white apron. She wondered if it would fit her. Taking it down she smelled the cloth. There was a mixture of tobacco and soap ingrained in the weave. Not unpleasant at all. The waist would fit her and the hem came down to her boots. But oh dear, her boots! As much as she had cleaned them, it was evident they were