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

‘Course you don’t.’ Cook dried her plump hands. ‘But Mary will test you to your limit, mind, just like she tests that poor boy. Seems anyone who shows an interest in her, she spurns.’

Ettie thought of Michael when he had first arrived at the orphanage. Even the kindness of the nuns hadn’t impressed him.

Cook looked at her curiously. ‘You’re an orphan, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, but the orphanage burned down.’

‘Oh ducks, who did it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Is that how you landed in the workhouse?’

‘I was found a position in Soho …’ Ettie stopped. A lump filled her throat as she thought of Lucas, Clara and the baby. ‘But my employer died.’

‘Heavens! You’ve been through the mill,’ Cook said gently. ‘Let’s go and see if Jim has managed to put a smile on our Mary’s face.’

But Mary stood alone in the kitchen. Tears brimmed hotly in her eyes.

‘Whatever is the matter?’ Cook enquired.

‘Nothing. I told him to leave me alone.’

‘Why?’ Cook said in annoyance. ‘He’s a nice lad. You don’t deserve that boy’s attention.’

Tears ran down Mary’s face. ‘I hate you. I hate her,’ she spat, pointing at Ettie. ‘And I hate him.’ She turned and ran off.

‘What did I tell you?’ Cook mumbled grumpily. ‘You’ll have to grow a thick skin, my dear, if you want to work here.’

It was a warning that Ettie was to remember over the coming weeks.

Chapter 60

It was Christmas Eve and Mrs Powell had given the lowers permission to attend the midnight service at the local church.

‘Are you going?’ Ettie asked Mary as they climbed the stairs to the attic.

‘No.’

‘You might enjoy the service.’

‘I don’t believe in an old man in the sky with a long grey beard who sits on a cloud all day,’ Mary said as she walked into their room and flung herself on her bed.

Ettie smiled. ‘Neither do I.’ She put on her coat, one that Cook had loaned her for the occasion. ‘Christmas is a lovely time. I love singing carols, don’t you?’

‘No, can’t say as I do.’ She pointed to the coat. ‘You look like an old lady in that.’

‘I might, but it’s nice and warm.’

Mary jumped up. ‘Don’t you ever get angry?’

Ettie laughed. ‘Why should I?’

‘I thought you’d be gone by now. The others all went.’

‘Mary, I have nowhere else to go. So, can we be friends?’

This seemed to make Mary even crosser. ‘Friends let you down. Like Jim. He’s dropped me for someone else.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘He makes excuses not to see me. I know he’s got a roving eye.’

‘If he has, I’ve never seen it.’

Mary frowned at her suspiciously. ‘I’ll bet it’s you he's having it off with!’

‘I like Jim,’ Ettie said without taking offence. ‘But we hardly speak, except when he asks me about you when I go to the slops room in the mornings.’

‘I’ll bet!’ Mary exclaimed. ‘I hate him. I hate him. And I hate you.’ She sank down on her bed again. Holding her hands over her face, she wept fiercely.

Ettie sat beside her. ‘You don’t really hate people. And they don’t hate you.’

‘How would you know?’ Mary sobbed, her frizzy hair falling out of her mob cap and over her damp face.

‘We could be friends if you tried.’

Mary ignored her, her sobs growing even louder.

‘Come with me tonight.’

‘You’ll be with the others,’ Mary mumbled.

‘I’d prefer to be with you.’

Mary slowly dropped her hands. ‘I don’t understand. I’ve told you I don’t like you.’

Ettie stood up. ‘Well, I like you. Merry Christmas, Mary.’

‘Go away,’ Mary insisted, swiping her wet cheeks with angry fingers.

Ettie left the attic and went down the stairs, glancing up to see if Mary was following. But there were no steps echoing, only her own.

Outside in the courtyard, the staff had gathered. Amongst them was Jim.

‘Is Mary coming, too?’ he asked Ettie.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Each year I ask her. Each year she turns me down. I won’t bother again.’ He walked away under the light of the star-filled sky. It was such a beautiful night. A glistening frost dotted the courtyard walls and the winding path that led to the lane along which Ettie had first arrived. There was not a breath of wind, and the soft murmur of the others’ voices was all she could hear.

The group began to move off and Ettie followed. Jim seemed to be striding along in front, his shoulders slumped under his greatcoat. Was he missing Mary she wondered?

As the little band wandered into the gaslit streets of Poplar, she thought of Mary alone in their room. Perhaps she should have stayed to keep her company? But as they neared the brightly lit church and the strains of Christmas carols being sung, Ettie heard another sound. She paused as the footsteps grew closer.

‘Thought I might as well come,’ said Mary breathlessly, her breath curling up into the frosty air. She pulled up the collar of her old coat. ‘Got nothing better to do anyway. And you’d only disturb me when you came in.’

Her voice must have reached Jim’s ears, since he glanced over his shoulder. A few minutes later they were walking three abreast behind the main party.

Ettie pushed a wayward lock of her chestnut hair back into its pins, managing to hide her smile as Jim and Mary held hands.

Since the family were spending the holiday in the country, the entire staff were to enjoy Cook’s Christmas dinner served in the servant’s hall. It was the first time Ettie had been invited to join the other staff and she eagerly helped with the preparations. Garlands of holly were hung from the walls and a very small tree placed under the window. Below it, Mrs Powell had instructed the footmen to lay out the gifts.

‘Everyone gets a present,’ Cook explained as Ettie and Mary helped in the kitchen. ‘Mrs Powell gives them out. Lord and Lady Marsden are very generous. The valets and footmen are given money or personal items. Last Christmas I received a leather