PASSAGE OF A DESOLATE WOMAN
the winds of misery victorian romance
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
a family saga novel
dorothy green
Copyright
Copyright © 2020 by
Dorothy Green
All Rights reserved.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Interested to check out my other Victorian Romance books?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
To get in touch with me:
f : Dorothy Green facebook
e : [email protected]
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Table of Contents
Copyright
the orphan’s christmas eve
prologue
0 1
0 2
0 3
0 4
0 5
0 6
0 7
0 8
0 9
1 0
1 1
1 2
1 3
1 4
1 5
1 6
1 7
1 8
1 9
2 0
2 1
2 2
2 3
2 4
2 5
2 6
2 7
2 8
2 9
3 0
3 1
3 2
3 3
3 4
3 5
3 6
3 7
3 8
3 9
4 0
4 1
4 2
4 3
4 4
4 5
epilogue
While waiting for the next book . . .
Order of Book List
Publisher Notes
prologue
* * *
Cottered - Hertfordshire, England
March 1855
Jennifer proceeded around the back of the butcher’s shop, off the end row of High Street, in the small village of Cottered. The quaint farm village had been her home since she was born, and she indeed considered it quite a lovely place to call home. She could be happy here all her days, if it was not such a struggle to make a living.
In the last few months, upon receiving news that would change her life for the worse, she was now turning to the village for support. The young woman knew Mr. Caver, the butcher shop owner, would be in the back around this time, and because it was at the end of the row it was one of the last stops on her rounds to inquire about work.
Whack! The sound of a meat cleaver reached her ears and she gave pause. This was not exactly the type of establishment she envisioned to acquire work; being splattered with blood each day would be most upsetting. But the desperate girl had to try, for she had tried seeking work the day before with no avail.
“Mr. Caver,” she rounded the corner of the brown brick building and saw that he was indeed in the middle of preparing meats for his customers. The poor girl restrained herself from looking at the fresh kill. She did not have a weak stomach, for she herself had prepared game hen from time to time, but a lamb was something completely different.
“What? What you be wantin’ girl?” he asked. Whack. Blood splattered about his apron.
“I have come to acquire about work. I can clean, or help with the books, since I can read and write. Really, I’m looking for any sort of work if you have it.”
Mr. Caver paused and looked at the young woman of seven and ten years up and down. “You be lookin’ for work eh?”
“Oh yes. I am in a very poor position and I need the money something fierce,” she said, excited. For his response sounded promising.
She was exhausted and this gave her hope.
“I might have something for you... Come in. Whack! He stuck the meat cleaver into the wooden stump.
He walked through the large wooden back door into a dark back room of the shop. Jennifer followed him in and the smell of blood made her stomach wretch something awful. She held her breath and breathed through her mouth to stop herself from becoming sick. This was a mistake, but perhaps there was an office in a different room where he may need assistance.
The back door creaked as he shut it, making the room even darker still.
“What kind of money are we talking? You looking to make a shilling or two?” he moved toward her.
Jennifer stepped back, feeling her brown lace up boots slide on the slippery floor. She realized to her horror that it was wet with blood. “If that is what the work pays, though that is a substantial amount. Would that be for a month?”
“It would be for a night...” he loomed over her. His bloodied apron was directly in front of her face at his tall height. His eyes took on a dangerous and lustful look.
Jennifer gasped as she caught his meaning, allowing the stench of the room to overwhelm her. A coughing fit over took her while she tried to say the words, “No. Not at all. No.”
Mr. Caver let out a hearty laugh, “But it’s easy money and you are a pretty girl with that fiery red hair. You said yourself you be desperate.” He placed his hand on the wall, barring her in.
Mortified, Jennifer quickly ducked underneath his arm and darted for the exit, but her boots slipped, making an escape awkward. She pushed the door open with great force, ran out of the room and onto the dirt!
Mr. Caver’s laugh was echoing behind her, mocking her as she made her way around the building and back to the safety of the busy High Street.
She stopped to catch her breath and to stop her body from trembling. Never in her life had a man treated her as such! Mr. Caver wanted to use her as a common harlot! The audacity of that awful man!
“Good day Miss Bronson,” Mrs. Everston nodded her head as she passed.
Jennifer quickly straightened and composed herself. “Good day Mrs. Everston.”
Then she watched as Mrs. Everston entered the butcher’s shop and rang the bell. The sound brought chills down her back and with a quick step she made her way through the village and toward her home. For she would not feel safe until she had bathed in the tin tub and washed that smell off of her and was far from the devious stare of Mr. Caver.
This incident was only making matters proceed from bad to worse. It was all hanging on the news she had received two days before, when Lord Gavin had made an announcement that would change her life entirely.
* * *
chapter
0 1
* * *
The Announcement
Two Days Before.
Rattled was not the proper word to describe how Jennifer Bronson felt as she waited for the news. Indeed, all those around her were in such an uproar over waiting to hear the announcement by the Lord of The Manor. The assembly room had never been so crowded before. People were wedged in, for the Lord of The Manor rarely made any sort of announcement when it came to the small village of Cottered. One could only imagine that the news must be very important indeed to cause such a commotion.
Jennifer Bronson stood there with her good friend Katrina Proctor, waiting along with most of the village. Katrina’s father was also in attendance, though somewhere in the corner with h
is peers. Jennifer, however, was attending alone, as was often the case for her since her father passed some eight years before. With an ailing mother, and a very young brother, she had taken on the responsibilities of being head of her family at the tender young age of seven and ten years.
Jennifer envied her friend Katrina, and sometimes wished she could change places with her. For although both were poor village people, Katrina was allowed to be a proper child, unlike Jennifer.
Jennifer turned to look at Katrina, whom could be described as a milkmaid. Her sandy blond locks were braided and pinned against her head and tucked under a white ruffled bonnet. Her blue dress was simple and worn, covered by a white cotton apron. Her father had four cows and three goats, something that was considered very rich as far as the poorer villagers were concerned.
Katrina and her father David Proctor used the ample amounts of dairy and created dairy products to sell in the nearby town of Buntingford. They were quite comfortable, definitely on the upper side of the poor class, whereas Jennifer was on the very bottom level.
But it was not always so. Her father had been a blacksmith and provided well for the family, but after he died, everything changed.
“Jenny, what do you think it could be?” Katrina asked her friend using a nickname that only those closest to her used. For Jennifer rather preferred to be called Jennifer now that she was growing older. Jenny made her feel much younger than she was.
“One could never say could they? It must be very important indeed to cause so many to attend.” Jennifer answered her friend.
“I heard the announcement would be about the village, something new. Something new being built possibly?” Katrina replied.
“That would be very good, possibly create more jobs. Something this village is in need of,” Jennifer said, for she was thinking about her own work as a seamstress. There were those that were more well-to-do in the village and they often took their dresses to Jennifer to be mended.
She was not sewing entire dresses from scratch, mind you, but she did very well stitching items here and there that needed to be mended; from dresses to stockings, caps, and even the occasional purse or sack. It was how she helped to support her family. News of the village expanding could possibly also provide work for her. She suddenly felt excited.
Bang. Bang. A gavel hit the wooden block on the table. Everyone hushed until the room was quiet.
“May I announce the Lord of The Manor, Lord Gavin,”
The Assembly of people clapped and whistled. For it was very rare that we saw the owner of the village, Lord Gavin, speak,. He did walk about the village sometimes, but not often. He mostly spend his time in London, and occasionally stayed at Gavin House.
“Good people of Cottered! Thank you for gathering for announcements. I have returned from London but ten days ago. Upon seeing the bustling city life, it has inspired me to create another row on the High Street.”
The crowd roared. Katrina gave Jennifer a very smug look, as though to say, I told you I was right. Jennifer smiled in return.
This was good news indeed. The gavel hit the wood block again, calming down the assembly.
“Yes, it is good news indeed. This new row will extend the northern section of High Street, on the west side. It will be a row of shops below, and flats above. We already have a tenant that will live in one of the flats, and run a shop below. Now, I know what you're thinking; you will not like this. But the family are outsiders. coming here from London,” Lord Gavin said.
The crowd booed and hissed. The new row should have been to give locals opportunity, not those seeking country living from the city. Jennifer felt angry alongside the rest of them.
Bang. Bang. Once again the gavel sounded quieting everyone down. Lord Gavin had his hand in the air, trying to calm those.
“I assure you, it is a family of trade that we do not have in the village already, and it is greatly needed. It will also attract others to take up country estates in our area and then provide work in their houses for you. This is for the good of Cottered. The rest of the row will be available to rent for those that wish to open shops. There will be an application process.”
“Who is this merchant coming from London?” Someone in the assembly shouted. The crowd agreed. “Yes, who is it?” for everyone wondered what the village could possibly need as far as this workers trade.
“The Roberts family is a fine family. They are a family of tailors, and they will be opening up a tailor shop and living in the apartment above.”
Jennifer gasped. A whole family of tailors? But they will take in all my mending work. How will I ever support my family now? We will starve!”
* * *
chapter
0 2
* * *
It was a bright day in the English Countryside, late spring, and the trees were showing off their new blooms. Not a cloud was in the sky and the bright blue looked beautiful in contrast to the green pastures that Jennifer and Katrina passed on their walk home from the assembly.
Jennifer was in quite a state of distress. Indeed, she had not spoken a word to Katrina since the assembly, as they made their way through the cobblestone streets of the small village and out to the dirt country road in the direction of the tenant plots they lived on.
“Jenny, I have been rambling on and on and you have not said a word. Don't you think that would be delightful?” Katrina asked.
In truth, Jennifer had not been paying attention to a word Katrina had spoken, for her mind was engaged elsewhere.
“What would be delightful?”
“Why, a sweet shop of course!” Katrina continued. “Did you not hear a word I said? I was speaking about what other tenants would be in the other shops to come. It would be delightful to have a sweet shop.” Katrina smiled.
“Oh, yes...” Jennifer nodded her head in agreement.
But she thought such a thing would be disastrous for her. For she had no money to buy sweets, and having to see the look of heartbreak on her younger brother Adam’s face, anytime they passed and he was not able to enjoy like the other children, would make her very sad indeed. No, a sweet shop was not welcome as far as she was concerned. For Katrina it was just fine, because her father always gave her a cut of the cheeses they sold at the market town of Buntingford once a month.
Katrina was two years younger than Jennifer, and didn't have a care in the world. All things seemed to be very pleasant in her life. She had her entire family, both parents were alive and well, and she had an older brother who had enlisted, and was off being a brave soldier somewhere. He often sent money home, so the Proctor family was comfortable.
Whereas Jennifer's family was in a constant state of struggle, never knowing where the next week's food would come from. Of course, since Jennifer and Katrina were close and the plots they lived on a shared a fence, the Proctors always saw fit to give Jennifer a small wheel of cheese at the top of every month. She was very good to make it last throughout that month, considering it was a treat. She was very grateful to them and often David Proctor would come to fix the odd thing at their own home. He was kind because he had been close to Jennifer's father, before his untimely death.
“Do you think this family, the Roberts, have young gentleman in their family? Lord knows this village is in want of eligible bachelors,” Katrina said.
That was Katrina for you, always thinking about boys. Jennifer envied her once more, for she did not have time to think of such a thing. Nor did she have time to look after herself. She would always braid her long black hair over her shoulder, and that would be the most of her attempt to look decent. For she had no time to put it up in pin curls the way that Katrina sometimes did.
“I do not know. Perhaps,” Jennifer said.
“I cannot believe the first shop will be done in six months’ time. Just think, in six months there will be a new family in the village, finally. I heard my father say they are breaking ground on the construction in two days. So quick. Then of course the rest of the shops wi
ll come later. Oh, this is very exciting. I am glad that we went to the assembly, are you not?” Katrina asked.
“Yes, I am. Here we are,” Jennifer said as they approached the fence that separated the two plots of land, wanting to get away from her friend so that she may mull over the new problem that loomed in her future.
“I will see you tomorrow then, Jenny!” Katrina said with a wide smile. And so, the two young women parted ways, one going off without a care and the world and the other with the weight of the world on her shoulders.
The cottage that was on the left belonged to the Proctor family, and was three times the size of the one that Jennifer lived in. These were tenant plots belonging to Lord Gavin. David Proctor provided Lord Gavin with milk goods as well as vegetables, but spent half a day everyday, except Sundays, working Lord Gavin’s personal land holdings.
Jennifer’s father, Brandon Bronson, was the village blacksmith. As well, he did work for Lord Gavin, and that was why the Bronson family had been allowed to live in the cottage on the small plot. When her father died, Lord Gavin was kind and allowed them to stay in their home, but with no work to exchange for rent, they now had to pay one pound a year in rent. A sum that Jennifer’s aunt Mrs. Diana Nord had paid yearly. Diana was her father’s sister and lived in Dartford on the River Thames, close to where it would sweep out to sea.
Jennifer looked fondly on her aunt and missed her a great deal. For she had come to stay for almost eight months one year and had taught Jennifer to read and write in that time. But that was when Jennifer was but ten years of age.
Indeed, she was grateful to her aunt for paying the rent on their cottage, and because of that she could never ask her aunt for anything more to help her family, for she was already doing more than what was expected of her.
Jennifer was reluctant to enter the cottage and tell her mother the news. Mrs. Abigail Bronson had a history of going into hysterics at the drop of a hat, and Jennifer often felt that she was the mother, and that her mother was the child.
“What took you so long, girl? I should think you would be gone all day. I’ve had to look after Adam all on my own these hours,” her mother greeted Jennifer.
Passage of a Desolate Woman (#2, the Winds of Misery Victorian Romance) (A Family Saga Novel) Page 1