Orphans and Angels

by Linda Finlay

  ‘You leave them to me, Bess,’ Harry smiled.

  ‘My Jim must have had an inkling something like this was going to happen because he made arrangements for them to be taken to market next week. Of course, I’d been on at him to ease up for ages but he wouldn’t, the stubborn old fool.’

  ‘He was happy, though, Bess, and for that you must surely be thankful,’ he said, patting her arm.

  ‘Oh, I am, Master Higgins. Now, will you be taking them chooks back with you today?’

  ‘Yes, Bess, the children are really excited at the thought of collecting their own eggs each morning.’

  ‘Good job the cart’s parked outside then, isn’t it, Miss Sullivan?’ Sheena smiled as she joined them. Sarah frowned but Sheena was looking at Bess and didn’t notice. ‘You’re looking a bit weary, Bess. Would you like to be sitting down?’ she suggested.

  ‘That’s a lovely idea, but I’ve my guests to attend to.’

  ‘As you can see, they’re all enjoying your wonderful food.’ Sheena gestured to the children, who were happily devouring the few remaining cakes.

  ‘Then I wouldn’t mind taking the weight off my feet,’ she said, letting Sheena lead her over to the fireside where she sank thankfully into her chair. ‘You’ve been such a help, my dear.’

  ‘Isn’t that what friends are for?’ Sheena asked. ‘Now, you have a rest while I make us some fresh tea.’

  Making her way towards the range, she heard Solomon talking earnestly to the vicar.

  ‘But I need to get things straight. At Farmer Jim’s grave, you said he’d gone to join our Father who art in heaven, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, my child, I did,’ the vicar agreed.

  ‘So, is that where my father’s gone?’ Solomon asked.

  ‘Yes, my boy,’ the vicar replied. ‘That is where we all go to be reunited with our fathers.’

  ‘But last week in church you said that the wicked would burn in the fires of hell for all eternity.’

  ‘Only those who are guilty of some terrible crime,’ the vicar assured him.

  ‘But I’m guilty of something so terrible you’d never believe. I’ll never see my father again and I want to,’ he cried.

  ‘What can you have done that is so bad, my child?’ the vicar asked.

  But Solomon, distraught beyond reason, pushed past him and bolted out of the door.

  17

  ‘Not again,’ Harry groaned, running after him.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ Sheena cried.

  ‘Solomon Smith, come back here this minute,’ Harry shouted, but the boy took no notice and was soon swallowed up in the gathering gloom.

  ‘We’ll never catch him,’ Harry muttered, drawing to a halt. ‘Suppose he’ll go back to the old foundry.’

  ‘I’ve an inkling what’s upsetting him and it’s my guess he’ll be heading for his father’s cross in the school garden. Didn’t Pip bring Mrs Daws in the cart?’

  ‘Good thinking, come on,’ he urged.

  By the time they got back to Red Cliffs, the shadows had lengthened.

  ‘I suppose there must be a back way in,’ Sheena said, as Harry jumped down and unlocked the gates. He nodded as he climbed back into his seat and urged the pony on.

  Having tethered the animal to the post by the front door, they made their way around the side of the house and crept down the path. As they neared the old tree they heard Solomon’s anguished voice.

  ‘So, Father, I ain’t goin’ to see you again ever. The vicar says I’ll burn in the fires of ’ell. I’m sorry I didn’t get … if only I hadn’t …’ Overcome by sorrow, the child burst into tears.

  ‘If only you hadn’t what, Solomon?’ Harry prompted, inching forwards. As the boy’s wailing increased, Sheena and Harry stared on helplessly. Then, unable to bear his desolation a moment longer, Sheena threw herself down on the ground and gathered him into her arms.

  ‘Did you light the fire in the foundry that morning?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Yes,’ he cried. ‘I wanted to ’elp Father. ’E said I were never to light it but I did when ’e were sleepin’. I was fannin’ it with the bellows when the wind blew fru from the other side. Sparks catched on the straw and ’e didn’t wake up when I shouted.’

  ‘Oh, my poor boy,’ Sheena crooned, rocking him back and forth. ‘And you’ve been weighed down with guilt ever since.’

  ‘I needed to tell ’im I were sorry but they wouldn’t let me go to the ’firmary. Then you said I could talk to ’im ’ere so I told ’im I’d see ’im in ’Eaven but I ain’t goin’ there so I’ll never see ’im again,’ he wailed.

  Sheena stared helplessly up at Harry, tears making her eyes glisten like emerald pools. He swallowed and hunkered down beside them.

  ‘Listen, Solomon. You’ve got it all wrong.’ Solomon glowered at him.

  ‘I knows what I did,’ he muttered.

  ‘You might have lit the fire but your father was already dead, old chap.’

  ‘No, ’e were in ’is bed sleepin’ and wouldn’t wake up.’

  ‘The autopsy showed he’d had a heart attack, Solomon. His heart had given out whilst he slept, which means he was already dead when you lit the fire. That’s why he wouldn’t wake.’

  The boy stared at him, hope flaring in his eyes. ‘It weren’t my fault he died?’

  ‘No, Solomon, it wasn’t. We thought you were settling in so well we didn’t want to open old wounds by telling you what the examination had revealed. If you’d told us what was worrying you, we could have spared you all this suffering.’

  ‘Fort I’d be sent to gaol,’ he mumbled. ‘So does this mean I’ll get to ’Eaven and see my father again?’

  ‘If you’re a good boy and learn your lessons, you certainly will,’ Sheena assured him.

  ‘I’m so pleased, ’cos ’e were all I ’ad, see?’

  ‘To think that poor boy’s been worrying all this time that he’d killed his father,’ Mrs Daws murmured. ‘And what a dreadful thing to be burdened with. What a day, eh, Marmalade?’ she sighed, stroking the cat’s ginger fur.

  The children had finally gone to bed and Sarah, Harry and Mrs Daws were sitting beside the range in the kitchen, relaxing over their evening drinks.

  ‘It has been an eventful day indeed, Mrs Daws,’ Sarah agreed. ‘If we’d realized Solomon was blaming himself, we could have made allowances for him.’

  ‘He was so worried about being sent to prison, he didn’t dare talk to anyone here. It explains why he’s been withdrawn and not made friends with the others,’ Harry replied. ‘Miss O’Reilly thinks it would help him settle in if he had something of his own to look after, so Pip’s agreed to let him care for the pony.’

  ‘Well, Miss O’Reilly does seem full of good ideas,’ Sarah replied. ‘Perhaps someone could acquaint her with the fact that we drive a trap, though, rather than a cart.’

  Harry and Mrs Daws exchanged looks.

  ‘A rose by any other name,’ Harry murmured. ‘Still, as you say, Mrs Daws, it has been quite a day. Poor Bess, she’ll be lost without Jim.’

  ‘At least she had many good years with him,’ the housekeeper pointed out.

  ‘And once the animals are sold she’ll be able to take a break away from the farm,’ Harry said. ‘Do you know, after all that fuss with Solomon we still didn’t collect the hens. By the time I’d driven Miss O’Reilly home in the trap, it was too late,’ he added, emphasizing the word ‘trap’, but the point was lost on Sarah.

  ‘You must know your way to her house blindfold by now,’ she said, somewhat acerbically. There was an awkward silence. Mrs Daws and Harry exchanged looks again.

  ‘Well, I think it right gentlemanly of you to see her home, Master Higgins,’ Mrs Daws said. ‘Now I’m away to my bed,’ she announced wearily, getting to her feet. The cat gave a yowl of protest and stalked over to the door. ‘Thank the Lord the good ladies still have enough vegetables stored to do the Sunday soup kitchen, for I wouldn’t have the energy for all that peeling and
chopping tonight.’

  ‘Perhaps you could have a lie-in before church tomorrow, Mrs Daws,’ Sarah suggested.

  The woman snorted. ‘Up with the cockerel, me. Always have been, always will.’

  ‘And where would we all be without you? Good night, Mrs Daws,’ Harry said. As the woman made her way upstairs an uneasy silence fell.

  ‘I must go,’ Harry said, jumping up. ‘Oh, by the way, Bess mentioned she had some wriggly tin in her barn that she thought might be useful for patching the roof. I could bring it back on the trap when I go and collect the hens.’

  ‘What on earth is wriggly tin?’ Sarah frowned.

  ‘Ah, it be local name for corrugated iron roof sheets,’ Harry explained, giving a good impression of the Devon dialect.

  ‘Do you think that would do any good?’ Sarah asked, ignoring his attempt to be funny.

  ‘Worth a try, don’t you think?’ he replied, giving her a level look.

  ‘My meeting with Lady Chorlton is this Thursday so perhaps we should see what she says first. I mean, if she agrees to pay for the roof to be repaired and retiled, we won’t need to do any more patching.’

  Harry frowned. ‘Don’t you think you’re placing too much store on this meeting? Surely Red Cliffs should be making its own way now the good doctor has left us?’

  Sarah, clucked her tongue in exasperation.

  ‘Well, better get going. Mother will wonder where I’ve got to. Good night,’ Harry said quickly.

  ‘Good night,’ Sarah murmured, wondering what had happened to their easy-going relationship. He’d been like a different man recently. And wasn’t it reasonable to hope Lady Chorlton would want to continuing helping with funding for Red Cliffs as she had when Sarah’s godfather was alive?

  At least the pupils were happy, she thought, recalling their delighted faces when they’d seen the feast Bess had prepared for them. Including their Tuesday child, who had at last been released of his terrible burden. All that remained was her meeting with Lady Chorlton on Thursday and, despite what Harry said, the more Sarah thought about it the more she was confident the benefactress would wish to continue her support by funding the new roof.

  On Thursday afternoon, Sarah carefully dressed in another outfit she’d adapted from the charitable donations. Mindful that her meeting with Lady Chorlton was of great importance, she’d trimmed her hat with matching green ribbon.

  It was a fair walk to Hesketh Crescent, which Mrs Daws had told her was on the east side of the bay. The weather was clement and she passed many visitors dressed in their finery, who were promenading along the seafront. Feeling dowdy by comparison, Sarah glanced down at her skirt and grimaced. Well, she’d done her best, she thought.

  Arriving at the elegant crescent of four-storey houses with ornamental urns perched on the roof parapet and balconies facing the sea, Sarah gasped in amazement. She had no idea Lady Chorlton resided in such luxury. At 3 p.m. precisely, she was shown into a light airy drawing room by a maid wearing a smartly tailored black dress with snowy white apron and cap. Even the servants were better dressed than she was, Sarah thought ruefully.

  ‘Miss Sullivan, to see you, my lady,’ the maid announced.

  ‘Thank you, Benson, you may bring tea in half an hour.’ As the maid curtsied and withdrew, Sarah got her first glimpse of Lady Chorlton, a slender woman with a halo of golden curls under her house cap.

  ‘Oh,’ she gasped in surprise. Amusement sparked in Lady Chorlton’s eyes.

  ‘Am I not what you were expecting, Miss Sullivan?’

  ‘Well, I …’ Sarah stuttered to a halt, aware that to say the woman was much younger than she’d anticipated would be rude beyond measure. ‘That is to say, it is kind of you to receive me, Lady Chorlton.’

  ‘I am only sorry it has taken so long, but Queen Victoria’s passing, coming soon after Samuel’s, was almost too much to bear. He was a wonderful man, your godfather.’

  ‘He was,’ Sarah agreed. ‘And I miss him, too, even though I was working with him for only a few short weeks.’

  ‘He spoke very highly of you, Sarah. I may call you Sarah?’

  ‘Of course, Lady Chorlton,’ she replied.

  ‘Such a pretty name. It means pure and happy, but I’m sure you know that.’

  ‘Thank you, but it’s quite ordinary really.’

  Lady Chorlton’s blue eyes sparkled. ‘Hardly. The biblical meaning is lady or princess.’

  ‘Really? Goodness.’

  ‘I must confess to having a fondness for appellations. It was my dream to have a daughter to choose names for but I was blessed with two boys, so …’ she shrugged. ‘The father always gets that privilege with sons,’ she sighed and stared down at her lap.

  Not knowing how to reply, or indeed if one was expected, Sarah glanced out of the bay window, where beyond the immaculate lawns and flower borders, the sea shimmered.

  ‘What a wonderful view,’ she cried. Lady Chorlton, recalled from her reverie, smiled.

  ‘His lordship liked to observe his ships as they passed, and expected me to dutifully keep watch when he was due home. However, it is not as interesting as the outlook you have from Red Cliffs. Those rocky outcrops positively glow red on a summer’s day, tempting one to paint them.’

  ‘You are an artist, Lady Chorlton?’ Sarah enquired, fascinated by her picturesque description.

  ‘I dabble, my dear. Mainly seascapes but nothing can beat the ammil.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Sarah frowned.

  ‘It’s a Devonian word for the sparkle of morning sunlight through the hoar frost,’ she laughed. ‘Your godfather used to love the local dialect. Now tell me, how are you getting on with managing the school, if that is not an impertinent question? Samuel was adamant there was nobody finer to run it.’

  ‘And I certainly hope to live up to his expectations, although there has been a lot to learn,’ Sarah replied.

  ‘I’m sure Master Higgins and Mrs Daws will have been helpful in that respect.’ Before Sarah could answer, the little ormolu clock on the mantel tinkled the half-hour and the maid reappeared carrying a tray.

  ‘Ah, good, our refreshment. Do attend to us, Benson,’ Lady Chorlton instructed. The maid nodded and proceeded to pour amber liquid into the finest bone-china cups Sarah had ever seen. A plate of bite-sized fancies was proffered. They looked so tempting Sarah’s mouth watered. However, fearful of dropping crumbs on the immaculate Persian carpet, she declined.

  ‘You have a lovely house,’ she said, when the maid had departed. Lady Chorlton smiled.

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied graciously. ‘However, what are materials things without the man you love?’ She gestured around the room, with its matching Chesterfields upon which pink silk cushions were neatly aligned, the ornate fireplace with its logs ablaze, the two crystal chandeliers and the pink Regency-striped drapes at the windows.

  Thinking she was referring to her late husband, Sarah said, ‘I believe Lord Chorlton was lost at sea?’ The woman gave a harsh laugh and Sarah was worried she’d misunderstood what Mrs Daws had told her.

  ‘He was, but I was referring to Samuel, Sarah,’ she said with a sad smile. Seeing the shocked look on Sarah’s face, Lady Chorlton explained further. ‘We were introduced at one of our charity soirées before my husband died, and were instinctively drawn to each other. He was so different, so selfless and devoted to helping others. Your godfather was the love of my life, Sarah. Had circumstances been different we would have married.’ She lapsed into silence, a faraway look in her eyes, and Sarah was left puzzling over her words. ‘I do apologize,’ Lady Chorlton whispered, jerking back to the present after a few moments.

  ‘That’s quite all right,’ Sarah assured her. ‘But if your husband died …’ Her voice trailed off as she realized she was in danger of appearing rude.

  ‘Lord Chorlton and I married for family reasons. There was no love on either side, and he was a jealous and possessive man, to the extent that his Will provided continuance of all this …’ she
swept her hand around the room, ‘on the condition that I never remarried.’

  ‘Goodness,’ Sarah whispered.

  ‘If it had just been me, then I would have given it all up without question to marry your godfather. However, there were my two sons to consider and, of course, the patronage of Red Cliffs, though that had to be kept secret. I was the unknown lady,’ she said with a shake of her head.

  ‘I only learned who the school’s benefactress was after my godfather died,’ Sarah said, wondering if it would be indelicate to raise the subject of the school roof at that moment.

  Lady Chorlton continued, ‘It was a great sadness to both of us that our relationship should have to be clandestine but, better a little of something than a lot of nothing, as Samuel used to remind me.’

  Lady Chorlton lapsed into silence again and Sarah sipped her tea thoughtfully. She’d wondered at her godfather’s secret liaison. It seemed so totally out of character with his honest nature, but having met Lady Chorlton, she could understand why he’d been captivated by her and why he had had to keep it hidden from nearly everyone.

  ‘Forgive me, my dear, I still find myself stricken with grief when I discuss him.’

  ‘I understand, Lady Chorlton. It catches me unawares at times, too.’

  ‘As I said earlier, Samuel was delighted when you told him you would take on the running of Red Cliffs, although I understand he led you to believe it would be mainly helping with the administration. I took him to task over that but, of course, he had no idea he would be taken so quickly. Now I have spoken quite enough about my past but I wanted you to know how much your godfather meant to me, and this will probably be the only appropriate occasion.’

  Sarah looked askance, but Lady Chorlton didn’t elaborate and she didn’t like to pry.

  ‘Anyhow, my dear, I’m pleased you have settled in well at Red Cliffs,’ she said, turning her candid blue eyes on Sarah. Knowing this was her opportunity, Sarah steeled herself.

  18

  ‘Perhaps you would like me to give you an update on what’s been happening at Red Cliffs, Lady Chorlton?’

  The woman nodded.

  ‘Well, I have recently been accepted as a candidate for the next election of School Board members.’