Page 53 of Disenchanted
I was rather ashamed to admit that I did not. “I assume they are taken to an orphanage somewhere.”
“The Royal Foundling Asylum is located high in the hills beyond the forest. It is a grim place, more like a fortress because it is considered necessary that foundlings be kept well away from all decent society. The conditions there were not pleasant.”
“I am sorry,” I said. “But then you were adopted by the Crushingtons?”
“I was one of the rare, few fortunate ones. Most foundling children are trained for a life of servitude in the silver mines. It was obvious I would grow to be too large for that. I most likely would have ended up indentured to a pig farmer or a goat herder on one of the remote farms near the northern border. But then one day I was noticed by Lieutenant Benjamin Crushington.”
The commander’s tale was interrupted by the ponies. Irritated by his lack of attention, they tried to nip at his pant leg. He bent down to pat them absently and then paced farther away from their stall. As I followed, he continued, “The lieutenant was a Border Scutcheon, assigned to the northern outpost. One of his assigned duties was to inspect the asylum. He rode a black stallion, and I remember how I used to wait for his visits. I would hide in the stables even though I knew it was forbidden and I would be beaten if I was found. It was worth the risk for me to obtain just a glimpse of that magnificent horse.
“One afternoon, I grew bold enough to creep from my hiding place and stroke its mane. The lieutenant caught me, and I trembled in fear before him. He was a large, fierce-looking man so I braced myself for the blow that was sure to follow.
“But he simply stared at me for the longest time as though he was seeing a ghost. I was stunned when his eyes welled up with tears. The next thing I knew the lieutenant was counting out coin into the warder’s hand and I was ordered to ready myself to leave with him.”
“The lieutenant bought you?” I gasped.
“All foundlings are eventually sold into servitude, although usually at an older age. Such was our fate and I never questioned it.”
“But you were only seven years old! Surely you must have been frightened to be handed over to a stranger in that callous fashion.”
“Frankly, I was more excited at the prospect of riding in front of the lieutenant on that incredible horse. I did not think much beyond that. If I did, it was only to suppose I would be set to some kind of labor when we arrived at our destination. I even dared to dream I might be employed cleaning his stables.”
Crushington was so matter of fact about all of this, minimizing what he must have suffered as a boy. Nothing could have painted a clearer picture of his bleak childhood than the fact that mucking out horse stalls had been the pinnacle of his dreams.
He did not appear in need of my comfort, but I longed to press his hand. But he had locked them behind his back, his stance rigid as he went on. “When we reached the lieutenant’s home, nothing went as I had expected. I confess I was frightened when he prepared me to meet his wife. My only experience with women was those toothless, grey-haired crones hired to cleanthe asylum and make sure none of the orphans were overfed. They might even have been witches.”
If Crushington thought that was what a witch looked like, he had never met Mal’s friend Delphine. But I said nothing, not wanting to interrupt.
“When I was presented to Sara Crushington, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, as frail and delicate as a fairy princess. Her reaction to me was even stronger than her husband’s had been. She took one look and burst into tears. She caught me up in a fierce embrace, her thin arms trembling. I had never been hugged before and I am sorry to say that I jerked away from her, as wary as a cornered wild thing.”
The commander’s eyes clouded at the memory. “That was when I learned why the lieutenant had bought me. The Crushingtons had recently lost their only child, a boy named Horatio. They had both been devastated, but Sara Crushington had nearly died from her grief. Apparently, I bore a remarkable resemblance to Horatio. His clothes even fit as though they had been sewn just for me.”
“That was why they wanted you? As a replacement for their dead child?” I was unable to conceal how appalled I was. “But that— that was—”
“The most fortunate thing that could have ever happened to me.”
“But you were forced to become someone else, your own identity stolen.”
“What identity, Ella?” Crushington gave a sad laugh. “Who was I? Merely another foundling with no past and even less future. I didn’t even have a name. The warder called me Clodpole because of my clumsiness and size.
“With the Crushingtons, for the first time I had a bed to sleep in, warm clothes to wear and enough to eat. I had a real home and more names than I knew what to do with.”
The commander drew himself up proudly. “Horatio Alexander Samuel Edward Crushington. I didn’t care that it was only a borrowed name, or I had to walk in a dead boy’s shoes. I would have been anything or anyone the Crushingtons wanted of me. They gave me everything, Ella, an education, and a future. With the passage of time, the Crushingtons forgot that I was not their trueborn son and I forgot as well.”
I nodded. “I understand what a blessing it must have been to be adopted, but have you never wondered about the woman who bore you or the man who sired you? Have you never wanted to know who they were?”
“Why would I? I cannot bear to think what sort of depraved creatures could abandon their child to die. I prefer not to ever know how much of their darkness I might carry in my blood. There is a good reason very few foundlings are ever adopted, because of the fear of what evil might be lodged in their hearts. The Crushingtons were quite brave to risk it and I will love and honor them forever for that.
“But I never intended to go on at such length about my past. I just felt that you needed to know the truth about me. If you should decide that you do not ever wish me to call upon you again, I will understand.”
He was offering me an out, a way to end his attentions to me, something I had thought I desired. But all I could think of was driving the self-doubt and sorrow from his eyes.
“Don’t be such a great fool, Horatio Alexander Samuel Edward Crushington.” I placed my hand flat on the center of his chest. I could feel his heartbeat quicken.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Hush.” I furrowed my brow as though deep in concentration. I finally pronounced, “I don’t sense anything evil in there. Only honor, courage, determination, seriousness and perhaps a tiny streak of obstinacy.”
The commander gave a dubious half-smile. “You can sense all that, can you?”
