Page 13 of A Dream of Redemption
She shook her head. “They died with my parents.”
Helen stopped brushing and bent and hugged Anne where she sat at her feet. The girl stiffened but after a few moments she relaxed into Helen’s embrace.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” Her heart wanted to weep for Anne. She’d never have survived losing her whole family, let alone being taken to a place like this. Now she knew why asking questions was not the thing to do. The word “sorry” felt so inadequate and meaningless.
She swore to herself that the children here would never have to live in these conditions ever again. No wonder Marisa continued to become patron of other orphanages. Now she understood why her sister pushed to do more. She would start helping Marisa raise funds. If the ladies of her acquaintance could only see this, Helen was sure they would be more generous.
“I wish I could take your pain away,” Helen whispered against Anne’s hair.
Anne quietly said, “I had a friend, Claire. But she’s gone missing.”
Helen pulled back and tilted Anne’s face toward her. “Missing?”
Anne became animated. “They told me she’d run away but she would not have left without me. I just know she wouldn’t. Something has happened to her. I know it deep in my gut.” She watched tears form in Anne’s eyes.
“When did you last see her?”
“Two nights ago. The matron called her downstairs and she never came back. When I asked where she was, I got told she’d run away. I said she never would have left me behind and that they needed to look for her. But Matron threatened me with the cellar.”
Helen hated to ask but…“What’s the cellar?”
She saw Anne shudder. “The small children call it the dungeon. It’s a room no bigger than a coffin, down in the cellar. There is no light, no food or bedding. It’s damp and cold and when you fall asleep from exhaustion the rats come nibbling.”
Helen barely kept the horror from her face. “Have you been in the cellar?”
Anne shook her head. “We do everything they tell us in fear of the cellar.”
She briefly closed her eyes. She hoped Mr. Glover rotted in hell for this.
“Please can you help me find her? She must be alone and so scared.” With that Anne burst into tears.
“Don’t cry, darling. I will talk with Mr. Homeward and Mrs. Thorn and see what we can learn.” Helen thought of the crossed out names on the orphan list and someone walked down her spine in big boots.
It was almost ten o’clock at night when Mrs. Thorn came to find her. Helen had stayed in the girls’ dormitory until the children had slipped into clean, warm beds and fallen asleep. It didn’t take long. For the first time in a long while they were warm, their bellies had food, and they were exhausted from the cleaning and lack of food and sleep. The doctor had done all he could for the children.
“I’ve made you a late supper. Mr. Homeward insists you come and eat something. Mary has returned too and is seeing to an extra cot being brought into your room.”
She nodded at the new matron who was staying with the girls. They had replaced the naked candles with lanterns to offer more protection from fire. A single light still glowed in the dorm to chase away the younger ones’ nightmares.
Helen knew nothing would ever chase away the nightmare of this day.
—
Clary let his anger rollick and kick deep in his gut. He had to let it out somehow and so he went outside, stripped off his jacket, and began chopping more kindling. This inspection was worse than anything he’d seen before.
Sometimes he thought Angelo’s had not been the worst thing that could have happened to him.
Once he’d chopped enough to make his anger dissipate, he straightened his shirt and donned his jacket, making sure his key was safe. Then, needing warmth, he had made his way back into the study he’d set up in Glover’s old office.
He’d drunk almost a full glass of brandy when the door opened and Lady Helen entered; he could see distress written on her face. Her eyes no longer shone with hope and light, and her face was not smiling as it usually was. He hated that he’d taken the joy from her life.
“You look as tired as I feel,” she uttered on a wan smile. She took a chair at the small table near a now roaring fire, and he passed her a glass of wine he had just poured for her. “Is every orphanage my sister acquires this bad?”
“No. I’m sorry but you have been inducted into a particularly horrid one.”
“This is probably the first night the children have been remotely warm. A fire is in the grate of the dorm, and they have plenty of bedding and hot food in their bellies. Speaking of food, I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast, except the toast Mrs. Thorn made me,” and she reached for the plate of sliced roast chicken.
“I have made Mr. Hamilton, the new master, board up the glassless windows. Replacement glass may take a few weeks to be delivered.” He’d never envied a piece of chicken more as he watched her pop the succulent meat in her mouth.
