Page 19 of A Most Unlikely Lady
‘No one is truly deserving of love. And we are also all deserving. It is one of life’s greatest dichotomies.’
‘Does this mean you forgive me, Philippa?’ He would never forgive himself, but to earn Philippa’s exoneration was a boon he never expected. Hope was a dangerous light as apt to burn as illuminate.
Philippa speared him with one of her more effective stares. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Edward. Protect Ivy. Find this man and discover his purpose. Ensure this has nothing to do with the Devil’s Sons. Do for Ivy what neither of us could do forher. Then we shall talk of forgiveness.’
* * *
During Ivy’s restricted activities as a proper lady of the beau monde, time moved at a painfully slow pace. She could only needlepoint cushions, paint plates, and practise the pianoforte – an instrument for which she held no talent – for so long before her brain started leaking out of her ears. But she was swiftly learning this was not the case for working men and women.
The afternoon and early evening flew by in a rush of activity. Upon Commissioner Worthington’s departure, the children were released into the yard to partake of the beautiful summer sun and fresh air for an hour. As headmistress, Ivy was in charge of supervising them, and she found the task equal parts entertaining and exasperating. After the seventeenth time reminding young Billy Banks it wasn’t polite to tug on Margaret O’Hara’s hair, no matter how red it might be, she was more than ready for the children to return to the house and work on various household chores.
She spied Sarah Turner standing next to a bedraggled hydrangea bush and wandered over to check on the girl.
‘Hullo, Sarah. Are you well?’
Sarah had a book pressed tightly against her chest and a doll tucked under her right arm. The dolly was missing most of its hair and someone had drawn eyes where buttons were once sewn. It looked like a terrifying rendition of an infant.
‘Err, that is a lovely little doll you have. Has she a name?’
Sarah shrugged. ‘She’s not real, Miss Cavendale. There’s no point in giving her a name.’
Ivy thought of the kitten doubtlessly sleeping on her pillow at that very moment. As it was real, she really must find a name for the ball of fluff. ‘Sometimes, we pretend things are true to practise what it might be like when they become reality.’
Sarah’s light-brown eyebrows pulled low over her grey eyes. ‘That doesn’t make any sense, Miss Cavendale.’
Because I have no idea what I’m saying, Sarah.
‘Why aren’t you playing with some of the other girls?’
Sarah hugged her book tighter. ‘I’m too old to play, Miss Cavendale.’
Ivy’s heart cracked as she put a tentative hand on Sarah’s arm and squeezed. No child should feel too old to play. ‘Not even for a bit? Perhaps we could play a game together. When I was young, I used to love to look at the clouds and come up with creatures they might be, adventures they were having in their cloud kingdoms. Will you try with me?’
Sarah squinted at the sky dubiously. ‘That sounds silly.’
Ivy smiled at the girl. ‘A little silly doesn’t harm anyone. Come on.’
Biting her lip, Sarah looked up once more. ‘Well… I suppose that one looks a little bit like a rabbit, but with wings.’
‘Ohh, a flying rabbit. And where do you think he’s off to?’
‘She,’ Sarah corrected.
Ivy nodded. ‘Right. Of course. Where do you thinksheis off to?’
They discussed the adventures of the flying rabbit until Ivy realised it was long past time the children returned to the house and started on their chores.
With the help of Sarah, Ivy ensured each little person had a task they were capable of completing. Some assisted with laundry, others cleaned the large home, and several helped the cook prepare the evening meal. Henry, a few of the older boys, and one little girl with adorable blonde pigtails worked in the yard with the lone gardener they could afford to employ.
The favourite jobs were rotated amongst the children along with the less enjoyable tasks. While Ivy was new to supervising, Olivia had assured her the children understood the system and only needed monitoring. Remarkably, it all went rather well.
When Olivia came to Ivy with the idea of running the orphanage, both women were of a like mind. They wished All Souls to operate differently than other institutions. Education and training were top priorities. Finding apprenticeships or positions in a field of interest for the children was the main goal of the Committee of Concerned Ladies for Community Betterment. To this end, the morning hours were spent educating the younger children while the older boys and girls attended apprenticeships. The afternoons were devoted to healthful physical activities and chores, and the evening was meant for resting and reflection. The children seemed to appreciate the opportunities they were given and completed their chores with minimal squabbles.
Ivy wondered if shooting a man on her first day of work might have been a useful strategy for earning some respect. The few times she needed to intervene in an argument or scuffle, a sharp look and a few reminders of how respectful young men and women should behave seemed to silence the children into wide-eyed obedience. She didn’t think it was her commanding presence that inspired such immediate positive responses, but she wasn’t going to question her good luck.
In the midst of it all, Ivy was able to help Henry and his bunkmate in room ten move their few belongings into room nine. His doe-eyed devotion to Ivy worried her a bit, but he wouldn’t hear a whisper of complaint from his friend which made the transition much smoother than Ivy anticipated.
Evening arrived in a mad rush of young people flurrying from task to task. Their supper included a lively cacophony of young voices, clattering plates and spoons, and the satisfying exhaustion resulting from a day of productivity. Ivy wasn’t sure she’d ever felt such contentment. Until she remembered their new house guest would be arriving sometime that night.
