Pure Innocence: The Extraordinary Life of Amy Winston, #1

By Liza O'Connor

For some, Amy is an angel incarnate; for others, she is the child of Satan. In her early years, Amy learns the skills of a soldier and discovers she can heal with the touch of her hand. Upon the death of her beloved Uncle John, he stays as a protective ghost to assist the soldiers in their vigilant efforts to keep her safe.

Never has a girl arrived at Madam Cousec's School for Young Ladies with more charm, more friends, or greater protection. She'll need them all to survive the head girl and set her future in motion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Authors Online
• Release date: Apr 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386134497

Liza O'Connor

   Liza lives in Denville, NJ with her dog Jess. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small Cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels. She loves to create interesting characters, set them loose, and scribe what happens in a myriad of genres. http://www.lizaoconnor.com/   

Book preview

Chapter 1

England, 1815

General John Winston, the Earl of Soundberry, spotted a young woman at the edge of the sea cliffs and pulled his horse to a halt. She was in grave danger. The sea had eroded the entire section of coastline and the ground could collapse into the sea at any time.

Dom. He waited for his groomsman to ride forward. Is that a servant of mine? Mrs. Cole was instructed to forbid them from walking near the edge.

Dom squinted and studied the young woman. It looks to be Amy Goodheart, sir. Mrs. Cole wouldn’t hire the likes of her.

Well, what the hell is she doing here? He nudged his horse towards her.

Dom reached out and stopped him. You might want to approach easy, sir. I’ve heard she’s a bit touched in the head, since her family cast her out. She might just take that baby and herself right over the edge. In fact, I’m thinking that’s what she’s come here to do.

John glanced back at the squad of soldiers who followed behind. They well could terrify a young girl. He instructed all the men except for Dom to move further back to the tree line.

As John walked closer, he could see she was but a child, probably no more than fifteen. The way she paced back and forth on the very edge made him fear Dom was right about her intentions. What else do you know of her, Dom?

That babe ain’t mine, sir.

I wasn’t implying anything of the sort. Just tell me what you know of the girl. It may help me calm her down and get her away from the ledge.

Well, she’s...or she was...the butcher’s daughter, until she just up and had a baby last week. Took everyone by surprise, for she seemed so innocent. She claimed she’d never been with a man and could not account for how the baby got in her. Since she wouldn’t name the father, and no one stepped up, Mr. Goodheart tossed her out.

When was that?

Four days ago, I reckon. The townspeople have been shooing her away. She might have come out here just to be alone.

No, Dom, I think your first guess was more accurate. She’s trying to gather the courage to end her life. And Dom, if you ever hear of a poor child being tossed out of their house in the future, I am to be told immediately, do you understand?

Yes, sir.

John shook his head. To send a child from her home, where she would certainly come to harm, was inconceivable to John. He stopped about twenty feet before her. You stay here, Dom.

Begging your pardon, sir, but you should stay here as well. That edge could go anytime.

Recognizing the truth of that observation, he gave the situation further consideration. Do you think she will come to me if I call her by name?

Nay, she’s afraid of people—what with all the stones being thrown at her. You’re more likely to make her leap.

He dismounted his horse. Ride back to the squad, gather up all the rope we have and bring me water and the remaining cooked hen from this morning. He could see Dom thought his instructions a bit daft, but the man didn’t waste time questioning him. He just obeyed them.

John tethered his horse’s reins around the pointy spike of a shale rock jutting from the surface like the angry teeth of a wild beast. He knew only last month, when he had returned for a few days, that rock had laid flat beneath the ground. From this point forward, the ground had already sunk a solid foot and the whole edge could go in a moment’s notice.

He frowned at the thought of the rock yanking his fine stallion over the edge by its rein. He untied the reins from the rock and stroked his horse. I trust you to stay where I need you.

The horse whinnied softly, almost as if it was giving his assurances in return.

John turned his attention back to the girl. Her dark hair was wild and matted. In the center of the mats was dried caked blood. No doubt from the stones the townspeople threw.

The girl spoke rapidly in a shrill voice, declaring she was bad, evil, the devil’s whore, and to go away, go away, go away.

He suspected the voice was not hers but a mimic of the people who had said these cruel words. Suddenly, her voice dropped lower in a mimic of a man and she quoted dark bible passages about casting out demons.

Dear God, was it possible these were her parents’ words?

Tell me the name, tell me the name, damn you! the voice bellowed.

Finally, he heard the girl’s own voice. The pain and misery it held tore at his old battle-weary heart.

There is no name, she cried. There was no man. Only a dream while I rested on the banks.

Then it’s the seed of Satan and it’ll not be raised in my house! her voice deepened and bellowed

Inside the bundle of cloth, she held tight to her chest, a baby’s wail rose, almost as if in protest to her words. The baby’s cry startled her and for one terrible moment, John feared she would toss the child over the edge.

Then her madness dissipated, and she transformed into a young mother fretting over her new child, soothing it with soft words, as she sat down upon the ground. She opened her filthy torn blouse and placed the baby upon her right breast, rocking the child softly while it nursed. Her face held love and adoration for her helpless infant.

John knew he must save this young girl and her baby. She was not yet lost to madness.

A snort from his horse made her turn and look at him. Her eyes filled first with confusion and then terror.

John sat down upon the ground, so he would look less threatening. I mean you no harm. He spoke in the soft voice he used to calm war-panicked horses. His words came slow, in gentle tones, letting them sink in through her fear.

She hugged her child harder and rocked faster, but she did not try to run away.

I want to help you. I can see you are hurt and afraid. You are probably hungry as well. I can give you shelter and food, see your wounds are tended and provide clean clothes for the baby and you.

Upon comprehending his words, she burst into a torrid of tears and sobs that shook her body so hard he feared she would trigger the collapse of the entire cliff.

Please don’t cry, he begged. The ground you are upon is unstable. I need you to be very, very still until my man returns with the ropes, so that I may rescue you. Will you do that for me? Will you be very still?

She stopped crying and stared at him. Why do you want to help me?

Because you need my assistance. I can see you are all alone and desperately in need of help.

I am, but you will not help me—not once you have learned what I have done.

I know that you’ve had a child and were tossed from your home because you would not name the father.

I could not name him. There is no father. I have lain with no man. There was only a dream, a wonderful dream of a handsome prince on a white stallion. He declared me the most beautiful lady he had ever seen, and he kissed me and made my body burn with fire. Then I woke up from my shady spot on the banks and I was alone as always. It was the devil, you see. He came to me in my dreams.

She began to rock again as she held her baby tight against her chest. That is why you will not help me—because of the dream. I am the whore of Satan and this child is his spawn.

He feared he’d soon lose her to madness.

Amy, I don’t think that is true. You are too sweet to be the whore of Satan. Your child is too good-natured to be his seed.

She looked up at him in shock and stopped rocking. She is very good-natured and so very beautiful. But what other reason might there be?

Amy, I believe the man in your dreams was real. He must have come to you while you slept and lay with you while he distracted you with kisses and sweet words. Can you remember more about his features? For example, what was the color of his hair?

The color of yours, she said. When I first saw you, I thought you were the man in my dream, and you had come to rescue me. But you are not him.

No, I am not. But I do want to rescue you.

She studied him. His face was smoother than yours and his eyes sparkled blue. And there was a tiny mole on the edge of his mouth.

Her words stopped his heart. Dear God, she was describing his younger brother, Alexander. Yet, that was impossible. Alexander had died in battle eight months ago and before that, he had remained in London.

A cold sweat swept John’s body. He recalled his butler had mentioned Alexander had stopped in for a moment to change clothes on his ride from Edinburgh to London. That his brother could spare the time to stop and change a pair of grass-stained trousers but could not wait another ten minutes for his brother to return from a visit to the tenants, had annoyed him greatly. If he recalled correctly, that happened about a month before Alex bought a commission and proceeded to get himself killed on the first day of battle.

Dom’s return interrupted his thoughts. He could see the man’s arrival frightened her.

It’s all right, Amy. It’s just Dom bringing me rope so I can come rescue you.

You don’t need the rope, I can come to you. She stood up and walked towards him.

Amy, no! Stay where you are, the ground could give way, John exclaimed as he pulled the rope about his legs and waist, creating a window-washer’s rope-seat. Even as he secured the makeshift seat, he knew it was already too late. He could see the ground sinking. Amy run to me! he screamed and held out his hands.

Amy remained frozen in confusion and fear as she watched the solid ground beneath her feet inexplicably fall away. She looked at her baby, and then looked at John, standing on the new edge of the cliff five feet away. With all her might, she threw the bundle of baby and cloth towards him before disappearing in the cloud of dust and rocks falling into the sea.

Not only had he lost Amy, but the girl’s toss of the child was not sufficient. John dove from the cliff and grabbed the bundle firm against his chest praying to God that Dom had the sense to secure the other end of the rope to Samson or a tree. If not, he’d as likely pull the fellow over and carry them all to their death.

As he continued to fall, he feared Dom had not secured the rope at all. A second later, the rope bit painfully into the back of his legs and gut. Before he could recover, his back slammed into the new side of the cliff. The blow knocked the wind out of him so hard that he almost dropped the bundle in his arms.

Despite his excruciating pain, his focus remained on the child. It was too quiet. He feared he had crushed the child to death or let it slip out, and even now, it hurtled its way down into the sea below.

He heard the former cliff crash into the sea. He could almost sense the moment of Amy’s death and felt a pain rip through his heart. It seemed as if all the angels in heaven cried in a great wail and the sound was not only heart wrenching, but downright painful to his ears. The wailing continued even as Dom and others pulled him onto firm ground.

It was not until he heard Dom yelling over the noise to hand ’er to me that he realized the wailing was from the bundled baby in his arms.

They helped him up and moved him further from the cliff. Yet when they attempted to examine him for injuries, he refused, demanding the child instead.

Seeing that Gunter held the child in his large powerful hands, John frowned. As a Colonel, he had always appreciated the skill in which Gunter could kill the enemy. However, Gunter’s enjoyment in killing had always left John a bit unnerved.

Bring her to me Gunter, he said. And be careful, she is very young.

Aye, that she is. But a wee thing. Won’t live much longer if ye don’t get her the milk of a woman and the warmth of a bath.

Had he not seen the concern in Gunter’s eyes, he might have thought the old Irishman was looking forward to the child’s death from the casual lilt in his voice.

When Gunter placed the child in his arms, the tiny baby opened her eyes and appeared to smile at him before falling back to sleep. John sensed this wasn’t a sleep of peace but one of starvation. While he had seen Amy try to feed her baby, it was possible her own lack of sustenance had dried up her milk.

He barked off orders for Dom to find Able’s wife. She had a baby of nine months. She could provide milk