Victorian Romance: The Orphan’s Christmas Eve (A Family Saga Novel)

By Dorothy Green

When you're poor, young, and beautiful… London is your enemy.

Anna Lowry is orphaned young and quickly learns that life is cruel.

On a bitterly cold Christmas Eve, her employer rips her clothes and assaults her.

When his wife comes home, Anna is the one who takes the blame.

But worse is yet to come…

And it comes in the form of a dashing and untrustworthy rogue.

James March.

He makes her feel safe.

She should have known it was a lie.

Anna finds herself at La Sirene.

A brothel.

Anna never thought she'd find comfort working as a maid in a brothel.

But it is better than what the other girls have to do.

But one day…

When the new owner sees her youth and beauty… Anna knows she is in danger.

She will need to escape.

Alone and afraid, she heads north.

But you're never really alone…

James March is back.

He frightens her.

He intrigues her.

And he wants her to the point of madness.

What scares Anna most is that she wants him, too.

But can an orphaned maid find true happiness with a man so different from her, especially at Christmas?

And can she ever feel safe with him if she does?

When you're poor, young, and beautiful… London is your enemy.

Anna Lowry is orphaned young and quickly learns that life is cruel.

On a bitterly cold Christmas Eve, her employer rips her clothes and assaults her.

When his wife comes home, Anna is the one who takes the blame.

But worse is yet to come…

And it comes in the form of a dashing and untrustworthy rogue.

James March.

He makes her feel safe.

She should have known it was a lie.

Anna finds herself at La Sirene.

A brothel.

Anna never thought she'd find comfort working as a maid in a brothel.

But it is better than what the other girls have to do.

But one day…

When the new owner sees her youth and beauty… Anna knows she is in danger.

She will need to escape.

Alone and afraid, she heads north.

But you're never really alone…

James March is back.

He frightens her.

He intrigues her.

And he wants her to the point of madness.

What scares Anna most is that she wants him, too.

But can an orphaned maid find true happiness with a man so different from her, especially at Christmas?

And can she ever feel safe with him if she does?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorothy Green
• Release date: Feb 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393313953

Dorothy Green

Dorothy’s writings advocate the strength of a woman, within and without. The women in her writings help to bring about restoration and hope towards the poverty and struggles that they are in. At the same time, these women play a virtuous role in their strength as they progressed in their life journey.  It is Dorothy’s hope that through her stories, the readers can find meaning and strength amongst a like-minded community, and to believe that love still exists and that one should never give up waiting and seeking love. Dorothy lives in Bolton with her husband and their beloved dogs.

Book preview

prologue

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1845, North of London

The coach shook like a ship at sea, and Anna Lowry closed her eyes tight. The baize window cover was far from adequate to keep out the sleeting rain, and Anna was drenched along one side of her serviceable gray coat. The water had been coming inside in drips and dribbles all day, but now the sleeting rain was coming in with a vengeance. From time to time, lightning lit up the sky as if it were daylight, and Anna couldn't help but wonder if it really was the end of the world, and she was doomed to meet her Maker in the company of an irascible coach driver and the disreputable people who had been packed into the coach with her back in Lincoln.

She tried to remember the prayers her mother had taught her when she was young, but thinking about those familiar prayers made her think of her mother, and then it made her think of her mother's funeral just four months ago.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and Anna shut them fiercely. She would not cry. She would not. She was fifteen years old. She was on her way into service, and she would be a credit to her father and her mother's memory. She was not going to simply start weeping like a babe with a skinned knee.

Two hard fingers prodded her in the side, and she jumped, staring at the man who was sitting next to her. He didn't smell of alcohol, the way the elderly alderman who sat across from her did, but he was hardly any better. The man sitting next to her smiled, but there was a flint hardness to him that made her uneasy. If she could have melted into the side of the coach, she would have.

Yes?

You look cold, girly.

Er. I'm fine, thank you.

Nah, you look cold. How about if I help you out with that?

She shook her head, but he was already rustling in his bag, a cavernous thing he had kept in his lap all the way from Lincoln.

Let's see, I know that I have something in here that will cheer a pretty girl like you up...

At last, he came free with a tin flask, and he pressed it against her hand until she took it.

Now drink up, dolly. It'll make you feel warm and good inside, or my name ain't Jack.

Anna was suddenly convinced of two things. The first was that she did not want to drink whatever was in the flask, and the second was that the man's name, whatever it was, was certainly not Jack.

Her mother's admonition to be gentle and courteous rang in her ears, and she thought perhaps she could get away with simply taking a little sip, just a tiny one, and then go back to her solitude, but then she realized that every eye in the carriage was staring at her. She was packed in there with an innkeeper from Lincoln, a grandmother, an alderman, two farmers from Derby, and the man sitting next to her. The grandmother snored away, but the others were all watching her, obviously or covertly, as she sat with the flask in her hand.

I don't want it, she stammered, and she tried to hand it back, but the man wouldn't take it.

Here, now, what's the matter with my drink? I ain't some kind of bastard or bully man, you know. You got no call to be acting so high and mighty, dolly, let me tell you that. You're going to London, and they don't like those as put on airs.

Anna almost gave in, but then she found that something in her refused to bend to this man's tirade. Instead, she smiled, and as she did so, she brought the edge of the flask down hard on the man's hand, making him yelp.

I don't want any, she repeated, laying the flask on his leg.

For a moment, from the look of utter fury on his face, she thought he was going to strike her, but then the entire world listed hard to one side, and then it rolled around.

The people in the carriage shouted with fear, Anna was thrown hard against the side of the carriage, and then to her relief, it rocked the other way, far too hard. The man who had been forcing the drink on her toppled against her, and then she toppled against him, and suddenly. Anna felt as if she were ten and tumbling down a hill, the motion making her feel nauseated and terrified all at once.

It probably only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed to take an eternity before they were settled, the carriage on its side and the horses screaming beyond.

I have to get out of here. I cannot be in this place a moment longer.

The other people in the carriage were shouting and still trying to figure out what was going on, but Anna recovered her wits quickly. The coach had been toppled so that the door was directly above her. Taking a firm grasp on her small linen bundle, which contained everything she owned in the world, she lifted the handle and gave it a hefty shove with her shoulder. It meant bracing herself on what felt like it might have been her seatmate's ribs, but she was not going to be so very worried about that. She ignored his muffled curse, threw her bag out the door, and then followed by levering herself up on the step and then over.

For a moment, she stood on the carriage and surveyed the damage. The rain had slowed enough for her to see where they had slid off the road. One poor horse was down on its side and screaming, and two others had been cut from their traces and pulled away. The coachman and his guard were busy extricating the screaming horse's mate from its side, and she could see that they weren't going to be much help.

Carefully, using the straps that were meant to secure luggage to the top of the coach, Anna climbed down the coach to the ground. She could feel one of the whalebones in her corset stab her under the armpit and winced. Hopefully, she could beg a little bit of thread from her new mistress to repair it.

When she was finally on the ground, the men had gotten the healthy horses separated. With a grim look, the guard drew his gun to deal with the one who was down. Anna averted her eyes and hurried over to the coachman.

Excuse me, sir, but when will they send another coach for us? Her stomach roiled to be speaking with a stranger so familiarly, but she was far away from home, and there was no help for it.

He glared at her as if it were her fault that all of this had happened, but then shook his head.

They ain't.

What do you mean?

He nodded down the road.

The station's just a few miles that way. Hoof it, because we're not taking you farther.

Anna wanted to shout at the unfairness of it all, but she knew that the man was right and that she wouldn't even be getting a fraction of her fare back for her trouble.

Instead, she started walking, because the last thing she wanted was to walk for however many miles with the men she had been riding with by her side.

It was almost six o'clock when she made it to the rail station. The rain had let off, finally, but she was soaked to the skin, and she felt about as presentable as a drowned rat. She had felt another rib of her corset poking through, her blond hair was falling out of its plait, and she was so tired she could sit down and weep.

At this rate, Mrs. Fawly is going to take one look at me and tell me she wouldn't have me in her parish, let alone her house as her maid

Miracle of miracles, however, Mrs. Fawly did no such thing.

Anna's new mistress turned out to be a motherly woman, prematurely gray, thin but with a kindly look on her drawn face.

Well, look at you, poor thing. Come on. I've hired a coach to take us back to the house, and Cook will have something you can nibble on. A bath will be required, of course, and tomorrow is time enough for you to start learning your new duties.

Her employer's kindness was so overwhelming that Anna felt a few tears trickle down her face even as she fell into step. The walk in the storm and the threat of the men in the coach hadn't broken her, but Mrs. Fawly's kindness almost did.

As she walked away from the receiving station with her mistress, Anna felt her spirits lift up, just a tiny bit.

Well, London, here I am...

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chapter

0 1

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Anna felt the smallest fingernail on her right hand tear as she clawed the door open. In the room behind her, Mr. Fawly was leveraging himself off the floor, his face still red, but angry instead of consumed with sly lust. As terrible as he looked right now, Anna thought, somewhat hysterically, she much preferred him in pain to looking at her with that terrible expression in his eyes.

The problem was, after kneeing him between the legs, he had fallen right between her and the door. As close as the guest bedroom was, there was no way to get around him easily, and Anna felt as if she were being hammered with panic and fear

Have to get away, have to get away from him, have to get away!

She lunged for the first door that came to hand, and that was the door to the wardrobe in the corner. It was empty except for a few old shifts hanging up in the back. Anna pulled the door closed and in a moment of panicked enterprise, jammed the hook of one of the steel hangers through the locking mechanism.

She got the door closed and the lock jammed just in time. The next moment, Mr. Fawly was up and pounding on the door. She tensed for a few moments because she was certain that the lock would not hold, but then she relaxed when the door rattled but did not give.

Come out of there right this moment, Anna! I didn't do anything to you.

That wasn't true at all. Anna shuddered when she thought of how he had cornered her as she dusted the guest bedroom, how he had used his bulk to push her against the wall, how his hands had dipped down to pull her dark skirts up. There was one skin-crawling moment when she had actually felt his hand sliding up her bare thigh above her garters, and then memory had kicked in.

Her mother would have died with shame at the idea of her daughter needing to defend herself in that situation, but Mary, who was two years older and lived down the lane, had been blunt about what the world was like.

If a boy comes too close, and he's squared up to you, like this, what you do is you lift your knee up as fast as you can, like you're aiming for his head, right? Don't hesitate, because he sure as heck ain't going to.

At the time, Anna had giggled nervously like the rest of the girls at the knowledge, but now she was grateful for it. She had lifted her knee up hard, and the sound that Mr. Fawly made when he toppled was immensely satisfying.

Then came the horror and the panic, and now she was sitting in the bottom of the wardrobe while her employer was shaking the entire thing in a fury.

You can't stay in there forever, Anna! Come out! If you don't, I'll see you thrashed in front of the entire household before we turn you out.

That might have been true, but there was still no way she was going to come out and get within reach of his big and meaty hands

I'm not coming out until Mrs. Fawly comes home, Anna responded, her voice shaking but firm.

Mrs. Fawly, sweet and kind Mrs. Fawly, would understand. She had treated Anna nearly like a daughter since she'd come to the little house on Walther Street. She wouldn't allow this. She would never.

Anna allowed herself to imagine Mrs. Fawly taking Mr. Fawly by the hair like a woman in a street play, shouting at him in the street and telling him not to come back until he was sorry. Outside the wardrobe, Mr. Fawly had changed tactics. He wasn't trying to break down the door again, for which she was grateful, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle.

This has all been a misunderstanding, Anna. Come out. We can talk about it. It's Christmas, after all. You need to come out. You don't want to spoil the holiday for everyone, do you?

Anna was suddenly exhausted. She was tempted to do what he said. Holidays back in Lincoln had been humble affairs, with paper chains strung around the house and pine boughs that still smelled of sap hung over the hearth and the lintels, but it was her favorite time of year. The Fawlys were not terribly wealthy, but she was still in awe of the glass decorations hung up in the parlor, the scent of mulled cider that was set aside for the servants on Saturday night, and the tall gilt cards that sat on the lintel. It was like Christmas in Fairyland and even if it wasn't her place, she loved it so,

She sat on the hard floor of the wardrobe, and her hand drifted up to the hanger stuck in the latch. Surely, it was all a misunderstanding. Mr. Fawly was a popular and respected man on his street. It was just a mistake.

She was just getting ready to open the door when Mr. Fawly's voice came again, this time lower and with a note to it that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

There's nothing wrong with what I want with you, Anna. You don't have to be ashamed. I saw you looking at me, at dinner, when you're cleaning in my study. Come out. I'll buy you a ribbon for your hair; wouldn't that be nice? You're a lovely girl; you're growing up so well. It's not my fault I can't stop looking at you, darling...

Anna nearly choked on the horror she felt at the words. Mr. Fawly was more than three times her age, and the idea of him speaking to her like the young men on the Strand talked to their sweethearts made her feel ill.

Leave me alone, she managed to choke out. Please. Please. I want Mrs. Fawly.

What followed was a storm of swearing so violent that Anna had to cover her ears, and a final resounding kick that she was surprised didn't batter the door down. Then she heard Mr. Fawly's stomping footsteps and a slam of the door, and she went nearly limp with relief. He was gone, and it felt as if she finally had enough room to breathe again.

Her hand went up to the latch. She could go wash her face and straighten her clothes. Her chores were done, and no one would think it strange that she had gone to lie down in her room for a bit until dinner...

Then something tickled at the back of her neck, and she settled down in the wardrobe again. She told herself that she was being silly, but still, she let the seconds tick by. In her head, Anna started to sing Sweet Molly Caroline, which she had learned from the delivery boy last week. She had only gotten to the second round of the chorus when she heard a muttered swear from the other side of the door, and then softer footsteps leaving.

Anna hugged herself hard, trying to stop herself from shaking.

He's the devil, she thought dully, but she banished the thought of her employer by focusing on his wife.

Ever since the day five months ago when Anna had arrived looking like a drowned rat at the station, Mrs. Fawly had been her savior. She was the one who had made sure that Anna had a bath and a clean dark blue dress to change in to. She was the one who had taken her to the attic and shown her the room that was to be all hers. A room alone: it was a luxury that Anna had never known, not when she and her mother lived in their rented room in Lincoln, and not at the workhouse later on either, where she had shared with two other girls.

The Fawly house was like a wonder to her, even as she was slowly learning that it was quite humble in the grand scheme of things. London was one of the wealthiest cities in the world, and it showed. Once a month, Anna had a day to wander the city exactly as she pleased, to take in the street shows and perhaps even to buy a bit of candy with the small bit of pocket money Mrs. Fawly sometimes smuggled to her.

You're such a young thing, you ought to have some small pleasures, no matter what the ministers say, said Mrs. Fawly with a wink, and Anna felt herself to be quite the luckiest girl in the world on those occasions.

It was to be her first Christmas with the Fawlys, and Cook, and Peter, who they kept to act as footman and valet to Mr. Fawly both. She’d been told that the Fawlys always gave their staff new clothes and a small bonus on Christmas day.

Earlier in the day, all Anna had been thinking of was how it was Christmas Eve, and how when Mrs. Fawly came home from her calls, they would serve dinner and then the servants would have their own celebration below stairs. Now, things were different. Everything felt broken, and Anna hung on to the thought that Mrs. Fawly could mend it.

At some point, she must have fallen asleep. Anna suddenly opened her eyes in the darkness of the wardrobe, stiff and sore from being tucked into a protective little ball for what felt like hours. There was a tapping at the wardrobe door, gentle but firm.

Anna? Come out, please.

Relief flooded through Anna's frame when she recognized the voice. Her hands shook, but she tore the hanger out of the latch, letting the door fall open.

Mrs. Fawly was still dressed in her navy walking dress, and the look on her sweet face was unreadable.

"Mrs. Fawly?

Come to my parlor please, Anna.

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chapter

0 2

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Mrs. Fawly's parlor was her own private domain. As far as Anna knew, Mr. Fawly never entered, and though they entertained together in the main parlor, Mrs. Fawly’s parlor was where she saw her own guests, women she had known as girls in school, ladies from the aid society, and others.

Anna had always been proud to keep it tidy, and even now, when her feelings were all in a whirl, she was comforted by the little glass baubles that lined the mantle and the sight of the tea cart set neatly to one side with its assortment of fragile china. Dusting Mrs. Fawly's china every week was one of Anna's favorite chores, seeing the sleek white surfaces come up shiny and gorgeous.

Mrs. Fawly took her accustomed seat in her velvet chair, and she looked at Anna with a sorrowful expression on her face.

Anna, what in the world were you thinking?

The words were so unexpected that Anna only stared at Mrs. Fawly at first. She almost said that she had been thinking many things, but they were mostly all about how frightened she was, how angry and how upset.

Ma'am? I don't know—

I came home, and my husband told me all about it. Honestly, girl, what was going through your mind? How in the world did you think you would get away with seducing the master of the house?

Anna felt a tide of horror wash over her. For a moment, it went right over her head, and she couldn't speak. Even when she found her voice, it was small and frightened.

Ma'am, no, I didn't...

You needn't lie to me, Anna. My goodness, how I trusted you! I come home from the ladies' aid society meeting ready for a pleasant Christmas Eve, and my husband comes to me, telling me that my own maid cornered him in the guest bedroom, and tells him she'll do all sorts of indecent things for a gold ribbon.

Mrs. Fawly speared Anna with a dark look.

I remember you saying how much you loved the look of that gold ribbon. I do remember that.

Anna's heart sunk. She had said that she loved the look of a shop girl’s ribbon last week while she was out with the Fawlys and carrying their packages. Mrs. Fawly had heard, and apparently, so had Mr. Fawly.

Ma'am, please... no. That's not what happened.

So, it was a lie that when my husband repudiated you, you fell into some kind of fit and locked yourself in the wardrobe? He said that you were claiming all sorts of wild things, that you wanted to break up our marriage, and that you would tell me that he had tried to assault you.

Yes! Yes, it is all a lie, and he trapped me in the—

Mrs. Fawly moved so quickly that Anna barely saw her. In a moment, she was standing in front of Anna, and she slapped her so hard it sounded like a pistol shot that echoed in the room. Anna felt nothing at first, and then her left cheek bloomed with a fiery sting.

Mrs. Fawly!

"Don't say another word! To