Of Orphans and Angels

By Patricia Kirwin

Of Orphans and Angels is a uniquely written romantic work, which combines three separate and distinct stories within one common theme. The theme is one of an orphan who by contact with circumstance, need, and the aristocratic society of the time is given the opportunity to ascend the heights of social and material success.

All of the central characters, Hannah, Allecia, and Lainey depict love and sadness, tragedy and elation. The struggle of the individual to prevail over adversity and the hard coldness of realities worst is what all three of the leading ladies' characters project.

Woven intrinsically into the fiber of each story is the moral dilemma of wealth, dignity and social station versus poverty, faith and societies bare essentials. The victor being that of the individuals own faith and tenacity to overcome the power and false illusion of wealth.

Set in various localities from England to America from Canada to Switzerland, the excitement of the varied settings is eclipsed by the unexhausted valor and self-actualization of the varied heroines. You will love Hannah, wonder about Lainey and be totally mystified by Allecia.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465304681

Patricia Kirwin

A published author of ten historical fiction and romance novels, Patricia Kirwin was born in Windsor, Ontario Canada. She came to the U. S. at the age of twenty – five and is a proud American. She had lived with family in Taranto, Italy : Ishmir, Turkey and Bern, Switzerland. She is a retired registered nurse.

Book preview

CHAPTER I

THE ORPHANS

London was bleak during the autumn of that year, and cold. By mid October most of the leaves had fallen and lay black and slimy up against the cornerstones of the old buildings where they had blown. During the month of November it rained nearly every day and inside the dampness never lifted. Sometimes the rain lashed out like the sudden violent screeching of a bitter old woman. Then again on other days it just hung there in the mist, the rain did, as though t had no gravity at all. There seemed to be no daylight then, but only an endless gray haze that lasted until nightfall.

The shelter was on Baker Street. There was no heat in the solarium and the echoing sounds of the children coughing was constant. They gave them heavy brown woolen blankets, but their bed sheets which were the color of tea with milk in it, and coarse as sacking, never dried out, so that the blankets did not protect them from the dampness and the rain continued. It swilled over the building and swirled against their windows until they could see nothing below, and hear only the rushing sounds it made roaring its way to the storm sewers. The year was 1860. Hannah was only eight years old.

Hannah awakened timidly. She looked at the clock. It was 2 A.M. quietly she reached for the coverlet to cover baby Molly but she was gone.

A yellow light slit through a crack in the door and trickled into the far end of the room where the older girls were sleeping. As the door slipped open, Hannah could see Mrs. Murray. There was a commotion going on out there. Mrs. Murray was crying. It was then at she saw the dark figure of a man standing in the shadows. He wore a black costume and was holding a plump bundle wrapped in a snow-white sheet. Mrs. Murray reached out her arms as though pleading with the man.

Ya mustn’t do this, lass, the man kept whispering, but he gave her the bundle anyway.

She kissed and caressed it and then did something quite curious. She began to rock the bundle in her arms and sing a lullaby, the one that baby Molly loved so much. It’s time now, the man said softly. Ya must give it me now, lass.

Her sobs grew louder then, and Hannah saw her make the sign of the cross and blow the wee bundle a kiss. Margaret Murray stood praying by the window for a long time before the wakeful child approached her. She did not see her at first, but when she felt her presence beside her, her expression became one of immediate concern.

Ah, my dear, wee child, she gasped, how long have you been awake? her soft Irish brougue became more pronounced when she was troubled.

Where is baby Molly? Hannah asked, her eyes wide and pleading. There was a long silent moment. She has gone to our father in Heaven, Hannah, where she will be very happy and never cry or be sick any more.

Will he keep her warm? Hannah asked.

"Ah, yes, just as you always did, too. He’ll keep her warm.

The sweet, clean scent of Margaret’s soft, young body soothed the child then, and she fell asleep in her mothering arms. When Hannah opened her eyes, she was nestled with Mrs. Murray in a big, overstuffed chair. The other girls were still sleeping.

Hannah would be taken out of her cot and placed in a separate shelf bed to sleep alone. That orphans needed to be cuddled was not considered, they didn’t believe in it then. Moreover, it might lead to sin.

Two days after Molly died, a nurse came to take Hannah to the sanitarium to be examined in the clinic. They didn’t tell her where she was going and she thought she was being punished. She cried, but the nurse wouldn’t speak to her. The hospital was a terrible, dark place full of strange sounds and moaning. A lady dressed in black received her, but she didn’t smile either, and Hannah was even more frightened of her. She had bulging blue eyes and scrutinized the child from head to toe before giving the command to follow me. They went through a round tunnel and up five shiny, black iron stairs into a narrow, cold room. A long, black leather examining table with drawers underneath it rested along the wall near the door. It was covered with a white sheet that had green stains on it. On a small table there were a few long, steel instruments sticking out of a flask that contained a clear liquid. A man with a dirty white coat came in and he examined Hannah as if she were not even present.

Am I going to die like Molly?

No… . no, I don’t think you will die. He said indifferently.

Hannah was taken to the isolation unit then left alone in a small narrow room with a long, bare leather cot in it. There was an air wick on the window sill with an antiseptic odor so powerful that it made Hannah vomit. The woman handed the child a tin basin and left. When Hannah stopped vomiting, she climbed up onto the cot, but the odor became stronger and stronger. She pulled up her frock to cover her nose and fell into a dangerous sleep. The air wick was labeled ETHER. Margaret Murray found the child nearly six hours later. The little girl had almost died. Margaret found out that Hannah had been taken there and she had come over from the shelter immediately after arriving for her shift.

We must not rule out diphtheria, the administrator said.

What! Diphtheria Margaret yelled out.

Yes, the man was indignant. We have good reason to believe the child who died was infected.

Preposterous, Margaret said, the child was a blue baby.

The man was outraged at her outburst.

I tell you I have served during an epidemic. I know the disease and it is not present here, she insisted.

Margaret Murray was never disciplined for her insubordinance, and never again was Ether used to disinfect the air in a child’s isolation room either.

Christmas time approached, and stories of long-lost parents began to surface. Longing turned to fantasy and the girls listened intently to each others dreams. On the eve of Christmas, a plump, lovely grandmother lingered about the orphanage for the whole afternoon. She brought sugar candies and plum pudding for the children. She singled out Hannah to be the recipient of most of her affection, and when she left, she cuddled and kissed her. I think she loves me, Hannah said to Elizabeth, her newfound friend, and after that, the lady often came to her in her dreams. The lady never returned but Hannah wrote a letter to her one day, and left it at the orphanage in case she ever did.

Mrs. Murray left when Hannah was nine years old, but Hannah never forgot her, or the night that baby Molly died.

Several years passed by. Hannah learned her lessons well and was not unhappy in the orphanage. She was never melancholic, as were so many of the others. It was not her nature to be sad, moreover, she was a caregiver by nature also, and the other girls more often than not turned to her for strength when life was particularly difficult for them. Hannah was fourteen when she first menstruated. The older girls told her what to do and gave a supply of soft white rags that they said she must wash out in private at the end of each day. She was issued a soft flannelette camisole to conceal her developing breasts but no one explained what was happening to her young body. On the other hand, sexuality was not discussed in a way that was base or unholy either. It was a time of innocence and even the orphans had dreams.

The only time the orphan boys and girls ever came together was on Sunday afternoon, after church, when they all marched over in line to the park.

Oddly enough they were allowed to play together quite at liberty until sunset. It was during one playtime that Hannah met Michael O’Neal. The day was nippy and Hannah, still a child at heart, had chased a boy named Jimmy to the crest of the knoll. She stumbled and very nearly fell on top of another boy who was lounging on the grass there. Whoa! he said as she fell. Her skirt blew up and revealed her pantaloons. She blushed when he smiled. Hi carrot curls, he said. He tried to help her up but she ran off without answering him.

That’s Michael O’Neal, Margaret Josephine said. All the girls are sweet on him. Hannah noticed him again the next Sunday and watched him scuffle through a game of kick-ball with his fellow orphan scholastics as they were called. These were the lads who would later be taken into the trades. He was indeed handsome and he did have magnificent eyes. At the end of the game, he walked directly towards the cheering spectators and Hannah felt herself blush. He spoke to Elaine first and pulled her plaits till she giggled. He did have a wonderful smile, and his thick curls were black flushed with the sport. He winked at her, grinned, and walked off with his pals. It was three weeks before she saw him again, and when she did her heart went wild with excitement. They talked until sunset. Hannah even told him of her grandmother dream.

We all have a mother and father. Michael said, either here or up there, he glanced skyward. The rich and the poor, the wise and the foolish alike. At that moment she thought him very wise. Near the end of the day, he held her hand and said, Hannah, I’m leaving tomorrow. It will start my apprenticeship Monday. Hannah’s heart slowed, she felt her throat tighten, her eyes dampened, but she could not speak. Good bye, carrot curls, he smiled. Two years later, Hannah was also dismissed into service. You have studied hard, the head mistress said, and you know the authors well. I have found a home where your talents will be utilized in the care and tutoring of a young child.

She traveled by train to an estate in the countryside. She carried her few belongings in a small brown satchel and was very lonely. The shelter had been the only home she had known for nearly sixteen years. A skivvy led her to a room off the kitchen that was ample enough with one window. That night, she dreamed of the day so long ago that she had spent in isolation and awakened. She thought of baby Molly and the pink-cheeked grandmother who cuddled her that day so long ago. Hannah willed away unhappy thoughts whenever they tried to surface. The orphanage had given her knowledge and a good education. Later that morning Hannah strolled out into the garden. A young man was speaking with big Eamon, the manager, and his son. When the two left, the young lad grinned mischievously at Hannah and asked her name. She had not realized he knew she was standing there. He smiled when she blushed and said, You are very pretty.

She turned to rush back to the house when he called out to her, Whoa, hold up a minute. She stopped and found that he was immediately behind her, holding a long-stemmed wildflower.

"Hi, carrot curls, he smiled.

It was Michael. Of all things, she laughed out with excitement, I… . I thought

I know very well what you thought, he said, but then… well yes, you are very pretty.

She blushed deeply. She hated that. Why must she always do that?

Michael took both her hands into his own. It’s good to have you back, he said.

He had changed a little. His hair was thicker and curlier. He was lean and stronger looking. The muscles of his upper arms bulged a wee bit under his shirtsleeves, but his eyes and smile were the same.

You have changed a little, too, he read her thoughts.

Your hair is darker like chestnuts now.

Thank you, she took that as a compliment.

Michael arranged their meeting daily after that. No one seemed to notice or care as long as the work was done. I love you, Hannah said to Michael one evening. I love you, too, carrot curls. I always have. When he kissed her, her body heated from within and her heart raced with happiness. When he touched her, she leaned closer to give him more of herself. When he reached for her breast, she placed the other up close to him also. When he parted her lips with his own, she opened her mouth and searched for the warmth of his. It is said that in innocence love gives all and the art of love comes easily. For the two of them it proved to be true, for if Michael’s caress excited her, she gave him the more to caress. If he became excited with her gentle fondling, she reached for more until she knew him completely.

They made love for the first time in a cold, damp room without windows. It was a suite in paradise to them.

Hannah had waited for his love for so long, endlessly long it had seemed, and yet, when the time came, she was frightened. He quietly removed all of her clothing and gently lifted her naked body up and slipped her between the coverlets. In a moment he was beside her. Her skin was cool and smooth as silk to his touch. She was trembling. In all his excitement, his heart became full of her. In a gesture of shyness she raised both hands to cover her face. He took each one gently, kissed it, and placed them one at a time down by her sides. The coverlet slipped to the floor. He held her in this way very close for some time before caressing every part of her naked body, exploring each mystery, kissing her lips and her eyes as he did so until she was wild with excitement. The kisses got lower and still he explored until she cried out sweetly and lay limply beneath him. He heard her deep, quivering sob that was nearly a sigh and was pleased. She felt the hardness of his young manhood enter her, but the pain was brief and lasted only the moment. He felt the heat of her inner body tightly surrounding his own with its moisture and knew an intensity of pleasure that he had not ever dreamed possible. Once again she cried out sweetly from beneath him. Their lovemaking continued until he was exhausted and fell full of love into her arms.

She didn’t know she was pregnant when they married. It didn’t matter; they had only each other. Hannah thought of the day that they had met once again at the manor house and her very heart smiled.

They were married just outside of London Town in a little church that had once been a stable. It was the Monday after Easter.

The gentle, brown-faced, withered, old priest who married them looked sad and was watery-eyed. Perhaps it was because they were so very young. Perhaps it was because they were so very poor.

They were poor, young, and beautiful. What’s more, it was springtime! The year was 1871. It was quite a long way back to the house, and when the evening air became nippy, Michael put his arm around his wife. Don’t be shy, Michael said. In fact Hannah loved it. Back at home their room was cozy. They lit the old, coal oil lamp; and snacked on leftover potatoes and melted cheese. For dessert, they had brown bread and jam with hot tea. That night they made love again with all the excitement of youth. Michael liked to watch Hannah undress. At first she was shy, but the ritual pleased him and, for that reason, it gave excitement to her also. He never touched her during the removal of her clothing, though most often she longed for him to do so. He watched her every movement and took pleasure in the knowledge that her body was his very own. When she was completely naked, he would come to her and hold her, gently fondling her breasts before lifting her up onto the bed to make love. That night she drew his head down to her breast, sifting her fingers through his black curls. Oh, my darling Michael, I love you so much. I love you with all my heart. He could not speak: no matter, she knew his heart. Each morning, Michael brought warm bread and jam from the kitchen to have for breakfast with their tea. Supper consisted of fried potato pancakes with melted cheese and the surplus from their employer’s table. Most often it was only fresh vegetables, but sometimes a tender portion of veal or lamb was sent over, too. For this couple, those meals were like that of a banquet feast. They savored the days. They savored life. They savored their love.

During the summer they picked cherries from the orchards, and in the autumn there were apples for them. Hannah’s appetite was stimulated. Michael teased, but encouraged her to eat more. Once he brought home a jar of treacle from the pantry, and before the week’s end, it was gone.

After twilight, the feel of Michael’s strong body next to her own in their clean, lovely bed seemed a miracle to her. Still, at times, the fear of losing him came to her in the form of a dream. They were infrequent, the dreams were, and when she awakened to find her slumbering Michael close by, she would cuddle him closely and in moments his arms were about her.

Summer passed and then autumn came. Each day was a warm embrace for Hannah.

She was well into her second trimester before she noticed the change taking place in her body.

It was Michael who told her that they were having a baby, and cradled her in his arms when she became frightened and cried.

I’ll speak to the manager about wages for the two of us, and larger quarter. They have one you know that is empty. Michael smiled.

They’ll not want to lose us, will they now?

They were given the quarters and wages, as well as their love bed.

It’s a grand old thing, Hannah whispered admiringly to Michael who always seemed to receive even more than he had asked for.

There was no other bed in the place, Michael laughed. They had to let us have it. Hannah loved it.

Someday I’ll build and carve one of our own, Michael promised, and a pedestal table with chairs as well. Hannah knew that someday he would.

A midwife named Emma, who worked with the poor, came to visit one day. She brought Hannah a pot of cocoa butter to rub into her belly each evening and a bottle of glycerin and rosewater to use for back rubs.

A new ritual was initiated. Each night after her tummy rub, Michael gave her a back rub as well. When the ritual was over, Hannah wanted Michael more than ever and cried one night when he said he was afraid to hurt her.

They found a new way so that she would be comfortable and Michael loved her as always until she was exhausted with pleasure.

The rain came down in November, but it was gentle and welcome. Michael always built a fire in the evenings, and their sheets were soft and dry as warm toast.

Emma came again and said the baby would be born in January.

Christmas Day, they ate stewed rabbit and plum pudding. Michael bought a locket for Hannah and a little blue, knitted suit for the baby. Hannah cried for she had no gift for Michael.

Just give me yourself, he smiled and held her close. Michael died in her arms just one week before her eighteenth birthday. She awakened in the night. The bad dream had returned. She reached over to take Michael into her arms, but he was already awake and lying very still. His eyes were wide and he seemed puzzled.

What is it, darling?

I don’t know, he could barely whisper. Heavy… it feels heavy.

She cradled him in her arms and began to sing to him, but she was desperately frightened.

Hannah… Hannah. He said her name twice then he rested his head on her breast, closed his eyes, and died.

They said it was his heart; a condition that he had been born with.

He was buried quietly in a pauper’s grave. No one else came.

She prayed to die also, but she could not. That afternoon she felt her baby kick very hard for the first time.

The child came three weeks early and was born with premature lungs. Emma said that he could not last more than a fortnight.

Most of his life was lived in the arms of his mother. He was too frail to cry but he looked into her eyes and smiled often. She called him Robbie, for that was Michael’s choice even though he was a tintype replica of his father. Hannah’s milk came down abundantly at even the thought of her baby but, for the most part, he was too weak to take it.

When he died in her arms, she quietly bathed and dressed him in the blue knitted suit and bonnet, slipped a white satin pillow under his head, and wrapped him in the only blanket they owned.

The grounds keeper reopened the plain, wooden casket and she placed the child at her husband’s side.

Dry-eyed, she walked away alone. Her pain was too deep for tears.

CHAPTER II

The wind was biting cold the day that Hannah appeared at Emma’s door. She had been wandering all night in the cold but seemed to have no memory of the last hours. Emma embraced her trembling body and led her to the chair in front of the hearth. A rowdy fire had been blown up in its belly and was crackling dangerously. Emma drew over a wire screen and pulled back Hannah’s chair. She placed a heavy woolen blanket about her and brought her a cup of hot tea. All the while Hannah was frighteningly silent and Emma was fearful. For hours she was not responsive, no matter how the older woman tried to stimulate her. When finally her eyes closed in sleep, Emma wept, for in truth she feared that she too might be dying. Emma knelt by her feet and prayed until she heard the soft even breathing of her dear little friend. She had finally fallen into a peaceful slumber.

Emma cared for Hannah for nearly a fortnight in the little flat on London Street. She gave her arrowroot biscuits in warm milk for breakfast. Most every afternoon they had bread and jam with their tea, and for supper, Emma fried up pork sausage in hot lard over the fireplace. When there was enough bread they dipped it in the dripping and gave thanks for their blessings. Hannah regained her strength but was lactating fully and her breasts were swollen and painful.

Curiously, a woman appeared at Emma’s door one day inquiring after a wet-nurse. Hannah surprised Emma by coming forward without being asked and said that she would accept the position.

We are both poor Emma, Hannah said later, It is best just now, and I will be back.

But… will you be…

It’ll be fine Emma. It won’t be for long. I’ll be fine and soon I will be back to help you.

The two embraced and said nothing.

The next day Hannah was brought by carriage to a home on a fashionable thoroughfare in the heart of London. It was another world. The sun came out for a little while that afternoon and the day was like springtime. For a brief moment her heart and soul became alive again. It did not last, no, it could not last, not just yet. By the time they arrived at her new place of residence the sun had hidden behind a wet gray cloud and the air had a damp nip of the frost in it.

A tall slender woman appeared in the doorway of the mansion and beckoned her to come forward. She introduced herself as the governess, but she did not give her name. Without much conversation she led Hannah to the sleeping infant. He was tucked into a beautiful carved wooden cradle.

I will take care of all the baby’s needs except of course his feedings, the woman said, almost meekly.

Hannah thought of Robbie and her heart began to sob from within. Suddenly she was afraid and so very lonely.

She followed the governess down a long corridor. It was all so silent and strange. They came to a door with a large brass doorknob and the number six above it. Inside, the room was warm and comfortable. It was done in shades of rose and cranberry and had a lovely marble top washstand in the corner with a flowered pitcher inside a large bowl. Several fresh white and blue smocks were placed neatly at the foot of the bed. You will be given fresh gowns weekly, the woman said. "Our laundress will take care of your laundry needs and, if you label and package your