The Orphan's Tale

Chapter 2

Attend to the sound of my cry, my King and my God, for to You I pray. Psalm 5:2

Five days later, I woke up at home again in the Cadwell Manor. The light of dawn had crept into our chamber. Despite the icy air outside my blanket, I remembered well that our chamber was warmer than the room I had shared with other girls at the orphanage. The servants' quarters in the Cadwell Manor were far more luxurious than anything I could remember staying in before that.

I forced myself to leave the heated bundle of blankets and set my stockinged feet on the wood floor. Repressing a shiver, I went to the basin. There I washed my face in the chilled water from the night before. Careful to make as little noise as possible, I glanced at the other girls all crowded together for warmth in their sleep. Part of me wished very much to rejoin them, but I had an errand that I needed to do.

I began pulling my black dress over my warm shift. The practical dress was the uniform of the servants that served at the manor of the Cadwell family, which I buttoned over my shift. My hands smoothed the black skirts of my uniform. How familiar the fabric felt.

I put my shawl over my shoulders, but I stumbled as I pulled on one of my boots. I caught myself but the noise caused one of the girls to stir.

"Ugh! Beatrix, where are you going so early? It's barely day!" accused a voice.

Startled I turned to glance over at one of the girls I had thought was sleeping. Out of all the girls to be caught by, this was the one I wished to be seen by the least.

"Just out for a moment," I replied. "I shall be back before anyone misses me, Blythe."

"I very much doubt that. Her ladyship will be ringing for you soon as she wakes," Blythe muttered.

The flaxen haired girl was one of the servants who had been a member of the household longer than I had.

Quickly I tied my boot and pulled on the other. But Blythe's narrow eyes caught sight of my messy braid as it swung past my shoulders.

"You're so proud of that witchlike hair, aren't you? It's the same hideous shade as that of the bombmaker in the paper. I should cut it while you sleep, I want to see what her ladyship has to say about her pet being shorn like a waif again." she snarled.

I tensed, involuntarily clutching my unusually colored hair. I knew, of course, the bombmaker, the man that had been in and out of the paper for months, had red hair like mine which was a rarity. A million thoughts ran through my mind, but the first thing to come out was a protest.

"You wouldn't! It's hardly been a proper length for a fortnight!"

Blythe lay down with that ugly smile on her face. "I'll decide that later. Enjoy your walk in the cold air."

She rolled over, turning her back to me. I wondered for the millionth time, why she hated me so. But I was too anxious to ask. Instead, I settled for brushing and then styling my hair in the proper style of the servant girl that I was. Then with my white cap tied in place, I left the room.

I crept through the dark corridor, only to see something moving in the shadows. I tensed, my heart pounding. But a small contraption rolled by. I let out my breath. It was only one of the mousers Lord Cadwell had invented. He said it was to replace the cat as his machine wouldn't need to be fed. But his wife protested that she liked the cat and one couldn't stroke a machine.

I slipped out of the manor and walked into town. The morning mist hung heavy over the thatched roofs.

The streets were bustling with the common folk. I saw the lamplighters putting out the street lamps for the morning, fishermen going to the docks, and storefronts beginning to open for the day. Three crows in an alleyway were pecking at something. This being a Monday the street cleaners hadn't rolled by yet. The street cleaners were yet another thing my employer had invented. His inventions were practical and terrible, unlike anything anyone had ever seen. Some townspeople whispered that he must have sold his soul to the devil for the knowledge to create such things. Now some of the servants were whispering such things to.