Bougainvillea Tears

Chapter 1. Darlington Orphanage: Crime and Punishment

The piercing November wind did not subside for more than three days: its mournful whistle was heard throughout the district, making the inhabitants of Darlington inconsolable. The bushes disheveled by the storm swayed sadly with their bare branches, obeying the stormy elements. Late dry leaves tore from the trees, and, spinning with the snowflakes, they clung to the lancet windows of a low old red-brick building with an iron plaque at the main entrance that read Darlington Orphanage for Girls. The state money allocated by the local authorities for the maintenance of the shelter was barely enough to feed the pupils: the food was more than meager, and the feeling of hunger did not leave them even after eating. With the arrival of winter, the situation only worsened: the wild cold was added to malnutrition, resulting in frequent illnesses, which sometimes ended in failure. But, nevertheless, the headmistress Marjorie Brown always said that these adversities would only benefit her pupils, because everything that the Most High sends is nothing more than the Grace of the Lord, strengthening the spirit and mind of young girls.

Gusts of wind from time to time made their way through the cracks in the window frames, bursting into the dining room. It was a small room with a low ceiling and whitewashed walls. In the middle were three long oak tables, and another was in the farthest corner, next to the narrow door leading to the kitchen. A fat, clumsy cook appeared from behind the door: she carried a huge vat out of the kitchen and, puffing heavily, put it on the table next to her. Steam poured from the vat in clubs, and the nasty smell of the contents instantly spread throughout the room. Soon the iron bowls were filled with slurry and placed in their places; lifting the already empty vat from the table, the cook hastened to leave. Footsteps were heard from the corridor: the front door swung open, and a tall, pale woman in a dark robe entered the dining room - if you didn't look closely, she could easily be confused with a nun. The woman was followed by a line of girls dressed in gray woolen dresses with white starched aprons. They were about nine or ten years old, no more; due to their age, they kept talking with each other, which caused dissatisfaction with the person accompanying them.

Be silent!

In an instant, deathly silence reigned in the room. Sitting at the table, the girls stared silently at the bowls of unassuming contents. The woman took her place of honor at the head of the table and, casting a stern gaze on the students, began to read the table prayer.

- Bless, O Lord God, us and these gifts, which we will eat according to Your goodness, and grant your mercy, so that all who are in need may have their daily bread. We ask you through Christ our Lord. Amen.

- Amen! - obediently bowing their heads, the girls said in chorus.

There was a faint clatter of spoons in the dining room. The liquid gruel smelled of something sour and rancid, but the pupils tried to push in themselves at least a couple of spoons of this muck in order to somehow satisfy their hunger.

- Missis Marlowe!

An elegant lady, who entered the dining room through the main door, turned her gaze to a woman in a dark robe. Raising her eyebrows in question, Mrs. Marlowe rose from the table.

-Mistress Brown is expecting you in her office,- the woman snapped dryly.

-Be quiet, - Missis Marlowe ordered her students. It seemed that each of them felt the sizzling look of her gray eyes on herself. As soon as the women left the room, and, despite the warning of the mentor, the girls immediately perked up.

- What an abomination! - Hartley White winced in disgust and pushed the plate aside. She was fragile and skinny: constant malnutrition affected her, as well as the rest of the pupils of "Darlington". Her piercing green eyes contrasted against pale, freckled skin and bright fiery hair tied in a tight bun at the back of her head.