Little Sparrow

Chapter Five

Mrs Atkinson pulled a face and slowly turned around.

I kept my eyes downcast, refusing to look at whoever her just spoken. I knew full-well they were referring to me and did not want to give them anything else to comment on. The state of my dress and the length of my hair already gave them an awful lot to talk about and I did not want to give them something new by showing them the scar. Even if it seemed rude, staring at the floor seemed better than having to deal with comments on something I would never be able to change.

"Good morning, Jane," Mrs Atkinson said. "Lizzie, this is Mrs Oliver, a family friend." I looked up slightly and watched her glance towards her husband who appeared to be trying to come up with an escape route.

"And who is this? I do not remember you mentioning another maid joining your household," the lady said.

"This is Lizzie Hayworth, she's not a maid. In fact, Edward and I are looking into adopting her."

"Adoption? Hm, I cannot say the thought has ever crossed my mind before, but each to their own I suppose. She's a scrawny little thing, sparrows bones and that hair! Have you ever seen such a thing on a young lady? You will have your work cut out with this one." The woman paused. "Look at me, girl."

I looked up, ignoring the gasp that came from the lady's lips upon seeing my face for the first time. If she thought my stature and hair was bad, the scar must have been the icing on the cake, it certainly took her by surprise. She stared at me, her eyes running across every part of my body even though she had just made a comment on my size and hair. Her eyes lingered all too long on the scar and I watched her draw her mouth into a thin line and continue to stare at me.

The lady was no older than Mrs Atkinson, with light brown hair that she had twisted up into an extravagant style. Her dress was a shocking crimson colour that would be impossible to miss even if we were standing in the middle of a snowstorm. Lace adorned the cuff and neckline making the entire outfit appear a tad melodramatic, but I was hardly in a position to judge and I did not know what the latest fashions were.

"An interesting choice, I must say, Lydia. How do you expect her to find a fitting husband with that mark on her face? Were there not any unblemished children at this orphanage or do they only take those no one would ever want?"

"There were plenty of other girls to choose from, but we wanted to get to know Lizzie. Her future husband endeavours and decisions are hers to make."

"Yes, well, you must take these things into account, Lydia."

"Hm, if you say so."

"I would be surprised if she has any decent suitors at all. Sparrows bones, a boys haircut and that monstrosity on her face. She certainly isn't up to much and you would be better of going with someone with more appeal. This one would make a better servant than a daughter."

I knew the insults had been coming, but I certainly did not expect them to be so blunt and to the point. Many of those who had felt the need to comment on me had done so under their breath and to a friend, acting as though I was not standing right in front of them. Mrs Oliver had been looking directly at me when she had spoken, the comments directed more towards me than Mrs Atkinson. Why my future marriage prospects had to be added into the equation remained a mystery.

Since I had always thought my life would involve nothing but working as a maid for a well-to-do family, the thought of marriage and my future had never crossed my mind. The truth had always been that I never seemed interested in finding a husband or a suitor and it had never been because of the scar. It just wasn't what I wanted. I did not want that reliance on my husband to make all my decisions and I wanted to be my own person, not just my husband's wife. That would always be my decision and had nothing to do with anyone else, including Mrs Oliver.