With her hands clasped before her, striving to appear as contrite and repentant as possible, Lavinia stood before the desk where Sister Theresa sat, studying her through dark eyes, a raven’s eyes. She’d never particularly cared for the birds. While she thought highly of Sister Theresa, she wasn’t enamored of the way she made her want to squirm. She was a grown woman now, not a seventeen-year-old girl who’d sought to run off with a commoner.
“I have to admit, Miss Kent, to being somewhat concerned at finding a gentleman in the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning.”
“As I explained, he’d done me a great service, and I’d thought a cup of tea was in order, as a thank-you, you see.” And because they’d needed to discuss matters, a past that had turned out not to be what they’d both thought it was.
“So by the time I arrived, he’d either been there long enough to finish off the tea and for you to clear things away or it had yet to be served.”
She pressed her lips together. “I discovered he preferred whisky to tea and so we just chatted.”
“I see. I know you feel you have a calling, but these late-in-the-night assignations are not only dangerous to your person, but I fear might be posing a threat to your soul.”
Her soul was already damned, not that she was going to confess that to the sister. “I assure you nothing untoward occurred between Mr. Trewlove and myself last night.”
“Still, you must not allow him, or any man for that matter, inside this residence again, not at night, not at any hour, without chaperone.”
“We shan’t be seeing each other again. That was part of the reason for our discussion, to put past matters to rest.”
“I see. And you came to an understanding, then?”
“Indeed.”
Sister Theresa studied her, and Lavinia had the unsettling notion the woman could burrow beneath the surface and uncover all her lies and secrets, secrets she hadn’t shared with Finn, secrets that were her burden to carry.
“He is a rather handsome devil.”
Lavinia couldn’t help it. She stared openly at the woman who sat so primly and judgmentally behind the desk.
“Do close your mouth, Miss Kent. It’s hardly flattering to look like a fish tossed onto the riverbank.”
Unaware her jaw had dropped as though suddenly unhinged, she snapped her mouth shut. “Apologies, Sister. I just—”
“I might be a Sister of Mercy, but I’m also a woman. I daresay, Mr. Trewlove has led a good many of our gender into temptation.”
She wasn’t quite certain he’d led her, but she’d managed to find the path by herself, running headlong down it and into his arms. “I have no interest in him in that manner. I have but one focus now, and that’s the children.”
“A worthy endeavor. However, I do wonder if you aren’t hiding from something.”
“From my family. I told you that when I came here.”
“I fear you are hiding from something more... personal. Something deeper within you. Perhaps you need to return home and settle matters there.”
“My mother is an incredibly forceful woman.” More than once she had locked Lavinia away until she “regained her senses.”
“Most are. But you can’t hide out forever. Gather your courage, and when you are ready, know that you go with God.”
She gave a little curtsy, a quick bending of her knees. “Thank you, Sister.”
Leaving the room, she retreated to the small desk in the cramped office that the sisters allowed her to use when she was working on her calling. The one saving grace of the tiny room was that its window looked out on the back gardens where the older children and toddlers frolicked. Their laughter filled her soul.
With the newspapers spread out before her, she combed the advertisements for widows seeking to take in children of poor health. “Poor health” was one of the phrases that was used to identify a baby farmer. The healthiest of babes could be brought to them, but in time, they would perish because of poor health. Seldom could it be proven that the death was a result of neglect. Babies died, far too many from natural causes.
Usually she was quicker with her scouring and circling of the adverts that caught her attention, the ones she would respond to with a letter of inquiry that hopefully would result in a meeting, but her mind kept drifting to the night before, to the revelations uncovered.
She’d been unable to sleep, all the memories of Finn assaulting her whenever she closed her eyes. She’d seen him as he’d been, tender and sweet. Then the man he was now wiggled his way into the memory, and he was no longer the boy she’d loved but a grown man she didn’t know. She’d been correct in discouraging anything between them. Yet, suddenly, she missed him, wanted to know everything about him. So many regrets, so many missed moments.
With a shake of her head, she refocused her attention on the task at hand and located an advert that appeared promising. She slammed her eyes closed. Promising was for something wonderful, not horrific. She wished there were no adverts, no need for women to take in by-blows. Because many orphanages turned illegitimate children away, as though they were responsible for their condition, she understood the need, but surely there were better ways to address it. She’d been interviewing women who’d given birth out of wedlock, as well as a few of the farmers she met, hoping to write a series of articles that would awaken Parliament to the desperate need for reform when it came to caring for the most innocent among them.
As she reached for a piece of foolscap in order to respond to the advertiser, she became aware of louder laughter and joy coming from beyond the window. It filled her heart with such gladness, replenished her soul, and made the awful tasks that awaited her not quite so awful. There was a purpose, a goodness, to them that might not erase all her sins but would certainly make them easier to live with.
