“August 1798.”
Mrs. Hutton rose and walked to the shelves that lined the wall behind her desk. Tall registers were lined up on the top shelf. Each book was stamped with a year in gold lettering. She selected 1798 and opened it on her desk before running her index finger down a column. “Clarissa Bartlett. Is that you?”
She nodded and held her breath.
“Born on 9 August 1798. Not here, but nearby. Mother – Miss Mary Bartlett. Father – unknown.”
Clarissa exhaled. Her sharp breath must have revealed all the pain of her disappointment, because Frank’s eyes roamed her face. He turned and asked the matron, “Is there nothing else?”
Mrs. Hutton extracted a folded piece of paper tucked into the page. She opened it and scanned the page. A small smile grew on her face and she looked up at Clarissa. “This note may be of interest to you. It says that a gentleman enquired after Miss Mary Bartlett about two years after you left here.”
Suddenly Clarissa was breathless. “Was he my father?” Her question rushed forth.
“He believed he was your father, yes. He claims not to have known of your birth until he received a lost letter from your mother years after she had dispatched it.” She glanced down at the letter. “He claimed to have searched for your mother several times when he had returned to London from abroad…in the time before he got the letter from your mother.”
Clarissa’s heart ached. Her mother had been dead by the time he’d returned to her and she had been incarcerated here.“From abroad? Was he a foreign gentleman?” Clarissa asked.
“No, a ship’s captain in the navy.”
A naval officer! That would explain his absence at the time of my birth.Her pulse raced as though she was waiting for the curtain to rise on opening night. “Did he leave a forwarding address, Mrs. Hutton?”
Her smile widened. “He did. I’ll transcribe the note and give you the original so you may continue your search for him. His name is Captain Richard Harding.”
Captain Richard Harding. Clarissa rolled the name around in her head. What manner of man was he? She turned to Francis and couldn’t keep an excited grin off her face.Could this be happening?
He returned a hopeful look, then turned to Mrs. Hutton. “Is there any information about Miss Bartlett’s aunt and how she came to gain custody of Miss Bartlett?” he asked.
Mrs. Hutton rose and pulled another register from the shelf. After a brief check of the year 1814, she answered. “Five years ago, Mrs. Dora Jenkins is your aunt?” she asked Clarissa.
After Clarissa nodded, she said, “Mrs. Jenkins visited several times about the matter of taking custody of you, her niece, claiming to have only recently found out about yourexistence after consulting the birth register for this parish, she said.”
How did she know to do that?Clarissa frowned.
“There is more to the story of your relinquishment.”
What?Clarissa’s stomach plunged. She exchangeda frown with Frank.
Mrs. Jenkins matched the description of the woman who left you here as a baby. Who had claimed to be Mary Bartlett’s midwife and present at your birth.”
This doesn’t make sense!If Aunt Dora had placed me at the orphanage, why did she lie about not knowing of my existence?“Aunt Dora…left me here after my mother died?”
“I’m sorry, but it appears so…although, we didn’t know she was your aunt at the time,” Mrs. Hutton answered in a sympathetic tone.
“And you let her take me, although she previously left me?”
“She provided evidence of your family connection, through the assistance of the reverends of the parish in which she and her sister were baptized, and this parish where you were baptized and your mother died. Our policy is to restore children to their families, if we can, or find new guardians for them.”
The moment of revelation played out across Clarissa’s body, turning her hot and cold.Aunt Dorahad abandoned her in this grim place…and then sixteen years later had returned to collect her…to train her for the stage.
Why?As her meal ticket?Dora had revealed that her sister’s money had run out recently. Had Dora waited until the hard work of raising her was done before returning to gain access to that money as her guardian?Was that what had happened? Clarissa rubbed her roiling stomach with one hand.
While Mrs. Hutton finished scratching out a copy of the file note about her father, Francis leaned towards Clarissa. “Are you unwell?” he asked, softly enough for only her to hear.
“I’ll be better once I get out of this place and find my father,” she whispered back.
Memories of the day her aunt had come for her played in her head. She had hurried through the paneled passageway to this very office. Halting outside, she had raised a hand to rap on the closed timber door.
“Come in,” matron had called.
