Chapter Eight

Alice awoke the next morning feeling more confused than ever. She didn’t know what to think about James. She didn’t know whether to hate him or to like him or to remember the values she was raised upon. Even entertaining thoughts of friendship between herself and an aristocrat like James would have had her mother and father, even Jacques, laughing.

But he seemed different then the aristocrats that her parents had described. He seemed kinder and more sincere, when he was no inebriated of course. But the way he’d comforted her the night before was purely gentlemanlike. He had no malicious or rakish intentions behind hugging her, he just wanted to calm her down.

They couldn’t be all horrible. Annie was once, still was, a lady. She was James’ younger sister and she’d never met a kinder woman. She’d grown up with money and she was selfless. Perhaps James was too. But what could he think of her? She’d made a hideous fuss over the money he’d given her and when he’d explained it she could see the sincerity in his eyes. He’d meant well and she had to go and be horrible about it.

Alice reached into her pillow case and pulled out the envelope that contained James’ letter and money. Just staring at it she felt lost. She’d felt lost for a long time but she’d never felt more lost then she did right now. She wished she had someone to confide in. She wished someone knew who she really was. How she longed to hear her real name being uttered. It had been three long years since she’d heard her name, the last to call it was her brother right before he’d died for her.

She’d let her guard down for the first time when James had visited the night before. She hadn’t meant to but she was frustrated and stubborn and she couldn’t help but mention France’s woes. What could James do about it? What could she do about it? There were no survivors. Jacques’ sacrifice was made in vain. She’d failed him.

The worst part was that she had no idea how to make it right again. She was one person. She couldn’t cross the channel and demand that the lower classes gain respect at the very least. Alice felt the tears begin to roll down her cheek. She pulled her rosary from inside her nightdress and pressed her lips to it. She was afraid to ask Joseph for the location of a Catholic church in London, she thought it might offend him. But she missed going each week. She liked listening to someone who knew more than her. The priest was someone she could depend on. One day she would go to confess and find out whether or not she would ever be forgiven.

“Miss Jacqueline, are you alright?”

Alice jumped in fright. She saw that her bedroom door was open and one of her older girls, seven year old Emily, was standing before her. She looked nervous, unsure of what to do because Alice was crying.

“Yes, yes, Emily. I am fine,” Alice promised, quickly wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “Are the children awake?” she asked.

Emily shook her head. “No, just me,” she replied. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I’m too excited.” Emily was being adopted. The couple that had come to visit had every intention to take him a baby but had instead fallen in love with Emily. And why wouldn’t they? She was a charming, young girl. Her new parents were coming to collect her later in the day so Alice had to make sure all her possessions were packed away and ready to go.

“Alright, go upstairs and wake the others and I will get breakfast ready for you all,” Alice instructed. She closed the door behind her and quickly found her clothes for the day. Once she’d buttoned her simple, brown calico dress, she tied her apron around her waist and used a piece of ribbon to tie her dark curls back. She poured water into her basin so that she could freshen up her face.

When she came to the kitchen she thought for a moment that she would appreciate hiring a cook to help her. Doing everything by herself was difficult. It was a job that kept her busy from dawn until dusk.

Alice lit the stove and began cooking porridge, the same as every morning. When it was done she set the long dining table and poured a ladle spoon of porridge into each bowl. As soon as the last bowl was filled, the children began streaming in excitedly as they took their seats and began to tuck in hungrily.

It was now time to go and tend to the infants. Taking the rest of the day’s milk, she went upstairs and came into the little bedroom that was filled with five little cradles containing roused babies. Alice circled the room humming a French lullaby as she calmed each baby down. She had a way with babies. They never seemed to grizzle or cry whenever she was around. She’d like to imagine that she would be a good maman one day, if ever.

Once all the babies were changed and fed, she went back down stairs to let the children outside to play for a while. They amused themselves with all sorts of imaginary games. Joseph arrived soon after to take the children for their lessons but he agreed a break was indeed well deserved. He helped her carry the babies down stairs so that they too could enjoy the sun.

Annie arrived soon after and had brought with her Amy’s baby carriage as Amy was being cared for by her sister, Kitty, for the day. She fetched the orphanage’s baby carriage and offered to take the five infants for a walk which Alice was grateful for. Joseph went with her so that he could push the other carriage. She didn’t have the time to take the babies for walks when she had twenty other children to keep an eye on. She really relied on the help of Joseph and Annie. Her thoughts flashed back to the money in her bedroom and she saw the sense in it more and more. Could she really use it? Would that not go against everything she was raised to believe?

She realised she was refusing the money for selfish reasons. The money was not only for her benefit, but for the children’s as well. If she were to hire a cook, it meant that she would have more time to organise recreational activities for the children, such as outings and excursions about London which they’d never had the luxury of doing.

She sat on the step of the orphanage and watched the children play happily. They skipped and chased each other and laughed the whole time. If ever a carriage came, they would all help each other off the street like a team and then they would resume their game. Yes, Alice decided, she would hire someone. She was the only mother figure these children had and she spent most of her time in the kitchen preparing the same boring meals because she’d never learnt how to prepare anything else.

When Joseph and Annie returned a short while later, Alice propositioned the idea.

“Do you remember that letter I received from your brother yesterday?” Alice asked thoughtfully.

Annie arched one of her eyebrows as she rocked one of the fussing babies in her arms. She was a natural. Alice felt for her, she didn’t know what it was like to have difficulties with conceiving and she hoped she never would, but she truly thought that they should adopt. The children needed a loving home and Annie and Joseph could provide that. Perhaps when Amy was a little older they might consider it.

“You mean the letter that put you in such a sour mood?” she said, smirking.

Alice blushed. She had been rather standoffish after she’d read the letter. A very immature reaction. “Yes, that letter,” she nodded. “It contained fifty pounds from your brother.”

“I know,” Annie replied simply. Joseph’s eyes widened at his wife. Clearly he had not been informed of this little detail.

“You know?” both Alice and Joseph asked at the same time. She then remembered James saying something about Annie and how she had informed him of the goings on after she’d received the money.

“Yes, James told us at the ball last night,” Annie replied contently. She eyed Alice knowingly, as if she was aware of the fact that James had come to see her the night before. Were there no secrets between those siblings? She was yet to meet the other three Alcotts but she knew, from Annie, that they were close. As far as she knew there was Kitty, the eldest sister, another sister, a doctor, whom she did not know the name of, and a younger brother, Harry, or perhaps it was Henry. It was Henry. She could remember mentally correcting Annie whenever she pronounced it the English way. Her mind would automatically say Henri. “I told him how upset the money made you.”

It was a fair claim to make. She had behaved like a stubbornly. “My reaction was irrational,” Alice said bashfully. “Thinking about it now, I realise that it will be beneficial to both me and the children if we do ‘ire a cook. What do you two think?”

“It’s perfectly fine with me,” Joseph said, nodding. “You do work too hard.”

“And me,” Annie added. “If you’d like I’ll ask my father to place an advertisement for a cook for us. He has a friend at the newspaper so he’ll be able to have it ready to print for the next edition.” Though she was supposed to hold prejudices against them, having connections did have their benefits.

“That would be magnifique,” Alice said appreciatively. “I’d better start the midday meal. Could you round up les enfants and start lessons? ‘opefully I’ll be finished by the time they’ve learnt something.”

“Of course,” Joseph agreed. “Annie, are you staying or going?” he asked his wife.

“Going,” Annie replied. “I’m going to see Little J.”

“Medically or socially?” Joseph immediately replied, sounding concerned.

Alice concluded that ‘Little J’ must have been the last Alcott sister as she was a doctor. She thought it a strange name. But, then again, she did not understand many English things. “Socially of course. There is nothing wrong with me. Well there is, but nothing that Little J can fix.” The last part she said sounding disgruntled.

“Annie,” Joseph sighed.

Annie just shrugged and stood up from the step and straitened her simple dress. “I’ll see you later. Goodbye Jacqueline.” Annie headed off toward the church where their house backed onto.

“Sorry about that,” Joseph said quietly to Alice. “She’s just frustrated.”

“Do not apologise,” Alice said, smiling comfortingly. “It will ‘appen. I know it.”

“I hope so.”

With that Alice too arose and entered the orphanage to begin preparing lunch for the children which included sandwiches from the bread she’d made with whatever meat she had access to. The same as the day before, and the day before that.

At around three in the afternoon, the younger children were sleeping and the older ones were quietly playing, reading or practicing their writing in the schoolroom. Emily’s parents had been and gone, taking their new daughter home. Alice got teary, as did Emily, and they’d shared a tight hug as she departed. Emily promised to write and tell her all about her new home and parents. She would do well, Alice was sure. The couple that had taken her in were a little older than usual first time parents, but they seemed like they had big enough hearts for a seven year old daughter and she was glad of that.

Alice used the spare time to clean the dishes, do the laundry and do a general tidy up before the children woke once again and she would have to start their dinner.

When she was up to her elbows in soapy, hot water she heard a light knock on the door. The orphanage had been unusually popular in the last few days. Perhaps it was James. She suddenly felt a flutter in her stomach at the prospect which gave her feelings of anxiousness and nervousness. She didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. Her next thought was a new child. She prayed that wasn’t so. It was heartbreaking receiving a new and unwanted child on her doorstep.

Alice dried her hands on apron and smirked when she saw how wrinkled her fingertips had become. She walked down the narrow hallway and came to the door. Turning the handle, she saw that it was neither James nor a new child. It was a regally dressed woman who looked to be in her mid-forties, yet she still looked elegant and beautiful. Her hair was golden and expertly braided atop her head and her gown looked utterly expensive and exquisite. The colour matched the pink of her cheeks and was interwove with layers of silk and lace.

The woman’s brown eyes warmed as she smiled and Alice received a very maternal look.

“Can I ‘elp you, Madame?” Alice asked timidly.

“Oh, you are young enough to be a child here yourself. Are you Jacqueline?” she asked, sounding pleased.

Alice nodded. How did this woman know who she was?

“Splendid. Oh, you are just as beautiful as he described,” the woman said, clapping her hands together once. “And look how tiny you are!” she remarked. The woman was not much taller than her, perhaps four or so inches taller.

Alice blushed. She had always been small, smaller than the other girls that she knew. She wished she were taller but there was not much she could do about it. “Forgive me, but who told you about me?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, I must sound like a lunatic,” she laughed. “My name is Emilia Alcott, I’m James’ mother.”

Alice’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon, Comtesse,” she said, embarrassed. Did she need to curtsey? She had never met an actual titled person before. This woman was the wife of an Earl. She was a countess.

“Oh, don’t worry about those formalities. I’ve always detested them. It gives off an air of superiority, don’t you think? I’ve never liked that.” Emilia quashed her fears about the correct way to address her. Alice was taken aback. This woman as a proper lady and she was talking as if she were a revolutionary herself. Their mantra was basically what she had just said.

“It does,” Alice managed to choke out.

“To you I am ‘Emilia’,” she smiled warmly, maternally. “May I come inside?” she asked.

“Yes, yes,” Alice nodded, flustered. She opened the door wider so that she could enter. Where was she to entertain such a regal woman? There was no sitting room. She settled on the dining room, at least there were seats.

As Emilia passed her Alice caught the scent of roses, perhaps from her fine perfume. She smelled divine. Alice directed her to the dining room.

“Is this my son’s handiwork?” Emilia asked, sounding amused as she gestured to the repaired bench seat that James had fixed for them on Sunday.

“It is,” Alice replied. “It was a fine job ‘e did for a first time carpenter.”

Emilia sat down on the bench seat without making a fuss about there being no proper chair for her to sit in. She was still smiling like the ambience was that of a fine ballroom rather than an orphanage dining room.

“May I get you some tea?” Alice offered, not really knowing what to do.

Emilia shook her head. “No, that’s quite alright. But I suppose you’re wondering as to why I am here.”

“It ‘ad crossed my mind,” Alice nodded.

“My son is smitten with you,” Emilia said frankly.

Alice was confused. “Forgive me, Comtesse, my English … ‘smitten’?” She did not understand the word.

“Oh, bless you!” Emilia said, touching her heart with her fingers. “You are simply gorgeous. ‘Smitten’ means infatuated, besotted … love-sick basically,” she said, giggling at the last part.

Alice understood the last definition. Love-sick? He was love-sick? But why? She was nothing special. She was a French runaway with no money and a fake name. She was sure he had much finer girls to dance with – his fiancée for one. “Why?” she asked, shaking her head.

Emilia cocked her head and peered at her. “I would have thought it was obvious, my dear. Look at you. You are by far the most gorgeous young girl I’ve ever seen, and if you tell any one of my daughters that I shall deny I ever said it.” Emilia winked.

Gorgeous? Alice have never been called that in her life. She’d never thought much of her appearance. She was small, insignificant, with a mass of ugly, dark hair and eyes that were far too blue. Her skin was too pale and her bottom lip was too plump and her … she could go on forever.

“I can see the negativity in your eyes, Jacqueline, don’t you go belittling yourself. Annie used to do that too as a debutante. But then Joseph came along and put a stop to that.” Emilia seemed to be able to read her mind, like a mother could. She missed that in her own maman. Though an extreme revolutionary, her mother, Marceline Devereaux, had a way of making her feel loved and understood. “But what I want to know is if you are smitten with my son too.”

“‘e ‘as a fiancée, Comtesse,” Alice said quietly.

Emilia rolled her eyes. “And he’ll be marrying her over my dead body. That girl would gladly dance on my grave just to get James’ ring on her hand.” Emilia sighed. “I know James is arrogant and slightly conceited and he can behave like a buffoon at times, he has a good heart and a smart head and he truly cares for people. I know, as his mother, I am biased, but he’s one of the good ones. And I know you are too.”

All those characteristics that Emilia had said were true. James was slightly arrogant and conceited, but his sincere letter made her know that he had a good heart. Now, of course, when she was thinking with a clear head. But how could she know anything about her? “How do you know I am good?” Emilia was wrong there, she was very wrong. Alice was a coward.

“A mother knows everything, Jacqueline,” Emilia said tapping the side of her nose. “I can tell you are kind. I know this because you take care of twenty or so children … and because Annie said so. I know you are considerate because you step quietly when you walk and if my memory is correct, this is the time of day that young children nap. I know you are respectful because even though I told you to call me ‘Emilia’ you are still calling me ‘Comtesse’ which I assume is French for ‘Countess’. But last but not least, I know you are strong, because I can tell something has happened to you in your life and yet you still find a reason to rise in the morning.”

Alice had never had anyone say such kind things to her. Nobody had ever found such positives to say about her. Not even she had.

“So, I reiterate. Has my son cast a spell on you?”

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Hope you liked it!

French translations:

Magnifique: Magnificent

Comtesse: Countess

Maman: Mother

Les Enfants: The children

I think that's all of them :P