Letters from Alice: Part 2 of 3: A tale of hardship and hope. A search for the truth.. Petrina Banfield
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Название: Letters from Alice: Part 2 of 3: A tale of hardship and hope. A search for the truth.
Автор: Petrina Banfield
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Биографии и Мемуары
isbn: 9780008264741
isbn:
The skies over the capital that morning were a cloudy, gunmetal grey, the wind that had dominated throughout the early part of the month persisting as the almoner made her way to Dr Harland’s sister’s house on Fenchurch Street.
The clock on the mantelpiece in the living room struck 1 p.m. as Elizabeth Harland ushered Alice inside. In stark contrast to the smart, immaculately turned-out woman they had called on at the beginning of the year, her long gown was covered in damp patches across the chest, her shoulder-length hair hanging in uncombed tendrils around her face.
The room was warm, the fire in the hearth emitting a comforting amber glow. The logs piled up beside it were the most ordered objects in the space. Almost every other surface was covered with badly folded piles of linen and soiled clothing, where before they had been adorned with highly polished ornaments and neatly stacked china.
‘I hope you do not mind my descending on you unannounced,’ Alice said as she rested her bag and folded cape on one of the few uncluttered spaces left on the sideboard. ‘But I plan to visit Charlotte as soon as I am able and I would like to give her some news of the infant.’
Before Elizabeth could respond, a small mewing sound from across the room drew her attention. Alice followed her to the sofa, where Charlotte’s baby lay tucked up in a wooden drawer padded with blankets. Tightly swaddled, she blinked up at the almoner and emitted another contented coo. ‘May I?’ Alice asked, inclining her head towards the makeshift cot.
Elizabeth nodded. The almoner removed her gloves and lifted the small bundle into her arms. ‘I was about to give her a wash, but we can take tea first if you’d like?’ the doctor’s sister said, after gesturing for Alice to take a seat.
‘Oh, no, you go ahead,’ Alice said, sitting down next to the drawer. She smiled down at the baby and slipped her forefinger into her tiny palm. ‘Do not worry about tea for me.’
Elizabeth bustled out of the room. She returned a few minutes later, carrying some linen and a jug of water. ‘Come on,’ she said briskly, taking Daisy from Alice. Immediately the baby vomited on her shoulder.
Elizabeth’s arms shot out, her face reddened in alarm. The baby hovered at arm’s length, her legs dangling below the unravelling blanket. A moment later, the woman recovered. She dabbed at her dress with a cloth, mumbled something in a mildly chastising tone then sat on a stool by the fire. She settled the baby on her lap so that the small head was resting on her knees, her tiny feet nestled against Elizabeth’s plump middle. With fingers that were still slightly clumsy, she fumbled at length with the baby’s nightgown and lifted the tiny body up. The skin on the soft limbs protruding from her cloth napkin was already less saggy than it had been a few days earlier, a healthy pink glow replacing the grey.
‘Is she all right?’ Alice asked. ‘She’s terribly small.’
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