The Secret Orphan. Glynis Peters
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don’t know how to thank you Aunt Maude. The whole experience was a little overwhelming, but Mrs Green and Sally were kind. I have the same in a wine red, and the most beautiful coat, oh, and gloves and hat in green, sensible just as you asked. I did purchase a Yardley cream for my hands, I hope you approve.’
‘Under the circumstances I do not mind. And not wanting to linger on a delicate subject, I’ll assume Mrs Green added undergarments to my account?’
Elenor thought it funny how she was happy to stand in a cubicle discussing underwear with a stranger but felt her face burn and flush when the items were mentioned by her relative.
‘Um, yes, she did, thank you.’
‘Did you enjoy browsing the store?’
Elenor giggled.
‘I became rather confused by the doors and stood on a gentleman’s foot as I made my escape backwards. He was kind enough to help me inside. He said he was from Canada? I pretended I knew where it was, but I don’t.’
Elenor picked up her cup and quenched her thirst. Across the brim she watched her aunt smile.
‘It is good to hear, Elenor. I am sorry to have not witnessed the event, or to have saved the poor gentleman from a sore foot. I will have Victoria’s husband fetch an encyclopaedia for you to read up on Canada, and anything else you may find useful.’
Elenor smiled back. ‘He was an elderly pilot. Can you imagine it, flying in the sky? I’m afraid my bravery stays firmly on the ground attempting rotating shop doors.’
‘You are not alone, young lady. I am fearful of all things mechanical and would never put my trust in a metal bird. We do have to be grateful to the brave pilots for when they gave their lives in the Great War. Bravery, such bravery.’
Aunt Maude sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. Elenor sipped her tea in silence until the gentle snoring of her aunt indicated the afternoon’s conversation had come to a close. With slight disappointment, yet with the sense a barrier had been removed between them, Elenor tiptoed from the room and went to the kitchen in search of Victoria.
A male voice and whispers from Victoria told Elenor the housekeeper was reunited with her husband. She stepped into the kitchen.
‘Ah, Mr Sherbourne, you have returned I see. It is a pleasure to meet you at last.’
Elenor moved towards the man who stood beside Victoria. He was not as tall as she had expected – although she wasn’t really sure what she’d expected – and had a mop of unruly brown hair, almost as if curls had never quite formed. He stared at her with narrow brown eyes, almost untrusting, curious or suspicious. His presence unnerved Elenor and she wasn’t sure why.
He stepped forward to shake her hand and his grip was firm. He had a large gap between his top teeth with a slight protrusion on one side. He was not a handsome man, and she was surprised at Victoria’s choice of a husband. But, one should never go by looks alone. Her brothers were not ugly on the outside.
‘A pleasure to meet you, Miss Cardew. George Sherbourne. If you need anything, please ask. We are both happy to help. Your aunt appears to be weaker each time I return from my travels.’
‘Thank you.’ Elenor let go of his hand and sat at the table. ‘She was extremely tired today. Tell me, where did your travels take you? I met a man from Canada today, and my aunt suggested I ask you to hunt out an encyclopaedia for me to read more about the country.’
George Sherbourne dragged a chair from one side of the table and sat beside her. She could smell a mix of cold tar soap and pipe tobacco lingering on his clothing, and his closeness made her uncomfortable.
She glanced up at Victoria who had no expression on her face, and as if roused from sleep she shook her body, picked up an empty tray and without speaking left the room.
Elenor then understood she had walked into a domestic argument.
‘Mr Sherbourne, where did your travels take you?’ she asked again. ‘Your wife mentioned you are a tutor for a young boy and attend conferences related to your work.’
‘London. Although, I do prefer Coventry as it houses my lovely wife.’
Elenor sensed his words were not genuine. Insincere was a word she remembered from her school days.
‘I’ve never been to London. My aunt said it is a fascinating city. Maybe one day I’ll be able to see it for myself.’
George poured himself a drink of milk from a jug on the drainer.
‘Do you have hobbies, Miss Cardew? Aside from milking cows, did you do anything outside of farm work?’
‘I enjoy singing when I can,’ she replied.
‘You must sing a little song one evening. I play the piano. Your aunt enjoys listening to me play.’ George stroked a finger across one eyebrow. He reminded her of her brothers. Arrogant.
Elenor gave a slight nod of agreement and tried not to laugh at his pomposity.
‘About the book my aunt mentioned, where can I find it?’
George leaned in close.
‘She allows me to make use of her books, and I have stored them in our rooms.’
To Elenor’s horror he patted the back of her hand as if she was a child.
‘I will fetch those I think useful to you and please, ask when you need more.’
His patronising manner irritated Elenor. Well aware of her status as a poor relation, he’d taken advantage of his own as a male, forgetting his manners in the process. He was married to an employee of her aunt but treated Elenor as though she were a child. She rose to her feet and drew upon a faked confidence.
‘As the books belong to my aunt I suggest they be returned to the room, then I won’t have to keep asking you for them.’
George gave a grimace and down-turned his mouth.
‘I will miss being surrounded by such treasures.’
Irritated, Elenor walked to the doorway, turned around and gave him a polite smile.
‘I am to be here for some time – who knows, maybe always, and I do need to make use of the books. We’ll attend to it tomorrow. Victoria can help me collect them from your rooms.’
George said nothing but gave her a look which sent a shiver down her spine.
Outside the door she took a deep breath. The man needed careful handling, or he would become another bully in her life.
The following morning Elenor heard the soft singing of a child from outside the back door and it occurred to her she’d not met the Sherbournes’ daughter. She squinted into the sunshine. A tiny blonde child sat on a wall swinging her legs and pulling the petals from a daisy.
‘He loves me. He loves me not.’
‘I’m sure he loves you,’ Elenor interrupted the girl’s rhyme. ‘I’m Elenor. Mrs Matthews’ niece. You must be Rose.’
The little girl jumped down from the wall.
‘I’m nearly five. How old are you? Did you bring a cow from your farm?’ Rose fired questions one after the other with great enthusiasm.
Elenor laughed. ‘No, it wouldn’t fit on the bus. And congratulations on being nearly five, I will be nineteen next month.’
‘Will you have cake? Can I have some? Pleeease!’ Rose threw aside the flower and pressed her hands together as if in prayer.
Elenor was reminded of a pretty doll with a rosebud mouth and smiling eyes.
‘Rose!’