The Orphan's Dream by Dilly Court Read Free Book Online Page B

back any minute, that’s if she hasn’t stopped to gossip with someone. She’ll be the death of me.’
    â€˜You manage magnificently,’ Mirabel said, smiling. ‘And this soup will set me up for the rest of the day.’
    â€˜I could put some dinner on a tray for you, miss. I daresay you won’t be feeling up to taking your meal with the mistress and her hellcats. Begging your pardon, I shouldn’t say such things, I know.’
    â€˜It’s the truth, Mrs James. You can’t be blamed for speaking your mind, and dinner in my room would be just the thing.’
    â€˜Flossie will bring it up to you.’ Mrs James tapped the side of her nose and winked. ‘We got to stick together with that woman in charge.’
    Mirabel put the bowl of soup on a tray, together with a chunk of bread and a pat of butter. ‘Will you send Flossie up with the slop bucket? I’ve emptied it but I need to take the pitcher of water up to my room.’
    â€˜Yes, of course, miss.’
    â€˜And if she can find the laudanum she could bring that too.’
    â€˜I’ll see that she does. It’s a relief to know that you are on our side, Miss Mirabel, but I don’t know how long I can stand working for that woman.’
    Gertie responded quickly to the laudanum, giving Mirabel the opportunity to leave her, safe in the knowledge that she would sleep peacefully for a couple of hours. She slipped out of the house unnoticed and made her way to Crispin Street. With no particular plan in mind she had vague hopes of seeking help from Mrs Hamilton, who was well known for her charitable works. Mirabel did not think that Gertie’s life hung in the balance; she would recover from her illness with good care, but keeping her hidden in the attic room was not an option. Sooner or later her presence would be discovered and Mirabel was under no illusions when it came to her stepmother. She was well aware that her days living under her father’s roof were numbered. In defying Ernestine openly she had sealed her own fate.
    She stopped outside the shabby building which housed the soup kitchen, staring up at the crudely painted sign offering a welcome to the poor and destitute. The main entrance was still locked and a queue of ragged people, including many children, stretched some way down the street. Mirabel let herself in at the side entrance.

Chapter Four
    â€˜ THERE YOU ARE, Mirabel. We thought you weren’t coming today.’ Lillian Marjoribanks thrust an apron into Mirabel’s hands and a welcoming smile brightened her flushed face. ‘You’re just in time to help serve the hungry hordes.
    â€˜I’m sorry I’m late. I was detained.’ Mirabel looked round hopefully. ‘Is Mrs Hamilton in today?’
    â€˜Not yet.’ Lillian thrust a ladle into her hand. ‘They’re opening the doors; get ready for the rush.’
    Mirabel lifted the lid from the pan of soup and dipped the ladle, ready to serve the first person who shambled in from the street bringing with him the odours of the unwashed. They lined up, clutching their bowls, old and young alike, men, women and children all with one thing in common: the need to take nourishment or to face a slow and painful death by starvation. Mirabel had to wait until after the first rush had been served to continue the conversation. ‘Do you think that Mrs Hamilton will be in later?’
    Lillian shook her head. ‘I don’t know. She didn’t say.’ She shot a curious glance in Mirabel’s direction. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
    â€˜No, thank you.’ Mirabel turned her attention to the next in line and found herself looking into Jack Starke’s blue eyes. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
    â€˜Such an enthusiastic greeting,’ he said, chuckling.
    â€˜If you don’t want soup you’d better make way for those who do.’ She had not meant to be rude, but