The Original Villainess

CHAPTER 11 pt1

I stared out the carriage window, my thoughts pulling me in a million different directions.

“M-my lady?” Dorothy said hesitantly. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course.” The scenery passed rapidly as the carriage left the city center. “Do you know how much longer?”

“Well, the driver said it’ll take an hour, so probably just a few more minutes until we can see the orphanage.”

“I see.”

There was another round of silence. “My lady, may I ask why you’re going to visit the orphanage today?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I replied, half truthfully. I don’t actually know why I’m going. Because I’m suspicious? Because I want to prove Levi wrong? No. If I wanted to prove him wrong, I’d go to the temple. But he’s positive the fault does not lie with the temple, so I’m starting at the orphanages. I’ll talk to the directors, and the children. I’ll tour the grounds, ask to see their ledgers, if needed. If everything lines up, then I’ll move on. Maybe I’m wrong, and there’s just a lot of people who are being missed by the temple during their charity drives. In which case, I’ll apologize to Levi and that’ll be the end of it.

Hopefully.

“Do you want to sponsor a child?” Dorothy asked, eyes wide with wonder.

That’s right. People do that, too. That wouldn’t be a bad idea, but I probably shouldn’t sponsor one in the capital, since I’ll be moving to the Langly estate soon.

“No. I just want to check something.”

“Why did you want to leave so early, then? You should have at least eaten something! Do you expect a trip to the orphanage to take a long time?”

“I’m not visiting an orphanage today,” I told her curtly, still looking out at the scenery. “I plan on visiting several.”

“We’re almost there!” Alec called from the driver’s box, interrupting Dorothy’s wide eyes and open mouth.

I shifted across the seat to look out the opposite window, and I saw a large building that resembled two houses sharing a wall. From a distance, it appeared grand, but when I squinted at it, I could make out the poor maintenance. I frowned as we approached. When the carriage stopped, I didn’t wait for the driver to get down and open the door for us. I hopped out and stared at the large building. It’s quite large…probably as big as the Sumner manor. But it’s in dire shape.

“Wait for us,” I told Alec. “We might be an hour.”

“Yes, my lady.”

A woman came out of the building in a hurry. She was wearing a dark, but simple dress, and her hairdo and glasses reminded me of an old-school librarian from the movies. Her features were gaunt and her smile weary, but her eyes were still bright. She bowed at the waist, one hand over her heart, before opening her arms in a welcoming gesture. My eyes flickered to her hands, counting the callouses and catching traces of dirt under her nails.

She’s been busy. With what, yet, I’m not sure, but she seems to be okay. I need more information, though.

“Welcome, my lady,” she said when I approached. “I am Mrs. Bristol. I’m in charge of the orphanage. I ran it with my husband until his passing several years ago.”

“Thank you for the welcome,” I said, lowering my head in respect. “My name is Brynne, and this is my maid, Dorothy. I’m considering sponsoring a child,” I lied. “Yours is my first stop to see if I can find one I like. Would you mind showing me around?”

The older woman’s eyes widened in wary surprise, and she nodded. “Of course, my lady. If you’ll come with me. Your driver and maid can rest inside, out of the sun.”

Points for her. I gestured to the driver, and he drove the carriage a ways off, setting up the horses in a patch of grass before catching up with us at the entrance of the building. “How old is this building?” I asked.

“It belonged to my husband’s grandfather,” Mrs. Bristol answered, showing us to a small room with a desk and several boxes resembling file cabinets. The desk was cluttered with papers, but otherwise, the makeshift office appeared to be clean. “He bought it from a friend who had gone bankrupt due to some poor investments, and it remained in the family since. My husband and I had no children, so we thought to fill the house with children who had no homes. Unfortunately, funds have been getting lower each year for the past five years, while the number of children without homes or families continue to grow.” She walked around the desk and held up a teapot. “It’s water,” she said before anyone could ask. She turned over three cups on a tray, and started to pour. “Tea is a delicacy here. Most of the older children have only tried it once, if at all.”

Mrs. Bristol handed a cup to Alec, and another one to Dorothy. I declined when she held out the last one for me. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather have a tour.”

“Of course, my lady.”

I leaned down to whisper in Dorothy’s ear. “Keep an eye and ear out. Anything seems strange or wrong, let me know when I come back.”

“Of course, my lady,” she nodded.

I followed Mrs. Bristol out the office door and down the hall. Despite the cracks in the window and the sagging ceiling, I was surprised to see the place clean. The building isn’t much to look at, but keeping it clean means the children are probably in better health.

“Parts of the left side of the building are crumbling, so I hesitate to put children in those rooms, which means doubling up on the right side. But some of the older children, and myself remain on the left. I tried to tell them the dangers of it, but they insist they’re old enough to keep themselves safe. I think they just want to sleep in a room that’s not so cramped. The younger ones are not allowed past the office, for any reason.”

As if on cue, a laugh, followed by some shouting and the pounding of tiny feet sounded, and something zoomed past me so fast, I didn’t have time to blink.

“Excuse me, young man,” Mrs. Bristol said sternly, holding a child by the arm as he struggled to get away from her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Mrs. Bristol! We’re playing! They’re going to catch me!”

“Run the other way,” she said firmly, picking him up and facing him the way he came. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s dangerous?”

I eyed the child from head to toe. His shirt and shorts were threadbare and covered in patches. Barefoot and grumbling, the little boy started running again, the same way he came, and I couldn’t help the smile that pulled on my lips. “Do you not receive clothing donations from the temple?” I asked once the boy was out of sight.

Mrs. Bristol sighed, almost exasperatedly. “What donations? I haven’t seen neither hair, nor hide of a priest in over two years. I wrote a request for funds to repair the leaking roof a year ago, and they never responded. I left the older children in charge one day so I could go to the temple in the capital, and request help of any kind, and I got a sob story from a priest who said their donations were dwindling, and none of the orphanages were able to receive monetary help after they put together their local drive to feed and clothe the poor in the city.”

I frowned. That doesn’t match up with what Levi told me. “How many children do you have in your care now?”

“Thirty-eight.”

I stumbled. “Thirty-eight?”

She sighed. “I know it seems like a small number compared to other orphanages, but with half the building closed due to structural problems, the children are sleeping four to a room already. We can’t take in anymore unless we force some of them to sleep on the floor in the hall.”

Thirty-eight is more than a classroom average at a public school in America. She’s taking care of thirty-eight children all by herself, day in, day out?

“If you’re not getting funds from the temple, how do you get by?”

“There’s an old couple at the edge of the capital that come once a week to teach the older children a few things. The man teaches the boys whittling and such. The woman teaches the girls embroidery and sewing. Then they take what the children have made the week before to the market to sell at their stall. Those funds go to pay for the couple’s carriage rides here, and food for the children.”

She walked to a closed door and jiggled the handle, opening it. “Would you like to meet some of them?”

“Of course.” I followed her into the room. It was large and dark, and there were broken toys and ripped up books on the floors, but other than that, it was clean. I could see the sun shining through the cracked window, as if the window wasn’t even there. There was no dust or cobwebs along the ceiling, no dirt piles or dust bunnies hiding in the corners.

A little girl came up to us almost as soon as we walked in. “Mrs. Bristol!” she cried, rubbing her eyes with her hands. “James hit me!”

“Why did James hit you?” Mrs. Bristol asked, crouching down to look at the crying child.

“He said he wanted to marry me, and I said no!”

I bit back a grin at the childish interaction. That reminds me of Bryce McCarthy from third grade. Pretty sure he grew up to be a womanizer. “I suppose we’ll have to scold James for hitting a girl first, and proposing without permission second,” I teased, getting down on my knees.

The girl hiccupped loudly, her eyes wide with fear as she stared at me, as if she hadn’t noticed my presence before. “Mrs. Bristol,” she whispered, hiding behind the older woman’s sleeve. “Who is that?”

“I’m Brynne,” I smiled, holding a hand out. She looked at it in confusion. “You shake it,” I told her.

“Why?”

I c****d my head and pursed my lips as my hand fell back to my lap. “I’m not sure, either. If you can think of a good reason, let me know, okay?”

She nodded, still hiding behind Mrs. Bristol.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she whispered, hiding her eyes.

“But we’re not strangers! My name is Brynne, remember? If you don’t tell me your name, we can’t be friends.”

She poke her head up. “Friends? You want to be friends?”

“Of course!” I smiled brightly down at her as a boy came up to us, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Merry,” he stammered. “I’m sorry for hitting you. It’s okay if you don’t want to marry me. But can we still be friends?”

This must be James. I smiled at the girl. “Don’t worry, Merry,” I whispered. “We’ll scold him for hitting you later. For now, you two should play.”

She nodded eagerly and ran off with Jaime.

My eyes followed her to a larger group of young children. “Are they wearing pillowcases?” I asked.

Mrs. Bristol sighed again as she stood. “Some of them grow so quickly, we can’t get new clothes out here fast enough, so they use old pillowcases until their growth spurts are over, and then get the hand-downs from the older children.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It is, but what can we do, if no one is willing to help us?”

“Do you ever receive direct donations?”

“On occasion,” she admitted, showing me out of the room and back down the hall. “The old couple I mentioned before talk about the orphanage when they work at their market stall, and the word of mouth helps keep this place afloat and the children alive. But it’s not nearly enough to get any of the maintenance that we need. This way.”

“How do you keep the place so clean?”

“The children help out. They all have daily chores, and they’re not allowed to play until they’re done. They rotate the cleaning, laundry, and gardening. Only the older children are allowed to help with the cooking.”

“Do you not have a cook?”

“It’s just me, now that my husband is gone. But some of the older boys are rather good at following recipes. Of course, we can never have anything too fancy, but we try to grow our own vegetables in the summer, so we’re set for the winter. Once a week, two of the older children go into town and buy flour and eggs, and anything else we can spare money for.”

That sounds off. “How often do they eat meat?”

Mrs. Bristol pushed open another door, and sunlight came pouring through. She pointed to the edge of the wood a good distance away. “Half a mile into the wood, there’s a small creek. It’s not much, but we can feed the children fish maybe once or twice a week. One of the boys here is fifteen, and quite good with an ax. He chops most of our firewood for us. But the ax is old and dangerous, so I usually send some of the smaller children in for kindling so he doesn’t hurt himself.”

“Isn’t he considered an adult by now? Why is he still here?” I asked, curiosity peaked.

“He wanted to leave when he was twelve, to look for work in the capital. He said he would send money back to help feed the young ones. But I told him it was too dangerous. He heads into the capital a few times a month for a few days to find some menial jobs. He usually comes back with fresh bread or seeds for the garden. But he said this is his home now, so I can’t kick him out. I don’t mind. He helps with the little ones, and also does his best to provide for all of us, so I’m glad he’s here.”

This woman really cares for the children. She’s trying her best, even when the rest of the world is against her. My heart ached at the thought of something happening to her. What will happen to the children if she gets sick or dies? Will anybody notice? Will anybody care? What if the older children attempt to catch the attention of the temple after that happens, and it still doesn’t help?

Was there anything in the original story about the orphanages? I can’t recall ever reading about them, except when the author talked about the duty of the temple. Past that, it was like the orphanages didn’t exist. But if the money is not going to the orphanages, and it’s not going to the people on the streets, then where is it going?

She pointed to a large patch of dirt with small sprouts sticking up. “This is our vegetable patch. The tomatoes grow quickly, so we can eat them throughout the summer, but the root vegetables take longer. We plant a lot of potatoes, and keep them in the ice box for the winter to help keep the children full.”

Potatoes are delicious, but incredibly innutritious. What they need is meat on their bones. “May I see where they sleep?”

Something akin to worry crossed her eyes, but she nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

I followed her back inside and up a set of stairs. At the top of the staircase, the hall split right and left. There was an old end table sitting in the middle of the floor on the left. She said the young ones aren’t allowed over here. This must be here to prevent them from playing in dangerous areas.

A dim light down the hall grew closer, and I squinted at a moving figure. A girl, just barely reaching my chin, tiptoed down the hall, holding a candle in one hand, and a rag in the other.

“What are you doing, Liesle?” Mrs. Bristol asked sharply, arms folded across her chest.

The girl hopped up onto the chest, her candle flickering briefly from the movement. She spun around, staying seated, and hopped down again. “All the rags are on the line, and I still need to finish cleaning the kitchen. I just grabbed a scrap from one of the old curtains from the bedrooms.”

“You should have asked me,” Mrs. Bristol said, voice softer as her hands fell to her side. “It’s dangerous over there. Go back downstairs. Don’t let me catch you on that side again.”

Liesle blew out her candle and scurried down the stairs.

Mrs. Bristol continued right, and opened the first door. “All bedrooms are about the same size,” she said. “Here.”

I peered inside, not really sure what to expect. There were four thin mattresses on ancient metal bed frames. The kind that had rusty springs and squeaked if you so much as breathed. There was a tattered wooden crate between two of the beds that held crumpled pillowcases. At least there are sheets on the bed. I’m actually shocked they’ve managed. But a few more months of growth spurts, and Mrs. Bristol will probably have to use the sheets to make new clothes for the older kids.

“Do you ever get a doctor down here?”

“The last time was this past winter when every child and myself was sick. The old couple who comes to teach has a doctor friend who did them a favor. I don’t usually get sick, but the winter was particularly harsh this time, and most of our windows are cracked.”

“What about blankets? Do you not have any?”

“They get washed once a week. Sheets and pillowcases get washed once a month. They’re very thin and almost useless, but fabric is expensive. Today is laundry day, so the blankets are probably drying on the line now. Each child gets one blanket. During the winter months, some of the small children will huddle in the same bed and share all their blankets for extra warmth.”

“How clever of them,” I murmured, my heart crushing at the image in my mind. “They should also try to stack their mattresses on top of each other, for more comfortable bedding.”

“That might help the younger children,” she agreed.

I discreetly wiped away a tear, and sniffed. “Thank you,” I smiled sadly. “I have many orphanages to visit today, but I will let you know soon. I can promise you this, Mrs. Bristol,” I added as we headed back down the stairs. “This is not the last you've seen of me. You’ve done a very good job with what little resources you were given. I am glad to have met you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Thank you, my lady.” She walked me back to the office, and I fetched Dorothy and the driver.

It wasn’t until we were settled back in the carriage that I asked, “Did anything stick out?”

“Two children came into the office while you were gone,” Dorothy said. “An older boy, maybe thirteen or so. He didn’t say anything to us, but he grabbed an old ax, and then left. A younger girl, about ten, who said she was looking for Mrs. Bristol. I told her she was showing a guest around, and she left without another word. After that, nothing.”

The ax.

“We have to pass through another town before we get to the next orphanage, yes?” I asked Alec through the window.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Let’s stop in town for a moment. The horses could use some water.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Dorothy, do you have the books I asked you to bring?”

“I put them inside your seat, my lady.”

I slid off the seat and lifted the bench I was sitting on. I grabbed one of the books and replaced the bench seat before sitting back down. I might as well use this time to get acquainted with the temple.