In the Land of the Long White Cloud (19 page)

“If the two remain together, they’ll just gossip and not get anything done!” the woman replied angrily. Helen looked into the woman’s cold blue eyes, which belonged to a bright, self-satisfied face. “We only asked for one—and we’re only taking one with us.”

“Then just take me!” Dorothy offered. “I’m bigger and stronger and…”

Anna Lavender seemed rather taken with this solution. Pleased, she eyed Dorothy’s considerably stronger build.

But Helen shook her head. “That is very Christian of you, Dorothy,” she declared with a side-glance at the Lavenders and the reverend. “But it does not solve the problem, it only delays it another day. Your new employers will come tomorrow, and then Laurie would have to go with them. No, Reverend, Mr. Lavender, we must find some way to keep the twins together. Are there no neighboring families looking for maids? Then the two could at least see each other during their free time.”

“And whine for each other the rest of the day!” Mrs. Lavender interjected. “It’s not an option. I’ll take this girl, or another. But only one.”

Helen looked imploringly at the reverend. However, he made no move to support her.

“I can only agree with Mrs. Lavender,” he said. “The sooner the girls are separated, the better. So listen, Laurie and Mary. God brought you to this country together, which was gracious of Him—He could have chosen only one of you and left the other back in England. But now He’s leading you down different paths. This doesn’t mean forever; you’ll surely see each other at Sunday service or at least at the high holidays. God has not forsaken you, and He knows what He is doing. We have been charged with following His commands. You will be a good maid for the Lavenders, Laurie. And Mary will go with the Willards tomorrow. Both are good Christian families. You will get enough to eat, clothes to wear, and they will ensure you lead a Christian life. There is nothing to fear, Laurie, if you go with the Lavenders now, like a good girl. If there’s no other way, Mr. Lavender will have to take the rod to you.”

Mr. Lavender did not look at all like the kind of man who would beat little girls. On the contrary, he gazed with evident sympathy at Mary and Laurie.

“Now look, children, we live here in Christchurch,” he said, in an effort to comfort the distraught children. “And all the families in the area come here every so often to shop and attend service. I don’t know the Willards, but we could certainly contact them. Then, whenever they come here, we’ll let you off, and you can spend the whole day with your sister. Does that make you feel better?”

Laurie nodded, but Helen wondered whether she really understood. Who knew where these Willards lived—it wasn’t a good sign that Mr. Lavender did not even know them. And would they be as understanding with their little maid as he was? Would they even bring Mary along when they made their occasional shopping trips to town?

Laurie now seemed overcome by grief and exhaustion. She allowed herself to be pulled away from her sister. Dorothy handed Mr. Lavender Laurie’s bundle. Helen kissed her good-bye on the forehead.

“We’ll all write you!” she promised.

Laurie nodded listlessly while Mary continued to cry.

It broke Helen’s heart when the Lavenders led the little girl out. She then heard Daphne speaking to Dorothy in a low voice.

“I told you! Miss Davenport can’t do anything about it,” the girl whispered. “She’s nice, but she’s in the same boat we are. Tomorrow her man’s coming to take her away, and she has to go with this Mr. O’Keefe, same as Laurie with the Lavenders.”

Anger bubbled up in Helen, but it quickly gave way to a burning feeling of disquiet. After all, Daphne wasn’t wrong. What would she do if Howard didn’t want to marry her? What would happen if he didn’t like her? She couldn’t return to England. But were there even positions for governesses or teachers here?

Helen did not want to think about it any longer. She would have liked to crawl into some corner and cry, just as she had done as a little girl. But that had not been an option after her mother died. From that point on, she’d had to be strong. And right at this moment, that meant patiently letting herself be introduced to the old woman who had come for Elizabeth.

The reverend braced himself, but there appeared to be no drama this time. On the contrary, Elizabeth seemed elated.

“Miss Davenport, this is Mrs. Godewind,” she said, introducing them before the reverend could even say anything. “She’s from Sweden! That’s way in the north, even farther away from here than England. There’s snow there the whole winter—the whole winter! Her husband was captain of a big ship, and he would sometimes take her with him on his trips. She’s been to India! And America! And Australia!”

Mrs. Godewind laughed at Elizabeth’s excitement. She had a kind face that hardly showed her age.

She held out a friendly hand to Helen. “Hilda Godewind. So you’re Elizabeth’s teacher. She raves about you; did you know that? And about a certain Jamie O’Hara.” She winked.

Helen returned the smile and the wink, and introduced herself by her full name. “Do I understand correctly? You’ll be taking Elizabeth into your service?” she inquired.

Mrs. Godewind nodded. “If Elizabeth likes. I do not by any means want to tear her from here like those people just did with that little
girl. That was reprehensible! I had somehow thought that the girls would be older.”

Helen nodded. Now on the verge of tears, she would have loved to pour out her heart to this woman. Mrs. Godewind sized her up.

“I can already tell that you’re not happy with this arrangement,” she remarked. “And you’re just as exhausted as the girls—did you come over the Bridle Path on foot? That is unacceptable! You should have had mules sent for you. And I, of course, should not have come until tomorrow. The girls would no doubt have preferred to stay together another night. But when I heard that they would be sleeping in the stables…”

“I’m happy to come with you, Mrs. Godewind.” Elizabeth beamed. “And I can read
Oliver Twist
to you first thing tomorrow. Can you imagine, Miss Davenport, Mrs. Godewind doesn’t know
Oliver Twist
! I told her that we read it together on the trip.”

Mrs. Godewind nodded amiably. “Then gather your things, child, and say good-bye to your friends. You like her too, don’t you, Jones?” She turned to her driver, who naturally nodded obligingly.

Shortly thereafter, as Elizabeth made herself comfortable with her bundle next to Mrs. Godewind and the two fell once again into excited conversation, the driver took Helen aside.

“Miss Davenport, the girl makes a good impression, but is she trustworthy? It would break my heart if Mrs. Godewind were disappointed. She’s been so looking forward to having a little English girl.”

Helen assured him that they would not find a more clever or pleasant child anywhere.

“So does she want the girl for company? I mean…one usually engages older and better-educated young women for that,” she said.

The servant nodded. “True, but first you have to find them. And Mrs. Godewind can’t afford all that much; she only has a small pension. My wife and I take care of her household, but my wife is Maori, you know…she can do Mrs. Godewind’s hair, cook for her, and care for her, but she can’t read to her or tell her stories. That’s why we thought of an English girl. She’ll live with me and my wife and help around the house a bit, but most importantly, she’ll offer Mrs. Godewind company. You can rest assured; she won’t lack for anything.”

Helen nodded, comforted. At least Elizabeth would be well taken care of. It was a little ray of light at the end of an awful day.

“Do come the day after tomorrow for tea,” Mrs. Godewind said to Helen before the chaise rode away.

Elizabeth waved happily.

Helen no longer had the strength to return the stables to comfort Mary, nor did she manage to make further conversation at Reverend Baldwin’s table. She was still hungry, but she comforted herself with the thought that her uneaten leftovers would, with any luck, do the girls some good. She excused herself politely and then collapsed into bed. Tomorrow could hardly be any worse.

The next morning the sun rose beaming over Christchurch and bathed everything in warm and gentle light. The window in Helen’s room offered a breathtaking view of the mountain chain that overlooked the Canterbury Plains, and the streets of the little town looked clean and inviting. The scent of fresh bread and tea drifted up from the Baldwins’ breakfast room. Helen’s mouth watered. She hoped this promising start to the day could be taken as a good omen. Surely she had only imagined yesterday that Mrs. Baldwin was unfriendly and coldhearted, her daughter mean and ill mannered, and Reverend Baldwin bigoted and wholly uninterested in the happiness of his parishioners. In the light of this new morning, she planned to judge the pastor and his family more favorably. First, however, she needed to check on the girls.

In the stables, she found Vicar Chester trying to console Mary, who was still in tears, to no avail. The little girl cried, asking for her sister between sobs. She did not even take the pastry that the young pastor held out to her, as though a little sugar could alleviate all the suffering in the world. The child looked totally exhausted; she had clearly not gotten a wink of sleep. Helen could not bring herself to think about handing the girl over to total strangers.

“If Laurie is crying like this and not eating like this, the Lavenders will definitely send her back,” Dorothy speculated hopefully.

Daphne rolled her eyes. “You don’t even believe that yourself. The old lady’ll beat her first, or lock her in the cleaning cupboard. And if she doesn’t eat, she’ll be happy she’s saved on a meal. She’s cold as a dog’s nose, the piece of shit…oh, good morning, Miss Davenport. I hope you slept well at least.” Daphne glowered disrespectfully at her teacher and made no attempt to apologize for her unsuitable language.

“As you yourself noted yesterday,” Helen replied icily, “there was nothing I could do for Laurie. However, I will try to reestablish contact with the family. Yes, I slept very well, as I’m sure you did. No doubt that was the first time you let yourself be moved by your feelings for others.”

Daphne lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Miss Davenport.”

Helen was astonished. Had she really achieved such an improvement in the girl’s behavior?

Later that morning, little Rosemary’s future employers appeared. Helen had been apprehensive about this handoff, but was pleasantly surprised. The McLarens, a short rotund man with a soft, chubby face and his no less well-fed wife, who looked like a doll with her apple-red cheeks and round blue eyes, arrived on foot around eleven o’clock. As it turned out, they owned the Christchurch bakery—the fresh rolls and pastries whose aroma had woken Helen that morning were their doing. Because Mr. McLaren began work before the sun came up and went to bed correspondingly early, Mrs. Baldwin had not wanted to bother the family the day before, informing them instead first thing that morning of the girl’s arrival. They’d closed the shop to come pick Rosemary up.

“God, she’s still just a child!” Mrs. McLaren marveled when Rosemary curtsied anxiously before her. “And we’ve got to fatten you up, you little bean pole. What’s your name, dear?”

Mrs. McLaren then turned accusingly to Mrs. Baldwin, who received these complaints without comment. As she began talking to Rosemary, she hunched over amiably and smiled at her.

“Rosie,” the little girl whispered.

Mrs. McLaren ruffled her hair. “Now what a pretty name. Rosie, we thought you might like to come live with us and help out a little in the house and kitchen. In the bakery too, of course. Do you like baking cakes, Rosemary?”

Rosie considered. “I like to eat cake,” she said.

The McLarens laughed, making a chortling sound while Rosemary responded with a happy twittering.

“That’s the best place to start!” Mr. McLaren explained seriously. “Only someone who likes to eat can bake well. What do you think, Rosie, will you come with us?”

Helen breathed a sigh of relief when Rosemary nodded gravely. The McLarens did not seem at all surprised to be welcoming more of a foster child than a servant into their home.