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YA Chapter 1
Chapter 1—Sent away
March 12, 1665
“Liza! Gather your things as quickly as possible and go downstairs,” commanded Mistress Goodey.
Liza was startled out of her reverie. She never liked scrubbing the floor, but it gave her time to fantasize about dancing with princes. But there were no princes now, there was only Mistress Goodey’s sharp tone and wild eyes piercing Liza’s dreams. Liza’s stomach jumped. Was an alderman waiting for her below? Could they know about the apple she stole last week? Certainly they wouldn’t hang a 12 year old girl who never got enough to eat. She could show them her bony arms and bird-like neck to prove Mistress Goodey all but starved the girls under her care. Liza could argue she had done the merchant a favor by removing the worm-infested apple from his box in order to make his wares more desirable.
She wiped her shaking hands on her dress and went to her room to gather her extra shift and dress. She shared the room with five other girls, nearly all of them younger than Liza. Only Molly was her age. Liza and Molly had seen countless girls come and go while only they stayed on with Mistress Goodey. Molly had a terrible limp; a result of a beating she took from her employer when she was six over an imagined wrong she had committed. The families the girls worked for were suspicious of Molly’s limp, so they refuse to hire her even though she more than made up for it by being an impeccable scullery maid. Liza’s haughty attitude was the source of her inability to be placed as a maid, and she knew Mistress Goodey’s charitable principles wouldn’t last another year. At age thirteen the parish stopped funding an orphan’s training, and if Liza didn’t find a home to work in by then, she would be turned out into the streets to fend for herself.
Liza retrieved her prize possession which she hid beneath the mattress, a tortiseshell comb that had belonged to her mother who was hanged at Newgate prison after giving birth to Liza. Her dear mother. The mother she had never known who had pled her belly to save the life of her unborn child before being hanged for linen theft. But that was years ago, before she came to Mistress Goodey’s House of Orphans. Here she only had Molly, and now they’ve come to take her away for stealing a rotten apple.
Liza slowly descended the stairs keeping a wary lookout for the alderman or a prison guard. Mistress Goodey was sitting at a large wooden table sorting money into piles and frantically mumbling to herself. Several pieces of hair had escaped from her mob cap giving her an unhinged, disheveled look.
After waiting several moments to be recognized, Liza meekly inquired, “Mistress?”
“They are coming for the taxes today, and I have yet to pay the butcher for last month’s meat. Oh what to do!” Mistress Goodey returned to her frenzied redistribution of moneys on the table.
Liza stood mutely staring at her distracted Mistress. Perhaps this had been one of Mistress Goodey’s wild rants. Perhaps Liza wasn’t being sent to prison for stealing fruit. Mistress Goodey looked up from her work and blinked. “Liza, I have no time to explain now, but you must leave immediately. A coach outside will take you where you are supposed to go.”
Surely Mistress Goodey had gone mad. Why would Newgate prison send a hackney coach to retrieve a fruit-stealing orphan? Liza wrapped her woolen shawl close to her face and stepped out into the icy winter air. Would spring never arrive? It seemed too cold to snow; it was so cold that the Thames had frozen, making river travel and international trade impossible. Taking a deep breath, Liza stepped up into the coach and thought about the consequence of her felonious actions.
March 12, 1665
“Liza! Gather your things as quickly as possible and go downstairs,” commanded Mistress Goodey.
Liza was startled out of her reverie. She never liked scrubbing the floor, but it gave her time to fantasize about dancing with princes. But there were no princes now, there was only Mistress Goodey’s sharp tone and wild eyes piercing Liza’s dreams. Liza’s stomach jumped. Was an alderman waiting for her below? Could they know about the apple she stole last week? Certainly they wouldn’t hang a 12 year old girl who never got enough to eat. She could show them her bony arms and bird-like neck to prove Mistress Goodey all but starved the girls under her care. Liza could argue she had done the merchant a favor by removing the worm-infested apple from his box in order to make his wares more desirable.
She wiped her shaking hands on her dress and went to her room to gather her extra shift and dress. She shared the room with five other girls, nearly all of them younger than Liza. Only Molly was her age. Liza and Molly had seen countless girls come and go while only they stayed on with Mistress Goodey. Molly had a terrible limp; a result of a beating she took from her employer when she was six over an imagined wrong she had committed. The families the girls worked for were suspicious of Molly’s limp, so they refuse to hire her even though she more than made up for it by being an impeccable scullery maid. Liza’s haughty attitude was the source of her inability to be placed as a maid, and she knew Mistress Goodey’s charitable principles wouldn’t last another year. At age thirteen the parish stopped funding an orphan’s training, and if Liza didn’t find a home to work in by then, she would be turned out into the streets to fend for herself.
Liza retrieved her prize possession which she hid beneath the mattress, a tortiseshell comb that had belonged to her mother who was hanged at Newgate prison after giving birth to Liza. Her dear mother. The mother she had never known who had pled her belly to save the life of her unborn child before being hanged for linen theft. But that was years ago, before she came to Mistress Goodey’s House of Orphans. Here she only had Molly, and now they’ve come to take her away for stealing a rotten apple.
Liza slowly descended the stairs keeping a wary lookout for the alderman or a prison guard. Mistress Goodey was sitting at a large wooden table sorting money into piles and frantically mumbling to herself. Several pieces of hair had escaped from her mob cap giving her an unhinged, disheveled look.
After waiting several moments to be recognized, Liza meekly inquired, “Mistress?”
“They are coming for the taxes today, and I have yet to pay the butcher for last month’s meat. Oh what to do!” Mistress Goodey returned to her frenzied redistribution of moneys on the table.
Liza stood mutely staring at her distracted Mistress. Perhaps this had been one of Mistress Goodey’s wild rants. Perhaps Liza wasn’t being sent to prison for stealing fruit. Mistress Goodey looked up from her work and blinked. “Liza, I have no time to explain now, but you must leave immediately. A coach outside will take you where you are supposed to go.”
Surely Mistress Goodey had gone mad. Why would Newgate prison send a hackney coach to retrieve a fruit-stealing orphan? Liza wrapped her woolen shawl close to her face and stepped out into the icy winter air. Would spring never arrive? It seemed too cold to snow; it was so cold that the Thames had frozen, making river travel and international trade impossible. Taking a deep breath, Liza stepped up into the coach and thought about the consequence of her felonious actions.
