Olivia Twist ~ The True Story ~ 6 By Susan Brown In which I am more aware of my surroundings ~ learn about being a young lady ~ meet a strange girl ~ am given a wonderful present

~*~

Chapter 6

When I awoke, it took me some moments to realise where I was and recall the circumstances that had brought me here.

Opening my eyes, I could see that the heavy red curtains had been pulled back and early morning sunshine bathed the room. I rubbed my eyes to clear them of the sleep and looked around me. I was quite alone and I was pleased about that as I had much to reflect upon. With a small shudder I thought of being in the clutches of Fagin and The Dodger. My heart beat faster when I remembered Bill Sykes and his horribly scarred dog, Bullseye. Looking around at the bright, comfortable pleasant room, I wondered at my good fortune and the kindness offered to me by Mr Brownlow and Mrs Bedwin.

I decided to get up and look out of the window. Throwing off the bed covers, I rose carefully from my warm bed. Upon standing, I felt a trifle light headed but put that down to my recent ailment. Slightly shakily, I walked over to the window, the fine cotton of my nightdress feeling strange but nice against my otherwise naked body. I stood at the window shivering slightly and wondered at the scene before me.

I was upstairs and gazed down upon a busy street; there were many carriages passing–the horses making clip-clop noises on the cobbles. A veritable multitude of people of all ages and circumstances were passing to and fro. Flower girls with baskets of gay flowers were offering blooms to one and all. A chimney sweep had a young ragamuffin of a boy walking beside him; the sight of the boy reminded me of how close I had come to being in that trade, making me shudder at the thought!

Opposite the house was a fine park with a pond. I could see ducks swimming and children playing–laughing and feeding the birds. It was a large park with many trees and I longed to go there and feed the ducks just like those lucky boys and girls.

I glanced to the left as something caught my eye. Someone, a boy I think, was standing looking at this house from behind a tree. It was strange, I seemed to recognise whoever it was but I could not recall where I had seen him before. I shook my head and looked again and there was no one there. It must have been an illusion. I was feeling a bit weary now and just as I turned back, I heard the door open.

‘What are you doing out of bed, you silly girl?’

‘I am sorry, Mrs Bedwin, I only wanted to look out of the window.’

‘Never mind that, back to bed with you.’

She helped me back into the warm confines of the bed. I was grateful to lay my now aching head back on the pillow, feeling quite faint and somewhat tired from my short excursion.

‘Well, Olivia, don’t give me any more frights. What would Mr Brownlow say if you had a turn?’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Bedwin, I thought that I was better.’

‘Indeed you are, you have a slight rose tint to your complexion that was lacking yesterday and you look much brighter, but you must stay confined until the doctor says you are well enough.’

I lay back and in moments my eyes felt heavy and before I knew it, I was asleep.

It was several days before I was allowed up again. It transpired that part of the problem was years of being underfed and malnourished. I needed to build some strength and to this aim I was given increasing amounts of all manner of food to fortify me. I was encouraged to drink a glass of red wine with my meals and this I found made my head somewhat light and myself a little giggly. However, my body soon grew used to the regimen and responded by filling out and gaining a little weight. I no longer looked like skin and bone and I was at last pronounced fit enough to rejoin the world.

And so it was that I found myself being dressed by my own maid! I remember it so well. I was wakened by Sarah, once scullery maids but promoted to be the person who would exclusively look after me.

‘Now, Miss Olivia, time to get up, we only have an hour to make you presentable for breakfast.’

I got up in a dream, I did not know what was expected of me but Sarah, whose mother evidentially was upstairs maid to a lord no less, had taught her all that she knew.

‘First, we need to wash you.’

I was unceremoniously stripped of my nightgown and although I was shy and concerned that Sarah would see my private parts, I was washed vigorously and then put in pantaloons, silk stockings, numberless petticoats and a cream coloured day dress. Finally, my feet were uncased in fine leather boots and I was then considered properly dressed

However, that was not all, not by a long way!

I wondered more than once during the course of that eventful hour, at the pain and suffering women had to go through to make themselves presentable. I was but a child, however, no excuses were made for this fact, I had to look the part of being a well brought-up young lady, otherwise I would not be allowed in the presence of my guardian. My hair was brushed many times, so much in fact that that my head hurt from being pulled about so. Many years of tangles were finally straightened out and I swear that the hairs on the brush could have made another head of hair.

Finally, ribbons were tied in my hair and fifty-eight minutes after my torment had started, I was deemed fit to be in the presence of my elders and betters.

As I walked down the stairs, my dress with its many petticoats swishing in time with my movements, I wondered at how I would be greeted by my protectors and what might be expected of me.

At the bottom of the stairs stood a man in what appeared to be some sort of uniform and a funny looking wig.

He smiled at me and said, ‘Miss Olivia, may I be so bold as to say that you look very pretty today?’

‘Thank you, Sir?’ I replied as I felt my face go red with embarrassment.

‘Please, Miss, don’t call me sir. I would get into trouble at such familiarity. I am the footman, Jenkins, please call me by that name.’

‘Are you sure, it seems so formal.’

‘It is the way of things, Miss. I am sure that you will accept it soon enough. Are you ready to go to breakfast?’

‘Erm, yes I think so.’

Jenkins opened the door and with quite a bit of disquiet and not a little hesitancy, I walked through. The dining room was huge with a long table stretching down its centre. At one end sat Mr Brownlow and Mrs Bedwin. They both rose as I entered and came to greet me.

‘Well, Olivia, you look very pretty this morning.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Bedwin.’

‘Indeed you do,’ said an enthusiastic Mr Brownlow, ‘quite the young lady. I hope that you are feeling well once more?’

‘Yes, Sir, I am much better thanks to your kindness and Mrs Bedwin’s also.’

‘Think nothing of it, come sit beside me whilst you eat your breakfast.’

I tried to sit down as requested.

‘Stop!’ cried Mrs Bedwin as I was about to sit.

I stopped as if I was a statue, worried that I had done something terrible.

‘You must brush your hand under you like so, to straighten and smooth your dress as you sit otherwise it will become creased. That would be most unladylike.’

I saw what she did and copied her as best I could. Mrs Bedwin smiled and nodded so I think that I did it well enough.

There were several people in the room and I found myself being served from a number of different trays with various meats and other things that I could not name. I wondered at the amount of food I was expected to eat and I must have looked somewhat upset as my guardian looked at me with concern.

‘Are you well, Olivia?’

‘Oh yes, Sir, it’s just–’

‘Speak up, my dear, if there is anything worrying you–’

I stopped and thought for a moment and then I spoke as I thought.

‘Well, Sir, the sight of all this fine food reminded me of my life at the workhouse. We never were fed as well as this and the one time that I asked for more I was sent by the Beadle to be in the presence of the governors. Well, Sir, I was shocked, I could see how well they ate and this reminded me of that, it just made me wonder about the others who are still there and suffering so.’

I drew breath as I looked down at my plate, wondering if I had gone too far and whether this kind man might throw me back on the streets for being so forward.

‘Olivia.’

I looked up at the kindly face of Mr Brownlow.

‘I want you never to forget your upbringing and by all means remember your roots; for this will remind you that there are those who are not so privileged as you and will need help and support wherever you can give it. But no more of this for the moment, eat up and enjoy the good fortune of the food that God has seen fit to supply and let us most importantly enjoy the blessings of one another's company.’

Much relieved, I completed my breakfast in a much better frame of mind than I had started it.

Several days passed.

Every day I grew stronger and soon became accustomed to what was expected of me. I was wakened each mornings by my maid Sarah, who helped me to get washed and dressed. I had all my meals in the dining room with Mr Brownlow and Mrs Bedwin. Attempts were made to teach me proper social graces, deportment and other such ladylike things. I found them hard at first, but I persevered and Mrs Bedwin said I was a quick learner.

I loved the different clothes that I was given to wear. Every day I wore several different dresses depending upon the occasion and what I was doing at the time. I found it hard to understand the etiquette behind all this, but I was young and was assured that I would soon pick things up and it would become second nature.

Sarah was a great help in getting me dressed and pointing me in the right direction. I am sure that without her, I would have made a great many mistakes, but I could tell that everyone was making allowances and this put my mind at ease. Though I was determined to please by being the perfect young lady.

It was on a Sunday, that Mrs Bedwin called me into the parlour.

‘Ah, there you are Olivia, come sit beside me, we must talk.’

I sat on a stool by her chair and waited expectantly.

‘Now, Olivia, next door there is a girl that visits from time to time and is about your age. Her name is Estella. She is up for the summer and is somewhat bored with being constantly surrounded by her elders. She is a strange child, but has good manners and she has heard that you are now with us. She has requested if is is possible for you go there today and visit her. What do you think?’

‘Does she know of my circumstances?’

‘No, that is private to this household. All she knows is that you are a ward of Mr Brownlow and have come to stay with us.’

‘Should I go?’

‘If you wish; I will not force you, but I believe it would do you good to meet children of your own age and I think that you would learn from your experience. I would urge you to say nothing of your past though as she and indeed her guardian may have some difficulty understanding.’

‘Very well, if you wish me to go, I will gladly, as you have been so kind to me.’

So it was that at three post meridian as Mrs Bedwin liked to call it, I was ushered into the house next door.

I was shown into what appeared to be a library and asked to wait there by a rather severe looking butler. I much preferred Jenkins I decided.

I looked about the room, my nose wrinkling at the rather musty smell of the old books. In the corner was a mirror. I crossed to it and gazed at the reflection of a rather pretty girl with ringlets and red ribbons in her hair. She wore a red velvet frock that narrowed at the waist and fell just below her knees. Her silk stockings were white and hugged her slender legs. On her feet were black highly polished shoes and she looked every inch the girl she felt she was.

‘Hello.’

I turned at the sound of the voice to see a girl much my age and size in a blue organza dress. She was pretty with long dark hair. Her face was pretty and she had a small upturned button nose and she smiled at me but her smile held no real warmth. It was as if she had just switched it on for my benefit.

‘So you are Olivia. I am Estella Havisham. I am so pleased to meet you.’

She spoke as though she were someone much older, not as a child. It was strange and somewhat disquieting. Thinking back all those years to that moment, I felt then as I do now, that she had no soul or happiness in her life. I felt sorry for her.

‘How do you do.’

‘I do very well, thank you.’

We starred at each other for a few moments.

‘Come, let us go to my room.’

I followed as she left the library and went up the huge staircase along a number of corridors and finally to a room at the end. Following her in, I found that the room was roughly as large as my bedroom but the wallpaper was dark and so made it appear perhaps smaller. The dark furnishings and carpet all added to this rather oppressive illusion but this was her room and I assumed that she liked it this way.

She sat on what I now know to be a chaise longue and looked at me.

‘Come and sit beside me.’ She said patting the seat.

I went and sat as requested.

She looked at me critically.

‘You are very pretty. Oh look you blush too, how quaint…and yet, and yet, there is something not quite right.’

‘I am sorry, have I done something wrong?’

She looked at me quizzically.

‘What is it? I know, I know!’

I looked at her in horror. Could she know my secret? Perhaps one of the servants had given me away.

‘I am sorry, I do not know…’

‘You remind me of Pip, a boy at home, my adopted mother Miss Havisham has taken a fancy to him. You are a bit of a tomboy I think. Look you sit like a boy with your legs open and though you are pretty, it does not come natural to you to be like a girl. ‘Let me think. No say nothing…yes, I know, you were brought up in the company of boys and are yet to learn the niceties of being a girl. I am right aren’t I?’

I looked at her and felt fear. This could be the end of everything if she guessed the real truth. I was young, a child, I knew nothing other than what I had experienced in my short eventful life. However, I had seen and done things that no normal child had experienced and that made me older in some ways than this haughty young girl…so I lied, but it was not far from the truth.

‘Yes, I was in the company of boys when I was small and did not have the luxury of learning the ways of being a girl. I have come here to be taught the manners appropriate to a proper young lady.’

‘I knew it, I knew it!’ She squealed with delight. ‘I will help you if you like.’

‘Thank you,’ I said with some misgiving.

‘That is alright. I am sorry to quiz you so. Your manner puzzled me and I am glad to discern the reason. Anyway, come see my lovely doll; her name is Dora, isn’t she wonderful?’

It was strange how her face lit up as she showed me her doll; it was as if a curtain had fallen away leaving a young happy girl. She looked at me and saw that I was still upset at her treatment of me.

‘Do you have a doll?’

I shook my head and could feel the tears coming unbidden to my eyes.

‘I am sorry, Olivia, you must forgive me. I suppose like you I have had a strange upbringing. I live with my mother, Miss Haversham. She adopted me and lives in seclusion after being jilted at the altar. She still wears her wedding dress and lives in the ruin of her dreams. It rubs off a little I think and makes me melancholy. You must forgive me and be friends. Will we be? Please say yes.’

I looked at her and felt that she as well as I had suffered in some way so in answer I nodded and smiled.

‘I am so pleased and just to say thank you, I have a gift for you.’

She went over to a cabinet and opened the door. She picked out a box and brought it over.

‘Open it up.’ She said handing the box to me.

I lifted the lid and saw in some tissue paper a lovely doll with a china head and beautiful silk clothes.

‘I…I cannot accept this!’ I cried.

‘You must. It was a present from an aunt, but I can only love one doll and that is my Dora. Please have her. I know that you will look after her and it will seal our friendship.’

I picked up the doll and fell immediately in love with her.

‘Thank you so much Estella I will cherish her for ever!’

We spent some time playing and then having tea. Estella had dropped her haughty ways and was much better for it. All too soon, it was time to leave and I left promising to see her again soon and hoping that she would perhaps visit me at my house next time.

That night as I settled down to sleep the warm bed comfortable and secure and my doll clamped under my arm, I wondered about Estella and whether we would be good friends, little knowing that my life would soon take another terrible and dramatic turn and that things would never be the same for me again.

To be continued…

I will not beg for comments because it is unseemly, but if you have a moment in your busy schedule, please let me know if you like or not like this little piece.

My thanks go to Kristina L.S and Gabi for pulling this into shape.