Ireland Rose

  For the entire hour words, expressions, emotions, and stories were swapped. Two cups of tea and two miniature oatmeal cakes later, Rose heard the sound of her buggy.

  “Oh, I am so glad we had a visit Stella. Now I know so much more as do you. We will pick up our lives, even with all these changes and continue with what the Lord has for us to do, won’t we?” Tears popped into her eyes. “It has been so good to visit. You’ve brought out in me the wisdom of talking with a good friend, what one’s heart is truly feeling.”

  “Oh now.” Stella wiped at the tears forming in her eyes. “We’ve both lost someone who cared for us and that it not easy.”

  “Indeed.” Rose’s voice failed her. She had been so strong for all these weeks and suddenly she wondered if she should continue her journey or head home and have a good cry.

  With her next sentence Stella gave her courage. “Now you go on out of here, make your visit to Mrs. McGuire and the Whitegate Orphanage. You’ll find Mrs. Shevington a fair and honest woman. At our next meeting, we shall sit down together, for I have many furniture pieces from my father’s house. We will divvy up and carry to Jamison’s once I sort through.”

  “I should like that very much.” Rose said.

  With that she exited the house with a smile and a wave.

  “To Mrs. Shevington at Whitegate Orphanage.” She announced. “It’s good the rain has stopped and a bit of sun has pierced the dark clouds.”

  “Hmm…mmmm.” Her driver nodded.

  The short trip brought them to a large home, seven pillars lined up across the front verandah. The entire house was white with black shutters at each long narrow window. It boasted four white wicker rockers and matching glass-topped tables down the entire length. Ivy decorated the roof above it and hung down in lush thickness enclosing both ends of the porch.

  There was a small sign in the yard. Black letters on white said simply, Whitegate. It hung from an arm and post and moved back and forth as the winds picked up. Rose tied the organza ribbon of her hat tighter under her chin and let herself down. “Have a good long lunch Emmanuel. I hope to be ready in a couple of hours. Mrs. Shevington has promised me a tour.”

  “Ma’am,” He lifted his hat and held Ready still.

  Heart beating fast, Rose felt a nervous excitement come upon her as she stood looking at the home for a moment and decided it was indeed very beautiful. No doubt a wealthy Charlestonian had donated it. It was no wonder the St. Michael ladies were busy trying to support it. Low hanging trees blew nearby and at least a dozen white ceramic pots of red geraniums made the entire scene look like a picture post-card. She embedded the scene firmly in her mind and decided this would be her next sketch.

  After a light tap on the door, she was met by a slender maid, with a black dress, and a clean, crisp apron. “We’ve been expecting you this week, Mrs. Lovell.” She said politely.

  Rose smiled and wondered how the young woman could possibly know her name.

  “Please come this way.”

  She followed taking in the size of the rooms. The fireplace in the parlor was gigantic. She warmed her hands at it and took the seat closest. She didn’t want to catch a chill.

  With hardly a chance to look around for long, Rose stood as she was greeted by a tall, slender, well-dressed woman with pure white hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

  “So this is Mrs. Lovell.” She actually held out her hand. Rose stood, took it, glad to know the woman was human. For by her appearance Rose would have guessed her to be at the top rung of society echelon. She was dressed perfectly in a long blue dress, with a wide band of black at her waist. The dress was simple elegance. But the woman wore it so well. And stood straight as a stick, her hair pulled back in a perfect French chignon.

  Rose straightened her back immediately.

  “I’m Mrs. Shevington. Come, would you like tea?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Rose said, not meaning a word of it. She’d just had two cups and would need to use the privy if she drank much more.

  The woman pulled a beribboned bell nearby and instantly the young girl appeared again. She went to the door and spoke softly with her.

  Rose liked her immediately. Even though Mrs. Shevington was elegant and formal she spoke to her servants with respect. She expected to like this woman very much. Another sword pierced her heart. And she had been ready to judge her. She kept that thought for another day.

  Within minutes and after sharing her condolences for Captain Lovell’s passing, the two were talking animatedly about their work. When they paused for a moment, Rose asked her how the servant knew her name.

  “Well, you are certainly not a Charlestonian. I should have thought the gossip would have reached you by now.” Mrs. Shevington smiled, her blue eyes crinkling at the edges. “Which is not to say much, because back in the day when Mr. Camden John Lovell was a young man, newly established here with the Emerald Rose, I, in my young days had hoped to marry him.”

  Rose smiled at the woman’s perky look. “I fell in love the instant I met him. He, on the other hand, was a bit slower. He broke my heart and never knew it.”

  “I am truly sorry. Lost love is never forgotten.” Rose said and wondered how in the world she could possibly know that. She had never been loved by a man.

  Shaking her thoughts free, she continued, “And did you marry?”

  “Yes, I did. I married society and money.” My parents were very happy. For myself, I was very lonely. Until I turned our home into an orphanage after my husband passed.”

  “This is your home?”

  “Indeed it is. And for the last twelve years I have never been happier. Mr. Shevington never wanted children. And now I have many of them. These have been the best years of my life.”

  Rose’s teacup rattled as she took a sip …wondering what an appropriate response would be. She felt sad for her. She would have made Captain Lovell a fine wife. That would have been about the time he married Lucinda. She wondered what Mrs. Shevington thought of that at the time, but dare not bring it up. Felt sad, too that Captain Lovell had given his life and his worldly goods to her as an act of kindness instead of to a woman he loved.

  “Come. We shall not visit old times today.” She stood. “Let’s take the tour I promised you, then we will talk about Matilda Jane.”

  The teacup was set aside and her heart thumped with joy. She would see what this lovely woman had done with her life. First stop was the kitchen. Several young girls scurried around, smiles on their face, voices low as they worked.

  “Every young woman here is an orphan.”

  “Indeed?” Rose had thought them servants.

  “Yes, each one has come and agreed to be trained in some form of service. Our girls are highly recommended when they finish their courses here.”

  “What other subjects do you offer, Mrs. Shevington?”

  “First, since we are to be friends, Mrs. Lovell, I would like you to address me as Emmie. My Irish father named me Emerald . . . the green of Ireland you know.”

  “Emerald. What a beautiful name.” Rose’s mind went straight to her husband’s ship. “Did Captain Lovell name the Emerald Star after you?” She inquired, her eyes wide.

  Mrs. Shevington smiled. “You dear are a quick one. Yes, in fact he did.”

  Rose smiled. “It is good to know he loved you.”

  Emmie’s eyes lit up. “And you are not offended.”

  “No indeed. Mr. Lovell only married me to repay an old debt to my father.”

  “Oh indeed. And what was that?”

  “As a young lad Mr. Lovell had stowed away on a ship and when found out was in danger of being tossed overboard as a stowaway!”

  “Huh…” Mrs. Shevington paused. “He never once mentioned that.”

  “When my father paid his way across, he vowed he would pay back the favor. And he did.”

  Rose felt her face color slightly. It was a bit embarrassing to tell someone that you weren’t loved.

  “Then you
are a very blessed woman. He was a kind man, an honorable man. That is why my young heart was broken when he refused me, even though I knew he loved me.”

  “He refused you?” Rose could not believe it.

  “Yes. I asked my father to ‘attain’ him for me when months had gone on without an offer. I’m sorry to say it, now. I wish I would have waited. I believe as a young man he did not feel quite up to par in Charleston society. His first house was very small and I think he felt unworthy. My father would have made it appear that way, I’m sure.”

  “Oh no….” Rose felt her pain. “And so your father went to him?”

  “Yes, he did and after that Captain Lovell started commandeering the Emerald Star to London himself. I believe he was trying to make his fortune…but alas…it was too late. My father arranged an agreement with Mr. Shevington and I was toted down the aisle.”

  Rose didn’t know what to say. It was horrible. These arrangements…this interfering of human lives.

  “Let’s not think about what was, shall we? I have come to a wonderful place in my life and glad I am to have these girls in my life now.”

  “Indeed.” Rose whispered as they made their way to another room.

  “See, here the ladies are learning to sew. From the very youngest to the eldest. We have twenty four girls here now. Graduated from the low school.”

  “Low school?”

  “Yes there is another orphanage here in town, called Newgate. They get the two of us mixed up.”

  “Ah, so that’s the one St. Michael’s ladies support?”

  “Yes, and thankfully. If they support that one I can afford to maintain this one.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “There are levels here in Charleston as you well know. Mrs. Jamison also has an orphanage and it is not as well supported.”

  “I am familiar with Jamisons.” Rose said excitedly.

  “Indeed? I am happy to hear that. Mr. Lovell chose his wife well.” She spouted.

  “I’m afraid he didn’t choose me.” Rose laughed. “But whatever comes, Providence works things out in the end.”

  “Indeed He does. Now shall we go on?”

  “Oh yes.” Rose gushed.

  There were curved stairs ahead and the sound of a pianoforte filled the stairwell. “You teach music as well?”

  “Yes all the fine arts. French, Italian, and German, thanks to local citizens who are willing to be paid a stipend. Music, and drawing. Do you play Mrs. Lovell?”

  “No, I was not a good student, I’m afraid. My mother gave me lessons but I preferred sketching and dancing.”

  “Dancing. Hmmmm…” Mrs. Shevington’s fingertip rested on her lips. “What steps to you know?”

  “Oh not many, I was a young ballerina. Danced in school plays and such…”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. We are always looking for teachers. Perhaps you’d be more inclined to show us your sketching skills one day soon.”

  “I would be happy to help.” Rose said.

  After a full tour of the house, they returned to the front room with the largest fireplace Rose had ever seen. It covered a large part of the wall and boasted large marble pillars on each side.

  “Well, there you have it Mrs. Lovell. What have you to say?”

  “Mrs. Shevington I am properly impressed to say the least. I didn’t imagine for a moment that an orphanage, really a school, could be so productive or so well conducted.”

  “Then I have done my duty. I have impressed you?” She laughed heartily. “I think we shall be friends, Rose.”

  “Yes I do believe we will be Emmie.” Rose returned the honor. “Will you write me the address of Newgate and I shall make a proper visit there, as well.”

  “Of course.” She stood and wrote at the desk, handing her the address. “We shall visit again soon. I will be attending the meeting for Newgate next month. Perhaps you will join us?”

  Rose did not want to hurt her friendship but felt she should be completely honest immediately. “My heart is involved with Jamison’s Orphanage right now. I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. But I would be more than happy to teach sketching and water color, if you find my work suitable for your students.”

  “Thank you for being so frank, Rose. Newgate is supported by the ladies of Charleston and most do not give thought to Jamison’s. I’m glad you are on their board.”

  “Oh dear, I have given the wrong impression. I am not on their board, a friend and I have only brought items we could not use to them. And hired one of the girls as a seamstress.”

  “Well, then, you are doing your part. And I always say, it is better to use a person’s natural skills and pay them than to do the work yourself, when so many need to feel their work is important.”

  Rose let her look of gratefulness and her smile convey her feelings.

  “There now. You must be going or it will be dark. And visitors are not allowed after the dinner hour. The young women have much to do to prepare for the next day.”

  “Then I will be going. My driver has been waiting…” Rose stopped talking as the grandfather clock in the room began to chime the hour of 5 p.m. …”for a few minutes now.” She finished.

  Rose stepped out onto the lovely verandah and took one last look at the house and set her face toward the next stop. She could hardly contain herself. Confidence and joy burst inside the place where her heart was.

  “Emmanuel, take me home. I’ve had enough excitement for the day.”

  Chapter 36

  Several days later and with two framed water color paintings under her arm, Rose was on her way to Newgate. She had no idea what to expect, but she was definitely excited. Mrs. Shevington had spoken of the school and if she brought her girls from Newgate, it must be very well run.

  Emmanuel pulled the buggy up and let her dismount. “An hour please, Emmanuel. It is a beautiful sunny day, enjoy yourself.” She stepped down carefully while Ready neighed anxious to be about a good run.

  With her gloved hand across her brow and Rose took a good long look. Newgate had no sign out front and was located in a poorer side of town than Whitegate, of course, which she expected. What she didn’t expect was the condition of the premises. She lifted her skirts and watched her step. No one had bothered to clean up horse droppings out front of the wooden steps, which were a bit rickety. The porch paint had peeled leaving gray worn floorboards. A good whitewash would put that in order.

  The door knocker was missing and no pots of flowers adorned the place. It looked rather bleak. With a tap at the front, she waited. No one came. She could hear noises within. A piano played. She could hear it through the open window above.

  Removing her glove, she knocked her knuckles against the dirty glass, louder this time. It brought a little girl who opened and looked up rather shyly.

  “I’m Mrs. Lovell, may I come in?” she inquired.

  The girl said nothing, but pulled the door open wider.

  “Oh my, Harriet.” An older girl bent to eye level and said, “You may go.” Smiling as the little girl ran off.

  “I’m afraid Harriet is deaf.” She usually does not hear the door. She must have seen you and since no one came, she opened to you.”

  Rose nodded. “May I see the person in charge.” She asked the girl who did not give her name.

  “Yes, Mr. Doddle is available. Mrs. Doddle is sick today. I’ll seat you hear near the window.”

  Rose took the well-worn chair and gazed out the large window that went from the floor upwards at least six feet. The sun shot off any shiny surface creating arcs of light. The bird feeders were occupied; a different bird landing every few seconds, pecking and then flying off, as though there were waiting lines. It was a lovely view.

  Thoughts interrupted, she stood when she heard a man address her.

  “Ma’am, welcome to Newgate. I am Mr. Henry Doddle…my wife Georgianna and I are the caretakers.” He said and nodded formally.

  Rose noted immediately his haggard look. From app
earances the children had done him in, for his dark hair stuck out in all possible directions. She watched with her fingertips at her lips to hide the smile that tried to make its way forward, as he ran his hand through his hair, which only served to muss it up more.

  “I am so very sorry. I should have called before stopping in.”

  “No apology needed. Guests are welcome anytime. I don’t believe I heard your name, ma’am.”

  “I’m Mrs. Camden Lovell. I should come back another time.” She pulled on her gloves and prepared to leave.

  “Please. If you wouldn’t mind so much we have a problem with one of the girls and no one seems to know what to do. Would it be too forward of me to ask you to intervene?”

  Before Rose could answer, he started down a dark hall adding over his shoulder, “My wife is ill and cannot come down…and you are a young woman, I daresay you could certainly do better than I.”

  “Take me to her.” Rose heard the words and could not believe she had spoken them aloud. “I will do what I can.”

  She followed Mr. Doddle up one flight of stairs and then another. They were finally in the attic. Rose swatted at the dust that flew up her nose as they reached the top and bent their heads against the pitched roof. Rose sneezed twice.

  “Cecelia, this is Mrs. Lovell. She would like to talk to you. Remember your manners.” He said softly and left the two of them alone.

  Since Mr. Doddle had not mentioned what Cecelia’s problem was Rose decided to make herself comfortable and found a small stump of wood to sit on which brought her closer to the little, blond-haired urchin who sat upon the floor. The dark brown eyes looked at her with deep suspicion and Rose smiled slightly and looked out the window. She waited for the child to speak. She must have been in the range of 5 or 6, and her face was as dirty as her frock. Her bare feet were tucked in underneath slender legs. Worn shoes lay at odd angles nearby.

  Instead of speaking, Rose decided she would sit quietly and picked up a book that lay on an ancient side table. Treasures she would have liked to investigate lay nearby. She looked at each one, studied and guessed at the year and possibly the family who put it all up here. Strangely, she thought about the love notes on blue paper that lay tied up in her own attic. She had almost forgotten them, except for the correspondence they contained. She remembered nearly every word. Were there letters like that up here?