Mrs Atkinson pulled a face and slowly turned around.

I kept my eyes downcast, refusing to look at whoever her just spoken. I knew full-well they were referring to me and did not want to give them anything else to comment on. The state of my dress and the length of my hair already gave them an awful lot to talk about and I did not want to give them something new by showing them the scar. Even if it seemed rude, staring at the floor seemed better than having to deal with comments on something I would never be able to change.

"Good morning, Jane," Mrs Atkinson said. "Lizzie, this is Mrs Oliver, a family friend." I looked up slightly and watched her glance towards her husband who appeared to be trying to come up with an escape route.

"And who is this? I do not remember you mentioning another maid joining your household," the lady said.

"This is Lizzie Hayworth, she's not a maid. In fact, Edward and I are looking into adopting her."

"Adoption? Hm, I cannot say the thought has ever crossed my mind before, but each to their own I suppose. She's a scrawny little thing, sparrows bones and that hair! Have you ever seen such a thing on a young lady? You will have your work cut out with this one." The woman paused. "Look at me, girl."

I looked up, ignoring the gasp that came from the lady's lips upon seeing my face for the first time. If she thought my stature and hair was bad, the scar must have been the icing on the cake, it certainly took her by surprise. She stared at me, her eyes running across every part of my body even though she had just made a comment on my size and hair. Her eyes lingered all too long on the scar and I watched her draw her mouth into a thin line and continue to stare at me.

The lady was no older than Mrs Atkinson, with light brown hair that she had twisted up into an extravagant style. Her dress was a shocking crimson colour that would be impossible to miss even if we were standing in the middle of a snowstorm. Lace adorned the cuff and neckline making the entire outfit appear a tad melodramatic, but I was hardly in a position to judge and I did not know what the latest fashions were.

"An interesting choice, I must say, Lydia. How do you expect her to find a fitting husband with that mark on her face? Were there not any unblemished children at this orphanage or do they only take those no one would ever want?"

"There were plenty of other girls to choose from, but we wanted to get to know Lizzie. Her future husband endeavours and decisions are hers to make."

"Yes, well, you must take these things into account, Lydia."

"Hm, if you say so."

"I would be surprised if she has any decent suitors at all. Sparrows bones, a boys haircut and that monstrosity on her face. She certainly isn't up to much and you would be better of going with someone with more appeal. This one would make a better servant than a daughter."

I knew the insults had been coming, but I certainly did not expect them to be so blunt and to the point. Many of those who had felt the need to comment on me had done so under their breath and to a friend, acting as though I was not standing right in front of them. Mrs Oliver had been looking directly at me when she had spoken, the comments directed more towards me than Mrs Atkinson. Why my future marriage prospects had to be added into the equation remained a mystery.

Since I had always thought my life would involve nothing but working as a maid for a well-to-do family, the thought of marriage and my future had never crossed my mind. The truth had always been that I never seemed interested in finding a husband or a suitor and it had never been because of the scar. It just wasn't what I wanted. I did not want that reliance on my husband to make all my decisions and I wanted to be my own person, not just my husband's wife. That would always be my decision and had nothing to do with anyone else, including Mrs Oliver.

Mrs Atkinson did not appear all that pleased with the comment and pursed her lips together without saying a word. She must have known, upon deciding that she wanted to get to know me, that others would have a few choice words on the matter and would not wait to share that opinion, no matter how bold or rude it may have seemed. Perhaps she just did not know what she was getting herself into when she decided that I would be the person she wanted to adopt. Matron must not have worked hard enough to warn them off.

A silence fell over us. I turned my attention back to the floor and started to kick my shoes across the stones, scuffing them up that much more. Mrs Oliver seemed to be itching to say something else, no doubt wanting to comment on the state of my dress or shoes. She seemed to exercise a little bit of restraint, however.

"Edward and I are certain that Lizzie is the right fit for us," Mrs Atkinson said.

"Well, I suppose the decision is yours to make."

"Yes. It is."

"Do not expect me to allow Sophie to befriend her if this adoption plan of yours goes ahead."

"It was nice to see you, Jane. Lydia, shall we be off? I'm famished," Mr Atkinson said before any other words were exchanged between the two.

"Oh, yes, of course."

Without even muttering a word of goodbye to Mrs Oliver, Mrs Atkinson placed a light hand on my shoulder and lightly nudged me down the street. We left Mrs Oliver standing open-mouthed in the middle of the street, a tall man in a black top hat appearing from a nearby shop and standing beside her. I turned my hand a little to face them, watching Mrs Oliver turn her nose up at us and head in the opposite direction.

"The audacity! You do not see me criticising Sophie and her numerous freckles, although I have little doubt that Jane does that herself. How on earth someone thinks it is fine to talk about someone like that is a mystery to me," Mrs Atkinson said, her voice a little high pitched.

"I'm used to it," I muttered, kicking a stone across the ground.

Mrs Atkinson looked at me and tilted her head to the side a little, her eyebrows knitted together. It was the first time I had spoken since the clothing shop and it appeared to have taken her a little by surprise, but I felt like she needed to know that this was nothing new to me. She seemed confused, stunned almost that I would say such a thing, but I could have hardly told her otherwise.

"What do you mean, Lizzie?"

I shrugged. "People make comments all the time. It's why I tend to hide in the kitchen or why I never look at people. Most of the time, they make their comments behind my back, acting as though I'm not there."

"You should not have to put with such a thing."

"I have learnt to ignore it."

"Well, today is all about having fun and getting to know one another. I propose we go and sit down somewhere for luncheon and try to forget that any of this has happened," Mr Atkinson said.

After a silent agreement, they both led me once again through the streets of London. We walked past stalls selling trinkets for the Christmas season including small angels and decorations for trees. We passed a bakery that emitted a heavy smell of bread and cakes even through the shut door. The bread we ate at the orphanage was almost always stale and I could not remember the last time we had had cake. It took everything within me not to stand in the doorway and inhale the smells.

After walking past various other shops including a tailor and a butcher which I refused to even glance at, we arrived at a small restaurant sat on a street corner. Mr Atkinson pushed open the door and held it open, gesturing us inside. Once inside, we were shown to a small, round table with a white cloth that seemed to be in the darkest part of the room. I removed my shawl and draped it over the back of the chair, clasping my hands in my lap and looking around the room.

More tables sat dotted around the room with a large candelabra hanging in the centre of the room and several smaller candle holders alongside the walls. Servers walked around with jugs of water and menus, handing them out and showing people to their seats with a smile. I could smell a mixture of different smells that emanated from a set of doors not too far away from where we were sat.

One of the servers approached our table hand handed out three menus, giving me a look out of the side of his eye as he did so. He poured some water into the three glasses on the table and walked away to see to someone who had just flagged him at the door. I stared at the menu, reading through the various meals that were on offer, many of which I had never heard of. We had porridge, soup and meat with two vegetables. Sometimes we would have some sort of pie. Never had I seen a list so extravagant as this one.

"Does anything appeal to you, Lizzie?" Mr Atkinson asked, staring at his own menu.

"All of it," I said.

"You can choose whatever you would like, and we can even have something for dessert."

I chose the steak and kidney pudding; it was something I had heard of before and we had had a similar pie after our Sunday luncheon. Mrs Atkinson chose some sort of fish and I did not hear what Mr Atkinson had ordered. After informing the waiter of our selections, I grabbed my glass and sipped the cool water, my eyes are drawn to something new every time I turned my head. I ignored the stares from those who thought I did not belong and simply stared at the paintings on the walls.

"So, Lizzie, do you have much free time at the orphanage?" Mr Atkinson asked, swallowing a mouthful of water.

"Not really, sir. We have some time in the evenings but most of that is spent mending our dresses or stockings. Sometimes we get extra chores so even that is not possible," I said.

"What do you do for fun?"

"We use or recreation time to play tag, more often in the winter since it can warm us up, but nothing much beyond that. I always find mending clothes to be fun. Or extending them so they fit better. This dress used to be a little shorter, I made it when I was ten, but I've grown a little since then." I stared at them wide-eyed, realising I had just said more in almost one breath then I had since we left the orphanage.

"You made that dress?"

"Mm-hm. Matron gave us all some fabric and told us to make some clothes for Chapel, this was mine."

"It's very well done for something you made yourself at such a young age."

"Oh, thank you. It wasn't too difficult, though."

"You should take pride in what you achieved, Lizzie. A complete dress at such a young age is an achievement," Mrs Atkinson said.

Before they could ask any more questions, our meals arrived and I seized my cutlery, diving straight into my steal-and-kidney pudding with as much gusto as I could muster. I had never tasted such a thing; the meats were juicy, and it was full of rich gravy that I kept dropping on my chin. There was even a selection of different vegetables, some I had never seen in the orphanage and some that I had eaten far too much of over the years. I barely stopped to breath as I ate.

Some of the others in the restaurant looked at me with disgust, muttering about the gravy on my chin but I did not care one bit. This was my first big meal in my entire life, and I intended to enjoy every bit of it. Neither of the Atkinson's seemed to mind all that much and I had even caught Mrs Atkinson smiling at me. Part of me wondered if she had imagined how Mrs Oliver would react if she saw me, it would have been a rather amusing sight.

I had never eaten anything so tasty in all my life and I just wanted to eat more and more. The food at the orphanage was nothing compared to this and I doubted anything else would compare, even if I ate here several more times. Given the opportunity, I would have eaten several more helpings of the pudding just sitting there, although that might have been a little too far.

When I finished, I sat there and tried to dream up what dessert they may have had and what new things I might have the opportunity to taste. Dessert did not exist in the orphanage. We were never allowed so much as a biscuit and I could not wait to taste something else completely new.

If every meeting with the Atkinson's would involve generous helpings of brand-new meals or sweet desserts, then I would be willing to do it several times over. 

~~~

A/N - We are back! Bit of a delay in the time since Wattpad was glitching, but here is Chapter Five! Enjoy!

First Published - November 10th, 2020