The Orphan's Dream Read Online Free Page A

well afford to pay on the nail for their purchases.’
    â€˜Please, Pa,’ Mirabel said, following him to the door. ‘It’s not much to ask to have my old room back.’
    His answer was lost as the door opened and Ernestine swept into the room, but her smile was banished by a frown when she saw Mirabel. ‘What has she said to you, Jacob?’
    He kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’m in a rush, my love. We’ll speak about it when I return from business this evening.’ He hurried across the hall to where Wiley stood, holding his master’s hat and cane. ‘Good man, Wiley. Is the carriage outside?’
    â€˜It’s waiting in Seething Lane, sir.’ He moved to open the front door, an obsequious smile pasted on his thin features.
    â€˜Good man. Look after the ladies while I’m away.’ Jacob hurried outside with Wiley hurrying after him clutching an umbrella.
    Ernestine pinched Mirabel’s arm. ‘Your father will do as I say, so don’t think you can go behind my back to get what you want.’
    â€˜Why are you doing this?’ Mirabel turned to face her, ignoring the pain where Ernestine’s fingers had bruised her tender flesh. ‘What have I done to make you hate me?’
    â€˜You may think that you come first in your father’s affections, but you don’t. You’re nothing now, and the sooner you’re out of my house the better.’
    â€˜This is my home. You can’t simply throw me out.’
    â€˜Why aren’t you married? You’re twenty-one, so I’m told, practically an old maid, and I don’t want a spinster daughter interfering with my life.’
    Mirabel stared at her aghast. ‘What a nasty mind you have, stepmother. I can’t see what my father ever saw in you.’
    â€˜That just shows how little you know about men. They’re like putty in a clever woman’s hands. You just have to know how to handle them.’
    â€˜I pity you, ma’am. He’ll see through you one day and then it will be you and your horrible daughters who are out on the street.’ Mirabel was about to walk away when Ernestine caught her by the sleeve.
    â€˜I haven’t finished with you yet.’
    â€˜What do you want now? Haven’t you done enough already?’
    â€˜I’ve decided that your expensive education shouldn’t go to waste. I want you to teach my girls how to be ladies. You’ll pass on everything your governess taught you.’ Ernestine’s lips curved into a smile, but her eyes glittered like chips of green glass. ‘They have the looks and I want them to have the polish that will catch them rich husbands. You might not know how to please men, but you can leave that part of their education up to me.’
    â€˜I won’t do it.’
    Charity was sullen and Prudence struggled with her lessons, spending more time moping and complaining than she did paying attention to the work Mirabel had set for her. Without the authority to discipline them in any way, Mirabel knew from the start that any effort on her part would be wasted. She had begged her father to intercede on her behalf, but he seemed unable or unwilling to argue with his wife, and Ernestine appeared to revel in her newly acquired position of power.
    The saving grace for Mirabel was that lessons were conducted in the morning and she was able to escape from the house after luncheon each day. Volunteers were always needed at the soup kitchen in Crispin Street, and it was the one place where she felt welcome. With a white mobcap covering her hair and a clean pinafore to protect her plainest gown, she was an anonymous helper and part of a cheerful group of women who gave their time willingly in order to help the poor and needy. Most of her efforts involved peeling potatoes, carrots and turnips or chopping onions, which made her eyes sting painfully and caused tears to pour down her cheeks. She had been doing