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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: History / Historical
- Published: 09/18/2020
Florrie
Born 1948, F, from Epping. Essex, United Kingdom.jpeg)
Florrie
By Kristin Dockar
London 1759:
Florrie hurried through the city. Long, black shadows fell over the streets only relieved by the occasional candle-lit window or a watchman’s lantern. She walked quickly up Chancery Lane, crossed over to Southampton Row and turned into Bloomsbury Square. She paused there tightening her arms around her tiny daughter. She breathed deeply to steady herself and then walked slowly on to Bloomsbury Fields. Pushing herself close to a hedge she peered across the road at the Foundling Hospital. It was only then, having reached her destination, that her courage began to fail her.
But she stayed very still behind the hedge, watching and waiting.
Florrie’s close friend Ruby had told her about the Foundling Hospital when Florrie confided that she could no longer safely care for her child. She told Ruby: ‘I’m torn apart inside. I can’t keep her safe any longer’.
Ruby answered. ‘Florrie, listen to me. There is somewhere you can take the baby. Take her to The Foundling Hospital. Abandoned babies are cared for there, but they also care for babies if the mother can’t cope anymore. You’re only eighteen years old. You need to work to live and you can’t do that if you’ve got a baby. You have got to get out of the workhouse. Only you can do that. For God’s sake make a decision. At least try and give her a chance’.
‘Do you know what that will feel like Ruby. I have never been stabbed but I know this, I will feel that something has been torn in me if I have to give my baby up’.
Florrie had listened and thought and thought about it. In the end the decision was made for her. She simply had no money and knew she must work. The workhouse was no longer an option for either her or her child. She felt vulnerable and in danger in that place.
Now she stood looking at the place she planned to leave her baby.
As she watched, she saw carriage after carriage sweep round to the entrance of the hospital. Richly dressed men and women made their way up the steps to the door. They were laughing and chattering, ready for an evening’s entertainment. How Florrie hated them. but she must do this. It was baby Phillipa’s only chance of having any life at all, and not becoming her mother all over again. The baby was already nearly a year old and her mother was failing her every day.
Florrie knew the wealthy people going in were here for the entertainment and she knew what the entertainment would be. Her friend Ruby had told her that the gentry gathered in the black and white tiled hallway of the Foundling Hospital. A group of young women would be led in all carrying a child. The Matron would join them carrying a black cloth bag. Inside the bag were black and white balls. Each woman would be ushered forward with her baby and reach into the bag. If she pulled out a white ball the baby would be given a place in the Hospital. If it was a black ball, the woman had failed in her attempt to give her child a better life, and she then had to walk out of the door back to the squalid living conditions she was trying to save her child from.
Pulling out a white ball was the peak of the evening’s entertainment because there would follow heart-rending scenes as the mother handed over her child. The more sensitive of the audience might faint right away with the emotion of it. Pulling out a black ball meant the mother and baby would be sent out into the night to return to the rowdy, hedonistic streets of London that each woman was trying to save her child from. Florrie had grown up on those streets and she knew it was nothing to find a dead baby just lying in the street.
Florrie hated those wealthy women with all her being. She watched as they continued to swarm into the hospital for the nightly ritual. She knew how they would gawk at the sight of the helpless girls parting from their babies. Now she was to become one of them. She was just eighteen years of age but standing there she felt as old and raddled as the old crones riddled with gin that she had passed on her way here.
Florrie shivered again in the cold night air and clutched Phillipa closer, tucking her shawl around the baby’s tiny body. Again, she could scarcely believe she was standing here waiting to go into that building and give someone her darling girl. Heart-breaking sadness coursed through her mixed with pure, savage, cold rage. She knew herself betrayed.
Florrie thought back to the day when her master, Lord Philip Morton, had winked at her on his way out to his carriage. His wife, Lucy, had been walking just ahead of him. Only a short while earlier Florrie had helped Lady Lucy into a gorgeous gown that rippled in blue satin waves around her slim body, and adjusted a lace shawl around her employer’s shoulders.
Lively little Florrie with her pretty face and round curves had caught his lordship’s attention on several previous occasions and that day she had the nerve to wink back. Lord Philip had been so surprised that he had tripped on the steps. He had, of course, noticed the pretty dark-haired maid. But then he noticed any pretty girl.
That one small physical act, a wink from a pretty girl, had led him to seek her out. This in turn had led to secret meetings where he would have her at any time, in any place, and she had been so willing, giving no thought to the consequences. In Florrie’s drab, hum drum life this was such an adventure. She was not naive enough to believe that she was important to him and she had been as happy as he was to play the game.
Florrie loved the secrecy and danger, knew it could lead nowhere but could not give it up. It was just too exciting.
She was Lady Lucy’s personal maid, accompanying her everywhere. She knew her most intimate secrets, including her terrible monthly sorrow when she knew herself to have failed yet again to be with child.
One of Florrie’s tasks was to prepare Lady Lucy for bed every night and, god forgive her, she had laughed inside when she knew Lord Philip would not be coming to his wife’s bed chamber because he was too worn out from their couplings. Florrie knew only too well when Lady Lucy could expect her husband’s attentions, although there were occasions when she marvelled at Philip’s virility, knowing that just hours before he had enjoyed every delicious bit of herself.
Even when she discovered that she was with child, she didn’t worry unnecessarily. She knew about other rich gentlemen who had fathered children with servant girls. They usually provided something towards their offspring’s upkeep just to keep things quiet. Florrie wasn’t greedy. So, she told Philip about the coming baby and then waited to hear his response.
She could still feel the shock of that response. It was not as she had anticipated. He spoke to her roughly, cruelly, calling her a slut and telling her she must leave her ladyship’s employment at once. Florrie said she would denounce him to his wife. She could be as devious as he was. He told Florrie he would deny everything. He said his wife would not be able to tolerate Florrie’s condition so great was her grief at her own difficulty to conceive.
Now, as Florrie stood outside the Foundling Hospital she remembered every bitter word between them.
She shivered, remembering his Lordship’s betrayal. He had planted a tiny ring in her bedroom. A room he knew so well. It was a tiny seed pearl ring that he had given his wife on her 21st birthday.
When he ordered a search of Florrie’s room and it was found hidden in her pillowcase, she was dismissed. Lady Lucy looked sorrowfully on. Florrie was horrified as she realised the complete betrayal by her lover. She understood too well what would happen to someone like her, dismissed with no references. But then fury had taken hold of her and she told her mistress the most intimate details of her liaison with her husband. She revealed knowledge of his body that could leave no doubt of her relationship with him. Florrie told Lady Lucy exactly where, when and how often, and then she was thrown out of the house.
Still Florrie did not panic. She turned to Ruby for advice. Ruby said that her family would take Florrie in as long as she worked and contributed to the household. Florrie quickly found employment in a coffee house. Her lovely face and cheerful manner were an asset to the owner. But once her pregnancy showed she had to leave. In the end she couldn’t prevent her baby being born in a workhouse because she reached the point where she just couldn’t work any longer and so she had no money. Ruby’s family simply couldn’t afford to keep her.
Florrie’s rage was the one thing that kept her going and as that continued to harden, she knew what she must do for her child’s future. She talked long and hard with Ruby and eventually took her advice.
So here she was outside the Foundling Hospital trying to find the courage to walk in with her baby daughter.
Florrie steadied herself and began the walk across the road. She would go up the steps to the hospital, walk through the doors and stand with the clutch of other women holding their babies.
Just as she took the first step forward a voice spoke quietly to her.
‘Stop Florrie. There’s no need for this’.
Turning Florrie saw Lady Lucy emerge from the shadows. Florrie raised her head and looked directly at her.
‘Give the child to me Florrie. I can bring her up. She will want for nothing’.
‘Why would you do that?’ Florrie whispered.
‘Because you have something I want, something I can’t have, and my husband owes me nothing less than to accept his child’.
‘How did you know I would be here?’
‘Ruby told me everything. I’ve been following your progress every step of the way. Give her up Florrie. Not to them, to me. You’ll know where she is and that she will want for nothing’.
‘No. why would I do that?’
‘Because you have no choice. It would be my revenge on you and that beast I must call ‘husband’. You know better than most that I cannot have a child. You have what I want. I can take her, and you will know that she will have a good life. Philip will acknowledge her. He has no choice. He relies on my money, which is all he ever married me for. Now come on Florrie. Don’t make this harder than it is. If you walk into that hospital you may get the chance to give your baby up and it will be reared to be of use and end up in service, someone’s maid. If you give her up to me, she will have a future. If you change your mind and keep her you will end up back in the workhouse and we both know how frequently babies die of neglect in there’.
Florrie stood rooted to the spot clutching Philippa even closer. Her eyes were blurred with tears. Her throat closed so that she felt she might choke. She was so tired now. How could she keep her baby? She had no-one to help her care for Philippa. She had to work.
Florrie looked at Lady Lucy and saw hatred, longing, hope and despair written across her face. She pushed the shawl from the baby’s tiny face, kissed her gently, and then handed her into Lady Lucy’s eager arms.
She immediately turned and walked away. It was only what she had intended to do tonight, one way or another. Just to give her child the chance of a better life.
Florrie(Kristin Dockar)
Florrie
By Kristin Dockar
London 1759:
Florrie hurried through the city. Long, black shadows fell over the streets only relieved by the occasional candle-lit window or a watchman’s lantern. She walked quickly up Chancery Lane, crossed over to Southampton Row and turned into Bloomsbury Square. She paused there tightening her arms around her tiny daughter. She breathed deeply to steady herself and then walked slowly on to Bloomsbury Fields. Pushing herself close to a hedge she peered across the road at the Foundling Hospital. It was only then, having reached her destination, that her courage began to fail her.
But she stayed very still behind the hedge, watching and waiting.
Florrie’s close friend Ruby had told her about the Foundling Hospital when Florrie confided that she could no longer safely care for her child. She told Ruby: ‘I’m torn apart inside. I can’t keep her safe any longer’.
Ruby answered. ‘Florrie, listen to me. There is somewhere you can take the baby. Take her to The Foundling Hospital. Abandoned babies are cared for there, but they also care for babies if the mother can’t cope anymore. You’re only eighteen years old. You need to work to live and you can’t do that if you’ve got a baby. You have got to get out of the workhouse. Only you can do that. For God’s sake make a decision. At least try and give her a chance’.
‘Do you know what that will feel like Ruby. I have never been stabbed but I know this, I will feel that something has been torn in me if I have to give my baby up’.
Florrie had listened and thought and thought about it. In the end the decision was made for her. She simply had no money and knew she must work. The workhouse was no longer an option for either her or her child. She felt vulnerable and in danger in that place.
Now she stood looking at the place she planned to leave her baby.
As she watched, she saw carriage after carriage sweep round to the entrance of the hospital. Richly dressed men and women made their way up the steps to the door. They were laughing and chattering, ready for an evening’s entertainment. How Florrie hated them. but she must do this. It was baby Phillipa’s only chance of having any life at all, and not becoming her mother all over again. The baby was already nearly a year old and her mother was failing her every day.
Florrie knew the wealthy people going in were here for the entertainment and she knew what the entertainment would be. Her friend Ruby had told her that the gentry gathered in the black and white tiled hallway of the Foundling Hospital. A group of young women would be led in all carrying a child. The Matron would join them carrying a black cloth bag. Inside the bag were black and white balls. Each woman would be ushered forward with her baby and reach into the bag. If she pulled out a white ball the baby would be given a place in the Hospital. If it was a black ball, the woman had failed in her attempt to give her child a better life, and she then had to walk out of the door back to the squalid living conditions she was trying to save her child from.
Pulling out a white ball was the peak of the evening’s entertainment because there would follow heart-rending scenes as the mother handed over her child. The more sensitive of the audience might faint right away with the emotion of it. Pulling out a black ball meant the mother and baby would be sent out into the night to return to the rowdy, hedonistic streets of London that each woman was trying to save her child from. Florrie had grown up on those streets and she knew it was nothing to find a dead baby just lying in the street.
Florrie hated those wealthy women with all her being. She watched as they continued to swarm into the hospital for the nightly ritual. She knew how they would gawk at the sight of the helpless girls parting from their babies. Now she was to become one of them. She was just eighteen years of age but standing there she felt as old and raddled as the old crones riddled with gin that she had passed on her way here.
Florrie shivered again in the cold night air and clutched Phillipa closer, tucking her shawl around the baby’s tiny body. Again, she could scarcely believe she was standing here waiting to go into that building and give someone her darling girl. Heart-breaking sadness coursed through her mixed with pure, savage, cold rage. She knew herself betrayed.
Florrie thought back to the day when her master, Lord Philip Morton, had winked at her on his way out to his carriage. His wife, Lucy, had been walking just ahead of him. Only a short while earlier Florrie had helped Lady Lucy into a gorgeous gown that rippled in blue satin waves around her slim body, and adjusted a lace shawl around her employer’s shoulders.
Lively little Florrie with her pretty face and round curves had caught his lordship’s attention on several previous occasions and that day she had the nerve to wink back. Lord Philip had been so surprised that he had tripped on the steps. He had, of course, noticed the pretty dark-haired maid. But then he noticed any pretty girl.
That one small physical act, a wink from a pretty girl, had led him to seek her out. This in turn had led to secret meetings where he would have her at any time, in any place, and she had been so willing, giving no thought to the consequences. In Florrie’s drab, hum drum life this was such an adventure. She was not naive enough to believe that she was important to him and she had been as happy as he was to play the game.
Florrie loved the secrecy and danger, knew it could lead nowhere but could not give it up. It was just too exciting.
She was Lady Lucy’s personal maid, accompanying her everywhere. She knew her most intimate secrets, including her terrible monthly sorrow when she knew herself to have failed yet again to be with child.
One of Florrie’s tasks was to prepare Lady Lucy for bed every night and, god forgive her, she had laughed inside when she knew Lord Philip would not be coming to his wife’s bed chamber because he was too worn out from their couplings. Florrie knew only too well when Lady Lucy could expect her husband’s attentions, although there were occasions when she marvelled at Philip’s virility, knowing that just hours before he had enjoyed every delicious bit of herself.
Even when she discovered that she was with child, she didn’t worry unnecessarily. She knew about other rich gentlemen who had fathered children with servant girls. They usually provided something towards their offspring’s upkeep just to keep things quiet. Florrie wasn’t greedy. So, she told Philip about the coming baby and then waited to hear his response.
She could still feel the shock of that response. It was not as she had anticipated. He spoke to her roughly, cruelly, calling her a slut and telling her she must leave her ladyship’s employment at once. Florrie said she would denounce him to his wife. She could be as devious as he was. He told Florrie he would deny everything. He said his wife would not be able to tolerate Florrie’s condition so great was her grief at her own difficulty to conceive.
Now, as Florrie stood outside the Foundling Hospital she remembered every bitter word between them.
She shivered, remembering his Lordship’s betrayal. He had planted a tiny ring in her bedroom. A room he knew so well. It was a tiny seed pearl ring that he had given his wife on her 21st birthday.
When he ordered a search of Florrie’s room and it was found hidden in her pillowcase, she was dismissed. Lady Lucy looked sorrowfully on. Florrie was horrified as she realised the complete betrayal by her lover. She understood too well what would happen to someone like her, dismissed with no references. But then fury had taken hold of her and she told her mistress the most intimate details of her liaison with her husband. She revealed knowledge of his body that could leave no doubt of her relationship with him. Florrie told Lady Lucy exactly where, when and how often, and then she was thrown out of the house.
Still Florrie did not panic. She turned to Ruby for advice. Ruby said that her family would take Florrie in as long as she worked and contributed to the household. Florrie quickly found employment in a coffee house. Her lovely face and cheerful manner were an asset to the owner. But once her pregnancy showed she had to leave. In the end she couldn’t prevent her baby being born in a workhouse because she reached the point where she just couldn’t work any longer and so she had no money. Ruby’s family simply couldn’t afford to keep her.
Florrie’s rage was the one thing that kept her going and as that continued to harden, she knew what she must do for her child’s future. She talked long and hard with Ruby and eventually took her advice.
So here she was outside the Foundling Hospital trying to find the courage to walk in with her baby daughter.
Florrie steadied herself and began the walk across the road. She would go up the steps to the hospital, walk through the doors and stand with the clutch of other women holding their babies.
Just as she took the first step forward a voice spoke quietly to her.
‘Stop Florrie. There’s no need for this’.
Turning Florrie saw Lady Lucy emerge from the shadows. Florrie raised her head and looked directly at her.
‘Give the child to me Florrie. I can bring her up. She will want for nothing’.
‘Why would you do that?’ Florrie whispered.
‘Because you have something I want, something I can’t have, and my husband owes me nothing less than to accept his child’.
‘How did you know I would be here?’
‘Ruby told me everything. I’ve been following your progress every step of the way. Give her up Florrie. Not to them, to me. You’ll know where she is and that she will want for nothing’.
‘No. why would I do that?’
‘Because you have no choice. It would be my revenge on you and that beast I must call ‘husband’. You know better than most that I cannot have a child. You have what I want. I can take her, and you will know that she will have a good life. Philip will acknowledge her. He has no choice. He relies on my money, which is all he ever married me for. Now come on Florrie. Don’t make this harder than it is. If you walk into that hospital you may get the chance to give your baby up and it will be reared to be of use and end up in service, someone’s maid. If you give her up to me, she will have a future. If you change your mind and keep her you will end up back in the workhouse and we both know how frequently babies die of neglect in there’.
Florrie stood rooted to the spot clutching Philippa even closer. Her eyes were blurred with tears. Her throat closed so that she felt she might choke. She was so tired now. How could she keep her baby? She had no-one to help her care for Philippa. She had to work.
Florrie looked at Lady Lucy and saw hatred, longing, hope and despair written across her face. She pushed the shawl from the baby’s tiny face, kissed her gently, and then handed her into Lady Lucy’s eager arms.
She immediately turned and walked away. It was only what she had intended to do tonight, one way or another. Just to give her child the chance of a better life.
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JD
09/21/2020I can't imagine such a wicked 'game' attached to babies being given up, and those who didn't win being sent away without recourse, not to mention all the dead babies left with no one to care for them. So sad. But you created a beautiful, believable, and heart wrenching story that really captured the time and place and the emotions of it all. Thanks for another great short story, Kristin.
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JD
10/31/2020Happy Short Story STAR of the Day and Writer of the Month, Kristin! Thank you for all the outstanding stories you've shared on Storystar! :-)
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Agata
09/18/2020What a beautiful story! I saw it all, the street, lady lucy, the carriages, even when florrie was talking to Ruby, what a nice story, congratulations. :) ❤
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Kristin Dockar
09/18/2020Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I haven't tried writing a historical story before but was inspired by visiting The Foundling Museum in London. Some very sad stories in there.
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