Sarah's Roses, Book I: Roses of Blue

Chapter I

(Author's note: This story was written several years ago and at last I have begun the editing and revising version. Due to that there might be some parts that don't seem to fit quite well together. I hope to have it all changed by the end of February, until then please bear with me and be a little patient as I correct mistakes, change plot holes and tie up loose ends. Thank you so much.)

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Everybody is a stranger ~ John  Mayer

Chapter I

Illegitimate and bastard - two words that fall upon a room like a death sentence when spoken. Two words that mark you as an outcast for all eternity. You are not lawful; you were not meant be; you are a mistake, something that should never have happened.

They were two words that hung over me like a dark cloud as I stepped off the train and looked around the crowded station and searched for faces I had never seen. Had Aunt Helen come for me? Or had the two words closed her doors? What would I do if she didn't show up? People jostled and pushed me forward, I dumbly followed along. Of course I was used to being on my own, but I never felt as alone as I did on that day, June 2nd, 1848.

Tired of being shoved I elbowed my way out of the crowd and to a bench. Climbing up I once more scanned the sea of heads. I knew that lost in the mess of people I had little hope of being found, up here there was a better chance.

Sure enough in a few minutes there was a light tap on my shoulder. I turned and came face to face with a tall man. He was dressed in a fine, unbuttoned coat and cotton waistcoat. My eyes noted the gold chain hanging from the pocket, where no doubt the gold watch was safely tucked inside. His trousers were black and pressed, his boots made of a fine brown leather that shined in the summer sun. Simply put the man was a picture of good manners and high social status.

It was while looking at him that I suddenly realized, for the first time perhaps, just how shabby I was. My blue coat was so faded it looked grey, my dress threadbare and patched in three places and my shoes were scratched. My one relief was that he could not see the holes on the soles. I felt so poor compared to him and nervously played with the ends of one of my yellow braids. If only I knew what he wanted from me. I hoped he wasn't going to hurt me.

"Are you Sarah, Evelyn Beverly's daughter?" He asked, a little unsure it seemed.

He knew my name and my mother's name - there was measure of comfort in this. Maybe he had come from my aunt.

"I am, Sir."

"My name is Andrew Greensten and I am your uncle."

A surge of relief swept through my whole being. Of course my aunt was a married woman. I glanced behind him. If he had come she must have too.

"My Aunt Helen?" I timidly enquired.

"She is waiting for us at home." He replied. "Is that all you have?" He motioned towards the bag that lay at my feet.

"Yes sir."

He reached over and picked it up before extending his free hand to me. I took a deep breath, and, placing my hand in his, jumped off the bench. Together we walked away from the station and to a carriage parked in the shade of some tress. My eyes widened when it dawned on me we would be riding in it.

"Are we to travel in that?" I dared to ask, glancing up at him. How tall he was! I hadn't quite realized it when I had been standing on the bench.

"Yes, we are," he replied.

There was a man waiting for us at the carriage. He opened the door and helped me inside. My new uncle followed in after me. The door was shut, the driver got up and with a flick of the reigns we were off. The inside of the carriage was so new, so soft, so expensive! I didn't know carriages could be like this. But then, I had never ridden in one before. I had never even ridden in a cab. If I had ever need to go anywhere, I had always walked.