The Diary of Cozette Read Free Page B

to be taking a walk and we’ll meet him near the cellar door where the wood is stacked. No one can see us on that side for there are no windows.”
    I didn’t like the idea, but I had to admit the adventure of it sounded exciting! The last true excitement I’d witnessed was when one of the younger boys placed a mouse in Mrs. Abbot’s kitchen.
    We sauntered past the young man, barely given notice when he glanced up at us. He gave no indication of interest, and instead brought his ax high over his shoulder and brought it down with a loud crack, splitting in two the chunk of wood before him.
    Elizabeth grabbed my arm through the blankets and smiled as she led me in haste to the side of the house. Huddled together we waited. My toes began to numb from the chill and I wondered again at the folly of this idea. But her smile did not diminish in warmth. Had I remembered what it was like to have an older sister, Elizabeth would be my image of one.
    As expected, Ernest came around the corner of the house, his arms laden with wood. He stopped and stared at us.
    “I’m Elizabeth and this,” she pulled me to her side, “is Anne Cozette.”
    “Just Cozette, that’s what I prefer.” I glanced at my beautiful friend. She was clearly smitten with the Abbots’ handyman. I could not tell if the regard was mutual.
    “Mr. Abbot does not take well to the residents interacting with one another. Especially the boys to the girls,” he replied.
    “You make a simple hello seem like an obscene thing. I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name?”
    “His name is—” I received an elbow in my side.
    “I did not offer it, but now it would be rude not to. I am Ernest, milady.” He attempted a bow, but it cost him his balance. The wood tumbled from his arms. “Bloody hell,” he mumbled as he stooped to pick up the wood. “Oh, pardon my language,” he uttered with a passing glance.
    Elizabeth rushed forward to his aid whilst I hung back, afraid of…I wasn’t quite sure.
    The wood properly stacked in his arms, he thanked Elizabeth and returned on his way to the stack piled high inside the lean-to next to the house.
    “Elizabeth?” Mrs. Abbot’s shrill voice called from the back of the house. Without hesitation, Elizabeth scurried around to the front of the house, making it appear she’d been out for a walk.
    I spied a forgotten piece of wood on the ground and snatched it up. Tripping on my blanket, I skidded to a stop in the damp grass, jabbing Ernest in the back with the end of the log.
    “My apologies. You left this one.”
    His smile was tight, but his dark eyes snapped with warmth. “Cozette, is it?”
    “Yes,” I whispered in a brief response hoping that Mrs. Abbot wouldn’t come round the back of the house and catch us.
    “It’s nice to finally meet you.” He smiled then and put out his hand in greeting.
    Cautious, I drew my hand from the confines of my blanket and accepted his. It was callused from work, but a firm grip, solid and strong. I sensed camaraderie betwixt us that I cannot explain. “Delighted,” I responded with a slight curtsy and dared not tarry though I had the unspeakable urge to do just that.
    He smiled and I slipped from his grasp. All the way back to the porch I kept my head down and did not look back. Visions of cousin Edward taunted my memory and guilt besieged me. I hated my cousin at that moment.
    I do not know what my future at Foxhead holds, but Elizabeth gives me hope and sparks my desire to take pen to paper again and write. In the most depressing of situations, her smile and her kindness are a breath of spring. Now there is Ernest. Perhaps between the three of us, we will manage through these years until we are old enough to strike out on our own.
    ~A.C.B.

June 15, 1871
    Being one of the older girls at the orphanage I am called upon by Mrs. Abbot more often than not to manage the chores and oversee the younger girls in various tasks from gardening to laundry as well as tending the