Sassy Old Lady Names 1800s Novels & Stories

Chloe cried out. "It's okay. Stop crying girl shhh. I'm here." That woman spoke. I stayed in that hugging position for a while and my sobs died down after a while. I broke the hug and cleared my face with my hands. "What's your name girl?" That elderly lady asked. "My name is Chloe. What's yours?" I asked softly. "My name is Jessica. But everyone called me Jess. I work here as a head maid." That elderly woman replied. She smiled. I smiled back and asked her.

The younger lady asks. I clear my throat and pull a strand of hair behind my ear. “Sorry, I-” I notice the old lady staring at me slightly. “Do you go by the name Denise?” I mutter the courage to ask. She narrows her eyes at me. “Yes?” “Right, I'm Arabella Rossi. Does that name have any significance to you?” I question. Her face goes pale almost as if she's seen a ghost much like her daughter beside her. “Rossi? As in, Giovanni Rossi?” The girl whispers.

She was eighty years old, with silver hair pulled back so tight it looked painful, and eyes that were the same icy blue as Damian’s. Grandmother, Damian said, bowing his head slightly. I’d like you to meet my wife, Aara. The old woman didn't stand. She didn't even smile. She picked up a pair of spectacles and peered at Aara as if she were a smudge of dirt on an expensive rug. So, Lady Catherine said, her voice like cracking parchment. This is the girl who managed to trap the most elusive bachelor in New York. Tell me, dear, what is your family name? I don't recognize your face from any of the social registries.

I found it intriguing that these people believe in different things and they are so old-fashioned. The ladies said yes to me and gave me a place to sit. The eldest amongst them wasn’t up to my age. She has a strand of grey hair running down her ponytail. I could feel she was younger, way younger than Gina. She played with my hair and tried to touch my dress. They hadn’t seen anything like it before. “You look so tough and strong,” the lady said. “I wish I could be like you.” “Hush! Don’t let them hear you,” another lady said to the eldest. “Do you want to die?”

Caroline extended her words, her mind spinning to find a proper and suitable name for this conglomerate. "Grandpa," Caroline said. Marcus burst into laughter, along with her father, mother, and the graceful old woman of the same age as Mr. Marcus. "Call him Grandpa, Caroline," the graceful old woman shook Caroline's hand, hugged her, and smiled warmly, as warm as Caroline's grandmother. "I used to bear Juliana when i was young but you can call me grandma too." The old woman introduced herself, and Caroline realized that Juliana was Mr. Marcus' wife.

She had asked me baby names before and I told her I wanted Astor for a boy and Astrid for a girl. Bloody hell. I shook my head at the memory, trying to shove it out of the confines of my mind. "I'm sorry, I do not mean to be impolite but I did not catch your name," I turned to face her. Despite my shocked state, I reminded myself that I still have manners. My mum, Abigail would whip me if I wasn't polite. "Oh, sorry Sir, my name is Susannah Tran," the lady replied sheepishly. "I am Astor's nanny. And what's your name?" She asked in return.

Several Weeks Later Jasper slowly eased his body onto its side. Mimicking sleep, he intently listened to the conversation between a young woman named, Cora, and the old nurse he’d heard called both Bess and Smithfield. He’d assumed that her true name was Elizabeth Smithfield with Bess being the nick name for Elizabeth, but names were funny things. He’d noticed the increasing pattern of nick names or abbreviated names being given to children at birth by parents wanting to be different. Therefore, he could have been incorrect on that assumption.

“Nonsense. You have to give me the names you normally bear. I refused to treat you as the help.” I saw the three of them hesitate, their eyes filled with fear as they shared looks. I sat down on the edge of the bed, folding my arms against my chest. “Tell me, or I will not stand up from this bed.” I threatened and I saw them loosen up their resolve. The older woman let out a sigh, “When I was alive, which was a really long time ago, I was named Evelyn.” Her eyes shone with nostalgia. “Evelyn,” I tested on my tongue. “It is pretty, just like you.”

I concluded my prayer and opened my eyes. “God will heal you, Angela,” Aunt Sadie said, helping me to my feet. “Amen. Thank you, Aunt,” I smiled, and we headed out. “This has been on my mind for a while, Angela. Why do you call me ‘Aunt’?” she asked curiously. I felt a lump rise in my throat. “Well, it wouldn’t feel right to call you by your name, would it?” “Not all Americans call elders ‘Aunt’ unless they are related,” she pointed out.

Women in white dresses and veils, which I thought were ridiculous because they were dealing with children. “Princess Selina, thank you for coming,” an old woman said as they stopped in front of me. “I am Lady Brackenbelle, the proprietress, and these are my assistants, Josephine and Maybelle. And Lucilla and Regina. Welcome to Mother’s Love.” “Hello, nice to meet you,” I said, smiling brightly. “I’ve heard of the selfless work you all do here. I’m looking forward to meeting the children.” Pfft...