Chapter 1
“Good night, Miss Bridget.”
Bridget Wetherby smiled at the little girl who had sat up in her bed to speak to her. “Good night, Sarah,” she said, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the other children. “Lie down, now, and go to sleep.”
The night hung heavy around Bridget as she made her final round of the day at the orphanage.
The children had all been asleep hours ago, and this last round wasn’t necessary, but Bridget always slept more easily if she looked in on them one last time.
If not, thoughts would come to her in the night.
What if someone was sick or hurt? What if something had gone terribly wrong?
She would wake in the morning and rush to the dining area, counting the heads that bent over their bowls of porridge, only relaxing when she had seen for herself that everyone was well and accounted for.
When she saw an empty bed, it was so in line with her worst imaginings that for a moment it didn’t feel real. She stood frozen for a split second, certain that she was imagining this, that she would blink and the little girl who was supposed to be in this bed would appear.
No. This is real. She’s missing.
Bridget took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.
Perhaps she had only gotten up for a glass of water—that was possible.
But regardless, Bridget knew she wouldn’t rest until she had found the missing girl.
She turned and left the dormitory at a brisk walk, intending to check the kitchen first, her heart pounding madly as she went.
She never reached the kitchen. The moment she stepped out into the hallway, nine-year-old Anna came running toward her. “Miss Bridget!”
Bridget gasped in relief. “Anna!” She caught the child by the shoulders and looked her up and down, noting with relief that she seemed to be unharmed. “Where have you been? I was out of my mind with worry about you!”
“I’m sorry,” Anna said. “But, Miss Bridget, you have to come quickly. It’s an urgent matter—someone is hurt!”
“One of the children?” Bridget was already hurrying after Anna, clutching her shawl around her shoulders.
She hadn’t noticed that anybody else was out of bed, but then, she hadn’t finished her rounds yet.
What if Anna had been out getting up to mischief with one of her friends and something had gone wrong?
But Anna was shaking her head. “I don’t know her,” she said. “I don’t know who she is. She doesn’t live here. Something’s the matter with her, though, and I don’t know what to do.”
“All right,” Bridget said, doing her best to keep calm. “You did the right thing coming to tell me.” Whatever Anna had been doing out of bed, they would deal with it later. “Show me where she is.”
“Right here. In the corner.” They had come to the kitchen, and now Anna showed Bridget to the pantry.
Bridget gasped.
The little girl curled up on the floor, eyes closed, was no older than Anna herself. She was dirty, her clothes torn, and her hair a mess. Coming closer, Bridget could see that she was too skinny, as if she hadn’t been properly fed and cared for.
Her heart lurched. Children came into the orphanage in all kinds of ways, including sometimes just appearing at the door, but it always made her feel sick to see one in such bad shape.
“What do you think happened to her?” Anna whispered.
“There’s no way to know for sure,” Bridget said softly. “Not until she wakes up and tells us about it.”
“Are we going to keep her?”
“We’ll let her stay here if she needs a place, of course,” Bridget said.
“We have spare beds, and we won’t turn out a child who needs one.
” It was important to her that the children heard her say things like this.
She didn’t want Anna, or any of the others, to ever worry that their homes might not be secure.
“What should we do?” Anna asked.
“You should go back to bed,” Bridget said firmly. “And the next time you want a snack in the middle of the night, you should ask me or one of the other volunteers here to get it for you instead of sneaking out of your bed.”
Anna looked abashed. “Yes, Miss Bridget. I’m sorry.”
“Never mind. Grab some bread if you’re hungry. You can take it from the box. And then run along back to bed.”
“But what about her?” Anna pointed at the girl.”
“I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry. She’ll still be here in the morning.”
Anna nodded, collected a piece of bread, and disappeared in the direction of the dormitory, glancing over her shoulder as she went.
Bridget turned back to the child on the floor in front of her. She put a hand on the girl’s forehead. There was no sign of fever. But as the moon shone through the window, she saw a bruise on the girl’s face.
Someone’s been cruel to her.
The girl stirred, her eyelids fluttering. They opened, and for a moment, she just stared up at Bridget.
Then she let out a soft cry and scuttled backward, farther into the corner of the pantry. She wrapped her arms around herself and ducked her head, as if by looking away from Bridget, she could make her disappear.
Bridget ached to take the girl in her arms and comfort her, but she knew better than to force that on someone who was clearly so frightened. She stayed where she was. “It’s all right,” she said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you. Did you come in here because you needed something to eat?”
The girl shook her head violently and wrapped her arms more tightly around herself.
“I know you didn’t take anything. It’s all right,” Bridget said. “Why don’t we go sit down at the table, and I’ll get you some broth and some bread. Maybe we can even have some cheese. Would you like that?”
The girl looked up for the first time. Bridget was struck by her bright green eyes. She’s a beauty.
Bridget got to her feet. “Come with me,” she said, filling her voice with the warmth that she knew children always responded to. It had served her well many times in the past. “We’ll get a warm fire going, and I’ll get you a plate of food.”
She wasn’t sure the child would do as she’d been asked, but she was pleasantly surprised—after only a moment’s hesitation, the girl climbed to her feet and followed Bridget out into the kitchen.
“What’s your name?” Bridget asked as she began to light the fire.
The girl didn’t answer.
Bridget turned to face her. Her eyes were wide. “You don’t want to tell me?”
The girl pressed her lips together.
“Can you tell me how old you are?”
No answer.
Bridget’s heart sank. It wasn’t her first experience with a child who didn’t want to speak, and it usually meant the same thing every time.
Someone had been hurting her. It explained the bruise on her face, and it made Bridget sick.
No matter how many times she saw things like this, she would never get used to it.
“All right,” she said, finishing with the fire. “We can talk later, once you’ve warmed up a bit. That’s all right. Why don’t you wait here, and I’ll get you some food, all right?”
She went back to the pantry and got out bread, meat, and cheese.
That would be enough to get them started.
She was about to go back to the kitchen when she noticed the paper pinned to the wall.
It was where they kept a list of supplies that needed replenishing, but another idea had suddenly come to her.
She ripped off the bottom of the paper and picked up the pen that sat beside it, then went out to the kitchen and gave the food to the girl.
The girl looked down at the plate, then up at Bridget.
“Go ahead and eat,” Bridget encouraged her. “All of that is for you.”
The girl hesitated a moment longer, but then she picked up the bread and tore into it ravenously. Bridget felt a wash of relief. At least she wasn’t so damaged that she couldn’t manage to eat food.
She sat down across from the girl and waited as she ate her fill. Only when she had started to slow down did Bridget set the pen and paper down on the table. The girl looked down at them and then back up.
“Do you know how to write?” Bridget asked. “You could write down your name for me.”
The girl picked up the pen and bit her lip.
Then she bent over the paper and wrote.
She was writing for a long time—too long for it to be a name that she was putting down. She was trying to communicate something.
Bridget waited, anticipation mounting.
The girl finished and pushed the paper across the table to her.
A monster is coming.
The words made the hair on the back of Bridget’s neck stand on end. “A monster?” She drew a breath. “Is it the monster that did this to you?” She reached out to touch the girl’s face.
The girl flinched violently away from her. Bridget cursed herself. She should have known better than to do that. “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling her hands back. “I’m not going to touch you, I promise.”
The girl relaxed ever so slightly. She reached out for the pen and paper, and Bridget gave them back to her.
Emma, she wrote.
“Emma. Is that your name?”
She nodded, green eyes filling with tears.
“Emma,” Bridget said softly. “All right, Emma. Is there anyone looking for you? Besides the monster, I mean. Any family that we could try to find?”
Father, Emma wrote.
“Your father?” So, she wasn’t an orphan. That was probably good news. “Do you know his name? Can you write that down for me?
Reeves Langford. Duke of Greystone.
“Your father is a duke?” This was shocking. How could a duke’s daughter have found herself in such dire straits?
Emma nodded again. The tears spilled from her eyes and began to run down her cheeks.
“All right,” Bridget said quietly. “It’s all right.
It’s good that you told me. We’ll be able to find him, and you’ll be back with him in no time.
But until that happens, will you stay here with me?
This place is an orphanage. It’s a home for children with no families.
I live here too. My name is Miss Bridget.
I can take care of you, if you’ll let me, until we find your father. ”
Emma hesitated, then nodded.
Bridget breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t been at all sure that Emma was going to accept help. “Let’s go find you a bed,” she suggested. “You must be exhausted.”
Emma pulled the paper toward herself and touched the word monster, her eyes wide and fearful.
“No one will find you here,” Bridget assured her. “We have locks on all the doors. Did you come in through the kitchen window?”
Emma’s cheeks turned bright red. She ducked her head.
“You aren’t in trouble,” Bridget said. “But let me lock that window. Our cook must have wanted to let in a breeze, but let’s just make sure we don’t let in anything else tonight.”
She went to the window, pulled it closed, and locked it.
“Will you come to bed now?” she asked Emma. “I’ll let you use the bed in my room tonight, so you won’t have to be with the other children yet. I’m sure you could use some time to yourself.”
Emma got to her feet slowly and picked up the crust of her bread.
“Want some more of that to take to bed with you?”
Emma’s eyes widened with hope. It nearly broke Bridget’s heart.
She went to the pantry and retrieved another piece of bread. Then she held out her hand to the girl. “Bed?”
A long pause.
Then Emma moved close to her and took her hand, allowing Bridget to lead her away.