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 finishedher 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.
