Mrs. Smythe shook her head. “He’s already left the house.”
Surprised, Louisa hitched a breath. “This early? He arrived home late last night.”
“We all thought the same. But whatever he’s doing, he’s determined.” She grinned. “That’s the way he’s always been.”
“Well, I suppose I can write him a note to let him know where I’m going.”
“Not to worry, Louisa. I shall tell him upon his return.”
She sighed with relief. “Bless you, Mrs. Smythe. You have been a godsend.”
Louisa hugged the housekeeper before making her way back up the stairs to her room to fetch her cloak and bonnet.Nervousness shook through her body as she shrugged on her outer garment, tied the ribbons of her bonnet, and left the house.
A small wind blew from the east, but if she stayed in the sun, she wouldn’t get cold. As she walked past the stable, she debated whether or not to take one of Trevor’s fine horses, but in the end, she didn’t. The walk would do her good, and hopefully, the fresh air would rejuvenate her memory.
From the few things she had remembered, she must have had a normal childhood with loving parents and a friend she could rely on—and cry with. But sometime after the age of twelve, something must have happened that landed her in Macgregor’s devious clutches. She supposed her family must have died, but she still needed answers.
The chirping birds lightened her heart slightly the more she walked. Peacefulness settled in her mind as she glanced over God’s beautiful land. Closing her eyes, she smiled. She must have come from a family who strongly believed in God, because she knew without a doubt, He would help her along life’s journey.
She sighed and opened her eyes. Unfortunately, she was having major stepping stones in her journey now. The Lord wouldn’t give her challenges she couldn’t handle, but He must think highly of her now to believe she could handle these trials.
As she walked by a fruit tree orchard, she picked a couple cherries before continuing on her way. To keep herself busy, she tried to expand on the memories of Macgregor that she’d had thus far. Even if she didn’t want to think of how frightened she’d been in his presence, shemustremember everything about him.
Slowly, bits and pieces from her past with him emerged. She recalled the first time she ever picked a gent’s pocket and took his watch. That night, she’d cried herself to sleep on her bedroll. Those times she didn’t want to steal, Macgregor punished her by not feeding her. In misery, she had to watch the other childrenas they ate. Emotions surfaced, and she remembered wanting to die several times.
Once while she was teaching her friend, David, they had discussed running away from Macgregor. But talking about it was as far as they had planned. Neither of them had homes except for with Macgregor. If only the orphanages would have taken them.
Louisa stopped suddenly as a thought invaded her mind.Why would the orphanages not take them?
Closing her eyes again, she rubbed the throb starting in her forehead. Something on the tip of her memory wanted to break through. She just knew it. Orphanages usually took children who didn’t have a family. So why did she think she—or David—couldn’t go to one?
The distant rumble of a carriage coming up the road pulled Louisa from her thoughts. She quickly moved aside so she wouldn’t get hit. As she stood against a large oak, she plopped a few more cherries into her mouth, waiting for the conveyance to pass so she could continue her trek.
The large coach swayed as it neared. There was something familiar about the black and gold painted vehicle with the driver on top. But it wasn’t until Louisa saw the lady riding inside and the coat of arms painted on the door that her heart hammered wildly. Why did the coach seem familiar? And pray, why did the woman inside look like someone Louisa should know?
Louisa pulled away from the oak tree and followed after the coach, even though it moved faster than she did. Concentrating on the woman who looked about her own age or slightly older, Louisa tried to figure out why the lady seemed so familiar.
Finally, another memory parted through the fog clouding her mind. Louisa stopped and focused.
Eliza Watson. The dearest friend Louisa had in school. Red ringlets framed the girl’s round face, and contrasted greatly withher pink cheeks right after they’d chased each other playing favorite childhood games.
Louisa and Eliza collapsed in a grassy field, laughing. In the distance, the other girls in their school class played another game.
Just like it all happened yesterday, the scene opened wider in Louisa’s mind.
Sitting in the grass, Louisa laughed at something Eliza just said. Out of the corner of her eyes, a tall, thin man strode toward them.
“It’s my uncle.” Eliza jumped up and ran to him. They hugged and chatted for a brief moment before Eliza turned back, her eyes full of tears.
Something wasn’t right. Eliza always had a chipper attitude and rarely ever frowned.
“Louisa.” Eliza’s voice broke.
Heart pounding in worry, Louisa slowly stood and held her hands out for her friend to take. “What’s wrong?” She switched her gaze to the tall man who wore a forlorn expression.
“Louisa, this is my uncle, Mr. Featherspoon,” Eliza whispered.
Louisa curtsied. “A pleasure to meet you.”
