Chapter 1

1

" G o to sleep now," Charlotte whispered, brushing the little girl's hair from her forehead. She watched the child's eyes drift slowly closed at the gentle touch.

There. You're all asleep.

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief as she cast her eyes around the room. Six beds were lined up along the walls, and six children were drifting soundly to sleep. Two years ago, when she started this journey, she questioned whether her dream of creating an orphanage could ever come true. And here she was with three bedrooms full of children.

Charlotte looked down to see the toddler's chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Little Alice had been the only child still awake when Charlotte did her rounds through the bedrooms, but after a week of difficult nights, Charlotte was finally learning how to calm the girl.

"Who would give you away, little one?" Charlotte whispered to the sleeping girl.

Charlotte knew firsthand that a child could be separated from her parents for many reasons. After all, she had been one of these children. Her chest tightened as she looked around the room, remembering when this place was a monastery, filled with stern and serious nuns. She grew up in these walls under the cruel leadership of a Mother Abbess who thought hitting or insulting children was the only way to manage them.

It was why she was so proud of what she had turned this place into. When the cruel Mother Abbess was brought down, and the monastery abandoned, Charlotte revoked her vows as a nun. She didn't want to be associated with that woman or the church who let her exist. But the large, empty building was crying out to be used, and Charlotte had found the perfect use. She would run an orphanage here and give these children the childhood she never had.

Charlotte headed to the kitchen, rubbing the back of her neck. The quiet respite of her evening tea was all she could think about.

"Charlotte!" Sarah burst around the corner, surprising Charlotte just as she was about to descend the stairs.

"What is it?" Charlotte asked, catching herself to keep from falling. Sarah's eyes were wide, her face pale.

"Come quick."

Sarah turned around, rushing back down the hallways, and Charlotte could do nothing except follow her. She watched Sarah's black skirts swish back and forth with urgency.

"Is it a child?" Charlotte asked, nearly running to keep up with Sarah. Sarah was her most trusted friend and helper here at the orphanage. She was an even-tempered, quiet-spoken woman, who was rarely flustered by the day-to-day surprises and challenges of the orphanage. If Sarah thought something was wrong, Charlotte knew it must be serious.

"Please just come," Sarah said. "You must see for yourself."

Charlotte was following Sarah toward the front entrance where they had found countless injured or desperate children in the past. She began to think of those children, remembering three huddled under a single threadbare blanket or the baby left naked on the steps in the middle of winter. Charlotte praised God they had gotten to that child in time.

Unfortunately, they were not always so lucky. Some children arrived too sick for doctors to do anything for them. Parents who could not afford doctors or medicine would leave them at the monastery, hoping that the church's charity could save their children. Sadly, most of them wouldn't make it to the end of the week.

"Here," Sarah said. The woman shoved open the front door to reveal the courtyard. Charlotte struggled to see what was beyond the threshold in the fading light of the evening. Once her eyes adjusted, she saw the form of a child lying on the top step.

"Oh my," Charlotte gasped, rushing forward. Sarah helped the boy to his feet, and Charlotte joined in, feeling the thinness of the boy's arm. The child was covered in dirt, and his clothes hung off of his malnourished frame.

"It's all right," Charlotte cooed, speaking quietly. The boy looked at her with terrified eyes, his hair knotted and falling across his face.

"We've got you now," Sarah said. "You're safe."

They led the boy inside, only then noticing that he wore no shoes. His feet were scraped and bloody, making it painful for him to walk across the cold stone of the entryway.

"I've got you," Charlotte said, lifting the boy into her arms. He was so light, she didn't struggle under his weight at all. His skin was far too cold from being outside in the early spring evening. When Charlotte smiled down at him, he only blinked at her.

"He's in shock," she told Sarah.

"What age, do you think?" Sarah asked as they walked toward the kitchen. "Five or six?"

"Maybe a bit older," Charlotte said. "He's very thin, but his legs are long. Maybe seven."

Sarah nodded.

"Shall I call for the doctor?"

Charlotte observed the boy again, noting no immediate signs of distress besides the shock she read on his face. She hated to send for the doctor if it wasn't necessary as she knew the priest was already upset about the large doctor bills the orphanage was accumulating.

"Not yet," she said, weighing her options. "I believe we start with a warm bath and warm food. We'll see how he's faring after a few hours."

Sarah and Charlotte worked silently, boiling water over the fire to pour into the large bath they kept in the kitchen. They placed the boy on a bench as they did so, and he didn't move but rather simply sat like a doll, staring at them. Charlotte continued to talk to him, giving gentle assurances every minute or so.

When Charlotte gently removed the boy's clothes, she noticed the purple and yellow marks on his upper arms and the welts on the back of his legs. Sarah gasped when she saw them, but Charlotte gave her a sharp look, urging her to be quiet.

"Where did you get these marks, child?" Charlotte asked. The boy dropped his head to his bare toes, but he didn't speak. She saw his shoulders shake as he began to cry.

"It's all right," Charlotte cooed, rubbing her hand up and down the boy's back. "Let's get you into the bath. It will make you feel better."

Her heart ached as she helped the weeping child into the steaming water. The sight of a bruised or battered child always brought Charlotte right back to her own childhood. The ghost of the cruel abbess was never far away, always haunting Charlotte's nightmares. With so many injured children on her doorstep, it was impossible to forget the cruelty an adult could inflict.

"I know what it's like to have a guardian who treats you cruelly," Charlotte said quietly as she ran a washcloth up the child's back. She watched the dirt run in rivulets, turning the water brown. The boy looked at her from the side of his eyes, and Charlotte kept talking.

"The woman who cared for me when I was younger," she explained, "she liked to hit me when I did something wrong. And sometimes, for no reason at all."

Behind them, Sarah gathered a plate of food from the evening leftovers. She had made a stew for dinner that the children had gobbled up, some even licking their bowls clean. Charlotte knew it would be the perfect thing to fill the boy up.

"She lived right here," Charlotte said, disappearing into the memory. She could almost see the woman's shadow in the doorway as she spoke. "In this monastery."

Charlotte heard a splash of water as the boy pulled his knees into himself and put his hands on the tub's edge, ready to jump out.

"It's all right," Charlotte said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She's not here anymore. The woman doesn't live here."

She saw him relax, staring back at her to see if he could trust her. Charlotte nodded, trying to communicate calm and assurance to the boy. She was relieved when she saw his knees drop below the water's surface as he relaxed back into the bath.

The smell of the stew floated through the air as Sarah heated it over the fire. The child looked eagerly at the hearth as Charlotte wiped gently at his feet, cleaning dirt away from the cuts around his feet and ankles. He twisted out of her grip when the cloth tickled the underside of his foot, and Charlotte caught the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

"Perhaps that's enough for now," she said, noting how desperately the boy wanted to eat. She was rewarded with a nod, the first communication he had given them all evening.

She was disappointed she wouldn't have a chance to work out the knots from the child's shoulder-length hair, but she reasoned they would have plenty of time tomorrow for such an onerous task.

"Sarah, can you bring some clean clothes?"

Sarah placed a bowl of steaming stew on the table before leaving the kitchen for an adjoining room. They kept many of their supplies nearby since this room was frequently the first stop in a child's journey here at the orphanage. Most of them needed food or a bath immediately, if not both.

Charlotte helped the boy step out and wrapped a sheet around him, pleased that she saw a flush of pink in his gaunt cheeks. The chill was gone from his skin and replaced with a warmth that Charlotte was determined to keep. She stood him close to the fire as she dried him off and then helped him into the clothes Sarah brought for him.

"There now," Sarah said, smiling down at him. "Good as new."

Once he was dressed, he walked to the food on his own. He sat down gracefully, surprising Charlotte with his poise before attacking the bowl and eating ravenously.

"I'm going back outside," Sarah said, gathering up a lantern. "I saw some tracks I want to follow. If I'm not mistaken, they were coming from Scotland."

The orphanage was only half a day's ride from Scotland, and it wasn't unusual for them to receive children from there. Usually, it meant the parents were desperate for the children to disappear, wanting no chance that they could return to their doorsteps. Sarah left with a determination in her step that Charlotte admired.

"Well, now," Charlotte said, finding herself alone with the boy. "Perhaps now that you're settled, you could tell me your name."

She saw him look up at her, but his eyes quickly looked behind her, scanning the room. Charlotte turned around, trying to see what he was looking at.

"Do you need something?" Charlotte asked. And then, with a sudden understanding, she asked, "Can you speak, child?"

The boy stood up abruptly, and Charlotte worried he would try to run. She stood up too, subtly blocking the door with her body, but he only went to the tall counter where Sarah prepared food. He pulled down a piece of paper and began scribbling on the bottom of Sarah's shopping list.

"Good," Charlotte said. "You can write. Tell me your name."

He looked over his shoulder before returning to the paper and finishing his message. With a tentative gait, he approached Charlotte and held the paper out to her. His expression was dangerously serious, and Charlotte felt her heart beat faster even before she read the words:

A monster is coming for me.

"A monster?" Charlotte asked. She bent down, so she was on the same level as the boy. "You're safe here. I won't let anyone hurt you."

She saw a tentative trust in the boy's gaze, and she continued, "Can you tell me your name?"

The boy bent down to scribble again before holding the paper out for Charlotte to see:

Benjamin Fleming,

Son of Laird Alasdair O'Malley.