Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The sky began to darken a little with a storm on the horizon as Isabella realized that it was time to go. Half an hour had slipped away like water through her fingers.

If she wanted to be early in case Marie returned, she needed to leave now.

Rising from the worn chair in the orphanage's modest common room after plenty of games, she gave a final wave to the children and her orphanage mother.

She took a deep breath, feeling a heaviness settle in her chest as she prepared to say her farewells. This place, with its comforting smells and laughter-filled halls, was her sanctuary. Leaving it behind, even temporarily, always brought a pang of sorrow.

"Do you have to go already?" Tommy's voice, small and pleading, broke through her thoughts. He clung to her dress, his wide eyes filled with disappointment.

"I am afraid I do, Tommy," Isabella replied softly, crouching down to his level. "But I will be back soon, I promise."

The other children gathered around, their faces mirroring Tommy's sadness.

Isabella hugged each of them tightly, committing their warmth and love to memory.

This was her family, her heart, and leaving them, even for a short while, always felt like leaving a piece of herself behind.

"Take care, Isabella," Eileen said with a smile. "Remember, you are always welcome here."

"I know," Isabella whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I will return as soon as I can."

Eileen pulled her into a strong embrace, the kind that only a mother could give. Isabella clung to her, drawing strength from the woman who had been her anchor through so many storms.

"Be safe, my dear," Eileen murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from Isabella's face. "And remember, you are loved."

The children's laughter faded as she stepped out the door, replaced by the quiet hum of the evening city.

As she returned through the smaller streets, her mind wandered to Marie. The contrast between the two lives she lived was stark—the simple, loving world of the orphanage and the opulent, demanding world of her mistress. Each step closer to the shop felt like a step away from her true self, the one who found joy in the laughter of children and solace in the embrace of family.

As she navigated the winding streets, the noises of London breezed by her, almost as if they were floating through the air from the main streets. Vendors called out their wares, children played in the streets, and the distant clatter of carriage wheels created a symphony of urban life. It was all so routine, so expected, that it took her a moment to realize something was different.

There was an additional sound, faint but unmistakable.

Footsteps.

They echoed softly behind her, almost blending with her own.

Isabella quickened her pace slightly, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. The footsteps matched her speed. Every instinct told her not to look back, to keep moving forward as if she had not noticed. But curiosity, or perhaps a need to confront her fear, got the better of her. She glanced over her shoulder, just a brief look.

There, a few yards behind, was a figure.

It was difficult to make out details in the dim light, but the person was close enough for her to feel a jolt of adrenaline.

She could not tell if it was a man or a woman, young or old. The figure moved with a purpose, not hesitating, not slowing down.

Panic started to set in, her heartbeat quickening.

She had to decide whether to confront this person or try to lose them.

Opting for the latter, she turned abruptly down a side alley, hoping to shake them off. The walls closed in around her, the space narrowing, forcing her to brush against rough brick and damp stone.

But the footsteps persisted, a relentless echo that spurred her onward.

She darted through another alley, and then another, her mind racing. Was it just a coincidence, or was someone truly following her?

And if so, why?

Isabella's breath came in shallow gasps as she navigated the labyrinth of alleyways. The relentless footsteps echoed like a sinister drumbeat, propelling her forward. She veered left, then right, the unfamiliar paths of London's backstreets offering a twisted maze that she hoped would confound her pursuer.

Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the city's usual cacophony. She risked another glance over her shoulder, and to her horror, the figure had gained ground. The dim light from the gas lamps cast eerie shadows, making it impossible to discern any features.

The figure seemed almost spectral, a shadowy presence in relentless pursuit.

Isabella's mind raced. She needed to think, to find a way out. Another turn took her into a particularly narrow alley, its cobblestones slick with moisture. She nearly slipped but caught herself, her hand grazing the rough brick wall. The sound of the footsteps behind her was relentless, closing the distance.

She needed to get to Madame Cherie's shop, where she might find safety. Gathering her courage, she took a different route, one she hoped her pursuer would not anticipate.

But she was not about to be lucky.

Not today.

All of a sudden, a rough hand grabbed her, yanking her backward.

Isabella's bag was ripped from her shoulder, and she felt a sharp tug at her neck. Panic surged through her as she struggled, her screams piercing the silence of the hallway.

"Help! Someone help me!"

*

Daniel had gone for a walk after leaving the orphanage and had even stopped in a tavern.

Now, he strode through the quiet streets, the echo of his polished shoes a steady rhythm against the cobblestones. His mind wandered as he walked, thinking of nothing in particular, when a sudden scream jolted him back to reality.

"Help! Someone help me!"

The voice was desperate, filled with terror.

It made his blood run ice cold.

Without a second thought, Daniel sprinted toward the sound, his heart pounding in his chest. As he turned the corner, he saw a young woman struggling with a man who was trying to steal her bag and necklace. Her cries pierced the night, and the sight ignited a fierce protectiveness within him.

"Let her go!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the narrow walls of the alley.

The attacker hesitated, glancing at Daniel with wild eyes.

Seizing the moment, Daniel closed the distance between them and landed a punch squarely on the man's jaw.

Disoriented, the man's knees buckled, and he slumped against the wall, gasping for breath. His eyes were wide with shock and pain, his hand feebly reaching for the woman's necklace still clutched in his other fist.

"I-I am just hungry," the man stammered. "And tired of living in dirty alleyways such as this."

Without another moment of hesitation, the man tore off into the distance.

Daniel debated racing after him but saw no point. It was more important to check on the poor lady who had been attacked. She had sunk to the ground, her breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps. Her beauty struck him immediately—even in her disheveled state, there was a grace and elegance about her.

She looked up at him, her eyes locking onto his. For a moment, the world around them faded, and all he could see was the quiet strength in her gaze. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, and he found himself mesmerized by the subtle beauty of her features.

He knelt beside her, concern etched on his face.

"Are you all right, miss?" he asked gently, his voice softening.

She looked up at him, her wide eyes filled with a mix of fear and gratitude. "Yes, I think so. Thank you. You saved me."

Relief washed over him as he offered her a hand, helping her to her feet. She was trembling, and without thinking, he held her in his arms, trying to offer some comfort. Her delicate frame felt fragile against him, and he wished he could do more to ease her distress.

"Can I escort you home?" he asked, hoping to ensure her safety.

She shook her head, stepping back slightly. "No, thank you. I can manage."

Daniel was taken aback by her refusal but did not push.

"At least tell me your name," he implored, wanting to know more about the woman who had captured his attention so completely.

Again, she refused, her eyes darting nervously around as if she feared being seen.

"I...I cannot. I am sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I must leave."

Before he could say another word, she turned and hurried off, her steps quick and unsteady.

Daniel watched her go, a mix of admiration and frustration swirling within him.

He was left standing alone in the alley, the dim light casting long shadows around him.

Who was she? Why was she so scared?

Questions tumbled through his mind, each one more pressing than the last.

He wanted to find her, to make sure she was safe, but she had vanished into the night, leaving him with nothing but the memory of her frightened eyes and the soft touch of her hand.

As he glanced to the ground where the struggle had taken place, he realized that there was something there. Something glittering. The necklace…

Daniel knelt down and picked up the necklace, examining it closely under the faint light of a nearby streetlamp. It was a delicate piece, adorned with a small pendant shaped like a locket. The craftsmanship was exquisite, suggesting it held great sentimental value.

Did the thief drop this in fear? He supposed he must have done.

His curiosity deepened. He could not help but wonder about the woman's story and the significance of the necklace. He hoped that soon, he might be able to return it to her. Although that would have been much easier to do if she had given him her name…

Daniel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned to leave. The encounter had left him unsettled, his thoughts consumed by the mysterious woman. Those bright brown eyes, searching for something inside of him…something that he had so desperately wanted to give her.

He did not think that he would ever forget those eyes.

By the time he reached his townhouse, he was no closer to finding answers inside his mind.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, the warmth of the interior doing little to thaw the chill that had settled in his bones. Daniel hung his coat on the rack and made his way to the sitting room, where a fire was already burning in the hearth. He sank into an armchair, staring in to the flames as if they held the answers he sought.

Why had he never seen that lady before?

She was dressed like a member of the ton, but he had never spotted her at any social event. He was sure that she was someone he most certainly would have wanted to talk to.

He knew the circles of society well, and the fact that he had never seen her before was troubling. Could she be new to town, or was she deliberately avoiding the usual social gatherings?

Daniel poured himself a glass of brandy from the decanter on the side table, the amber liquid catching the light of the fire. He took a slow sip, the warmth spreading through him, but it did little to calm the turmoil inside. He replayed their encounter over and over, scrutinizing every detail, every word.

She had wanted to keep her identity a secret, and she had most certainly not seemed like any Lady Daniel knew.

Was she hiding from someone? Was she in some sort of trouble?

Plus, when she raced away, she moved through the alleyways with a familiarity that suggested she had been there before. Who was she?

The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that there was more to her story than a mere robbery attempt.

He also wanted to unravel this mystery, to know more.

No one had ever inspired him in quite the same way.