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“I do apologize, your Grace,” said Lord Reynolds. “But we should return to the carriage and get you home…”
“Wait,” said Patricia, her heart thumping wildly, looking around. “Do you not hear that sound?”
It was faint, but definitely there. A shuffling, as if someone was rearranging themselves, slinking deeper into the shadows.
Patricia turned, walking quickly in the direction. It was an alleyway, with rubbish strewn around.
“Your Grace,” called Lord Reynolds, in alarm. “Please wait…”
She ignored him and went further into the alleyway. She could barely see a thing. But then, something shifted. She could just make out a small figure hunched against a wall, bedraggled and forlorn.
It was a small child.
“Do not be afraid,” she whispered, approaching cautiously. “I mean you no harm.”
She saw that it was a boy. He was dressed in rags, with a dirt-smeared face. His eyes almost swallowed up his entire face. He stared at her as if she was a vision.
Patricia squatted down next to him and her heart thumped painfully in her chest. This was truly dreadful, to see such a small child alone and abandoned in this filthy alleyway on a cold, dark night.
“Are you a princess?” breathed the boy.
Patricia laughed. “I am no princess. I am simply searching for someone who I think has become lost in these streets.” She paused. “I wonder if you may help me find him.”
She heard the gentlemen approach. Quickly, she gazed up at them. They looked as appalled as she felt on seeing this poor urchin.
The boy shrank back against the wall, at the sight of the gentlemen. “My mam is not far away,” he said, in a louder voice. “She is just down the street, and she is coming for me…”
“Is your mam’s name Annie, by any chance?” asked Patricia quickly.
The boy’s eyes widened. “It is. How do you know her?”
“I met her just before,” said Patricia. “And I am sure she will be back for you, as soon as she is able. As I said, we mean you no harm. These gentlemen are with me. You have my word.”
The boy nodded slowly. At least he had not tried to run away. That was something.
“What is your name?” asked Patricia.
The boy hesitated. “Adam.”
“Well, Adam, it is nice to meet you,” said Patricia, smiling. “Can you help us? We shall give you coin for your trouble.”
The boy looked pleased. “I got a coin from a gentleman dressed like them last night,” he said, staring up at her. “Is he the one you are looking for?”
Patricia’s heart quickened. Quickly, she glanced up at the two men. They looked quietly excited.
“He may be,” she said, turning back to the boy. “Can you describe him, and perhaps tell me where he went?”
The boy nodded, his eyes shining like two dark pools in the night. “He was tall, and dark haired, with a scar across his face.” He hesitated. “He was kind to me. He asked me if there was an inn close by. I sent him to the Rose Belle down the way. He gave me a shilling for my trouble.”
Patricia’s heart thumped painfully. She looked up at the gentlemen.
“He never made it there,” said the boy quickly, looking fearful.
“What?” interjected Lord Reading. “What happened?”
The boy took a deep breath. “I followed him, you see. Because he was kind to me, and he was the worse for drink. I thought someone might try to pick his pockets.” He gulped. “I saw a large man come up behind him. He hit him over the head, so hard that the gentleman fell to the ground, passed out cold.”
Patricia’s hand flew to her mouth in horror.
