Too soon, Michael and Thomas were sent back off to school. Thomas seemed very accepting of this part of his life, meant to teach boys independence by being sent away from the protective and feminine nature of their mothers.

Michael and Lady Baldwin were not as willing. Michael grumbled and pouted as he boarded the carriage that would take him to the train, and his Mother cried and embraced him over and over.

"Is it very hard to go away?" I asked Michael, hugging him in the brief time his Mother released him and stepped away to give directions to Thomas, handing off both lunches to the older boy.

Michael made a face. "No- it is not going away that bothers me. I like the other boys at school, and the school offers lots of sports. I do enjoy wresting and cricket. But I just- ugh, I detest school! It is so boring!"

But, there was no avoiding it- Lord Baldwin assured his wife that he had confirmed the school had a firm plan in place in the case of an illness outbreak, Michael and Thomas promised to write, and then the carriage carried them off.

And Lady Baldwin had not since stopped lamenting the absence of her sons.

I could see both Elizabeth and her father growing tired of all the discussion of Thomas and Michael- while Elizabeth continued to send her mother patronizing smiles and nods, Lord Baldwin was a bit sharp with her, insisting that she was being too dramatic over it all, and that she needed to simply allow her boys to be boys.

At least we all got a bit of a break from it when we attended church that next Sunday- Lady Baldwin joined a circle of women, many of which also had sons whom had just been sent away as the schoolyear began, and they all gossiped and mourned over it like they had lost their children rather than just sent them off to school.

My eyes instinctively made their way over to the breadline, looking among the poorer people who had gathered near the side of the church to await a crust of bread, and if they were lucky, a ladle of lukewarm soup. There were many faces I recognized- some children, some adults. Most of the adults I did not know the names of, but I had seen them about, either begging on corners or standing in groups as they planned their next heist.

Many of the adults were full-fledged criminals. But I did not hold it against them- I may very well meet a similar fate one day.

A few people, though, I had never seen anywhere but the breadline, and did not know from where they hailed. A woman in a patched dress, just barely long enough to be decent. A man in a faded coat, unpatched, despite how badly it needed mending. And another man, whom seemed to have patched his pants himself, with random pieces of fabrics in different colors. Though I knew the multi-colored trousers were not a fashion statement, I decided that I rather liked them. I had noticed him at a few church gatherings, but had never truly examined his clothing.

Lord Baldwin led Elizabeth and I into the church, and I noticed the absence of most boys over the age of about eight. There were a few stragglers, whom must have been kept home an extra few years by their overattached parents, but the crowd of children Elizabeth pulled me over to join were almost all girls- some of whom had been handed their very young brothers to care for while the Mothers spoke just outside.

One such boy was standing beside Charlotte, talking her ear off as Cordelia stood on the opposite side of the little girl, begrudgingly holding her young sister's hand and keeping watch over her, as their Mother had no doubt commanded her to do.

I could see the excitement on the little girl's face when she caught sight of me. I had been expecting to see her at the dinner before the ball two nights before, but Charlotte had just that day ripped her party dress when she had put it on in the short time her governess was relieving herself. I had overheard her mother talking to Lady Baldwin about it, explaining that Charlotte had been held back from the ball as part of her punishment.

But I had quickly stepped away from the conversation, growing uncomfortable as Charlotte's mother had explained in detail the thrashing that Charlotte had received for such a misdeed. A torn dress that could easily be mended seem such a silly thing to whip a young child over, but I supposed I would not have been shown much mercy in that situation either. Above all else, the rich seemed to care deeply for their material objects.

Charlotte went to pull away from her older sister, but Cordelia tightened her grip, sharply swatting at her sister's thigh and glaring at her. Charlotte glared right back, but stopped her attempts to escape. Instead, she just grinned at me, extending her other hand out for me to grasp.

"Hello, Charlotte," I greeted, Elizabeth coming to stand just beside me. "How are you?"

Charlotte was bouncing on her toes. "Good! I missed you!"

I smiled at her, reaching for the pouch pocket secured just beneath my dress. "I missed you, as well. Guess what I have for you?"

She gasped, her eyes darting to where my hand was reaching into my dress. "The doll?"

Nodding, I pulled the cornhusk doll from my dress, and handed it to her. She grinned and turned it over in her hands. "I love it!"

Leaning down, I whispered, "I had extra husks left over, so I made a matching one for myself."

"We're like twins! They can be our friendship dolls."

"Friendship dolls?"

Charlotte nodded. "Of course! Like friendship bracelets. My friends braid yarn together to make them sometimes. But friendship dolls sound even better."

I nodded in approval, then left Charlotte to play around with her doll. Turning back to Elizabeth, I noticed that she seemed a bit sheepish about something, and my eyes made their way around the room in search of the cause.

There were several pairs of eyes on us- older girls, mostly, frowning towards the doll I had just handed Charlotte. It had not dawned on me that a doll made of corn husks may be seen as... inadequate, to girls who were so used to dolls made of fine porcelain, and sent in from Paris.

I just made faces right back at them, though, until Elizabeth squeezed my arm in an effort to make me stop. I sighed and looked at her, deciding that no matter how much I disliked the attitudes of the girls around me, I did not want to embarrass Elizabeth.

Besides, Charlotte did not seem to care about their opinions, so I did not either. They could mind their own business.

As per usual, I did not understand a word that was said in church- The church leaders just read straight from the Bible, which seemed to be written in tongues. It was a wonder that people had ever spoken in such a way- Shakespeare was written in a similar fashion, but that, at least, entertained me a bit more than the readings of who everyone in the Bible was related to.

At least Shakespeare knew how to rhyme.

After a dull two hours of service, Lord Baldwin led Elizabeth, Lady Baldwin and I back out to the carriage. Once the door had been shut behind us, Elizabeth turned to face me. "Why did you give Charlotte that doll?"

"She wanted it." I shrugged.

Elizabeth sighed, slumping slightly in her seat. "Everybody is going to talk about it."

"Talk about what?" Lady Baldwin eyed the two of us suspiciously. "And, Elizabeth, for Heavens' sake, sit upright. You were not raised in a barn."

As Elizabeth straightened her back under her mother's gaze, I smiled innocently. "Nothing, Mother."

Lady Baldwin's glare smoothed out into contentment as I remembered to address her correctly- and, though I never would have admitted it, I did quite like using the title. While I knew it was not exactly true, it was something I had only ever dreamed of calling someone.

As a toddler, anyway. By the age of four, I had gotten over that dream, knowing it to be impossible. It still felt nice now though.

The days had fallen into a peaceful sort of routine. Once church had finished, we had a midday meal with Lord and Lady Baldwin, who were taking a day of rest just as every upper-class family was expected to on Sundays.

I also quite liked the quiet chatter around the table. Lord Baldwin asked me about how I had learned to make corn husk dolls- I explained how other children had taught me. That led to discussion of the poorer sections of town, and Lord Baldwin noted that whatever illness had been spreading through the more populated areas in the city was dying down now- donations to the church had greatly helped supply medical care to those who could otherwise not afford it.

That was good new. Great news, even- it significantly decreased my anxiety about John's welfare. So long as he followed the directions I had given him, illness was the only thing he needed to worry about until I had built up enough savings to go to him and guarantee us safe passage to some place far away, where I would never be recognized.

The pile of stolen treasure beneath the floorboard continued to grow. And so did the sinking, twisting feeling in my stomach at the thought of leaving the home and family I had somehow found.

But John was my family, as well. So when I saw the opportunity, I snatched up every stray piece of silverware, every crystal vase, every satin ribbon. Soon enough, I was prying open a second and third floorboard, the pile too large to be held in just one.

All was going well- until one night, when Elizabeth seemingly forgot to empty out her pockets before we were to be undressed for bed. As Miss Lancing stripped me nude and began to wash me, Elizabeth began to undo her sash to be helped out of her dress.

A large pair of girandole earrings fell from where they had been tucked between Elizabeth's sash and dress, and we both stiffened. At the sound of the earrings hitting the floor, Miss Lancing turned, and there was no way for me to communicate to Elizabeth that she needed to scoop up the earrings and toss them towards the bed or chair, where they could land softly without being noticed.

Elizabeth did not have the the instincts of a thief, though. She stood frozen in place.

It was Miss Lancing who strode forward and picked the earrings off the ground, leaving me standing in the foot-bath that I had been being bathed in. I hurried to wrap a towel around me and snatched my nightgown up from where it was hanging over the back of a chair, trying to dress hastily so I would not be entirely naked for the thrashing I was sure would be coming soon.

"Elizabeth, why do you have your Mother's earrings?" Miss Lancing's voice was somewhere between confused and accusatory.

"Um..." Elizabeth's eyes met mine, and I waited for her to tell on me. To insist that it had been all my idea and fault, and shove the blame on to me.

I could not hold it against her. I could not deny that she never would have stolen anything had it not been for me- she would have never had the need, or even the thought to.

"It was my fault," I said quietly, taking away any guilt that Elizabeth may have experienced from telling on me. "I was playing dressup."

Elizabeth sighed. "We were playing dressup."

Turning to her, I tried to meet her gaze, confused as to why she would try to share the blame when I was undeniably entirely at fault. Though I was pretty sure we had reached a place where she would not tell on all of my sins, I certainly had not expected her to admit to helping me misbehave.

But she was not looking at me- instead, her eyes were focused on the floor, her fingers fiddling back and forth nervously.

Miss Lancing tightened her grip on the jewelry in her hand, looking sternly down at us. "Now you both know better than to take things that are not yours, and you certainly do not take things from your Mother without permission. What if you had lost these earrings, or broken them?"

"Sorry, Miss," Elizabeth all but whispered.

"I will be discussing this with your Mother," Miss Lancing warned, frowning at me and moving to fix my nightgown- apparently I had put in on backwards. She gently nudged me towards the bed, not allowing any of the irritation in her voice to seep into her touch. "Do not think that this will go without consequence. But for now, it is late. We will discuss this tomorrow"

I winced at the thought of what exactly the consequences would be- flashbacks of the birch switch falling across my bare backside came to mind, Lady Baldwin directing Miss Lancing to continue with the whipping after I had fought with the Earl's daughter.

Was this a less punishable offense? Or was it worse? Though we hadn't exactly admitted to stealing, it was still wrong, I knew.

But Miss Lancing said no more about it. She bathed Elizabeth and rinsed our hair, wrapping it in cloth to create the loose curls.

Both Elizabeth and I were silent as Miss Lancing tucked us in, and remained so as the door was shut and we were left in muted darkness It was me who had to begin the conversation- nervously, I turned to face Elizabeth, and found her already looking at me.

"Why did you do that?" I asked softly, though I was sure my voice could not carry through this large house. "You did not have to take the blame. Now we will both be in trouble. I would have said that I put it in your sash."

She shook her head, though she did look concerned. No doubt, she was thinking about what consequences may await us the next day. "They will be easier on you if they think we share the blame."

I stared at her. "Elizabeth, I am the reason we are taking these things to begin with. You are only helping to get me out of your house, remember? What do you care of the consequences I face?"

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, her eyebrows furrowing. "I do not mind you being here. I rather like it."

Frowning, I turned away from her, staring straight up at the canopy above the bed instead. What was I supposed to say to that? Did she want me to agree with her, now of all times? When we were so close to me leaving for good, never to see each other again?

It did not matter if she wanted me here. It did not even matter if I wanted to stay. I had been born into this world with nothing, and had continued to have nothing for the rest of my life. Until I had found John. Until him and I had both found a companionship and sense of family in each other.

I had found the same in this house now- I could not deny it. But Elizabeth had this grand home. A Mother and Father and brothers. A secure future and everything she could every possibly need.

John had nothing in this world. Nothing but me.

When I did not answer, Elizabeth reached for my hand. "Must you go?"

Swallowing hard in an attempt to rid my throat of the growing lump, I nodded. "I must."

I did not say the last part aloud- the part I wanted to say. I'm sorry. How could I be sorry for something that we had plotted out together, that we had both worked so hard for?

But, undoubtedly, I would be very sorry to leave. To leave Elizabeth's companionship. To leave Miss Lancing's care. To leave behind the title of 'daughter' bestowed upon me by Lord and Lady Baldwin. To leave behind the summers spent with Michael and Thomas, and the meetings at the fence with Charlotte.

Elizabeth sniffled quietly. I had not noticed her tears begin to fall. "I will miss you."

I tightened my grip on her hand. "I will miss you, as well."

"Will you write?"

"I do not think I can read well enough to write a letter. Nor will I be able to afford a stamp after buying tickets for John and I. We will be destitute once more."

Elizabeth grew frantic. "Perhaps I can send you money. Without Father finding out."

I shook my head. "How would you do that, Elizabeth? How would you even know where I was? I, myself, do not know. I do not know my way around France. I will be entirely lost when we first arrive. And it is not as if I am well-read enough to know what signs say- especially when they are written in another language."

We fell into silence, both of us thinking of the future. She was concerned for me- I could see that. She knew that once I left, I would be forced back into the life I had once lived- a life of poverty and theft and insecurity. To her, that was the most terrifying thing there was. She knew nothing of how to survive such things.

I, however, was not concerned with my survival. I was positive of my capability to stay alive. But the idea of boarding a ship, sailing across the sea, and leading a whole new life, away from these streets that I knew like the back of my hand...

Well, that was a bit terrifying. What would I do when I no longer knew where to take John to keep out of the cold? Would there be abandoned factories in France to stay in, as well? And I would need to find a way to establish myself among the other street children, as they would be weary of an outsider. That happened often enough- a newly orphaned or runaway child joining a gathering of other street children.

But how was one to establish themselves in such a guild when they could not even communicate with the others? How would I learn of safe places to stay, or ask about what streets were best for easy-pickings, or which churches offered hard bread and a ladle of cold soup on Sundays?

How long would it be before the roughness of the new area and my focus on basic survival left Elizabeth and my time here a distant, fuzzy memory? A memory so fantastical that it would become like a fading dream, something I would look back upon and question if it had ever even happened?

Scooting closer to Elizabeth, I willed myself to remember what it felt like to have a sister. I memorized the feel of her hand in mine, of her gentle curls as they tickled my cheek. I willed myself to remember the comfort of the bed beneath me, the warmness of the blankets above me. Of how safe and content I was, for the first time in my life. Of how easy it was to be lulled into sleep to the sound of her even breathing beside me.

All such memories vanished as I was awoken suddenly from my slumber, instantly and inexplicably on the alert. I had no idea what had roused me- as I became aware of my surroundings, I found myself in the stillness of night, darkness all around me. I also became aware of the large figure looming just above me.

And then of the large blade that was pressed against my throat.