Stranger in My Arms(28)

“Thank you for the artistic supplies, Lady Hawksworth. As you can see, we’re making good use of them.”

“I’m glad,” Lara replied with a rueful shake of her head. “I debated the wisdom of purchasing paint, paper, and books when clothes and food are always so badly needed.” “Books are as necessary as food, I think.” Miss Chapman cocked her head and regarded her curiously.

“Have you seen the new boy yet, Lady Hawksworth?”

“New boy,” Lara repeated, startled. “I wasn’t aware… How and when…?”

“He arrived last evening, the poor mite.”

“Who sent him?”

“I believe it was the doctor from Holbeach Prison.

He sent the boy here as soon as his father was hanged. We’re not quite certain what to do with him.

There’s not a single bed to spare.”

“His father was hanged?” Lara’s brow wrinkled in a frown. “For what crime?”

“I wasn’t informed of the particulars.” Miss Chapman lowered her voice. “The boy was living with him in prison. Evidently there was no other place for the lad to stay. Even the local workhouse refused to take him.”

A queer, sick feeling came over Lara as she digested the news. An innocent child, living amongst hardened prisoners. What sane person would allow it? “How old is the boy?” she murmured.

“He appears to be four or five, though children in those circumstances are usually small for their age.”

“I must see him.”

Miss Chapman gave her an encouraging smile.

“Perhaps you’ll have better luck than the rest of us.

So far he hasn’t spoken a word to anyone. He turned vicious when we tried to bathe him.”

“Oh, dear.” Distressed, Lara took her leave of the botany class and headed to the old manor house. It was relatively quiet inside, the children engaged in various classes and activities. The cook, Mrs. Davies, was busy chopping root vegetables and dropping them into a large pot of mutton stew. No one seemed to be aware of the child’s whereabouts.

“An odd creature, he is,” Miss Thornton, the headmistress, remarked, emerging from a schoolroom as soon as she became aware of Lara’s presence. “It’s an impossible task to locate him. All I can be certain of is that he prefers the indoors. He seems to be afraid of going outside. Most unnatural for a child.”

“Is there any room at all to spare for him?” Lara asked in concern.

Miss Thornton shook her head decisively. “He had to spend the night on a makeshift pallet in one of the schoolrooms, and I doubt he slept a wink. After the place he’s lived in, I’m hardly surprised.” She sighed.

“We’ll have to send him elsewhere. The question is, who will take him?”

“I don’t know,” Lara replied, troubled. “I’ll have to think on the matter. In the meanwhile, would you mind if I search for him?”

Miss Thornton regarded her doubtfully. “Would you like for me to assist you, Lady Hawksworth?”

“No, please go on with your regular duties. I believe I can find him on my own.”

“Yes, Lady Hawksworth,” the headmistress said, clearly relieved.

Methodically Lara searched the house room by room, guessing that the boy would choose some quiet corner to hide in, away from the company of the boisterous children.

Finally she located him in the corner of a converted parlor, curled beneath a writing desk, as if the cramped space offered some sort of security. Lara saw him gather into a ball as soon as she entered the room. Silently he hugged his knobby knees and watched her. He was nothing but a small bundle of rags, topped with a thatch of long, dirty black hair.

“There you are,” Lara said softly, sinking to her knees before him.

“You seem a little lost, darling.

Will you come sit with me?”

He held back, staring at her, his intense blue eyes circled with dark smudges of weariness.

“Will you tell me your name?” Lara sat and smiled at him, while he stayed frozen before her. She had never thought the eyes of a child could be so wounded and suspicious. Noticing that one of his hands was buried in a tattered pocket, holding something protectively, she gave him an inquiring smile.

“What do you have in there?” she asked, guessing that he held a small toy, a ball of string, or some other object that little boys cherished.

Slowly he pulled out a tiny, furry gray body-a live mouse, which peered at her over the edge of the boy’s fingers with bright, beady eyes.

Lara held back a startled squeak at the sight. “Oh,” she said weakly.

“That’s very… interesting. Did you find him here?”

The boy shook his head. “‘E came with me.” Gently he stroked the mouse between the ears with a grimy finger. “‘E likes it when I pet ‘is head like this.” Growing bolder at Lara’s close attention, he continued more warmly. “We do everything together, Mousie an’ me.”

“Mousie? Is that his name?” So the boy considered the rodent as something of a pet… a friend. Lara’s throat was tight with laughter and pity.

“D’ye want to pet ‘im?” the boy asked, extending the squirming creature to her.

Lara couldn’t bring herself to touch the thing.