The little girl held on to her new dress as if it were the only thing she owned. Her wide eyes watched the world pass by through the carriage window. She had never been in one before in truth, she hadn't even known such things existed until that morning.
Her thoughts ran wild, fear, confusion, hope, all swirling like the dust outside. But she kept her face calm, unreadable. She didn't want the people who helped her into the carriage to think she was ungrateful.
Across from her sat the Marquess and Marchioness of Windmere. The couple looked at the child the way people look at something both precious and fragile. Their fingers were intertwined, their smiles soft but uncertain. Having a child had been their dream for years, but dreams, as they both knew, could be frightening once they came true.
"What will the ton say when we bring her home?" the Marchioness asked after a while. She tried to sound composed, but there was a tremor in her voice. The ton of Britannia always had something cruel to say, and she was afraid of how far their whispers might reach.
The Marquess gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Let them talk, Beatrice," he said. "We've endured their poison long enough. One more sting won't kill us."
"You're right," she murmured. "But I do not want her to be hurt by it." Her voice softened as she looked at the little girl, who was watching them quietly without understanding a word.
The Marquess followed her gaze. "They will not touch her," he said firmly. "Once she is ours, she'll be protected. I'll see to it."
Love and safety, that was what Beatrice wanted to give this child. Perhaps it would take time, but she was determined.
The girl loosened her grip on her dress and pressed her hands against the carriage window, eyes bright with wonder. The passing buildings, though gray and dull, seemed magical as they moved.
"Do you love the view, darling?" the Marchioness asked kindly.
Startled, the girl sat up straight. She didn't know what the lady was saying, only that she didn't want to be scolded.
Beatrice smiled faintly and pointed toward the window. "Do you like what you see?"
The girl followed the woman's hand and then nodded, hesitantly. She didn't understand the words, but she knew they were looking at the same thing and somehow, that felt safe.
"It rains often in Britannia," the Marchioness said softly. "But it's beautiful, I promise you that." She reached out and brushed the child's short black curls.
Before long, the girl's eyes began to close. The road was long, the rocking gentle, and soon she drifted to sleep.
---
Hours later, the carriage stopped before a grand house of gray stone and ivy. The coachman hurried down to open the door, and servants appeared, bowing deeply as the Marquess and Marchioness stepped out, their new daughter asleep in Beatrice's arms.
Sparrow House stood proud and still, smelling faintly of lavender and old books. From behind the servants' whispers floated like a breeze.
"Is that her? The child from Zerola?"
"She's darker than I imagined…"
"Hush! The Marchioness will hear you!"
The girl stirred as they entered, blinking up at the chandelier light. Her new room waited upstairs — warm, with lace curtains and a little bed by the window.
---
That night, the Marchioness peeked into the room. To her surprise, the child was awake, sitting quietly on the bed and gazing outside.
"You do love windows, don't you?" she said with a smile. The girl turned, then nodded slowly.
Beatrice walked in, her voice low and gentle. "That's why we gave you this room. The view here is quite lovely."
The girl didn't answer, only turned her eyes back to the sky. It was darker than the one she knew, fewer stars, but calmer somehow.
Beatrice hesitated, then crossed the room and knelt beside the bed. "You have nothing to fear, my dear," she whispered. "Your new father and I will take care of you."
For a moment, she didn't move , then she wrapped her arms around the small, still figure.
"I promise," she said again, her voice trembling just a little.