The Millburn children had gathered for lessons in the cozy sitting room, presenting a picture of domestic bliss. Mr. Millburn worked as a clerk in the City and was not present, but Mrs. Millburn had taken her place at the window to do the mending and instruct the children at the same time.

Grace was of an age with the older Millburn girl, Jane, both of them eleven. Jane sat at a table doing her lessons, her brother, a year older, next to her. Grace’s books stacked in the place next to Jane showed she had joined them while waiting for me.

The younger two, another boy and girl, reposed on the thick hearth rug, the warmest place in the room, picture books and writing slates around them. The girls wore white pinafores, the boys in knickers and gray jackets. The four Millburn children were rosy and healthy, happy in their tiny house.

Grace was happy here too.

This was to have been my life, I thought with a pang, once my husband returned from foreign parts where he sailed. Me in a small house, baking and cooking and looking after Grace. Domestic bliss indeed.

Spending a pleasant morning in a warm room would have appealed to me any other day, Joanne and I chatting while the children played or studied, but today I felt uneasy and restless. Grace shared my restlessness—when I glanced at her, she sent me a look of pleading. She’d been confined too long, the look told me.

“A brisk walk will do us good,” I said, deciding. “But Mrs. Millburn is correct about the cold. You must wrap up warm, Grace.”

Grace flashed her happiest smile and rushed to fetch her coat. The maid of all work Joanne employed helped her button up, handing Grace a scarf and mittens.

“Thank you, Mum,” Grace said as we started down the street, pressed together against the wind. “I’d had enough of lessons.”

“You must learn everything you can,” I chided her, but today I did so because I felt it my duty. “A woman in this world cannot afford to be ignorant.”

“I read and write better than Tom,” Grace said with confidence, naming the older boy. “Better at maths too. But I can’t have lessons every day.”

“No,” I agreed. “All work and no play, as they say.”

“Makes Grace a dull girl.” She grinned up at me. “And Mum too. Where shall we go?”

While my heart balked at the idea of taking Grace anywhere near the Foundling Hospital, Mr. Fielding’s story had me anxious. Whatever Daniel’s old quarrels with him might be, missing children was a serious matter. Knowing about it, I could not simply turn aside.

“Do you mind a great walk? Up along High Holborn, and more?”

“I don’t mind at all,” Grace said at once. “I’m very sturdy.”