Tess had left early for her day out, giving me a kiss on the cheek and a grin as she went, perhaps off to find her constable. I’d met Caleb—he was a perfectly nice lad, and I didn’t mind Tess seeing him, as long as there were no goings-on.

I let work take my mind off my worries, though while I labored, I went through all I had learned from Mr. Fielding and Mrs. Compton, trying to lay the pieces of information in neat rows like the beans I sorted.

I took time to send a note to Mr. Thanos, outlining the problem and my idea of him and Lady Cynthia going to the Foundling Hospital to see what sort of people watched the children. I sent it by way of James, who often visited, looking for an opportunity to earn coins. He knew where Mr. Thanos lived and raced off to deliver the message.

Tess returned in time for supper, happy and breezy. She chattered about seeing her brother, and also Caleb.

Once everyone had gone upstairs for bed, I returned to the now-quiet kitchen.

The knock on the back door came a bit earlier than I expected. He’d told me he’d come, but I was never certain exactly what he would do.

It was no cheerful Daniel I admitted through the empty scullery, however, no teasing, no hoping to restore himself to my good graces. His eyes held bleakness, his mouth a grim line.

“What has happened?” I asked as I closed the door against the night.

He responded just as quietly. “I found Nurse Betts.”

“Good.” I peered at him more closely, and then my heart constricted. “Where?”

“The morgue at Scotland Yard. Someone has beaten her to death.”

10

My hand dropped at Daniel’s words, falling slackly to my side. “Dear heavens. Are you certain?”

I knew he was, but the words came out before I could stop them. Hope, or perhaps shock, made me blurt the question.

I’d never met Nurse Betts, never spoken to her. I’d only heard what Mrs. Compton the cook, Elsie, and Mr. Fielding had said about her. A kind young woman, a caring one. Both Elsie and Mrs. Compton had told me she doted on the children, and they’d loved her.

Now she was dead, a body cold and gray in a room in which I’d once feared Daniel lay.

“What happened?” I could barely form the question.

Daniel closed and bolted the door and led me by the hand to the silent kitchen. He sat me down then moved to the kettle on the stove where water perpetually heated. Deftly, he filled the teapot and added tea from the caddy on the dresser, then carried the pot and two cups to the table.