“What I didn’t remember until several days ago was that Christopher had a twin sister. I believe she was born second and was terribly frail. I remember now hearing that she wouldn’t last the night.” Her mouth tightened. “No one told me about her later. I presume they didn’t want me to grieve over her loss.

“But now I have remembered, and I came here to find out what happened to her.” She couldn’t bear to repeat Denshire’s cruel order to get rid of it. Lucas squeezed her hand comfortingly, so she continued, “My hope is that she lived long enough to be baptized, and perhaps buried in your cemetery. Do you remember any of this?”

He shook his head, his expression compassionate. “I’m sorry, I’ve only been at St. Mary’s for three years. I’ve heard nothing of your story. Wasn’t your husband able to tell you what happened?”

Wanting to say as little as possible, she said, “After the birth of his heir, we led largely separate lives and are now permanently estranged. There is no chance he will speak to me, and he had no interest in a girl child that didn’t survive. Once I remembered her birth, I realized that Lower Dauntrey would be the best place to find answers.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “If she is buried here, I’d like to visit her grave and . . . and say good-bye.”

“I’m so very sorry,” Mrs. Hutton said as she tightly clasped the hand of her own small daughter. “No doubt those who didn’t tell you of your daughter were well intentioned, but it’s wrong to keep such knowledge from a mother.”

“I quite agree,” Kendra said, unable to keep a bitter edge from her voice.

Lucas squeezed her hand once more before releasing it. “Let’s look at the parish register. That might tell us what we need to know.”

The curate opened the register. “December, you said?” He flipped the pages to the end of the book. “Here is the section on births and baptisms.” There were a dozen or so listings. He said indulgently, “A rather large number of births for one month, but I always think that December shows the results of celebrating the arrival of spring.”

Kendra and Lucas crowded around him to study the page. The notations were written in crabbed, difficult-to-read handwriting. Three quarters of the way down she saw “Hon. Christopher Douglas Hawthorn, son of George Hawthorn, Lord Denshire of Denshire Park, gent. & his wife, Kendra, late Douglas, Spinster, 11th Dec. 1806, baptized privately.” But there was no listing for a little girl born that day.

Mouth dry, Kendra said, “What about the listings for deaths?”

Hutton flipped to that section of the book. She scanned the page and saw a listing for a stillborn boy late in December, but there was no mention of a girl child that month.