Promise Me Tomorrow by Candace Camp

them up.”
    Marianne sighed. “I am so sorry. I don’t know how I could have been so careless.”
    “It happens to all of us,” Harrison assured her kindly. “The main thing is that nothing happened to you.”
    “Thank you. But it would have been a nice bit of change. They had some beautiful things.”
    “I am sure it wasn’t all a loss. You met some people, didn’t you?”
    Marianne nodded. “A few. Lady Ursula Castlereigh and her daughter. I talked to the daughter at some length.”
    “There? That will get you entré into other places. You see if it doesn’t. And if not…” Harrison shrugged. “Well, we’ll try the Continent, as you said, or go back to Bath.”
    Piers groaned. “Not Bath! There’s nothing but old ladies there.”
    Harrison cocked an eyebrow at him. “We aren’t there for your entertainment.”
    “I know. I know.” Piers sighed and subsided.
    “Well.” Della glanced around. “There is nothing else to do tonight. We will just have to wait and see. I am sure Marianne would like a bite to eat and a good night’s sleep.”
    Marianne smiled gratefully at the older woman. “Thank you. I don’t think I could eat anything, truthfully. But the thought of sleep is appealing. Hopefully everything will seem better tomorrow morning.”
    The group broke up, starting up the stairs toward their rooms. Marianne, too, started out of the room, but Winny caught her arm. “Stay for a bit, Mary.”
    Marianne looked around at her questioningly.
    “I—there’s something I need to tell you.”
    “What?” Fear clutched at Marianne’s heart. “Is it Rosalind? She’s not sick, is she?”
    “No. No. Nothing like that. It’s just…well, I got a letter today. From Ruth Applegate. You remember her, don’t you? She were— was —a scullery maid at the Hall.”
    Marianne frowned. In referring to the Hall, Marianne knew that Winny meant the Quartermaines’ house, where they had both worked. The look on her friend’s face disturbed her. “Yes, I remember. You were good friends with her. What’s the matter? Did something happen to her?”
    “No. She knows that I went to live with you. She wrote to warn you. There’s been a man at the Hall asking about you. She thinks a Bow Street Runner is after you.”

CHAPTER THREE
    “A B OW S TREET R UNNER !” M ARIANNE GASPED . “Sweet Lord, I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”
    Winny reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, which she unfolded to reveal a pencilled scrawl. “It’s very difficult to read. Ruth never learned to read and write very well. What she said, I think, was, ‘There was a man—two men at—’I think she means different ‘—times. They was asking about Mary C. But nobody knows about her, and I didn’t tell. I thought I should warn you. Bow Street Runners’.”
    “Could we have been found out? Has someone—but no. No one I’ve met the past few years would know I was Mary Chilton or that I worked for the Quartermaines.”
    Winny nodded. “I know. It’s got to be someone from the past.”
    “But who? Why?”
    “Do you—do you think it could be your family?” Winny asked tentatively, voicing every orphan’s dream. “If they went to St. Anselm’s, they’d have told them you’d gone on to the Hall.”
    “After all this time?” Marianne suppressed the little spurt of hope that had leapt up in her at Winny’s words. It was foolish to think that there was family who wanted her after so many years. “I haven’t any family, or they would have looked for me years ago. It’s been over twenty years.”
    “Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe you were stolen from them.”
    Marianne smiled. “That’s a child’s dream. I used to tell myself that that was what had happened, that my parents were still alive, still wanted me, that a wicked person had taken me from them. But that’s nonsense. It’s the stuff of dramas. Why would someone steal a child and then drop it at an orphanage? Besides, she said