that moment that Caroline realized that she would never again look at her life the same way.
The top of a head poked out from the side of a building, closely followed by a set of dark green eyes, now narrowed in suspicion. They moved from the bag in Caroline’s hand to Caroline herself.
“I’m alone,” Caroline whispered, once more glancing over her shoulder to ensure that she was, indeed, telling the truth. “I promise I mean you no harm. I came to share my sweetmeats with you.”
A part of her whispered that she could simply set the bag down on the ground and retreat. Surely, once she’d left, the girl would come out and retrieve it. However, if she did so, they would in all likelihood never meet again.
And Caroline could simply not accept that.
Waiting patiently, Caroline breathed a sigh of relief when more of the girl’s head appeared. Again, she glanced over her shoulder and then past Caroline before stepping out into the open. “Why?” she asked, her voice weak and barely audible. Still, the look in her eyes was defiant.
“No one should be hungry,” Caroline said simply, remembering the stalls upon stalls of food. “There’s enough for everyone to share.”
The girl’s gaze narrowed, but then she took a step forward.
And then another.
And another.
“I’m Caroline.”
The girl paused, her green eyes sweeping over Caroline’s face. “Sarah.”
Only a few steps apart, the two girls looked at one another, and Caroline wondered at the difference in their lives. How was it that one had everything she could want while the other had to fight to put food in her belly?
“Here,” Caroline said, offering Sarah the small bag. “It’s for you.”
Inhaling a slow breath, Sarah hesitated, her gaze doubtful. Still, her hand moved, reaching for the small offering.
“Do you live around here?”
Sarah’s gaze narrowed as she clutched the bag of sweetmeats to her chest, her body tense, ready to dart away at a moment’s notice.
Caroline held up her hands in a soothing gesture. “I’m only asking because…because I could come back and bring you more.” The words tumbled from her lips without thought, pushed out into the world by an almost burning desire to help. “We could meet here.”
Sarah’s head cocked sideways, doubt still resting in her green gaze. Still, she could not simply ignore this opportunity to have food handed to her. Caroline could see the temptation that came to her face. To put her trust in a stranger was a risk, but so was going without food for too long.
“When?” Sarah asked, her gaze once more darting beyond Caroline’s shoulder.
Remembering her governess’ reaction, Caroline realized that what she was offering would not find approval with her parents. In all likelihood, they would forbid her if she were to speak to them about it. “I’d have to find a way to sneak off,” she thought out loud before her gaze returned to meet Sarah’s, who was watching her intently. “We often go for an outing on Sundays. I’ll try to come back here every Sunday and bring you what I can.” She drew in a deep breath when the weight of the responsibility she was taking on sank in. “I promise.”
Sarah’s gaze remained still for a long moment. “Thank ye.”
Never had those two words meant more, and Caroline felt a lump of ice settle in her stomach at the thought of how many years she’d lived without a care in the world while others had to fight for something as basic as food day in and day out.
But no more.
As she watched Sarah disappear around the side of the building, Caroline swore that she would never forget. That she would never turn a blind eye. That she would do all she could to help.
As expected, her governess was beside herself when Caroline finally reappeared. Fortunately, the red-faced woman had yet to alert Caroline’s mother. “What were you thinking, Miss? Darting off like that? I don’t even want to imagine all that could have happened to you.”
“I’m sorry,” Caroline apologized, trying to appease the flustered woman. “I wanted to see where the girl was running.” There was no point in lying.
Staring at Caroline as though she’d just stated her intention of traveling to the moon, her governess swallowed. “What on earth possessed you, Miss? I beg you, forget that dirty street urchin for your mother will not like to hear of this…endeavor.” She drew in a long breath, trying to compose herself. “You shall be a lady, one day, and ladies do not concern