No Journey Too Far (McAlister Family #2) - Carrie Turansky Page 0,13
rumpled bed sat against the far wall with a still form beneath the blankets. On the floor next to the bed lay a pillow.
Emma strained to listen, but no sound came from the bed, not even a soft snore.
A chill traveled down her back, and she forced herself to move closer. “Mrs. Hazelton?” Her voice shook. “I heard someone cry out. I thought I should check on you.”
The lantern light fell across Mrs. Hazelton’s face, and Emma froze. The woman stared at her, wide eyed and unseeing.
Emma gasped and jumped back, almost dropping the lantern. Frightening questions darted through her mind, followed by a wave of nausea and dizziness. She spun away and ran from the room.
* * *
As the sunrise turned the sky pale gray, Emma sat in the boardinghouse kitchen with two constables and Margaret Clarkson, the kind silver-haired widow who was the only other female boarder.
Constable Fieldstone and his partner, Constable Burton, had already questioned the three male boarders and sent them away. Now Constable Fieldstone directed his stern gaze toward Emma. “You say you heard footsteps in the upper hallway outside your door?”
“Yes sir.” She’d already told him everything she could recall. Why did he keep asking her the same questions?
“Describe them for me.”
“They sounded hurried as they went past my door, and then they faded away as the person went down the stairs.”
“Past your door, you say?”
Emma nodded.
“But Mrs. Hazelton’s room is directly across the hall from yours.”
Emma hesitated, feeling a bit confused. “I thought they ran past my door, but it might have just been the sound of the person running down the hall, away from my room.”
Constable Fieldstone leaned forward. “Which was it, Miss Lafferty? Did the person run past your door or not?”
Emma rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. As I said, I was startled awake by a loud cry, and I was trying to make sense of it all when I heard the footsteps.”
The constables exchanged glances.
Constable Fieldstone focused on Emma again. “Tell me, Miss Lafferty, how long have you been working for Mrs. Hazelton?”
“I started here about a week before Christmas, so about three months.”
“And where did you work before that?”
Emma paused. If she told him the truth, would he send her back to Mr. Gilchrest? Her indentured contract was finished, but even if it weren’t, she couldn’t go back there. Not ever. “I…worked on a farm near Roslin.”
“As a domestic?”
“Yes sir.”
“And why did you leave that position?”
She glanced away, wondering how to explain it without giving him too many details. “The woman I worked for died.” That was true, but it wasn’t the whole story. Verna Hathaway, Mr. Gilchrest’s housekeeper, assigned Emma’s tasks and watched out for her, but Mr. Gilchrest was her true employer.
The constable frowned. “Your former employer died as well?”
Emma nodded. “We both came down with the flu after caring for our neighbors during their illness. I recovered, but Mrs. Hathaway did not.”
He continued to frown, even after her explanation. “Is Roslin your hometown?”
Emma pulled in a breath to steady her nerves. “No sir.”
He cocked his eyebrows. “Where were you born?”
She wished she could give a different answer, but there was no way around the truth. “I was born in London, England.”
“I thought you had an English accent. When did you come to Canada?”
“When I was fifteen.”
“You and your parents?”
“No, my parents died in a carriage accident when I was three. I lived in a children’s home until I came to Canada with a group of children sponsored by Dr. Barnardo’s Homes.”
Constable Fieldstone’s mouth drew down at the corners. “So, you’re a British Home Child.” His grim tone made his disapproval clear.
Emma looked away, her heart sinking. How many times had she been taunted or shunned when people learned she was a Home Child from England? Many believed only the dregs of society were sent across the sea to Canada and that they were not worthy of friendship, acceptance, or even a kind word.
Margaret straightened. “She may be an English orphan, but she’s a good girl, and she’s always been kind and respectful to me. You’ve no cause to think poorly of her.”
The constable turned to the widow with a skeptical lift of his dark eyebrows. “You can vouch for her character?”
“Yes sir, I can. Emma is a hard worker. She never argued with Mrs. Hazelton or had a harsh word to say about her, even though the woman worked her like a slave.”