had all called her mum Mrs. Edna McAlister. The memory was as clear as day now.
They’d lived in a small flat above a dress shop where her mum worked as a dressmaker’s assistant doing hand sewing until she fell ill. Grace could picture the table where they ate their simple meals and the bed she’d shared with her sister Katie.
She stared at the words stenciled on the trunk once more, trying to recall the Pleasantview Children’s Home in Belleville, but the three children’s homes where she’d stayed all blurred together.
An idea struck, and she laid her hand on top of the trunk. Now that she knew the name of the children’s home in Belleville, she could write to the matron and ask for information about her birth family.
Joy tingled through her, and her smile spread wide. Perhaps the matron would write back and tell her how she could find Garth and Katie, and through them, she might learn how to contact Laura in England. At last she might be able to find out if Mum was still living.
But her joy quickly faded as new questions stirred her heart. Why had her adopted parents told her they knew nothing about her family or the circumstances that brought her to Canada? Surely, they remembered that her trunk was stored in the attic with this information stenciled across the top. Had they purposely kept it from her so she wouldn’t ask questions? What would they think about her delving into her history and searching for her family?
Grace straightened and turned toward the window as one thought connected to the next. She had a right to know about her background, even if her adoptive parents wouldn’t approve. She would write the Pleasantview Children’s Home and ask how to contact Garth and Katie.
Finding the trunk and learning the name of the children’s home she’d passed through was thrilling, but there was so much more she wanted to know, so many questions that needed to be answered. Most of all, she longed to see Katie and Garth again. Maybe then she’d finally feel the heart-to-heart connection she’d been missing for so many years.
* * *
That evening, after dinner, Grace crept down the back servants’ stairs and peeked into the kitchen. The maid stood at the sink, washing the last of the pots and pans that had been used to prepare the family’s dinner.
Grace scanned the room to make sure they were alone, then cleared her throat. “Good evening, Sylvia.”
The maid spun around, her eyes wide and her hands dripping dishwater. “Oh, Miss Hamilton! Can I help you?” She quickly wiped her hands on her apron.
Grace smiled. “I wanted to ask if you might do an errand for me tomorrow.”
Sylvia’s golden-brown eyebrows rose. “You want me to do an errand for you?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind.” It was an unusual request to make of the maid, but Grace needed help and there were few members of the staff she could trust.
“What would you like me to do, miss?”
Grace took the letter she’d addressed to the Pleasantview Children’s Home from behind her back. “I’d like you to mail this letter for me.”
Confusion filled the maid’s eyes. “Why don’t you give it to Mr. Harding?”
The butler usually handled all the family’s mail, but he was loyal to her father and she couldn’t risk him seeing the address and reporting it to her parents.
“I’d rather you take it to the post office.”
Sylvia blinked, looking uncertain.
Grace wished she could go herself, but her parents rarely allowed her to leave the house without a chaperone. “It’s a private letter. I’d rather Mr. Harding didn’t see it.”
Sylvia slowly nodded. “All right, miss. I’ll post the letter for you.”
Relief rushed through Grace. “Thank you.” She took two coins from her pocket and held them out with the letter. “This should be enough to pay for the stamp, and a bit extra for your trouble.”
The maid’s eyes widened again. “Oh, thank you, miss. That’s more than enough.” Sylvia accepted the envelope and tucked it into her apron pocket along with the coins.
“Thank you, Sylvia. I appreciate your help.”
The maid dipped a slight curtsy. “Of course, miss. You can count on me. I’ll keep your secret.”
A smile rose from Grace’s heart as she walked out of the kitchen. She’d just taken the first step to reconnect with her family, and it made her feel so light and hopeful, she could almost dance up the stairs. Perhaps in a few weeks she’d be able to