It was still dark, well past midnight by her guess, and she looked around the empty room, her heart racing as she tried to reckon with what had made her wake up so suddenly and in such a state of panic.
That was when she heard it.
Someone was knocking on the front door. The manor was steeped in silence, dead asleep, but the sound of fists hammering on the wooden doors rang through the halls like the toll of an ancient bell.
She hesitated where she sat, biting her lip, sensing the panic of whoever it was that had come calling, but not sure if she should answer.
A few more seconds of listening to those knocks shake the manor awake, and she came to a decision.
She was up and crossing her room. Snatching a robe, she threw it over her body as she wrenched the door open and started down the hall. The knocking grew louder and heavier as she went, having to feel her way through the darkness while her heartbeat matched every loud knock.
It was just as she reached the top of the stairs leading into the foyer that the knocking stopped. And she saw immediately why that was.
Sebastian was at the door, speaking in a hushed tone to whoever had come calling. His voice sounded panicked, sharp, and aggressive, but he did not shout. She stood on the landing, watching curiously as he finished with the caller and pushed the door shut behind him.
He took one step across the foyer before he saw her standing there.
“Helena…” He came to a stop. Hesitated, as if he did not recognize her. “What are you?—”
“Who was that?” she asked.
“That was…” He grimaced, brow furrowed so that she could see how serious the matter was. “It does not concern you. Go back to bed.”
“Tell me.” She started down the steps. “Sebastian…” She was looking at him pleadingly. “What is wrong?”
He hesitated further, and he could hardly bring himself to look at her.
“It was a rider, sent from the orphanage,” he began, and Helena’s heart stopped. “One of the children has been taken ill. Doctors have been called, but they need me.”
“One of the children…” Somehow, she knew the answer even before she was asked. “Which child?”
“It does not?—”
“Tell me!” she cried, hurrying down the steps and reaching the foyer. “Which child?”
Sebastian looked away, pain written all over his face. His shoulders slumped, his posture withdrawn, and never had she seen him so worried.
“It is Daniel,” he replied. “Worse still, they cannot promise me that he will make it through the night.”
Helena gasped and stumbled back.
Sebastian half moved to catch her, but caught himself and straightened. He steadied his gaze, careful not to let anything show.
“I will be back by the morning,” he said carefully. “I am sure that… that there is nothing to worry about.”
For two days, Helena had done what she could to forget about the orphanage. She needed it removed from her mind because that, as much as anything, was responsible for how she was now seeing Sebastian. Her problems had felt so monumental and important, as if the world revolved around them and nothing else mattered.
Now, she understood just how pitiful and unimportant they were.
“I am coming with you,” she declared.
“What? Helena, no. You need to?—”
“I am coming,” she cut him off, fixing him with a look that brooked no argument. “Daniel needs us both, and I will not abandon him.”
Sebastian looked at her, as if searching for a lie. Or perhaps trying to figure out why she was doing this. But there was no great mystery behind it. No hidden meaning.
A child was sick, Helena had grown to care for him, and she would not sit at home if there was even a chance that her presence could help.
