Aethel sat curled in the corner of the dusty attic, hugging her knees, her face buried in her arms.
Ten minutes later, there was another knock.
"Aethel, dear?" Mrs. Moror's voice.
"Open the door. It's me."
Aethel stood and unlocked it, then quietly returned to her spot on the floor. Mrs. Moror stepped in and shut the door behind her. The attic was cramped and filled with old boxes covered in dust. No one came here often. That made it the perfect hiding place whenever Aethel felt lonely… or hurt.
Mrs. Moror sat beside her.
"Why aren't you downstairs, my dear?"
Aethel didn't answer. She stared at the floor.
Mrs. Moror gently placed a hand on her head and brushed her hair softly. "Don't you want to be adopted?"
Aethel shook her head immediately.
"No? Why?"
Mrs. Moror waited.
Aethel paused before whispering, "Don't you want to see the world outside?"
Aethel did want that. A lot. But the fear was heavier.
"I want to see the world," she said quietly, "but… can't I stay here until I'm old enough? Maybe until I get married? Or… can't you adopt me?"
Her voice broke.
"I've never been chosen before. And the girls laugh at me whenever families don't pick me."
"If I adopt you," Mrs. Moror said gently, "you would still stay here. This is where I live."
Aethel opened her mouth to reply, but Mrs. Moror continued softly,
"I want you to have a better life, Aethel. A better name. A chance to experience a real family's love."
But Aethel still didn't move.
"What if no one likes me?" she whispered. "What if the girls laugh at me again?"
Mrs. Moror sighed. "A couple asked for a nine-year-old girl today. And I think they will like you the moment they see your pretty little face." She tapped Aethel gently on the nose.
Aethel smiled a little, but her fear did not fade.
"What if they don't like me?"
"I'm sure they will," Mrs. Moror said, standing and extending her hand. "Shall we go downstairs now?"
She wasn't happy to see the girl leave. She loved Aethel deepl like the child she never had. After her husband died years ago, she joined the orphanage, and Aethel became the first child she truly connected with.
But she believed the couple could give Aethel opportunities she never could.
They went downstairs together.
Inside the office, Mr. and Mrs. Bellwood sat comfortably, waiting.
"Here she comes," Mrs. Moror announced, guiding Aethel into the room.
Mrs. Bellwood's face lit up. She nudged her husband. "Isn't she adorable? She'll make a perfect sister for our Nancy."
Mr. Bellwood nodded warmly.
"Come here, little one," Mrs. Bellwood said. "What's your name?"
Aethel walked carefully, afraid of doing anything wrong. "Aethel," she whispered, standing close to Mrs. Bellwood for safety.
"Shy, aren't you?" the woman smiled lovingly.
After a short conversation, Mrs. Moror sent a caretaker to help Aethel pack her few belongings.
She said goodbye to the children… some friends, some not. Mrs. Moror hugged her tightly, not wanting to let go, but knowing she had to.
Aethel climbed into the Bellwoods' carriage with a small spark of hope for a brighter future.
But what awaited her was far beyond anything she could imagine.
The horses jolted forward.
And the carriage rolled away from the only home she had ever known.