Sarah froze, her stomach tight and tension rifling through her as she looked at the box. She had no idea what it contained, and for whatever reason, she did not yet want to touch it. The knowledge that someone had been in her room without her awareness made her sick to the stomach, as a few beads of sweat formed on her brow. Were they still here, waiting for her? Hiding in the dark shadowy corners of the room so that once she was alone, they might attack?

Slamming the pillow back over the box, Sarah got to her feet and began to search the room, picking up a candle so as to get as much light as possible. She would not give in to fear, determined to ensure that she was quite safe. The maid would return in a moment or two with her tea tray so should anything untoward happen, she would not be alone.

“Is anyone there?” she asked, peering around the corner of her screen where she often dressed. There was nothing there, her heart hammering wildly as she bent down to check under her bed. Half expecting someone to climb out from underneath it, Sarah let out a scream as the maid opened the door again, her tea tray in hand.

“I am so terribly sorry,” the maid gasped, setting the tray down quickly on the table. “Are you all right, miss?”

Sarah drew in a long breath, one hand pressed against her middle. “I am quite all right, thank you. I just thought I lost one of my ear bobs, but it turns out I did not.”

The maid nodded, as Sarah set the candle down. “Of course, miss. Is your headache still bad?”

“I intend to lie down once I am out of this dress,” Sarah answered, as calmly as she could despite the frantic beating of her heart. “Might you help me?” Pulling the room key from her pocket, she set it aside on the dressing table so that she could lock the door once the maid had gone. Usually, she left it open so that they could bring her early cup of tea in at the usual time, but—tonight—Sarah wanted to keep it locked.

As the maid began to help her change into her night things, Sarah could not help but let her eyes rove around the room, as though she might somehow find clues as to where this stranger had been. She did not know what to think, terrified about what might be within the box. Would it be something that threatened her safety? Someone that knew where she had come from and was using this knowledge to ensure she remained exactly where she was? Had they somehow known that she was thinking to make her own path in life, somehow?

“You are being ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, as the maid brought over her nightgown, eyeing Sarah carefully as though she were going mad in speaking to herself.

Not wanting to explain, Sarah dismissed the maid as quickly as she could, grasping the key and locking the door after her. Turning the handle to ensure that she was safe, Sarah turned around and looked back at her pillows.

Her hands began to tremble, as she lifted the pillow away to reveal the small parcel. Picking it up, she looked at it carefully, seeing the neat ribbon tying it all together. There was no indication as to who it might be from, for there was nothing written on the parcel anywhere.

There was nothing to do but open it to see what was within. Her breathing ragged, Sarah tugged at the ribbon which fell away easily, the paper still remaining in place once it was removed. Looking all about her for a moment, as though there might be someone watching her from within the room, Sarah unfolded the brown parcel paper, and setting it aside, she held the black box in her hand.

Swallowing hard, she got up to ensure that the drapes were completely closed, her heart now hammering wildly. Sitting back down, she lifted up the lid and heard herself gasp.

There, nestled within the depths of the box and surrounded by delicate lace, was a beautiful gold locket. It was decorated with seed pearls and had an amethyst at the center. It was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry she had ever seen, and she was not even able to guess how much it was worth.

Setting the box down carefully on the bed, Sarah lifted the locket out of the box, feeling the weight of it in her hands. Running one finger over it, she found the delicate catch, and her nerves running wildly through her, she opened it carefully.

To her disappointment, it was entirely empty. There was no miniature within, no picture of someone she did not know, something that might have become something to her.

Sighing, Sarah closed it again, turning it over in her fingers. There was no inscription on the back, nothing to let her know who it was from. What was the point of sending her a piece of jewelry if there was nothing else with it? Why had someone come into her room and set this under her pillow if it was nothing more than a locket that she knew nothing of?

Rising to her feet, Sarah made to pick up the box so as to hide it somewhere on her dressing table, but to her surprise saw that there was a small, unfolded note hiding underneath all the lace which had held the locket so carefully.

Sinking back down onto the bed, Sarah set the locket aside and picked up the note, her fingers shaking slightly. This was more important than the locket, she was certain of it.

Unfolding it, her eyes glazed over for a moment as she saw the writing there. Drawing in a long breath, she fixed her gaze on it and began to read aloud.

“Ask Mr. Stanton about your fortune. Make your way to London. Find the owner of this locket. All will become clear.”

She frowned, reading the note three times before setting it down next to the locket. Who had written her such a note, and why did they seem to know more about her than she did? What would Mr. Stanton know about her fortune? Did she have one?

A spiral of excitement coiled in her belly. If she did have a fortune, and if she was of age – as well as being out – then Mr. Stanton could do nothing if she wished to use her fortune for her own ends. He was her guardian, yes, but if she was of age, then it meant that she could do as she wished with her fortune. This was just what she had been hoping for. It gave her the chance to do as she pleased with her own life, although she did not intend to use her funds—if she truly did have some—to live in the lap of luxury. No, she would do what this note said. She would find the owner of the locket, and in doing so, she would find out more about who she really was.

A sudden thought struck her, making the smile on her lips fade. What if the person who had written the note did not have good intentions for her? What if they wanted her to go in search of the locket’s owner for their own nefarious purposes, whatever that might be?

“If I am illegitimate,” Sarah said aloud, giving voice to her thoughts, “then for me to appear with this locket will send such rumors around about my parent, whomever he might be, and bring shame and disfavor to his life.” Perhaps someone wanted that to happen; perhaps they wanted her to reveal herself so that consequences could follow for her father or mother were they still alive.

Sighing, Sarah traced the delicate locket with one finger, her heart sinking a little lower than before. She was not sure what to do, having been caught up with a sudden flurry of excitement when she had first read the note.

A small, aching throb settled between her eyes, bringing a sharp pain to her head. Perhaps she was going to have this headache after all.

Lying back, Sarah held the box that contained the locket tightly in her hand as she set the cool compress over her forehead. Everything was muddled. She wanted desperately to do what the note writer had said; she wanted to go to Mr. Stanton at this very moment and demand that he tell her everything about her fortune, but instead, she lay exactly where she was and tried to think things through.

If she had a fortune, that meant that whoever had sent her to Mr. Stanton had been wealthy in his own right. Had Mr. Stanton received a generous sum in payment for his care for her? Was that why he had never complained about taking her in? Was he instructed never to talk to her about where she had come from?

Questions flooded every part of her being, each one being asked before spinning away without an answer. Suppose she did have a fortune, suppose she did go to London, what would she do next? The ton would be welcoming to her, she supposed, although she could not expect to mingle with those highest in society. However, she had no idea where to start when it came to finding the owner of this locket. Why London? Why there, the very place that Mr. Stanton had kept her from for so many years? Would she truly find answers there?

Her stomach began to churn, bringing a feeling of nausea with it. The room grew chilled, and Sarah tugged the blankets over herself, setting the compress aside whilst keeping the box that contained the locket and note in her hand. Turning onto her side, she gently set them both back under her pillow, secure in the box she had found them in. Closing her eyes, Sarah tried to sleep, praying that the answer about what she should do would be there waiting for her in the morning.