Sarah had not slept well. The night had been filled with awakenings, her sleep clouded with dreams of unknown faces and grasping hands, of shouted words and terrifying screams. She had not been settled. And so, when the first lights of dawn crossed the sky, Sarah had chosen to rise, looking out at the cold morning sun with a feeling of dismay in her heart.

Everything was as muddled as it had been last night. She had not come up with any answers, had not made any kind of certain decisions. She was just as lost as before.

Gazing out at the grey sky, Sarah drew in a long breath and felt her bones shake. She was scared. Scared that the note writer might be telling the truth, that she did have a fortune that Mr. Stanton had hidden from her. The consequences of that were more than she dared to think of, knowing that she could not allow her questions to be batted away by him, as they had been so often before. Were she to speak to him about such a thing, then she would have to demand that he answer her, refusing to back down and go away in silence as he had no doubt expect.

She knew the note by heart, having read it so many times. What was she to do with it? What she decided now would decide the course of her future, of that she was certain. If she ignored the note, ignored the locket, then her future would play out entirely as she had expected, with her husband chosen for her by her guardian. She would be wife and mother, respectful of her husband and obedient to his requests, just as she was to Mr. Stanton. If she chose to speak to Mr. Stanton about what she had discovered, then her life would take an altogether different direction, one that was clouded in confusion and uncertainty.

Find your courage.

Taking a deep breath, Sarah continued to look out at the gardens, her heart lifting. She would have to take precautions and would have to find herself a companion with which she could traverse the plains of society. However, anything was better than staying here and having her life planned for her. She would have to make sure that Mr. Stanton knew and understood that she was more than determined to do what she pleased with her life, knowing that he would be both astonished and horrified at her demands, but she would have to remain steadfast. There could be no shrinking back, no pretending that she was content to simply do as she was told any longer.

She would have to find her courage from somewhere, to do something she had never done before. It was time to take control.

That courage seemed to disappear the moment she knocked on Mr. Stanton’s study door. She had not gone to see him of her own volition but had, in fact, been summoned by a maid, telling her that Mr. Stanton wished to see her. Sarah did not need to ask why, aware that she was about to be heavily reprimanded for her sudden absence last evening. He would, no doubt, quiz her about her headache, his bushy brows furrowing as he made it clear that he did not entirely believe her.

“Mr. Stanton?”

He was sitting at his study table, his elbows on the desk in front of him and his fingers pressed gently together. His eyes took her in as she walked into the room, making Sarah’s stomach churn with nerves. This was not how she’d wanted to feel – small, intimidated, and afraid. She had wanted to feel strong, brave, and determined, but just one look from Mr. Stanton’s sharp eyes and she wanted to sit in the chair and accept his angry reprimand as she had done before.

“Sit, Sarah.”

She made to do so, only to stop and look down at the chair, one hand grasping the top of it tightly.

“Sit down.”

“No, thank you.”

The words came out as a whisper, as her eyes shot towards him. “I think I would rather stand.”

“And I would rather you sit.”

There was an anger to his voice now, seeping into the lines on his face, but Sarah told herself not to move, her mind screaming at her to remain steady.

“Thank you, Mr. Stanton, but I will remain standing,” she said, her voice a little louder as she remained holding onto the back of the chair with one hand, as though it would give her the strength she required. “What was it you wished to speak to me about?”

His eyes darted from her to the chair and back again as though he expected his silence to cajole her into doing what he had asked, but after a few minutes of Sarah’s steadfastly refusing to be seated, he let out a long breath and sat back in his chair.

“You are becoming stubborn, Sarah, and that is not acceptable,” he said, firmly. “Your excuse on leaving the table last evening was nothing short of ridiculous.”

Ignoring her churning stomach, Sarah lifted one eyebrow. “I do not think that a headache is anything ridiculous, Mr. Stanton.”

His lips thinned, his eyes darkening. “I know you had no such thing. The maid told me she found you scrabbling about on the floor for something – hardly the actions of someone who can barely keep their eyes open due to the pain.”

Sarah kept her gaze on his despite the desire to look away and drop her head. She had to be bold if things were to change. “To be frank, Mr. Stanton, I did not want to stay at a gathering where I am to be presented as though I am some kind of prize to be won. I am more than aware that the gentlemen with us last evening were all there to hear that I am now out—so that they might begin to think of courting me.”

“That is no reason to lie!” he exclaimed, now appearing quite furious. “You—”

“I believe I was not the only one who lied, Mr. Stanton,” she interrupted, finding herself growing stronger with every word she spoke. “Did you not tell them all that we had enjoyed a quiet occasion for my come out? That is very strange indeed since I, myself, do not remember it.”

Mr. Stanton glared at her, one hand thumping the table. “That is entirely different matter. You are to do as you are expected.”

“I want full access to my fortune.”

The words left her before she could stop them, and as soon as they had left her mouth, she saw Mr. Stanton’s jaw go slack. His face grew pale, his eyes widening as the anger left him.

“I am of age, and therefore I should have already had full access and responsibility for it,” she continued firmly, drawing herself up to her full height. “Why you have never spoken to me of it, I cannot understand.” Something like satisfaction settled over her, as she saw how Mr. Stanton was staring at her. Apparently, every word she had said was true. Thus far, the note writer had proven to be correct. She did have a fortune, one that was being very carefully hidden by Mr. Stanton.

“How do you know about that?” Mr. Stanton asked, his voice hoarse. “You are not meant to know until…”

Sarah frowned as he trailed off, wondering what he was keeping from her. “Until when?” His eyes shot to hers, and Sarah saw the truth in his gaze. “Ah, I see. Until I am wed, is that it? I am to marry before I know that I am a wealthy woman so that any freedom I might have is then completely lost. Gone for good, unless my husband should die. Is that not so?”

Mr. Stanton looked away, passing one hand over his eyes, and Sarah knew she had hit on the truth. Anger settled in her stomach, a fiery ball that shot sheer fury into her veins.

“Why?” she said, walking over to his desk, as a new strength began to fill her. “What is it about me that is meant to be so secret?”

Mr. Stanton shook his head. “This is not to be discussed, Sarah.”

“I intend to discuss it,” she retorted, slamming her hand down flat on the table. “I will not have this kept from me any longer. I have spent years not knowing where I am from nor who my family is, and you have persistently refused to say a word of it to me. Well, I know more than you are aware of, Mr. Stanton. Tell me the truth.”

He looked up at her, a slight anger sparking in his gaze. “You have no need to know.”

“I have every need to know!” Sarah shouted, not caring that her voice was bouncing off the walls. “This is my life, and you cannot continue to order me about as you do. I will find out one way or the other. You can be sure of that, so you may as well tell me who sent me to you.”

Much to her astonishment, he chuckled darkly. “And what if I do not know?”

Her anger died away at once, replaced with a sudden, overwhelming horror.

“You were sent here by a relative of mine, as a favor to a gentleman he knew. Funds are deposited in my account thrice yearly so that I might care for you. You were never to leave this place, not unless someone came for you. We were not to speak of your removal to us. Your fortune and dowry were to be in my care and only revealed to you when you married. Any income we receive stops the moment you leave this house. That is all that I know.”

“Poppycock!” Sarah exclaimed, not believing his words for a moment. “You must know more.”

Mr. Stanton’s gaze lifted to hers, and Sarah recognized that there was nothing but honesty in his eyes. Honesty combined with a great weariness that told her he had been as confused as she.

“I know nothing more, Sarah,” he said calmly. “I have done all I can for you and ensured that I lived up to my responsibilities, and yet you have found out about your fortune regardless. My solicitor is in the village today if you wish to see the paperwork that proves it.”

Sarah did not answer the unspoken question, knowing that she did not need to tell him about the secret box under her pillow. “This relative of yours, who is he?”

Mr. Stanton shook his head. “It does not matter. He is dead.”

The bottom fell out of her world, the only hope she had to discover where she had come from dying in an instant.

“Who was he?” she asked doggedly, her fingers digging into the edge of the table as she clung on, desperate not to let the tears fall. “What was his name?”

Mr. Stanton shrugged, as though it did not matter if she knew. “Henry Percival, Earl of Thorndyke. He died, and the title and estate went to his son, James, who is now Lord Thorndyke. He is ages with you, I believe, if not a little older, and I can assure you, he knows nothing of the matter. In fact, I would go as far as to say that the man is entirely unaware of your existence.”

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat, her courage slowly fading away. “And was the earl my father?”

Mr. Stanton chuckled and shook his head, as though finding her question humorous. “Of course not. It was all very secretive for whatever reason, and I understand he was doing it in order to help a friend. I know nothing more; I assure you.”

Sarah wanted to run back to her room and cry until there were no more tears left but with the last whisper of courage, she looked at Mr. Stanton directly in the eye.

“Send for your solicitor, Mr. Stanton,” she said firmly, in a voice that only shook a little. “I want to know everything about my fortune and my dowry, including ensuring that I have complete control over it.”

“And what will you do?” Mr. Stanton asked heavily. “Leave here? Go in search of someone who even I, as your guardian, do not know?”

Sarah lifted her chin and walked back towards the door. “I will do whatever I have to in order to find out the truth about myself. Please, send for your solicitor. That will be a good enough start for me.”