Once they were safely away from the Lower District, Charlotte stopped the girl in the light of a street lamp and looked her over. She had not gotten a good view of the young woman before, and now that she saw her in the light, she thought that she could have gotten away with giving Andrew West significantly less money for her. While not dangerously thin, it was obvious that the girl had not been fed well. She seemed to be rather fragile, as though one knock to the ground would break her. Yet here she was, standing quite balanced, with nothing more than a bleeding cut on the head and some bruises.

"Your name?" Charlotte asked, gruffly.

"Katie, ma’am," the girl barely whispered, and she used her sleeve to wipe away a river of blood that flowed down her face.

"There is another mile’s walk, Katie. Are you well enough to keep walking, or should I tend to your wound first?" Katie’s head snapped up, and she stared at her in surprise. "Your head, girl--it is bleeding quite profusely. Do you feel faint at all? I may have something with which to bandage it..."

"No, ma’am." Katie had found her voice. "I feel fine, ma’am."

"At least hold this against the cut as we walk." Charlotte handed her a handkerchief from her pocket. When Katie just looked at it, she said, "It is clean, I assure you."

Finally, Katie shrugged her shoulders and pressed the cloth firmly against the cut on her forehead as they continued their journey.

When the pair reached Charlotte’s home, Charlotte opened the front door, ignoring the look of disbelief on Katie’s face. She had obviously never seen a mansion up close before. As Charlotte removed her coat and hung it on the coat rack, she heard footsteps clicking along the floor of the entrance hall.

"Mistress Berenger!" AnneMarie, the house keeper, exclaimed. "You were due home an hour ago! I was worried!"

"I’m fine, AnneMarie," Charlotte said, waving her concerns off. "I was merely...held up." She nodded towards Katie, and AnneMarie looked back and forth between them for a moment, raising an eyebrow. "This is Katie. She will be here until further notice. Please help her to get cleaned up. The wound on her forehead will need to be dressed; it must have stopped bleeding by now. See if any of her clothing is salvageable, and if so, have it laundered. For now, give her something of either my mother’s or Avery’s to wear--whichever you think will fit her best. She will need a meal, something light, and then take her to the blue room to retire for the evening."

"Certainly, mistress," AnneMarie said, reaching over to gently take Katie by the arm. "Before you hide away in your study, mistress, I left your dinner warming in the kitchen. Please be sure to eat it. An early bedtime wouldn’t be a bad idea, either." With that, she led Katie upstairs, leaving Charlotte to shake her head as they walked away.

"That woman..." she murmured. Heaving a sigh, she made her way to the kitchen for a plate of AnneMarie’s chicken parmesan and brought it to her office. She pulled a book from her shelf and sat down at the desk to eat and read, as she often did when she was alone for dinner.

After half an hour, Charlotte realized that she had read the same sentence at least ten times, and she had not taken more than two bites of her dinner. She sighed once more, pushing the plate and book away, and pressed her hands to her eyes in exasperation.

"What on earth possessed me to do that?" she muttered to herself.

As a woman who prided herself on her ability to think through her decisions, Charlotte did not understand why she rushed to intervene between Andrew West and Katie. It was an impulsive move, and Charlotte never gave in to her impulses without first analyzing all of the possible consequences and benefits. Now the consequences and benefits began to make themselves known, too late for Charlotte to take back her decision. She was stuck with a young, unknown sex worker in her home. Andrew West would undoubtedly spread the word that Charlotte made use of prostitutes (and female prostitutes, at that!), ruining her reputation as a moral, straight-laced professional woman. And on top of that, Charlotte had hastily spent thousands of dollars on a human being.

"I can fix this," she said after a moment. "I just need to...figure out what needs to be done. Forget about the money. Forget about what her job used to be. Find a job for her to do here, like AnneMarie."

Resolving to put it out of her mind until morning, Charlotte opened her book again and continued to read. After one chapter, she heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," she called, and AnneMarie opened the door. She sat in an empty chair in front of the desk and frowned at the sight of the chicken parmesan, nearly untouched, on the plate at the corner of the desk.

"You didn’t eat," she said. "I don’t know why I go to the trouble of making you dinner when you rarely eat it."

"I’m sorry," Charlotte replied. "I became distracted and didn’t realize until it was already cold." AnneMarie shook her head.

"I’ll put the leftovers away for Ethan," she told her. "Goodness knows he’ll eat whatever I put in front of him. When will he and Avery return from their visit with your cousins?"

"Late tomorrow morning. I need you to make sure their bedrooms are straightened before they arrive. I’m sure they’ll put down enough of a mess when they unpack."

"I’ve already done so, miss. Both rooms have been swept and dusted, and everything is in its place."

"Charlotte, AnneMarie. Always Charlotte. And thank you."

Charlotte placed her book on the shelf and turned to face the woman who had been like a second mother to her for almost her entire life. AnneMarie’s face was more drawn than usual, and she wrung her hands slightly, as though nervous about telling Charlotte something. Or nervous about asking her something, Charlotte realized with a sigh.

"Go ahead. Ask what you need to ask."

"Who is she? Where did she come from? Why is she here?" Before Annemarie could continue to launch questions at her, Charlotte held up a hand.

"I saw her on my way home. She was being beaten, and before I knew what I was doing, I...intervened." At AnneMarie’s raised eyebrow, she pushed ahead in her explanation. "It turns out that she is--was--a prostitute. I could not allow her to be treated the way the man was treating her, and so...I bought her."

"You bought her? Like a slave at an auction? Charlotte, how could you participate in such--"

"Participate! You know me better than this, AnneMarie! You know how I feel about such activities, and you know that I would never stoop so low as to participate in them. It was the only way I could get her away from him! I certainly don’t intend to use her! I only wanted to help her!" Charlotte dropped down into her chair, gripping her head in her hands. She had surprised even herself with her passionate response.

"Oh, Charlotte, I’m sorry. You’re right, I do know better than to assume. It’s just that the thought of money in exchange for a person... It’s horrible."

"I felt horrible for doing it, but what else could I have done?" She didn’t expect an answer, nor did AnneMarie give her one. "How is she?"

"Asleep, or close to it," AnneMarie assured her. "I cleaned the cut on her head and put a bandage over it. She showered, and I helped her into one of your mother’s nightgowns, as she was moving rather stiffly. She had a bit of soup, but she didn’t seem to be very hungry. We’ll build up her appetite slowly."

"Did she speak to you at all?"

"Nothing beyond ’yes, ma’am’ and ’no, ma’am.’ She seemed to be quite nervous. Understandable, of course. She kept looking at the windows and doors. Perhaps she’ll calm down after a few days."

"Perhaps. What of her belongings?"

"It took some effort to convince her to let me see what was inside her bag. She didn’t want to let go of it. She has some clothes, but nothing a respectable lady would wear in public. A photo and a necklace."

"You’ll have to take her to obtain some new clothing soon, then. Not tomorrow, but maybe the day after. I’d also like to take her to the hospital for a full exam, but I am unsure about how to do so without raising questions from my colleagues."

They sat in silence for a few moments until, finally, Charlotte said, "There is nothing more we can do tonight. Anything else will have to wait until morning. I think I will go to bed early. I expect tomorrow will be a long day."

"Your first day of sabbatical, too," AnneMarie added with a small smile. "Don’t worry yourself too much over the child. Enjoy some freedom, and time with your brother and sister when they return. It is time you had your chance for fun, and this new situation doesn’t have to interfere with that."

"You know me, AnneMarie," Charlotte responded, returning a tired smile of her own. "I worry, I work, and I keep the family together. I don’t have time for fun."