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the dim light inside the carriage. Here there was no time, no urgency. She wished she could stay forever, jostled to and fro in the in-between place where she would not be forced to make the decisions that loomed on the horizon.
    Finally, Edmund stopped the horses with a gentle “Whoa, boys.” A moment later, the door opened and light leaked into the shadowed interior of the carriage.
    Edmund held out a hand with a tip of his head. Adelaide took it, stepping down and making her way across the walk with Edmund on her heels. She kept her head held high, her back straight, even as she saw the stares of the townspeople. Saw the women, women who fancied themselves well-bred but who were really simple-minded bigots and gossips, whispering to one another behind gloved hands.
    The Milthorpes’ wealth made them a target for such behavior, but it was not simple jealousy that set them apart. It was their seclusion, the air of mystery, somehow threatening, that inevitably arose when one kept to oneself. It did not help matters that the Milthorpes didn’t attend church. That they did not participate in any of the fairs and festivals that so excited the townspeople. That she and Thomas were friendly with people like Sarah and the gentleman who brought Thomas rare books for his collection while they eschewed contact with the affluent families undoubtedly deemed more in keeping with their class.
    She nodded good morning anyway, not wanting to give them any more reason to think her strange or unfriendly. A bell tinkled as Edmund stepped ahead of her and opened the door to the shop. Adelaide stepped into the warmth of the store.
     “Good morning, Mrs. Milthorpe,” Charles Owning, the store’s proprietor, called to her from behind the counter.
    She smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Owning.”
    She had always liked the old shopkeeper, though she was never sure if he regarded her with genuine fondness or was simply looking out for his own business interests. The Milthorpes may have been regarded as strange, but they gave generously to every town cause and frequented the local shops for almost all of their necessities.
    “What can I do for you this fine morning?” Mr. Owning asked.
    Adelaide stepped up to the counter. “Let’s see…I’ll take a dozen eggs, and a bag each of sugar and flour.…”
    “Shall I purchase one bundle of wood or two?” Edmund asked her.
    “Two, please. Now that it’s getting colder, Sarah will need it for warmth as well as cooking.”
    Edmund left to procure the wood as Mr. Owning wrapped the eggs. He turned to the big barrels on the floor, scooping flour and sugar into muslin sacks sitting atop the scales on the counter. When they reached five pounds each, he tied them with string.
    She ordered tea, packages of shortbread, and two sweet sticks—one pink and one white—for Lia and Alice. Mr. Owning had tallied her purchases and was pushing the goods toward her when Edmund returned with the wood. He handed several bills to the shopkeeper and picked up the packages from the counter.
    “Let’s stop at the butcher before we make our way to Sarah’s,” Adelaide said as they returned to the carriage with their supplies. “I’d like to see about bringing her some meat.”
    Edmund didn’t protest. She couldn’t help wondering if it was because he didn’t dare or because he sympathized with her mission.
    They crossed the street to the butcher, where Adelaide purchased a small package of beef. When they returned to the carriage, Edmund helped Adelaide inside. They made their way down Main Street before turning into the dingier alleyways that would take them to Sarah’s small flat. The farther they got from the center of town, the more run-down the neighborhoods became. Adelaide knew that Edmund deemed the area too rough for a lady, but she saw nothing that concerned her. Children played in the streets, laughing and running as any happy child would. It was true that they wore too-thin clothes and had dirty