Charlotte Hardy is an apparently ordinary ten year old girl, working in a cotton mill in Victorian Britain.
But after a mysterious visitor appears at her machine, she soon proves that she is no ordinary ten year old.
Charlotte is about to be throw...
Of course Pa and Grandma wanted to know everything about Matty and if he was getting better. Despite feeling drained, Ma dutifully told them every detail, repeating what Matty had said, how he looked and what the ward was like.
Charlotte used the long walk as an excuse to go to bed early. She still had to formulate her plan. Exactly how she was going to avenge Robert and Matty, she was not yet sure. One thing she was sure of was that it had to be soon, or who knew what further harm that man would do.
Monday morning started as it always did; only it was not going to pass in the usual way. After clocking in, Charlotte hid below a quiet stairway that was hardly ever used. She crept behind a large wooden crate until the sound of voices and footsteps had all died away.
Noiselessly she crept out from her hiding place, constantly checking for anyone who might catch her and send her for punishment. She hurried out of the door she had just come in a little while before and made a dash for the front gate.
Her heart raced and she shuddered at the thought of the repercussions that capture would bring. She kept expecting the weight of a hand on her shoulder, or the shout of an angry overseer, and only when she was safely around the corner and well out of sight, did she dare stop to catch her breath.
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"Come on girl. Collect yourself. Try to act normally." Charlotte felt she must look guilty and that it would be obvious to any passer by that she should not have been there. Each raised voice or quickened step she heard made her pulse throb and her face redden.
Charlotte walked quickly with her head down. She did not want to look anyone in the eyes. Her jaw began to ache as she realised she was gritting her teeth with determination. Once, she froze as a man pushed into her. Charlotte had felt sure she could be caught.
"Sorry miss," he said, hurrying on his way.
After about half an hour the buildings and people became fewer and Charlotte felt a little less afraid. The road turned in one direction and the railway swept off the other.
"Robert said I must follow the railway," she reminded herself as she carefully climbed down a banking, slipping on the weed covered earth.
The noises and bustle of the town behind her, Charlotte noticed how peaceful it was. She had never seen so much grass before and such tall chimneys peeping from behind groups of trees.
"This must be where the rich people live," she thought. "I better get closer to the houses so I can find Northwood House." She left the train tracks and crossed a small field to join a stony lane. Long drives with avenues of trees stretched to one side, and she carefully looked at each nameplate.
Charlotte could not read very well but knew what little her grandma had taught her. Suddenly she stopped as she recognised the letters chiselled into a large stone gatepost.
"This is it," Charlotte said, taking a deep breath. "Courage." She turned into the driveway and stared at the enormous, grand house before her. It had four large windows on the ground floor and five on the first floor, and several chimneys. Stone pillars stood either side of a wide, black front door.
Charlotte steadied her hand and pulled the bell. She waited.
It seemed ages before the heavy door was slowly opened by a man with a black suit. He regarded the object before him, taking in its untidy clothes and messy hair, its small frame and worried face.
"Yes?" he creaked.
"I...I would like to see...Mr Wilkinson...if you please," she spoke shakily and thought she better add "Sir."
"Mr Wilkinson is busy my girl. What do you want?" He was abrupt.
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Charlotte wanted more than anything to turn and run away but she had come this far and could not fail now. She was here and somewhere in that fine building was the man she must speak to.
"Please, please tell him it is very, very important," she pleaded.
"As I have already said young lady, Mr Wilkinson is busy." The butler began to turn and reach for the door handle.
It was her last chance so she blurted out "Tell him it's about Robert!"
This was like a blow to the man as he stopped suddenly and stared at Charlotte. As if he had lost the power of speech he stepped back and gestured for her to enter the house.
"Wait here," he ordered as he crossed the black and white polished tile floor and opened one of the many doors leading from the entrance hall.
He closed the door behind him and Charlotte could hear muffled voices and then silence. The stifled voices began again and then fell silent once more.
The door opened and the butler stood to one side, saying "Mr Wilkinson will see you now" as he directed his arm into the room.
Charlotte stood for a moment, trying to decide how she was going to explain all that was spinning around in her mind. She stepped forward and walked past the butler into the room.
