He would've taken that with him if he could have, wouldn't he? Which meant he couldn't have, which meant maybe he- Stop it. Stop it. I let go of the laptop, but my fingers caught on something else as I withdrew them. It was his T-shirt, the white one with the holes in it. I filled my hands with the fabric and brought it up to my face.

I caught the barest, faintest scent of him, soap and sandalwood and smoke, and in that moment I felt not loss but need. Noah had been there for me when I'd had no one else. He'd believed me when no one else had. He could not be gone, I thought, but my throat began to hurt and my chest began to tighten, and I curled up in bed, knees to chest, head to knees, waiting for tears that never came, and sleep that did.

20.

BEFORE.

London, England

MR. GRIMSBY WAS FORCED TO HIRE a tattered, worn carriage driven by two old mules and an old man to match, after teams of horses refused to bear us. He huffed as he climbed in and extended his hand to help me up. When I took it, he shivered.

Neither of us spoke as the carriage wound through the streets. I bit my lip to keep it from trembling, and the smell of rot invaded my nostrils until we were far from the docks, when it was replaced by the sting of smoke. I coughed several times.

"It's the coal fires," Mr. Grimsby said. "Takes a bit of getting used to."

I peered out the window and watched my new world unfold before me, the slow pace of the mules allowing me to take everything in. Every person we passed was white, their skin the color of fish bellies. The men dressed in tight coats and pants, while the women were swallowed by voluminous fabrics in every color. That must have been how they kept warm. I held my arms across my chest.

Soon the stink and crowds gave way to gardens dotted with trees, and rows of grand buildings that towered above our heads, made of stones and bricks. The shoddy carriage stopped before one of the grandest.

Mr. Grimsby got out and exchanged coins with the driver, who gaped and stared after us as we walked up to the gate. A uniformed man nodded at Mr. Grimsby and opened the gate for us without looking at me, and Mr. Grimsby led me up to the house.

The house was the color of stone, the front of which seemed to be held up by white columns. It towered several stories into the air. Mr. Grimsby gracefully ascended the front stairs and stopped before a gleaming wooden door. It opened immediately, as had the gate.

Mr. Grimsby held out his hand. "After you, young Miss."

I stepped in. The lamps were lit, though it was only midday. Mr. Grimsby led me down a short dark hall, then showed me into a large room.

Dark gray light filtered in through the windows, which were skirted by heavy drapes the color of cream. A magnificent fixture hung from the center of the ceiling, dripping with crystals and lit candles. Flourishes curled in the plaster around it, and a white stone fireplace so tall I could step into it anchored the center of the room.

A woman holding a candle appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She was dressed in brown, her gray hair tied loosely at her neck. A strip of black cloth encircled the upper sleeve of one arm.

"Ah, Mrs. Dover." Mr. Grimsby nodded at her.

"Mr. Grimsby," she said. "You've returned with the ship's cargo, I see."

He cleared his throat. "Is the lady in?"

"She is not yet returned from church," Mrs. Dover said, examining me. "Let me get a good look at her. Step forward, girl."

I looked at Mr. Grimsby. He nodded. I took a step toward Mrs. Dover.

"Pretty," Mrs. Dover said approvingly. "Though in dire need of new clothes and a good washing up."

"Please prepare the young miss for the lady's arrival."

"Yes, Mr. Grimsby," she said, and beckoned to me. "What's your name, girl?"

I hesitated.

"She's a bit shy," Mr. Grimsby said.

"Of course," Mrs. Dover said. "I'll have one of the maids set your things in your room. Come then. Let's get you washed up."

My shoes thunked on the wide-planked wooden floors. She walked me to the back of the house, where a hound of some sort stood at the foot of the stairs, baring its teeth at me.

"Dash," Mrs. Dover scolded. "Shoo." She waved her hand at the dog. The dog did not move.

Mrs. Dover looked at me queerly, then called out, "Miss Smith!" A harried-looking young girl with soot on her cheeks appeared, brushing her palms on her skirt.

"Yes, Mrs. Dover?"

"Take Dash outside, please."

"Yes, Mrs. Dover." The girl reached for the dog's collar. He snapped at her, but she didn't flinch. She just fixed a grip on the dog's thick scruff, and he yipped as she ushered him away from the stairs. Mrs. Dover went up them, and I followed behind. I glanced behind me. The dog watched me as I ascended the stairs.

At the third landing Mrs. Dover led me down a hall bracketed by carved woodwork. "Each room's named for a color-the blue room, the red room, the lavender room, the gray room, and so on. The green room belongs to the lady. The blue room is to be yours, I believe." She showed me into it. It was precisely the same color as the clothes Uncle used to always wear. I nearly gasped at the familiarity of it. A large copper basin waited for me in the corner. Steam curled from the lip.

I let Mrs. Dover undress me, let her scrub me without mercy in the scalding water. I gritted my teeth and did not make a sound, even as she tore a comb through my knotted hair.

When she finished, she dressed me and opened my trunk.

"Hmm," she said disapprovingly as she picked through the clothing I had purchased for myself in India. Then she lifted up my doll with her thumb and forefinger. "What's this?"

"It's mine," I said.

"So she speaks, does she." Mrs. Dover looked amused. "Well, we can wash it, though there might be no saving it, I'm afraid."

I snatched my doll from her hand.

"Mrs. Dover," a crisp, brittle voice said from behind me. "Is there a problem?"

A look of surprise transformed Mrs. Dover's face. "No, of course not, my lady."

I turned to face a figure draped in black. Her face was veiled by black fabric that reflected no light, the same fabric as her gown. It rustled with each tiny, delicate step she took toward me. She seemed to be floating, gliding over the floor.

"I should have a look at the girl my husband brought from across the world," the woman said, and swept the veil from her face.

My memories of her husband painted him as old and frail, but this woman was neither. She had ash blond hair that was braided in a crown around her face. Jet-black earrings dangled from her ears. The stones glittered in the dim light.

"You are older than I thought you would be," she said. "How old are you, child?"

I lowered my eyes to the floor. "I do not know, Lady."

The woman clapped her hands together. "How darling! You speak as if you were born and raised in the West End and not in the jungles of India. My husband purchased you a fine education, it seems."

I thought of Uncle and Sister. "Yes, Lady."

"If only he had lived to see it," she said queerly. "He wrote a great deal about you in his papers."

I did not know what to say to that, so I remained quiet.

"Well, you are in my care now, and I will treat you as if you were my own daughter. I would have insisted Mr. Bray draw up the paperwork to officially make you my ward, as my husband desired, except you would then be expected to mourn for him as well, and I would not mar your arrival with such darkness."

I bowed my head.

She looked at the room we stood in. "My husband instructed me very clearly to place you in the blue room, but I think a different one would be more suitable. Come, child."

I followed the woman in black, and she led me to an even larger room. The walls were painted a pale mint color, ornamented with gold candleholders in the shape of flowers. A cream-colored bed with a full canopy and skirt stood in the center of the room. No wonder I'd been scrubbed so harshly.

"Yes," she said, looking around. "This room is much more suitable for a young girl. So much lighter! Mrs. Dover, the curtains?"

Mrs. Dover busied herself about the room, throwing them open. Dozens of arched windows emerged, broken up into wavy panes of glass. The lady smiled.

"You can see the gardens from up here. Come, dear, look!"

I followed her, and peered out the windows. The gardens were brown with the season, and one of the leafless trees was choked with blackbirds.

"Before supper I shall introduce you to everyone in the household. The boys, Elliot and Simon, are with the nanny at present, but I shall have Mrs. Dover send word to the cook that they are to dine with us tonight so they might meet you."

Mrs. Dover inclined her head. "Yes, my lady," she said, and left.

The lady approached me and smiled. "And tomorrow your new tutor shall arrive, at my husband's direction. I admit that if he had not asked it of me on his deathbed, I wouldn't think of it, but I will honor his wishes, no matter how unorthodox. No one must know, however. Do you understand?"

I nodded at her.

"Good girl. Everything has been arranged, and the tutor is eager to meet you."

"Yes, Lady."

She smiled. "I should like you to address me as Aunt Sarah. We are to be family, after all."

"Yes, Aunt Sarah."

"Clever girl," she said. "And yet I find I still do not know how to address you. Strangely, my husband never mentioned your name."

Because when he knew me, I had not yet chosen one.

"And neither did Mr. Barbary," she finished. "Tell me, dear, what shall I call you?"

Before I could answer, the flock of blackbirds scattered, screaming, into the air, diverting Aunt Sarah's attention.

I took a moment to think.

"There is power in a name," Sister had said. I did not want to give out the one I'd shared only with her and Uncle, so I'd given anyone else who had asked a different one instead. The name I had given to my doll, before I'd known what it meant. I decided to give Aunt Sarah the same one.

"Mara," I told her as we watched the birds disappear into the sky.

21.

I WOKE UP WHILE IT was still dark. I dressed in Noah's clothes-his T-shirt, which hung loose over my narrow shoulders, and his jeans, which I had to roll up before I could walk. I didn't care how I looked; wearing his clothes made me feel closer to him, and I needed that for what I would have to do today.

My heart pounded against my ribs as I opened his laptop and powered it on. There might have been something on it that would give us some clue, some hint that would help me find him, and no matter what else I found on it, I needed to find that. I needed to know he was okay.

I was prompted for a password, and I guessed wrong once, twice, four times, then eight. Nothing I tried worked-no variations of his name, his pets' names, his birthday, even my birthday. I slammed the laptop shut, threw it into his bag, and knocked on Stella's door before the sun rose. She answered it blearily.

"Y'okay?"

Not really. "I want to go as soon as we can."

She stood there for a minute, as if she were trying to translate what I'd said, but she finally nodded. "Ten minutes."

Jamie didn't answer the first or second time I knocked; I stood there for what felt like hours before he finally woke up.

"What?"

"Pack up. I want to go."

"Why?"

"Because we have to find Noah."

Jamie blinked, and I thought he would argue, but he said, "Five minutes." And then he shut the door on me.

We walked out of the bed-and-breakfast without breakfast, and, as Stella complained, without much bed, either, but it would be a while before we reached Miami. Stella could nap in the car. On our way out we managed to steal-sorry, "borrow"-a car belonging to an early-rising guest, thanks to Jamie. It was comfortable and roomy, but Jamie warned us not to get attached to it-we'd be ditching it as soon as we reached Miami. After that we would borrow another one, and pay a visit to Noah's parents, then ours.