And If You Wrong Us

Part 2: Reputation

As he continued to bumble his way down the stairwell, his grumbling became more muffled, and Sarah followed behind him slowly with a quiet smile.

Mr. Raven pulled on his coat and scarf, preparing for the cold trek home. As he approached the bottom of the grand staircase, he hesitated, a shadow catching his eye.

"Who's there?" he called into the dim light. "All children are to be in their rooms after dinner."

The small figure stepped out from the dark corners and light spilled onto her nose and freckled cheeks.

"Oh, Miss Pemberly. My apologies. Have you gotten lost? This building is a labyrinth."

Sarah shook her head, hair dancing about her face. "No. I... needed a walk. When it was just my Father and I, I would creep down the stairs to see him pacing the parlor. Then I would join, trying to match his pace. And we would do so in silence. It always led to me trodding on his heel." She gave a small laugh; then her expression darkened. "It has always been just my father and I... he was never a man of many words."

"I'm sorry." Mr. Raven's hand flexed at his side, fingers stretching towards her. "This loss must weigh on you heavily, especially at your tender age. As the assistant to the director, I really should enforce the rules."

Sarah's gaze met his. He felt a tug in his stomach.

"But, considering the circumstances..." He took a step closer and lowered his voice. "We will simply pretend this conversation never happened." He offered her an encouraging smile, and she returned it. He coughed weakly. "Well then, I must get home." He turned towards the large double doors.

"To your wife?" Sarah called after him.

He paused, his heart quickening. "Yes, and my children."

"How lucky you are to have a family to return to."

Mr. Raven exhaled slowly. "Yes. Yes, I am. But not to worry, you will soon have a family of your own to greet you every night. Goodnight, Miss Pemberly."

"Mr. Raven."

He heard the rustling of her nightgown, signifying a curtsey.

A gentle snow was falling, painting a pretty scene with the dim lights of the gas lamps lining the street. The orphanage rested between grand houses with large windows and white fences. Now and then a carriage would clop by, but other than that, the street was empty. He thought of the night of the ball. In such a small town the gossip would spread quickly — not just of the mayor's murder but of Mr. Raven's fraternization with the daughter. Rumors would circulate, people might suspect them of having a prior relationship, perhaps of plotting together. His stomach twisted at the thought.

No, surely not. I was nowhere near the mayor when it happened. Mr. Roberts can vouch for that. Although, Mr. Roberts is likely under suspicion himself.

What nonsense, Mr. Raven thought irritably. Mr. Roberts is nothing but wholesome. Who else would have taken their entire inheritance to restore the old asylum into a new orphanage? Before Mr. Roberts, children were dying in the streets, or worse...hauled off to work the docks.

Mr. Raven and Mr. Roberts had inherited wealth and remained in good societal standing through the reputation they gained at the orphanage. Mr. Roberts had made plans for this great, new orphanage that would be unlike the others; it would have warm rooms, provide good meals, have a teacher for the children's education, and a library. During the restoration of the old asylum, he had found a young, bright-eyed Mr. Raven, freshly married. They got on right away, and Mr. Roberts knew that Mr. Raven was the man he needed to make his grand plan a reality.