Lulled by the train’s jolting rhythm, my mind wandered to lost friends. Mr. Banks. Rebecca. And in a strange way, Miss Always. For I had lost her too. And, of course, my mother. For so long I had harbored a fantasy that she would come and take me home. But that wasn’t to be. It was foolish to pretend it didn’t hurt. But if these new sorrows settled inside me like a morning fog, shrouding my hopes and making happiness difficult to find—well, I felt certain it would not last. Misery did not suit me. I wasn’t the type. And while I still had questions about the Clock Diamond and why it hadn’t killed me, I refused to fret over them. I was bound for London. A new life. A family of my very own. There were sure to be wonderful parties. And glorious dresses. And a great deal of cake (not to mention raw potatoes). I won’t deny a few nerves as I thought about all that was to come. But despite my fears and my sorrows, one thing was perfectly clear—I would be the most adored (slightly) dead girl in all of London. Perhaps even England.
Which was really no great surprise—for I have all the natural instincts of a coffin maker’s daughter.
