The sounds of angry people were nearing the mansion and the entire family was looking for Elizabeth. It was Polly who finally found her, hiding behind all the heavy cloaks in the wardrobe, her tiny hands balled so tightly, her palms were lined with wounds from her nails. Polly reached in, gently opening her hands and seeing the blood. She frowned and Elizabeth was afraid she was upset. Instead, her older sister gave her a soft smile and said, "The carriages are waiting outside. Mother and father are waiting outside."

"We're leaving?"

"Just for a bit. Father says we'll be back soon. Oh, but, perhaps we should wash your hands first," she said, her steady and soothing voice giving Elizabeth the confidence she needed. She nodded, carefully crawling out of the wardrobe to not ruin her clothes in addition to her palms. Polly led her to a basin and washed her hands, waiting for the water to run clear instead of red, and then pulled out a handkerchief. Elizabeth's eyes widened and she said, "Is that…"

"What I've been working on for the last few weeks? Yes," Polly chuckled. "I wanted to wait until your birthday to give it to you but I was worried with everything happening, I would lose it before I got a chance," she held it out and Elizabeth took it, the cloth instantly becoming heavier with water. Turning it over, she saw:

Betty C.

Embroidered along the top right corner in light pink, standing out against the white. On the bottom left corner, smaller but still legible was:

Love, Polly C,
Mirston.

She beamed up at her older sister but the softness of the moment was ruined by their mother shrieking for them from without. Taking each other's hand, the two sisters ran out. They ran towards the parked carriage, with their mother and father already seated inside and waving to them to hurry up.

The first gunshot sounded.

The horse neighed just as the sisters reached. Polly got in first, her parents grabbing her arms and pulling her in. Elizabeth reached for their arms after that but the second gunshot made the horse rear, scaring her and making her lose grip on her parents. Her arm slipped as the carriage lifted slightly and she fell, hitting her head on one of the steps and losing consciousness.

Jughead was on his way to the carriages parked at the back, for the staff, when he heard shouts coming from the lord and lady. Without thinking, he ran around, to the front of the house and found the unconscious little lady with no parents in sight. He could also see fire blazing in the distance – whoever was coming for the house was nearing fast. On instinct he ran up to her and pulled her to her feet, putting her arm across his shoulders and holding her up. The handkerchief she had been carrying fell out of her hand and he quickly picked it up, dusted it off and stuffed it into her coat pocket.

Bringing her to the cart he and his father were travelling on, he showed her to his father. His father stared at the lady for a moment and then pulled her onto the cart, commending Jughead on his strength simultaneously. Jughead's chest swelled as he climbed into the cart behind the lady.

"We have a problem, Juggie," his father whispered once he was seated beside him. He realised his father had a blanket over the lady, hiding her face as much as possible while allowing her to breathe.

"What?"

"These people," he signalled to those climbing onto the cart now that they were comfortably seated, "they want her. I need you to co-operate with me, now. We need to get the little lady to safety. We can't take her to the lord and lady's new home because we're sure to be followed. We'll take her to the port and get her on a ship, taking her across the ocean."

"Where will she go, father?"

"I know a woman in Eldham – Sierra McCoy. She's a good and well-off woman. We'll send her there. But I'm going to need your help to do it, Juggie."

"Of course. Whatever you want," Jughead said, nodding decisively.

This decision was carried out later that night when, with the darkness as their cover, Jughead and his father silently approached the docks. Jughead would only later find out why his father knew the man in the hood who he paid off to take the still-unconscious little lady across the never-ending waters. But tonight, he stood holding his father's hand as he watched a ship pull away from the docks and sail off, unaware that there was a girl with a lost identity and bloody palms aboard.