Chapter 3!

Reviews are welcomed, and I hope you enjoy- any name suggestions would be nice? -Sophie x


"The nearest orphanage is in Ripon I'm afraid." The man behind the counter in the post office watched Carson's face with fascination as it changed from shock to anger, to indignance to pleading.

"There has to be somewhere she can go, surely?"

The man simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Sorry Mr Carson. Police station, Ripon or nothing."

"Well how am I going to get all the way to Ripon? The buses don't run on Sundays and I can't be expected to pay her fare!"

"I've honestly told you all I know sir."

Sighing, Charles nodded and left the shop with the little girl in his arms. He wasn't quite sure what to do; did he drop her off at the police station when he reports her found? Or does he wait until tomorrow and take her to the orphanage?

She started kicking and moaning irritably, her small tatty shoes colliding with the sides of his ribs. Charles groaned and put her down sharpish, but she refused to stand. Instead the small figure collapsed to the floor and decided to throw a tantrum in the middle of the street.

It was quite a sight; seeing Downton's retired butler nursing a bruised rib whilst simultaneously trying to remove the mud stain from his shirt and quieten the little girl. Eventually he threw his hands up in the air, defeated.

"What do you want child?" He asked sharply, shutting her up almost instantly. "Are you hungry? Do you want food?"

She shook her head.

"Water? Drink?"

She shook her head again.

"Mama, papa? No? Then that makes two who don't know what you want."

"I think she might be tired."

A soft woman's voice made him jump, and Charles turned to see Mr Branson's friend stood clutching a satchel.

"Miss Bunting, how nice to bump into you." He said gruffly. "Sorry about the commotion."

"Don't worry yourself with it. She looks as if she needs a warm cup of milk and a nap, that's all. I didn't realise you had a granddaughter."

The man looked taken aback.

"Miss Bunting that would be impossible seeing as I have no children of my own. She is merely a girl I saved from being run over and has no apparent family."

"You saved her life? How honourable. She's a sweet little thing isn't she, I'd know if I'd seen her at the school infant room or not."

"Well where has she come from then?"

The woman shrugged her shoulders.

"God moves in mysterious ways. Anyway I must be off, report her then go from there." She smiled before walking off, waving goodbye to the girl as she went.

"What do you mean you can't keep her here? Where is she meant to go now?" Charles was furious; the police had declined to take the girl into their care.

"We're not equipped to look after waifs and strays. All our safe houses are full to the brim with war orphans as it is. You'll have to look after her until tomorrow."

The man's face grew more and more crimson with each passing second.

"And how, exactly, am I meant to do that in a one bedroomed cottage? And I have my wife to consider too; plus expenses-"

"-look," the police man interrupted him, "if we give you £1 and the promise of a car to take her to Ripon orphanage in the morning, will you take her for the night?"

Charles took the offer into consideration. It was less than 24 hours, Elsie had always doted on Sybbie and George back at the house and he was beginning to tire of going from person to person.

"Fine, fine. I'll take her. But only for the night mind. What am I meant to call her- does she have a name?"

"There are no missing girls reported sir so you call her whatever she'll respond too. Have a nice evening."

The man and the girl left the police station, and Charles made his way slowly back home with the small figure curled up in his arms, her body warm against his as the night chill came drawing in.