"Thank you both for coming," the woman said, lower lip quivering, coming around the desk to greet them as though she were a forgotten aunt who never thought she would connect with her family again. Mrs. Gilroy touched Tamara's wrist but when she grasped William's hand she squeezed. "You've no idea what it means to us, to have you here. You really don't." Her eyes were pleading. "Do you think you can help my Betsy?"
William offered a polite smile. "We'll do our best, madam," he said, though he had no idea who Betsy was.
"Betsy's your daughter, then?" Tamara asked. "One of the girls... is it seven, all told? One of the girls with the..."
Mrs. Gilroy looked stricken as she whispered to them. "With the changeling baby, yes. We're all supposed to pretend it's little Arthur, aren't we? But I can't pretend. I swear I can't. Not when-"
A wail of misery cut off her words, the cry of a baby.
