One day when Eden was about three or four years old, she had crept inside Nurse Melia's wardrobe. Perhaps she had meant to hide there to surprise her nurse, or was seeking comfort, but somehow her little fingers had pulled the door shut fast behind her, and she was locked in.

It was probably less than an hour before Nurse Melia found her, exclaiming as she pulled the tot  from a cradle of shoes. But for Eden it had been a terrifying eternity of darkness with no way out. She had been frozen in fear, too scared to even cry, and no amount of petting and cuddles could soothe her.

It had not been long since she had witnessed her mother's burial on a snowy hillside, and in some way the fear of being locked in the wardrobe had become confused with a deeper horror. That being put in a wooden box into darkness meant that she could never come back, just as had been explained to her that her mother had forever departed from this world.

Alone. Confined. Cold. Darkness. Death. Gone.

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It had been many years since Eden had needed to sleep with a lighted lamp in the nursery, and these memories had faded long ago. But they all came flooding back when the service lift jerked to a halt, and Eden shakily stood up to the horrid realisation that there was nobody to open the door for her.

She scrabbled blindly against the back of the door with her bitten fingers, fearful that the head cook and Marco would pull her back down, and she would have to endure that dreadful ordeal again. At last she happened to find the latch and pushed the door open, lurching out of the service lift into the blessed light of day and dining room.

There was a jug of water on the sideboard, and Eden staggered over to it. She poured herself a glass, downing it in one gulp, and wiping her hand across her mouth in a very unprincesslike way.

"Miss Eden, I wasn't aware you were in here," Baxter said, gliding noiselessly through the door. "Forgive me for making a personal remark, but you don't seem quite yourself at the moment."

(In butler language, this means, What on earth are you doing here? You look awful!)

"Something's happened," said Eden, her hands on the sideboard for support. "I need to see the king – both the kings."

"Miss Eden, I believe you may be suffering from shock," Baxter said in dulcet tones. "Kindly allow me to offer you a glass of brandy, for medicinal purposes."

He used a key on his chain to unlock a drawer in the sideboard, and removed a bottle. Baxter poured her a very small glass, which she sipped dubiously, then pulled a face before finishing it.

"It tastes nasty," she said.

"Indeed, miss," Baxter agreed, as he carefully locked the bottle up again. "Medicine usually does, I'm afraid. May I escort you to Mister Bernard's drawing room, as you still appear slightly unsteady on your feet?"

"Thank you, Baxter," Eden said. "I must look simply frightful."

"Not at all, miss," Baxter said politely. "A brief visit to the washing facilities on the way will no doubt refresh you considerably."

The bathroom was well supplied with combs, geranium scented soaps, almond hand cream, and an orange blossom toilet water that Queen Dorothea got from Paris at quite fabulous expense. Whether it was the effect of these soothing unguents or the warmth of the brandy, Eden was now feeling much stronger, and ready to face what lay ahead.

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It was Baxter who knocked on Bernard's door, motioning to Eden to wait outside for a moment. There was a sharp, "Come in!" followed by "Oh, it's you Baxter."

Eden couldn't quite hear what was being said, catching only fragments. I think you should know sir ... Tell her to ... we're in a ... Miss Eden has been ... she seems ... I think perhaps ... urgent ... Oh very well then.

"You may enter now, Miss Eden," said Baxter with a faded smile, floating away down the blue corridor like nothing so much as an elderly fairy godfather who had rescued her and now left for some mystical climes.

"I have to tell you something, Bernard," Eden said without preamble, pulling the heavy oak door behind her. "And I need to tell Pip."

Bernard and Pip were sitting side by side behind the desk, while another man sat with his chair positioned sideways.

"Eden, it's very good of you to come to see us," said Bernard with an effort. "But I wonder if you wouldn't mind waiting outside for just a few minutes? Pip and I are in a meeting with Sir Edward Barnes, the Head of the Board of Guardians."

"Oh, thank goodness," said Eden, turning to him with such obvious gladness that he looked at her in surprise. "I need to talk to you too, Sir Edward. It's very important."

Sir Edward Barnes was a tall man with thin, strong limbs, and an air of great energy, despite his thick snowy hair and white pointed beard. He had a clever, narrow face that always seemed to be angled down toward his chin, although his large brown eyes, heavily lidded, looked up at you with every sign of deep and abiding interest. He might have been a scholar or a poet, except that he seemed to care too much about the world to consign it to dusty old libraries or imagination.

"Then you must join us, Miss Eden," Sir Edward said at once in his clear, definite voice. "And please, call me Edward or Mister Edward if you prefer. We have no sirs at Yuletide."

"Edward, I'm Eden," she said quickly before announcing to the room, "I've seen the little boy again. In the markets."

Bernard and Edward stared at her and began questioning her at once, talking over each other so that she couldn't follow either of them. Pip's voice cut across both of them.

"What little boy?"

He sounded unhappy that he had no idea what they were talking about. Eden spoke directly to him before anyone else had a chance.

"A poor little orphan boy I met who's in terrible trouble and needs our help badly."

Pip looked at her, then at Bernard, before saying, "I think you'd better come sit next to me and tell me everything."

He pulled a chair up and placed it beside him, so that Eden was almost sitting behind the desk too, perched on its edges like a sort of supplementary monarch. It was easy for Eden to tell Pip about meeting the boy – easier than it had been for her to tell Bernard. He was so sympathetic to talk to, his blue eyes fixed on her with his full attention. Sometimes he bit down upon his bottom lip, as if to stop himself from interrupting.

"So you see, Pip, he's been forced into a pick-pocketing gang by a girl called Nettie Pike, and I saw him carried off by this big man all in black who has a gold tooth. I'm sure he's in danger."

Pip's first words were not to Eden, but to Bernard, looking away from her to his husband.

"Why did you not tell me about this?"

His voice was reproachful.

"You have so much on your mind at present, you're working too hard," Bernard said, rubbing a half-guilty hand across his forehead. "I didn't want to bother you with it when we really didn't know anything."

"So you did nothing?"

Bernard flushed, and said, "Certainly I did something. I told Richard about it, and asked the police to investigate. I told Edward, and asked that a description of the boy might be circulated among the welfare workers in that part of the city."

"He did tell me," Edward confirmed. "A boy, small and thin, aged around ten or eleven. Very fair hair and blue eyes. In the Mercury Street area."

"He has bright blue eyes, and hair that is almost white," Eden cut in. "He looks just like a little white mouse."

"We must find him," Pip said. "We must try harder. There is a place for him in the children's home right now. He can't be allowed to be alone any more when we're able to help him."

"The thing is, Maeve asked him to come with her," Bernard said slowly. "He refused. I'm not sure that he wants to be in an orphanage."

"That makes it tricky," Edward said, tapping a finger meditatively against his bearded chin. "We don't want to go back to the bad old days of the Child Catchers, rounding children up and taking them away against their will. We want children to accept our help because they ask for it, or at least agree to it."

"Oh, but that's what I need to tell you," Eden said eagerly. "I saw him again today, and talked to him. He doesn't want to go to an orphanage, because his granny was in one at ... I think it was something like Wolfton or Woolvenden."

"Woolverstone?" asked Edward sharply, and when Eden nodded that was it, he made an exclamation of dismay. "In the enquiry ten years ago, they called Woolverstone Orphanage the worst of the worst. My first task when Bernard appointed me to this role was to close Woolverstone down, and some of the things I discovered there ... well, I can understand why that poor boy would be terrified of being placed in an orphanage."

"I tried to tell him that things were different now," Eden said. "But it's hard for him to believe it. I don't think he trusts anyone very much."

"I must make a note of that," Edward said, getting out a leatherbound pad. "I will make it clear to the welfare workers that they should be very careful approaching him, try to gain his trust first, if they can."

"The important thing is to find him," Pip said urgently. "We must have the police search for him, we can use our own guards and soldiers too, if necessary."

"Yes, but it should be the real police," Eden said, starting to get worked up.

"What do you mean, the real police?" Bernard demanded.

"Sergeant Dixon at Horseshoe Lane, and his boys in blue," Eden said, slightly confusedly. "Not the bigwigs from Albion Yard."

There were some chuckles from Bernard and Edward, and then the king said, "Well, perhaps the local constabulary might do better. Yes, I will have Sergeant Dixon notified."

"If we only knew more to tell him," Edward regretted.

"But that's the part I've been meaning to say all along," Eden said excitedly. "I know who is. His name is Oscar Twitch, and he's from a village called Little Soaking. He came to Camden last spring after a fever came to the village, but his parents still died here. And everyone in their boarding house."

"That's very helpful," Bernard said, transcribing everything she said into a book. "I'll have all this passed on to Sergeant Dixon – and everyone involved."

"There was a bad fever in the Meadham area last March," Edward said. "I believe quite a few people came here, and were quarantined at the fever hospital in Pauper's Gate. It sounds as if the health authorities were just too late getting to this boy – Oscar – and his family. If everything had happened as it should, Oscar would have been in quarantine for several weeks, then passed to us to be placed in an orphanage or with a foster family."

"He's been here for nine months," Pip said. "We've had nine months to put this to rights – and we still don't know where he is!"

"Oscar's very good at hiding," Eden said, in an effort to make Pip feel better.

"We can't blame ourselves for losing track of just one child," Bernard said.

"I was just one child," Pip said in a flat voice.

Bernard's face contracted in pain; there was some old unhappiness there that Eden did not grasp.

"We'll find him, Pip," Bernard said, placing one hand quietly on Pip's shoulder. "I promise you that we won't rest until he is found, and when we find him, we'll do everything we can to help him."

Pip didn't reply, but instead looked at Eden, giving her one of his warmest smiles. "I think we owe Eden a great debt of gratitude for drawing our attention to the plight of this little boy."

"Hear hear," said Edward.

"Yes we're very grateful to you Eden," Bernard said, after clearing his throat. "But we still need to finish our meeting with Edward in regard to the Yuletide charity donations. So if you wouldn't mind ..."

His last words were drowned out by the sound of someone shouting outside the door.

"I don't care what bloody meeting he's in!" the voice bellowed in rage. "I demand to see the king at once!"

"Oh no, it's Father," Eden said in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, but ..."

Meriadoc burst through the door like a short plump hurricane, his usually placid expression one of red-faced fury.

A tall pale man with a droopy little fair moustache stood behind him, saying, "I do apologise, sir. The gentleman was most insistent. A report has just come in for your perusal."

"Thank you, Clement," said Bernard, glancing at the report as it hit his desk. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to make a cup of tea for anyone else waiting to see me. It's turning into rather a long afternoon."

The secretary left with a somewhat martyred air, as Bernard said, "Please sit down, Meriadoc. I find it's harder to shout in a sitting position."

"You can try to distract me all you like, but the fact of the matter is that I just heard my daughter was assaulted by a common ruffian at the markets, when she was under the care of one of your bodyguards," Meriadoc said, angrily bumping himself down in a chair near to Bernard.

"Is this true, Eden?" Bernard asked, looking at her over the top of the report.

"He only grabbed the collar of my coat," Eden said placatingly, "and Hodge stopped him in his tracks. He was splendid."

"And how did this happen in the first place?"

"Oscar was frightened of the man in black who took him before, so I distracted the man to give him a chance to get away," Eden said.

"By Jove! That's very brave," Edward said admiringly.

"Very brave," Pip agreed. "To put yourself in danger to protect a younger child."

"If I may refer to the report I've just received from the Captain of the Guard," Bernard said, looking through it, "it says that Hodge was under orders to watch you, Meriadoc, and Eden while shopping. Hodge's account is that you insisted on leaving the markets."

Meriadoc puffed himself up righteously. "I had to leave the markets, in order to sort out the mess poor old Ben Gosling was left in by your hired thugs!"

"I don't have hired thugs," Bernard said with a touch of impatience. "They were police detectives - officers of the crown, and servants of the people."

"Well they didn't serve Ben Gosling too well," Meriadoc said grumpily. "They roughed the old man up and destroyed all his goods. I wanted Eden to come to the police station with us, but Hodge refused to bring her."

"It sounds as if Hodge was placed in a very difficult position," Pip said. "His orders from Captain Zidane should have had the highest priority."

"It's definitely not his fault," Eden said. "If I'd had Maeve as well, none of this would have happened, and Hodge did his job by protecting me."

"Yes, Maeve," Bernard said thoughtfully, flicking through more papers. "I seem to recall she had to report that you disobeyed a direct order from her, and chased after the boy – Oscar. As a result, you ended up being confronted by a man that Maeve described as extremely threatening. The same man, I take it?"

"Yes," Eden said, her dark eyes on him. "The one who took Oscar. I'd do the same thing again to protect him."

"Eden has always been very keen to help others," Meriadoc said. "That's how she was raised."

"Perhaps you would not mind me reading what Captain Zidane has to say in his summary?" Bernard said with a raised eyebrow. "Headstrong. Reckless. Heedless of her own safety when she perceives others to be at risk. Disobedient to instruction. Strong inclination to independent thinking. Quite a report card, wouldn't you say?"

"I've always been a big believer in independent thought," Meriadoc said rather proudly.

"Like father like daughter," Bernard said. "You also chose to disregard orders from your bodyguard." 

"Are we in trouble?" Eden asked. "Are you going to send us home, or keep us confined to the castle?"

"Goodness no!" Bernard exclaimed. "You are our guests, our allies, and most importantly, our friends. I can see that in each case, you behaved from the highest motives, and I hope that we can put this little disagreement behind us, in the spirit of Yuletide."

"Of course we can," Meriadoc said affably. "I know we've been rather a nuisance to you, and I'm sorry for losing my temper. I don't usually, but the thought of something happening to Eden made me feel absolutely frantic."

"Very natural," Bernard said. "We'd be exactly the same if anything had harmed Lucy while she was in the Lakelands with you."

 Eden tried not to look as guilty as she felt, knowing that something almost had harmed Lucy, and it was partly Eden's fault. 

"We're lucky to have you here," Pip said with a smile. "You've shown us there's some problems in our kingdom, and now we have a chance to put them right."

"Ah yes," said Bernard, clearing his throat. "You've both been very helpful. But perhaps it might be an idea to stay away from the markets now. And shall we say, no leaving the castle until Yule?"

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That night, Eden and Lucy sat up in bed talking about everything that had happened until nearly half past eleven .

"Now you really have done everything possible," Lucy said at last. "The police are looking for Oscar, and so are the welfare workers, the palace guards, and the soldiers. It's time to leave things in the hands of the grown ups."

"Do you think they'll be able to find him?"

"Of course!" Lucy said confidently. "Oscar will probably be eating Yule dinner with us in a few days."

And on this comforting note, Eden curled up to sleep, hoping that Oscar would soon be in a warm bed too.