The thank you warmed Serena's heart slightly, the sincerity in Clara's voice tugging at something deep and aching. Still, there was a pit in her stomach that refused to ease. Seeing the way Clara lived broke her heart into smithereens. A doll and a hairpin would not even constitute a bandage to her living situation.
If it were in Silverstone, she would have dragged the girl to the shelter dedicated to orphans or children whose parents were not capable of taking care of them. Serena always provided her services for free at that shelter, thankful most of the pups were healthy and kicking.
She did what little she could—stitching wounds, treating fevers, cooking when she could—and most of her earnings were funneled toward meals for them each week. But here, in Ironshade, her hands were tightly bound. It wasn't as though she could say, Come with me to the castle. Live there instead. And even if she did, what then? What would become of Clara when Serena left Ironshade?
