Evelyn entered the modest home, acutely aware of how out of place she looked in her fine clothes. The front room was small but tidy, filled with well-worn furniture and family mementoes. And there, curled up in an armchair by the window, was Sophie.
The sight of the girl nearly broke Evelyn's composure entirely. Sophie looked so small, so fragile. Her once-vibrant face was pale and drawn, dark circles shadowing her eyes. She stared at Evelyn with a mixture of fear and confusion.
"Lady Shaw?" Sophie's voice trembled. "Why... why are you here?"
Evelyn moved slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements that might frighten the girl. She sank to her knees before Sophie's chair, heedless of her expensive gown.
"Sophie," she began, her voice choked with emotion. "My dear girl. I've come to beg your forgiveness. What happened to you... what my son did... there are no words to express how deeply sorry I am."
