Книга - The Swan Maid

The Swan Maid
Dilly Court


The brand new compelling novel from the Sunday Times bestseller, Dilly Court.Lottie Lane is all alone in the world. As a chambermaid at one of London’s busiest inns, condemned to a life of drudgery and at the mercy of a vicious landlady, Lottie is too worn out to even dream of a better life.Until one night an injured soldier is brought to The Swan. Lottie nurses him back from the dead and suddenly everything changes. She finds herself following the drum of the soldiers, all the way from the docks of Chatham to the darkness and despair of a far flung battlefield.When tragedy strikes, Lottie is alone once more and thrown back into the jaws of London’s streets. With the threat of destitution nipping at her heels, Lottie is in dire need of a miracle . . .















Copyright (#ud960f709-5c08-5551-98ef-43269ff9918b)


Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

The News Building

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London, SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016

Copyright © Dilly Court 2016

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016

Cover photographs © Gordon Crabb (woman); Chronicle/Alamy (background scene)

Dilly Court asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008137441

Ebook Edition © June 2016 ISBN: 9780008137458

Version 2017-05-09




Dedication (#ud960f709-5c08-5551-98ef-43269ff9918b)


For Teresa Chris, my excellent agent and trusted friend.


Table of Contents

Cover (#u69cd31d9-08f8-5fba-94f4-418111d85c71)

Title Page (#u5e80ee7c-589b-59a5-8418-4210a439f2c0)

Copyright (#u4d6c3f60-0113-5ca2-b35c-dfd69a289705)

Dedication (#u8ec4c0ae-75fe-52d1-b794-6b6ca8c822bb)

Chapter One (#uf1db4d16-6908-50fc-938d-6994bcd5736b)

Chapter Two (#ufc630f75-0f4c-5cd3-afce-e31e80ab10a4)

Chapter Three (#u4b80ba62-9ff3-561d-86da-c2f75dd063cc)

Chapter Four (#ue9136658-613c-5724-85a6-169802a1652b)

Chapter Five (#u509ad2d7-39be-5a75-a8e7-0ae9ef820123)



Chapter Six (#ue0e2d946-fec5-5dd8-9c83-a79f4129f3cb)



Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)



Keep Reading ... (#litres_trial_promo)



Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)



About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)



Also by Dilly Court (#litres_trial_promo)



About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One (#ud960f709-5c08-5551-98ef-43269ff9918b)


Cheapside, London, 1854

‘Lottie, you wretched girl, where are you?’ Mrs Filby’s strident voice echoed around the galleries of The Swan with Two Necks, and the galleried coaching inn seemed to shake on its foundations.

Lottie was in the stable yard and had been emptying chamber pots onto the dung heap, which lay festering in the heat of the late summer sun. She had been up since five o’clock that morning and had not yet had breakfast, but the rooms had to be serviced, and the guests must be looked after. Their needs came before those of the inn servants, and the mail coach from Exeter would be arriving at any moment.

‘Lottie, answer me at once.’ Prudence Filby leaned over the balustrade on the first floor, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. ‘Is that you down there in the horse muck?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Lottie had hoped that the short-sighted landlady might not see her, but it seemed that her luck was out. It was better to answer, and receive a tirade of abuse, than to hide, only to be accused later of every shortcoming and misdemeanour that came to Mrs Filby’s mind.

‘That’s where you belong, you idle slut, but I have need of you in the dining parlour. Come in at once, and wash your filthy hands.’

‘Coming, ma’am.’ Lottie hurried indoors, leaving the chamber pots in the scullery to be scoured clean when she could find the time. She washed her hands in the stone sink and was about to dry them on her apron, when she realised that this would leave a wet mark, which would be enough to earn a swift clout round the head from her employer. Mrs Filby had a right hook that would be the envy of champion bare-knuckle fighters, and had been seen to wrestle a drunk to the ground on many an occasion. Her husband Shem, who was by no means a small man, treated her with due deference, and spent most of his time in the taproom, drinking ale with his customers.

Lottie hitched up her skirts and raced across the cobblestones to the kitchen on the far side of the stable yard. The heat from the range hit her with the force of a cannonball, and the smell of rancid bacon fat and the bullock’s head being boiled for soup made her feel sick.

She acknowledged the cook with a nod, and hurried on until she reached the dining parlour, where she came to a halt, peering at her hazy reflection in a fly-spotted mirror on the wall. Strands of fair hair had escaped from the knot at the nape of her neck, and she tucked them under her frilled mobcap. She straightened her apron, braced her shoulders and entered the room.

Prudence Filby stood by the sideboard, arms akimbo. She glowered at Lottie. ‘You took your time,’ she hissed. ‘Clear the plates and don’t offer them more coffee. The Exeter mail coach is due any minute, and I want this lot out of here.’

‘More bread, girl.’ A portly man clicked his fingers. ‘And a slab of butter. I paid good money for my breakfast.’

Lottie hurried to his side. ‘I’ll do what I can, sir.’

‘You’ll do more than that. Bring me bread and butter, and a pot of jam wouldn’t go amiss.’

‘Is there jam?’ A woman seated with her husband at the next table leaned over to tug at Lottie’s skirt. ‘Why didn’t we get any jam? I don’t like dry bread, and I’ll swear the flour had chalk added to it. My mouth is full of grit.’

‘No wonder this place is half empty.’ Her husband turned his head to stare at Mrs Filby. ‘This is your establishment, madam. Why have we been deprived of jam?’

Mrs Filby folded her arms across her ample bosom and advanced on him, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. ‘You paid for bed and breakfast, sir. No one never mentioned jam. Jam costs extra.’

‘Don’t make a fuss, Nathaniel.’ The man’s wife reached out across the table to touch his hand. ‘Suddenly I’ve lost my appetite.’

The City gentlemen at a table by the window had been listening attentively, and they too started demanding more coffee, and bread and butter: one went so far as to ask for marmalade.

Mrs Filby answered their requests by dragging Lottie from the parlour. She closed the door, and boxed Lottie’s ears. ‘That’s what you get for nothing – see what you get for something. I’ve told you time and time again that bread, butter, coffee and the like should be given sparingly. We’re here to make money, and you must wait until the last minute before the coach arrives to serve the coffee or soup. It has to be so hot that the customers leave it.’ She caught Lottie by the ear. ‘What happens then, girl? Do you remember anything you’ve been taught?’

‘It goes back in the pot, ma’am.’

Mrs Filby released her, wiping her hands on her skirt. ‘That’s right. Then we can sell it twice over and we make more money. You do know, so why don’t you carry out my orders?’

‘I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.’

‘Go and fetch hot coffee, and make sure the bread is straight from the oven. I heard the post horn. This miserable lot of complainers will be leaving in the time it takes to change horses and turn the coach around.’

‘What about jam?’

‘Jam?’ Mrs Filby’s voice rose to a screech.

Lottie fled to the kitchen.

The next mail coach arrived just as the disgruntled passengers from the dining parlour were boarding the one about to leave. The lady who had been refused jam climbed into the coach declaring that they would be travelling by train next time. Her husband followed her, saying nothing.

Lottie stood to attention, waiting to show the new arrivals to the dining room. London might be the end of the journey for some, but others would want to rest and refresh themselves before travelling on. It was a never-ending cycle of weary travellers arriving and departing, with only minutes to achieve a swift turnaround. The ostlers worked with impressive speed and dexterity, and Jem, the potboy, raced about doing the jobs that no one else wanted to do. He nudged Lottie as he went to offload the luggage.

‘Save us a slice of bacon,’ he said, grinning. ‘I’m starving.’

She nodded. ‘I will, if I can.’

He dashed forward to catch a carpet bag thrown from the coach roof by the guard, resplendent in his livery of scarlet and gold. Trotter was a regular on this route, and Lottie had observed that he liked to show off his strength in front of an appreciative audience. She looked up and, sure enough, the other chambermaids, May and Ruth, were leaning over the balustrade on the top floor, waving their cleaning cloths in an attempt to attract his attention.

Jem followed her gaze. ‘You’re a randy old goat, Trotter,’ he said, chuckling. ‘How do you do it, mate?’

Trotter’s answer was to hurl a leather valise at Jem that almost brought him to his knees. ‘Cheeky devil.’ Trotter flexed his muscles. ‘You could learn a thing or two from me, son.’ He turned and waved at the maids before leaping to the ground, and swaggering off in the direction of the taproom.

‘You’d best get that lot indoors before Mrs Filby sees you,’ Lottie said hastily. ‘She’s already given me a clout round the head that made me see stars.’

Jem tucked two smaller cases under his arms and then lifted the heavier bags, one in each hand. ‘She’d have to stand on a box to reach my head, but she punched me in the bread-basket last time I made her mad. She’s a nasty piece of work, and that’s the truth, but we’re better than her, Lottie. Keep that in mind, my girl.’ He strolled off, whistling.

Lottie looked up, but May and Ruth had vanished, and a quick glance over her shoulder revealed the cause. Mrs Filby was standing in the doorway, scowling at her. ‘Don’t loaf around doing nothing, you lazy little slut. Get on with your work.’

‘How does she do it?’ Lottie muttered as she hurried into the scullery to take up where she had left off. ‘She’s got eyes in the back of her head.’

‘Talking to yourself, are you? That’s the first sign of madness.’ Ruth edged past her, carrying two dangerously full chamber pots. ‘You’d think the horses had pissed in these. I was all for emptying them over the balustrade, but May stopped me just in time.’

‘That would have taken Trotter down a peg or two,’ Lottie said, laughing. ‘He wouldn’t have been so cocky then.’

Ruth backed out into the yard, taking care not to spill a drop. ‘Maybe I’ll be in time to have a few words with him before the coach leaves. It’s me he fancies, not May.’

‘I expect he’s got a wife and half a dozen nippers at home. I’d watch out for him if I were you, Ruth.’

‘I will, don’t you fret, ducks.’ Ruth stepped outside, leaving Lottie to finish her unenviable task.

That done, she returned to the bedrooms, and made them ready for the next occupants. When she was satisfied that Mrs Filby could find nothing to criticise in her work, she went downstairs to help Cook prepare the midday meal.

Jezebel Pretty did not live up to her name. She was tall, raw-boned and ungainly, with a lean, mean face and a fiery temperament. She had served a two-year sentence in Coldbath Fields prison, commonly known as The Steel, for inflicting grievous bodily harm on her former lover, and had been employed at the inn for almost a year. Lottie, Ruth and May had often spoken about her in the privacy of the attic room where they laid their heads at night, but it was not the fact that the Filbys had taken on an ex-convict that shocked them. What they found hard to believe was that anyone as patently ugly as Jezebel could have found a man who fancied her in the first place, or one who was foolish enough to take on a woman whose volatile temper simmered beneath the surface, erupting every now and then like a volcano.

Even so, Lottie had discovered a different side to Jezebel. Not long after the cook had started work at the inn, a small mongrel terrier had got in the way of one of the mail coach horses. The poor creature had been flung up in the air and had landed on the cobblestones in a pathetic heap. Jezebel had happened to be in the yard, smoking her clay pipe, when the accident occurred, and Lottie had seen her rush to the animal’s aid. She had picked it up and, cradling it in her arms like a baby, carried it into the kitchen. Lottie had followed, offering to help and had watched Jezebel examining the tiny body for broken bones with the skill of an experienced surgeon, and the tenderness of a mother caring for her child.

Despite two broken ribs and several deep cuts, Lad – as Jezebel named him – survived, and they became inseparable, despite Mrs Filby’s attempts to banish the dog from the kitchen, or any part of the building other than the stables. Lad, quite naturally, had developed a deep distrust of horses and he refused to be parted from his saviour. Jezebel, who was a good cook and worked for next to nothing, was the one person Mrs Filby treated with a certain amount of restraint and respect, and Lad was allowed to stay.

Lottie entered the kitchen and received an enthusiastic greeting from the small dog, who seemed to remember that she was one of the first people who had shown him any kindness. Having been flea-ridden and undernourished when he first arrived, he was now plump and lively, with a shiny white coat and comical brown patches over one eye and the tip of one ear.

‘Where’ve you been?’ Jezebel demanded. ‘The bullock’s head is done and the meat needs to be taken off the bone, and the vegetables need preparing to go in the stew. I’ve been run off me feet. I was better off in The Steel than I am here.’

‘I would have come sooner, but I had to wait on in the dining parlour and I hadn’t finished the bedchambers, but I’m here now.’

‘And where are those two flibbertigibbets? I suppose they’re making sheep’s eyes at that fellow Trotter. My Bill was just like him until I spoiled his beauty with my chiv. Trotter had best look out, that’s all I can say.’

Lottie lifted the heavy saucepan off the range. She knew better than to argue the point with Jezebel. It was easier and safer to keep her mouth shut and get on with her work; that way the long days passed without unpleasantness and everyone was happy in his or her own way. She had learned long ago that it was pointless to bemoan the fate that had brought her to The Swan with Two Necks. Born into an army family, her early years had been spent in India, and when her mother died of a fever, which also took Lottie’s younger brothers and sister, she had been sent to England with a family who were returning on leave, and left with her Uncle Sefton in Clerkenwell. A confirmed bachelor, he had little time for children and Lottie had been packed off to boarding school, although her uncle had made it plain that he considered educating females to be a total waste of money.

She had received a basic education until the age of twelve, when she returned home to find that her uncle had married a rich widow. Lottie’s childhood had ended when her new aunt, supposedly acting with her niece’s best interests at heart, had sent Lottie to work for the Filbys. It was just another form of slavery: she worked from the moment she rose in the morning until late at night, when she fell exhausted into her bed.

‘Are you doing what I told you, or are you daydreaming again, Lottie Lane? D’you want to feel the back of my hand, girl?’ Jezebel reared up in front of Lottie, bringing her back to the present with a start.

‘Sorry, ma’am.’

‘Get on with it, or you’ll get another clout round the head, and I ain’t as gentle as the missis.’ Jezebel stomped out into the yard, snatching up her pipe and tobacco pouch on the way. Lad trotted at her heels, growling and baring his teeth at the horses.

Lottie set to work and dissected the head, taking care not to waste a scrap of meat. Mrs Filby would check the bones later, and woe betide her if there was any waste. Parsimonious to the last, Prudence Filby ruled her empire with a rod of iron.

Minutes later, Jezebel marched back into the room. ‘Where’s Jem? The butcher has delivered the mutton. I want the carcass boned and ready for the pot. Go and find him, girl.’

‘But I haven’t finished what I’m doing.’

Jezebel moved with the speed of a snake striking its prey. The sound of the slap echoed round the beamed kitchen, and Lottie clutched her hand to her cheek. ‘The bullock’s going nowhere, but you are. Find the boy and tell him to get started or I’ll be after him.’

Lottie found Jem in the taproom, serving ale to the newly arrived male passengers, while Mrs Filby shepherded the ladies to the dining parlour, where they would be plied with coffee, tea and toast, all of which were added onto the bill. Each day was the same, and everyone knew their part in the carefully choreographed routine designed to make the travellers part with their money in as short a time as possible. Jem had taken too long offloading the last coach and was now behindhand with his tasks. Normally cheerful and easy-going, he was looking flushed and flustered.

‘Cook wants you, Jem.’ Lottie took the pint mug from his hand. ‘I’ll finish up in here. There’s only minutes before the coach leaves.’

‘I suppose she’s in a foul mood, as usual.’

‘You’ll soon find out if you don’t hurry up.’ Lottie passed the mug of ale to a man seated at the nearest table. She had just finished serving when the call came for the passengers to board, and she heard the clatter of hoofs and the rumble of wheels as yet another mail coach pulled into the stable yard. She was relieved by Shem Filby, who escorted the new guests into the taproom, enabling her to hurry back to the kitchen to prepare the vegetables.

Early mornings were always hectic, and she was used to the rush, although by midday everyone was beginning to flag, but there was no time to rest. Private carriages made up most of their custom during the day. Filby was pleased to point out that some people preferred the convenience of being transported from door to door, a luxury not provided when travelling by train, and others feared that the speed reached by steam engines would have serious effects on their health. The railways, he said, would one day put them out of business, but that was a long way off, or so he hoped.

Lottie did not have time to worry about such matters. She alternated between the kitchen, the dining room and the bedchambers, as did Ruth and May. They met briefly at mealtimes, with rare moments of free time during the afternoon lull, and then there was dinner to be prepared and served. After everything was cleared away and the dishes were washed and dried, there were beds to be turned back and aired, using copper warming pans filled with live coals. The constant need to provide washing facilities necessitated regular trips from the kitchen to the bedrooms, carrying ewers of hot water, and there was always someone who wanted something extra. Lottie had been sent out to buy all manner of things, mainly for ladies on their travels who had forgotten to bring a hairbrush or a comb. Sometimes it was a bottle of laudanum for pain, or oil of cloves for toothache, and these were always needed as a matter of urgency. Lottie had once been sent out to purchase a gift for a man’s wife as he had forgotten her birthday. Sometimes guests tipped generously, while others gave nothing in return, not even a thank you.

The only time the girls had to chat was during the brief period before they fell asleep on their straw-filled palliasses, and even then they might be awakened at any hour of the night and called upon to serve travellers who stopped at the inn.

Such a call came in the early hours of the next morning. Lottie was in a deep sleep when she was shaken awake by Ruth. ‘Get up. We’re wanted in the kitchen.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Soldiers,’ Ruth said excitedly. ‘I leaned over the balustrade and saw their red jackets. I love a man in uniform. Come on, they’ll be in need of sustenance.’

Half asleep, Lottie made her way downstairs, still struggling with the buttons on her blouse.

The stable yard was illuminated by gaslight and filled with the sound of booted feet, the clatter of horses’ hoofs and men’s raised voices. Above them the night sky formed a dark canopy, creating a theatrical backdrop to the dramatic scene. An officer was issuing orders, and Shem Filby was standing in the midst of the chaos, bellowing instructions to the ostlers that seemed to countermand those given by the young lieutenant. It had become a competition to see whose voice was the loudest, and in the end it was Mrs Filby, wearing a dressing robe over her nightgown, whose strident tones were heard above all others.

‘Silence.’ She waded into their midst, seizing a young private by the collar and thrusting him out of her way. ‘Gentlemen, have a thought for our other guests.’ She faced the officer with a contemptuous curl of her lip. ‘You will be more comfortable in the dining parlour, sir. Ruth will show you the way.’

‘Thank you, ma’am.’ As meekly as a schoolboy caught scrumping apples, he followed Ruth into the building.

‘Take the men into the kitchen, May.’ Mrs Filby marched up to two soldiers who were supporting a comrade who appeared to be unconscious. ‘What’s the matter with him? Is he sick? If so, you can take him to hospital.’

The elder of the two privates stood to attention. ‘If you please, ma’am, he’s suffered a knock on the head. A cracked skull ain’t catching.’

‘I don’t need any of your cheek, soldier.’ Mrs Filby peered at the injured man. ‘Has he been drinking?’

‘Only Adam’s ale, ma’am. We’ve been working on the telegraph lines in the Strand for two days, but now we’re heading for Chatham, and then on to the Crimea. All he needs is a bed for the night and some tender care, such as would be given by a kind lady like yourself.’

‘Well, then, I’m sure we can do something for one of our brave men who will soon depart for battle.’ Mrs Filby spun round to face Lottie. ‘Take them to my parlour. See that they have everything they need.’

‘Yes’m.’ Lottie made a move towards the doorway. ‘This way, please, gents.’

‘One moment.’ The lieutenant had obviously had second thoughts and had returned. ‘I’m grateful for your help, ma’am, but I am in charge of my men. Private Ellis needs medical attention.’

‘What is your name, sir?’ Mrs Filby bristled visibly. ‘You are on my property now, not the battlefield.’

He doffed his shako with a bow and a flourish. ‘Lieutenant Farrell Gillingham, Corps of Royal Sappers and Miners, at your service.’

‘Well, Lieutenant Gillingham, if you wish to take your man to hospital, feel free to do so, but we cannot incur the expense of the doctor’s fees, unless, of course, you wish to stump up for them yourself.’

‘Perhaps we will wait until daylight, ma’am. If Ellis is not well enough to be moved, I’ll think again.’ Gillingham spoke in a tone that did not invite argument. He bowed smartly and followed Ruth into the building.

‘Go with the men, Lottie,’ Mrs Filby said in a low voice. ‘You’re a sensible girl, for the most part, anyway. See to their needs as best you can.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘But don’t make them too comfortable. Their sort don’t pay well.’ She glanced round the yard, which was empty except for the ostlers who were attending to the horses. ‘Filby, where are you? Speak to me.’

Lottie beckoned to the soldiers. ‘Let’s get the poor fellow inside.’

The Filbys’ parlour was dominated by a huge walnut chiffonier, upon which were set out Prudence Filby’s treasured china tea set and small ornaments that had no intrinsic value, but must surely have a meaning for her. Lottie knew each piece intimately, having had to dust them every day since her arrival at The Swan with Two Necks. For some reason best known to herself, Mrs Filby had made the cleaning of her private parlour Lottie’s responsibility, insisting that the hand-hooked rugs with vibrant floral designs had to be taken out into the yard and beaten daily, and the heavy crimson velvet curtains and portière had to be brushed free from dust and cobwebs at least once a week.

Lottie held the door open, and while the soldiers settled Private Ellis on the sofa she raked the glowing embers of the fire into life.

‘What happened to him?’ she asked.

The younger of the two men eyed her up and down. ‘What makes a pretty girl like you want to work in a place like this?’

‘I think we should send for the doctor.’ Lottie chose to ignore the compliment. ‘Your friend looks very poorly.’

‘You’ve got eyes the colour of the cornflowers in the fields at home,’ he said earnestly, ‘and hair the colour of ripe wheat. I never seen such a pretty face in all me born days.’

‘That’s enough of that, Frank. You’re a sapper, not a poet.’ The older man held his hand out to Lottie. ‘Private Joe Benson, miss. Don’t take no notice of my mate. He can’t help hisself when he meets a young lady.’

Lottie smiled. ‘I don’t mind being called pretty, but I still think that your friend looks very unwell.’

Benson leaned over to examine the unconscious man. ‘I’d say he’s got concussion. I seen it afore, miss. We was undergoing training at the Electric Telegraph Company, working on the underground wiring in the Strand, and Ellis was on the ladder when it gave way.’

‘He should have been taken straight to hospital,’ Lottie said worriedly.

‘He could die.’ Frank moved closer to the fire. ‘Is there any chance of a bite to eat and a drink, miss? We can’t do much for young Gideon, but the living has to be taken care of too.’

Lottie turned on him. ‘How can you be so heartless? If you’re hungry go to the kitchen and Mrs Pretty will feed you.’

Frank’s tanned features split into a wide grin. ‘Does she take after her name? Is she good-looking like you?’

It was on the tip of Lottie’s tongue to put him straight, but she changed her mind. ‘The only way you’ll find out is to do as I say.’ She shot a sideways glance at Private Benson. ‘You look as though you could do with some sustenance. I’ll stay with your friend while you get some food, but don’t be too long.’

Benson tipped his cap. ‘Ta, miss. Much obliged. We ain’t eaten since midday.’ He pushed Frank towards the door. ‘Hurry up, then. If we don’t hurry we’ll find the greedy gannets have ate everything in the kitchen.’

Lottie stared down at the inert figure on the couch. A livid bruise marked his otherwise smooth forehead, and his light brown hair was matted with blood from a cut on the temple. He looked young and defenceless, despite the army uniform, and if she had not known better she might have thought him to be sleeping peacefully. She left the room briefly to look for Jem who was rushing about, fetching food and ale for their new guests.

She beckoned to him. ‘When you’ve done that, could you bring me a bowl of warm water and some clean rags? I daren’t leave the poor fellow on his own.’

‘What a to-do! But the officer is a toff,’ Jem chuckled and patted his trouser pocket. ‘He gave me a handsome tip, so I don’t mind running after him and his mates. I’ll bring the water as soon as I can.’ He raced off towards the kitchen, balancing a jug of ale with the expertise of long practice.

When she had bathed the soldier’s cuts, and placed a cold compress on his bruised forehead, Lottie could do no more, and she settled down by the fire. It was warm in the Filbys’ parlour and the chair was comfortable. She was tired and very sleepy …

She awakened with a start at the sound of someone calling out in distress.




Chapter Two (#ud960f709-5c08-5551-98ef-43269ff9918b)


Lottie almost fell off the chair in her haste to be at the young private’s side. His eyes were open, but unfocused, and he was babbling incoherently. She clutched his hand. ‘It’s all right, Gideon. That’s your name, I believe.’

‘Mother?’ He attempted to sit up, but she pressed him back against the cushions.

‘Lie still, there’s a good boy.’

‘You’re not my mother?’ He gazed at her, puzzled and frowning. ‘Is she here?’

Lottie swallowed hard. The lump in her throat threatened to choke her but she managed a smile as she held his hand to her cheek. ‘Your ma isn’t here, Gideon, but I’m sure you’ll see her soon.’

‘I need to send her money. I have to make sure she’s taken care of while I’m away.’

‘You mustn’t worry. She’ll be all right.’

His hazel eyes, framed by ridiculously long and thick brown lashes, focused with difficulty on her face. ‘Where am I? I don’t know you, do I?’

‘My name is Charlotte Lane, although everyone here calls me Lottie.’

‘Lottie.’ He closed his eyes with a sigh.

‘Gideon.’ Alarmed, she shook him by the shoulders. ‘Don’t die. Please don’t die.’

‘It’s all right, miss. We’re back now.’ Joe Benson had come into the room unnoticed. He leaned over Gideon. ‘He ain’t dead. It’s the bump on the head that’s making him like this. We’ll take over now. You get yourself back to bed.’

‘I’ll go with you if you want company.’ Frank stood in the doorway with a tankard clutched in his hand. He was grinning stupidly, and it was obvious that he was in the early stages of being drunk.

‘No, ta, very much. I’ll say good night, then.’ She hesitated, staring down at Gideon. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing we can do for him?’

Benson patted her on the shoulder. ‘We’ll take care of him tonight, and we’ll see how he is in the morning.’

‘But where will you sleep?’ Lottie asked anxiously.

‘We’re sappers, miss.’ Frank saluted drunkenly. ‘We can doss down anywhere.’

‘He’s right. Don’t worry about us.’ Benson moved swiftly to the door and held it open. ‘We’ll probably be off before you’re up and about. This was an unplanned stopover, thanks to Ellis falling down a hole in the road.’

‘I hope he gets better soon.’

Lottie tried to convince herself that Private Ellis was in good hands as she made her way back to the attic, but she had the nagging feeling she could have done more for the injured man. Ruth and May were already in bed, snoring gently, and Lottie had to feel her way in almost complete darkness. She lay down on the prickly palliasse, and, despite her worries, sank into a deep sleep.

Her first thoughts when she awakened next morning were for Private Ellis, and she dressed quickly. It was still dark, but she could hear movement in the stable yard below.

She nudged Ruth, who slept next to her. ‘Wake up. I think the soldiers are leaving.’

Ruth snapped to a sitting position, although her eyes were still shut. ‘What’s the time?’

‘It’s early, I think, but I’m going down anyway.’ Lottie did not wait for a reply. She hurried to the stable yard, where she found men assembled, and Lieutenant Gillingham and his sergeant about to mount their horses. Mrs Filby was conspicuous by her absence, and it was Filby himself who was in charge.

Lottie knew better than to put herself forward, but she could not see Private Ellis and she was alarmed. He might have been taken to hospital, or his cold corpse might be lying on the sofa awaiting the arrival of the undertaker. Her imagination was rapidly getting the better of her, and some of her anxiety seemed to have communicated itself to the lieutenant. He handed the reins to his sergeant.

‘Miss …’ he hesitated, smiling ruefully. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know your name.’

‘Lottie, sir. Lottie Lane.’

‘Well, Miss Lane, I want to thank you for turning out in the middle of the night to assist my men.’

‘It was nothing, sir. How is Private Ellis?’

‘Mr Filby has kindly agreed to allow Ellis to remain here for a day or two, until he’s fit to travel on to Chatham. My men moved him to one of the guest rooms, first thing, but unfortunately I cannot spare anyone to stay with him. Mr Filby assures me that he will be well cared for.’

‘He will indeed,’ Lottie said firmly. ‘I’ll do everything I can for him.’

Gillingham’s serious expression melted into a smile that crinkled the corners of his grey eyes. ‘From what Benson has told me you would make a good nurse, Miss Lane.’

‘Oh, no, sir. I did what anyone would have done.’

‘Don’t underestimate yourself, Miss Lane. Did you know that Miss Nightingale is recruiting nurses to take with her to the Crimea?’

‘Don’t put ideas in her head, I beg you, sir.’ Filby had come up behind them, and, although he was smiling, Lottie knew him well enough to realise that he was growing impatient.

‘I am just a chambermaid, sir,’ she said hastily.

‘Yes, indeed.’ Filby jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. ‘I think Mrs Pretty is preparing some gruel for the patient, Lottie. You’ll find him in room fifteen, but don’t loiter longer than necessary. There’s a mail coach due from Exeter in half an hour.’

‘Thank you for your hospitality, landlord.’ Gillingham mounted his horse, tossing a coin to the ostler as he rode through the archway that led into Gresham Street.

Frank Jenkins marched past Lottie without a glance, but Joe Benson saluted and winked. It was obvious from his tight-lipped expression that Frank was sober now and suffering the consequences of drinking too much ale. He must, Lottie thought, have received quite a shock when he discovered that Jezebel Pretty did not live up to her name. She could picture the scene, and was still chuckling as she entered the kitchen, but her smile faded when she came face to face with Jezebel, who did not look too pleased.

‘Gruel,’ she said bitterly. ‘As if I hadn’t got enough to do without cooking pap for a sick soldier. They should have taken him with them.’

‘It’s all right, Mrs Pretty. I’ll see to it.’ Lottie took the wooden spoon from her and stirred the mess of oatmeal and water in the soot-blackened saucepan. ‘I’ll take it to him.’

‘You’d best watch out. Military men are all the same. My man was a soldier. He was a conceited turkeycock, always showing off and putting hisself about. He ain’t so handsome now, and that’s a fact.’ Jezebel picked up a cleaver and severed the head off a chicken carcass before tossing it into a stew pot. She threw the head to Lad, who pounced on it and ran under the table with it in his mouth.

Lottie filled a bowl with gruel, and poured the tea, adding a generous dash of milk to both. ‘I’ll be back in a tick, Cook.’

‘You’d better, or I’ll come looking for you. I ain’t handling breakfasts on me own, not with her ladyship yelling at me to hurry up with the bacon and make more toast. I dunno why I stick it here.’

Lottie escaped from the kitchen and crossed the yard, making for the stairs on the far side. The ostlers were preparing the horses that would take the mail coach on to its next stop, but they were unusually silent and barely raised a nod of acknowledgement when Lottie passed by. She met Ruth and May on the way to room fifteen, but they too seemed tired and listless. Lottie could see that it was going to be a long day, and by evening tempers would be ragged. She could only hope that Mrs Filby had slept well. If not, they would all suffer.

She let herself into Gideon’s room, but it was too dark to see anything other than the shape of the bed.

‘Good morning, Private Ellis.’ When there was no response she placed his breakfast on a small side table and made her way to the window. With the curtains drawn back, daylight flooded in, but it was hot and stuffy and she opened the casement just wide enough to allow some air to circulate.

She hurried to the bedside where Gideon was beginning to stir, and she laid a hand on his forehead. His skin felt cool to the touch, and she sighed with relief. At least he was not running a fever. He opened his eyes and attempted to sit up, but fell back against the pillows with a groan.

‘Where does it hurt?’ Lottie asked anxiously. ‘You might have broken some bones.’

He stared at her with a puzzled frown. ‘What happened? I don’t remember. Where am I?’

‘You had a bad fall,’ she said gently. ‘Your mates brought you to us last night, but they’ve gone on to Chatham. Lieutenant Gillingham said you were to follow as soon as you were able.’

‘Gillingham …’ Gideon repeated dazedly. ‘I can’t place him.’

Lottie perched on the edge of the bed. ‘He is your commanding officer, Gideon. I may call you that, mayn’t I?’

‘Gideon, yes. I think that’s my name.’

‘Don’t you remember anything? Like what you were doing before you fell?’

He shook his head and winced, raising his hand to his temple. ‘My head aches, miss.’

‘Lottie,’ she said firmly. ‘I am Lottie, and you are in room fifteen at The Swan with Two Necks.’ She waited for a moment to see if this meant anything to him, but his blank expression was answer enough. She tried again. ‘You were brought here by Lieutenant Gillingham and Private Benson.’

He dashed his hand across his eyes. ‘Nothing seems to make sense. Please leave me alone.’

‘I will, but only after you’ve had some breakfast.’ She went to retrieve the mug and bowl, and placed them on a chair by the side of the bed. ‘Would you like a sip of tea?’

He nodded. ‘I’m parched.’ He struggled to a sitting position and Lottie plumped up the pillows behind him.

It took some time, but in the end she managed to persuade him to drink the tea. He took a few spoonfuls of gruel, but the effort exhausted him and he lay back, closing his eyes.

‘I have to leave you now,’ Lottie said in a low voice. ‘I’ll return as soon as I am able.’ She was not sure if he heard or understood. She would have liked to stay longer, but the sound of the post horn announced the arrival of the mail coach and there was work to do. ‘I’ll come back when I have a spare moment.’

Mrs Filby was in the kitchen talking to Jezebel. They both turned to stare at Lottie.

‘Well?’ Mrs Filby fixed her with an enquiring look. ‘How is the soldier?’

‘He seems to have lost his memory,’ Lottie said carefully. ‘I think he ought to be seen by a doctor.’

‘Do you? And who are you to make decisions, I might ask?’ Mrs Filby bristled angrily. ‘I or my husband will decide whether or not to call in a physician. The lieutenant left money for the young man’s keep, although not sufficient to pay a doctor’s fees. You will look after him, Lottie, but only in your spare moments.’

‘Yes, don’t think you can wriggle out of your duties,’ Jezebel added fiercely. ‘Take the coffee and toast into the dining parlour, and be quick about it.’

‘Don’t stand there like a ninny, get on with your work.’ Mrs Filby sailed out of the kitchen, leaving Lottie to struggle with the coffee pot and a plate piled high with toast.

Jezebel impaled a slice of bread on the toasting fork. ‘Hurry, girl. There’s another coach due any minute.’

Snatching odd moments of calm in between the frantic turnaround of coaches and private carriages, Lottie visited Gideon as often as possible. She gave him sips of laudanum diluted in water to ease the pain of his bruised ribs and his persistent headache, and at midday she helped him sup some broth. He remained dazed and confused, but she was pleased to see a little colour creep back into his previously ashen face.

Her frequent absences did not go unnoticed. Ruth was the first to comment when she passed Lottie on the first-floor gallery. ‘I dunno what makes you so special. Why were you given the job of nursing the soldier? I could have done it better.’

‘I expect you could,’ Lottie said calmly, ‘but I happened to be there at the time, and you were off flirting with Lieutenant Gillingham. Didn’t it go as you’d hoped?’

Ruth tossed her head. ‘I ain’t interested in military men. Here today and gone tomorrow, that’s soldiers for you.’

‘I thought you fancied him, Ruth.’

‘To tell the truth I did, but then I discovered he was off to the Crimea. I ain’t interested in someone what’s going to get blown to bits. I think I’ll stick to Trotter; at least he comes here twice a week and he’s got the money to treat a girl now and then.’

‘And a wife and family to support.’

‘You don’t know that for sure. Anyway, I’m up for a bit of a laugh now and then. I don’t think I want to get hitched and end up like my ma with a new mouth to feed every year.’

Lottie smiled and hurried on to the sick room to check on Private Ellis.

Despite the Filbys’ refusal to send for a physician, Gideon began to improve. His memory returned gradually, and his headaches lessened. On the third day he was able to get up and sit in a chair by the window that overlooked the stable yard.

Lottie was late bringing him his bowl of soup and a cup of tea, and she apologised as she set them on the small table in front of him. ‘I couldn’t get away sooner, Gideon. We’ve been even busier than usual.’

‘I thought they worked us hard in the army,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘But you never seem to stop.’

‘I’ve been doing this since I was twelve. I suppose I’m used to it.’

‘This smells good.’ He lifted the spoon to his lips, but the movement seemed to hurt him and he hesitated, pulling a face.

‘Are you ribs still hurting?’

‘Just a bit. Maybe you should stay and help me if I can’t manage to feed myself.’

She hesitated, eyeing him suspiciously. ‘Are you saying that to keep me here?’

‘Of course I am. I get lonely, and you need to take a break every now and then.’

‘Mrs Filby wouldn’t agree with you, neither would Jezebel.’ Lottie perched on the edge of the bed. ‘I’ll get shot if they catch me.’

‘I’m a soldier. I’ll protect you.’

‘You can hardly stand,’ she said, chuckling. ‘But it’s good to see you looking so much better. I was really worried when your mates brought you here.’

‘I’ve got a hard head. It would take more than a tumble to put me out of action.’

‘You won’t get better if you don’t eat. I should go and let you get on with your meal.’

‘No, please stay. I’ll finish this up if you’ll stay and talk to me, Lottie. Tell me about yourself.’ He picked up the spoon and held it poised. ‘I’m waiting,’ he said with a wry smile.

‘You win, but I can’t stay long.’ Lottie frowned as she recalled the trials of her childhood. ‘There’s not much to tell. My pa is a soldier, like you. He’s a sergeant in the Bombay Sappers and Miners stationed in Poona, or he was the last time he wrote to me. I used to get a letter from him every now and then, but I haven’t heard from him for ages, and I haven’t seen him since I was six.’

‘So you come from a military family.’

‘I was born in India, but I don’t remember much of my time there, although I do recall a white house with a beautiful garden and sweet-smelling flowers. I often dream of walking up the path and knocking on the door, but I always wake up before it opens.’

‘Why did you leave? It sounds too good to be true.’

‘When Ma died of a fever, Pa sent me to England to be looked after by my Uncle Sefton. I’m sure I was a miserable little thing, and he didn’t want to be saddled with me in the first place. Anyway, as soon as he could, he packed me off to boarding school.’

‘So how did you end up slaving away in a coaching inn? It seems such a waste.’

‘Uncle Sefton married late in life and his wife didn’t want me around. I was just twelve when I was sent to work here. I didn’t have any choice in the matter.’

‘Didn’t your father have anything to say about such a decision?’

‘Of course I wrote to Pa, begging him to let me join him, but I had to wait months for a reply, and when it came he said he was stationed on the North-West Frontier, and that I’d be safer in London – so here I stayed. That’s my life in a nutshell. What about you?’

‘My father died some years ago. He was a soldier, and it was taken for granted that I’d follow him into the army. My mother lives in Whitechapel, close to the Garrick Theatre. She takes in lodgers, and I help her as much as I can financially. That’s me in a nutshell, too.’

Lottie jumped to her feet at the sound of someone bellowing her name. ‘Oh Lord! That’s Mrs Filby. She’ll be furious if she knows I’ve been sitting here chatting to you. I have to go, Gideon, but I’ll pop in later, when the rush is over.’

‘Don’t forget me, Lottie.’

She glanced over her shoulder, smiling. ‘As if I would. Drink your tea.’

On the fourth day Gideon was dressed when she brought him his breakfast gruel and a cup of tea. He had shaved and, despite the bruise on his forehead, he looked dashing in his uniform.

‘What are you doing, Private Ellis?’ She placed the bowl and mug on the washstand. ‘You mustn’t overtax yourself.’

‘I’m a fraud, Lottie. I can’t stay here any longer, much as I would like to remain and be cosseted by you. I have to report to my unit.’

‘Oh, well, I suppose you know best.’

He smiled and took both her hands in his. ‘You’ve been wonderful. I owe my speedy recovery to you.’

‘Nonsense. I didn’t do much other than to bring you food and drink.’

‘I won’t have that, Lottie. A trained nurse couldn’t have done better.’

She withdrew her hands, aware that she was blushing furiously. ‘It’s very kind of you to say so, but I know nothing about nursing. It was a matter of luck and Mother Nature was on your side.’

‘Maybe, but you did your part, and I’m truly grateful.’

‘You’d better eat your breakfast. You need all your strength if you’re to ride all the way to Chatham.’

‘This is one thing I won’t miss.’ He sat down and began spooning the thin sops into his mouth. ‘I could do with a plate of bacon and eggs and a nice fat sausage.’

‘You are better,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’m so glad to see you up and about. When they brought you here I thought you were going to die.’

‘If the ladder hadn’t given way I would never have met you, Lottie. I’m just sorry that I won’t have the chance to get to know you better.’

‘Do you think you’ll be leaving for the Crimea very soon? They’re talking about nothing else in the taproom.’

‘I can’t say for certain, but I don’t think it will be long.’ He dropped the spoon into the empty bowl. ‘There, are you satisfied now? It’s all gone.’

‘I’m not your mother, Gideon,’ she said, laughing. ‘But I will be sorry to see you go.’

‘Will you?’ His smile faded and he reached out to clasp her hand. ‘I wish I could say that we’ll meet again, Lottie, but I’m afraid this really is goodbye.’

She was struck by a sudden and almost overwhelming desire to cry. She had known him for only a few days, but it seemed that he had become a part of her life, and now he was about to leave and she would never see him again.

‘You’ll be back, Gideon,’ she said, forcing herself to sound more cheerful than she was feeling. ‘You’ll return covered in glory.’

‘Will you be waiting for me?’ He dropped his hand to his side and his expression was bleak. ‘I’m sorry. That was wrong of me. I couldn’t ask that of anyone, least of all you. I’ll be going into battle, even if we’re just digging saps or laying wires for the telegraph. The chances are I won’t return.’

Acting on impulse, Lottie flung her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. ‘You will survive, Gideon. I know you will.’ She backed away, blushing. ‘I just wanted to wish you good luck.’

Gideon’s cheeks flamed and his eyes were suspiciously bright. ‘I’ll take that kiss with me to the Crimea, and if I get downhearted I’ll remember how it felt to be embraced by the beautiful girl who saved my life.’

Lottie was momentarily lost for words, but the door burst open and May erupted into the room. ‘You’re wanted in the kitchen, Lottie. Mrs Filby’s been looking for you and she ain’t best pleased.’ She gave Gideon a cursory glance. ‘There don’t seem to be much wrong with you, mister. Anyway, there’s someone waiting for you in the stable yard. He says he’s come to take you to Chatham, and he’s in a tearing hurry, so you’d better not keep him waiting.’

Gideon grabbed his cap and rammed it on his head, wincing as it touched the tender part of his scalp. ‘I’ll be off then. Take care of yourself, Lottie.’

‘You, too.’ Lottie turned away, and began stripping the bed. Her first instinct had been to rush out onto the balcony and wave to Gideon, but May was already suspicious, and she was a terrible gossip.

‘Give me a hand, May,’ she said casually. ‘I’d better get the room ready for the next occupant.’

‘He’s sweet on you.’ May pursed her lips. ‘I bet you’ll miss him something chronic. You’ve spent every spare moment up here.’

‘He was sick. I looked after him as best I could. That’s all.’

‘Maybe you think you’re a touch above us chambermaids now. Perhaps you should sign up with Miss Nightingale and her nurses. You’d have lots of injured soldiers to look after then.’

Lottie recognised the signs of jealousy. May could be very mean when she thought someone was getting preferential treatment. ‘Maybe I will. It would be better than slaving all day, and sometimes all night, in this place.’

Lottie stood outside the Institute for the Care of Sick Gentlewomen in Upper Harley Street, trying to pluck up courage to knock on the door. She had dressed in her Sunday best, which she realised now was sadly lacking in style, and was shabby compared to the attire of the well-dressed ladies who frequented this part of London. She had walked from Gresham Street and the hem of her skirt was caked with dirt and bits of straw, but there was little she could do about that now. Taking a deep breath she knocked on the door, but she was seized by a moment of panic when she heard approaching footsteps and the turn of the key in the lock.

The door was opened by a parlourmaid wearing a neat black dress with a spotless white cap and apron. She looked Lottie up and down. ‘The tradesmen’s entrance is round the back, miss.’

‘I came to see Miss Nightingale,’ Lottie said boldly. ‘I understand she is interviewing nurses to travel with her to the Crimea.’

‘Miss Nightingale is at the Middlesex Hospital at present. She’s nursing cholera victims from the East End. You might catch her there, although I doubt if she’ll have time to see you.’

Lottie opened her mouth to speak, but the door was slammed in her face. She stood for a few moments, shocked by her reception, but not really surprised. She had not expected it to be easy, and she had not told anyone at The Swan where she was going. They would think her quite insane, and perhaps she was, but helping Gideon back to health and strength had given her a new purpose in life. It seemed quite natural to want to follow the young man who had made such an impression on her, and to be of service where it was desperately needed. She was now even more determined to see Miss Nightingale. She was familiar with the Middlesex Hospital, having been taken there with a suspected broken arm when she was much younger. It had turned out to be a bad sprain, needing no further treatment, but the grand building had made an indelible impression upon her. She set off for Mortimer Street.

It was a hot day and the stench from the Thames hung in a pall over the city. The river was said to be little more than an open sewer, and as London suffocated in the sweltering heat of August, the outbreak of cholera in Soho had caused many people to flee for safety. Lottie covered her nose and mouth with her hanky and quickened her pace.

The hospital waiting area was crowded, and the desk clerk was overworked and impatient. Despite Lottie’s entreaties, she was told that Miss Nightingale was too busy to see anyone, and the wards were closed to visitors, but Lottie was not prepared to give up easily. Her one day off a month was too precious to waste in a futile exercise, and she decided to wait. She did not have a plan in mind, but she had not come this far to give in at the first setback, or even the second.

She took a seat at the end of a row where she had a good view of the comings and goings. She was hot and thirsty, and as the hours went by her stomach cramped with hunger pains, but she had set her mind on having a word with the illustrious lady, although whether she would be able to pick her out amongst the nurses who flitted around like so many pale moths, was another matter. Somehow, Lottie was convinced that she would know Miss Nightingale the moment she saw her.

It was getting late. Even so, the seats in the waiting room were crowded with victims of accidents and muggings, and anxious mothers holding small children who were limp with fever. She knew she ought to be getting back to Gresham Street, and yet she was reluctant to give up. Then, she saw her. The slight woman, pale-faced with exhaustion, walked with her head held high, looking neither to her left nor her right.

Lottie leaped to her feet. ‘Miss Nightingale. It is you, isn’t it?’




Chapter Three (#ud960f709-5c08-5551-98ef-43269ff9918b)


‘If you’re unwell you must wait your turn. I’m off duty.’ The voice was cultured, but the tone was clipped and impatient.

‘No, I’m not ill.’ Lottie hurried after her. ‘Please could you spare me a moment of your time? I’ve waited here all day for a chance to speak to you.’

Florence stopped just short of the street door. She turned slowly, her face a pale oval in the light of a gas lamp. ‘What do you want of me?’

‘I’d dearly love to accompany you to the Crimea, Miss Nightingale.’

‘Are you a trained nurse?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘I’m sorry. I can’t help you.’ Florence was about to leave the building, but Lottie caught her by the sleeve.

‘Please give me a chance.’

Florence fixed Lottie with a piercing gaze, from which there was no escape. ‘You’re very young. How old are you?’

‘I’m twenty, Miss Nightingale. I’ll be twenty-one in January.’

‘I don’t consider anyone under twenty-three. If you want to be a nurse, you must train in a hospital here, at home. Now, allow me to go on my way.’

‘Is this person bothering you, Miss Nightingale?’ A uniformed porter hurried up to them, glaring at Lottie.

‘No, she was just making enquiries.’ Florence’s stern expression lightened into what was almost a smile. ‘What is your name, young lady?’

‘Charlotte Lane, ma’am.’

‘Good luck, Charlotte.’ Florence nodded to the porter and he held the door open for her.

Lottie watched spellbound as the small figure climbed into a waiting carriage.

‘You was lucky,’ the porter said tersely. ‘She could have had you thrown out.’

‘Yes, but she turned me down. I just wanted to do something useful.’

‘Go home, miss. It’s getting late and a young person like yourself shouldn’t be roaming the streets unaccompanied.’

Lottie was about to tell him she was quite capable of looking after herself, when she heard footsteps approaching. She turned to see Lieutenant Gillingham striding towards them.

‘It’s Lottie, isn’t it?’ He came to a halt beside her. ‘I thought I recognised you.’

‘Yes, sir.’ She bobbed a curtsey, out of habit rather than necessity. Even this far from the inn she had a sneaking feeling that Mrs Filby might be hiding around the next corner, watching her.

‘What are you doing here on your own?’

The porter cleared his throat noisily. ‘I told her it was late for a young lady to be wandering the streets, sir.’

‘Yes, thank you. I know this lady and I’ll see her safely home.’

The porter muttered something as he stalked off to deal with a drunk who was swearing and threatening to punch a young doctor.

A sudden thought occurred to Lottie and she shivered. ‘It’s not Private Ellis, is it, sir? He hasn’t taken a turn for the worse?’

Gillingham smiled and shook his head. ‘As far as I know, Ellis is already back on duty and doing well. I was visiting a patient: my old nanny, God bless her. She’s very frail, but determined to make a full recovery, and she’s the only family I have left now.’ He proffered his arm. ‘Anyway, you must allow me to escort you home.’

‘I can find my own way back to Gresham Street, thank you all the same,’ Lottie said with as much dignity as she could muster.

‘I dare say you could, but I am headed that way, and we could share a cab.’

‘You’re going to The Swan?’

‘My colonel’s lady is arriving on the mail coach from Bath, and I’ve been detailed to meet her, which is why I took the opportunity to visit the hospital. I’ve booked two rooms for us at The Swan and we will travel on to Chatham in the morning.’

‘Oh, well, in that case, thank you.’ Lottie had been prepared to walk, but it was a hot night and there was a sense of unrest in the humid, foul-smelling air. A ride home would be more than welcome.

Gillingham ushered her outside onto the forecourt where a cab had just dropped off a fare. ‘The Swan with Two Necks, Gresham Street, cabby.’ He handed Lottie into the vehicle and climbed in after her. ‘Were you visiting someone in the hospital? It’s not the best place to be during a cholera epidemic.’

‘I wanted to speak to Miss Nightingale.’

‘By Jove, that’s a worthy ambition. Did you succeed?’

‘Yes, I spoke to her, although much good it did me.’

He settled back against the leather squabs. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I want to go to the Crimea. I wanted to join her team of nurses.’

‘Really?’ He eyed her speculatively. ‘Did looking after Private Ellis have anything to do with your decision?’

‘I suppose it did, in a way. I realised that I could do better than waiting hand and foot on travellers at the inn. I was born into an army family, and spent my first six years in India. Talking to Private Ellis brought it all back to me, and suddenly it seemed the most natural thing in the world to want to do something worthwhile. Does that sound silly?’

‘No. It sounds like a brave move. It’s a pity nothing came of it.’

‘Yes, but I’m not giving up yet.’

They lapsed into silence as the cab tooled along the streets, which were much quieter now than they had been when Lottie set out that morning, and they arrived at the inn just as the mail coach from Bath was pulling into the stable yard.

Filby stepped out of the shadows and caught Lottie by the arm. ‘What sort of time do you call this? You was supposed to be back by seven sharp.’

‘I must take the blame for Lottie’s late return, sir,’ Gillingham said firmly. ‘It was entirely my fault.’

‘If you say so, sir.’ Filby cringed visibly. He waited until Gillingham had walked off to greet the colonel’s wife. ‘No good will come of you mixing with the military, you stupid girl. Soldiers and sailors are all the same when it comes to women. D’you get my meaning, you stupid little bitch?’

She wrenched free from his tight grasp. ‘It’s not like that. I met the lieutenant by pure chance.’

Filby caught her a stinging blow on the side of her face. ‘Don’t cheek me, miss.’

‘I say, was that really necessary?’ A silvery voice rang out across the stable yard as a young, fashionably dressed woman descended from the mail coach.

‘I’d leave it be, my lady,’ Gillingham said in a low voice.

‘No, Farrell, I won’t.’ She moved across the yard with the grace of a ballerina. ‘You, fellow with the leather apron.’ She addressed Filby, who stared at her, apparently dumbstruck by her beauty. ‘What do you mean by slapping the poor girl’s face? What could she have done to deserve such harsh treatment?’

‘Who are you, ma’am?’ Filby stuttered, puffing out his cheeks.

‘I am Lady Aurelia Dashwood, sir. And who may you be?’

Gillingham moved swiftly to her side. ‘This is Filby, my lady. He is the landlord.’

‘Landlord or no, what right have you to strike this young woman?’ Aurelia demanded angrily.

‘She is a maidservant, employed by me, my lady.’ Filby dropped his voice to a mere whisper. ‘Begging your pardon, ma’am.’

Lottie had an almost irresistible desire to giggle at the sight of Filby grovelling before the elegant lady. ‘I’ll get on with my work then, shall I, guv?’

‘Yes,’ Filby said with a vague wave of his hand, ‘and don’t let it happen again.’

Aurelia laid a gloved hand on Lottie’s shoulder. ‘What is your name?’

‘Lottie, my lady.’

‘Well, Lottie, my maid was taken ill at the start of the journey from Bath and I had to send her home. I need someone to help me with my toilette.’ She turned to Filby with a smile that would have melted the hardest heart. ‘I take it you have no objections, landlord?’

‘No, my lady.’ Filby bowed from the waist. ‘Of course not. If there is anything you need, you have only to ask.’

Gillingham glanced at the luggage that was piling up on the cobblestones. ‘Is this all yours, my lady?’

‘Of course it is, Farrell. Have you ever known me to travel light?’ Aurelia laughed and tossed her head. The feathers in her dashing straw bonnet waved and danced, and her golden ringlets bobbed with each movement of her head.

Lottie could only stare at her, entranced. She had never seen anyone as lovely or as lively and spirited as the colonel’s wife. ‘I’ll see that the lady’s baggage is taken to her bedchamber,’ she volunteered. ‘Which room is hers, guv?’

‘Why, you silly girl, the best in the house, of course.’ Filby seemed to recover from his daze and he strode into the middle of the yard. ‘Jem, where are you, boy? Take the lady’s luggage to room ten.’ He bowed to Aurelia, keeping his head bent low as if addressing royalty. ‘Lottie will show you to your room, my lady. If there is anything we can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.’

Lottie eyed him with distaste. If the silly man bowed any lower he would be in danger of falling flat on his face. She picked up a couple of bandboxes, leaving Jem to bring the heavy items. ‘If you would come this way, my lady …’

‘I’ll see you at supper, Farrell.’ Aurelia patted him on the cheek as she walked past. ‘I’m extremely hungry, so I hope there is something tasty on the bill of fare.’

Gillingham clicked his heels together, staring straight ahead. ‘Wouldn’t you rather dine in the privacy of your room, my lady?’ He lowered his voice. ‘The clientele here might not be to your liking.’

‘Nonsense, Farrell. I’m sure I’ll find it most entertaining.’ Aurelia moved on, pausing to give Jem the benefit of her sparkling smile. ‘What is your name?’

He straightened up, shifting from one foot to the other. ‘Jem, my lady.’

‘Well, thank you for your services, Jem.’

Lottie watched in awe as Lady Aurelia charmed the guard and the coachman who had brought her this far. It seemed she had a smile and a kind word for everyone; Lottie was impressed, and close to falling under her ladyship’s spell. She led the way to number ten, which was the biggest and the best room they had to offer. Even so, as she opened the door and ushered Aurelia inside, Lottie had the feeling that the room, although reasonably clean and comfortable, was not what such a grand lady might expect. An apology tingled on the tip of her tongue as she lit the lamps, but Aurelia uttered a cry of delight.

‘A four-poster bed, how delightful, and such a pretty coverlet.’ She untied her bonnet and laid it on a chair, while she unbuttoned her silk mantle. ‘Charming, utterly charming.’

‘I’m afraid it’s not what you’re used to, my lady.’

Aurelia’s violet-blue eyes danced with amusement. ‘You obviously have no idea what sort of life a soldier’s wife leads. I’ve slept in bivouacs in the most frightful conditions of rain, ice and snow, or blistering heat, not to mention vermin and wildlife of all sorts. There was even a bear who visited camp in Canada. So you see, Lottie, this is luxury indeed, but only for one night as we travel on tomorrow.’ She breathed a sigh of relief as she laid her jacket on the chair. ‘It’s very hot. I think we might have a storm tonight.’

‘It would clear the air.’ Lottie moved to open the door and Jem struggled in, laden with cases, a valise and two carpetbags, which he set down on the floor. ‘There’s still a small trunk, my lady. Shall I bring that too?’

Aurelia cast an eye over the luggage. ‘It would be better stored somewhere until the morning, if you would be so kind, Jem?’

His cheeks flushed bright red and he grinned sheepishly. ‘Of course, my lady. It’s no trouble at all.’

‘Wait a moment, please.’ Aurelia opened her reticule and took out a coin, which she pressed into his hand. ‘Thank you, Jem. That will be all for now.’

He backed out of the room, still grinning.

‘What a charming young man.’ Aurelia cast a curious glance at Lottie. ‘And good-looking too – is he your sweetheart?’

‘Certainly not.’ Lottie had not meant to speak so sharply. ‘I’m sorry, my lady, but Jem is more like a brother to me. You might say we grew up together.’

‘Really? How interesting. You must have been very young when you began working here.’

‘I was twelve, my lady.’

‘And this is what you wanted to do, is it?’

‘I didn’t have any choice in the matter.’

‘I suppose not. One is inclined to forget how hard life is for most people.’ Aurelia sighed, shaking her head. ‘I don’t think I’ll change for dinner, but I would like to wash the dust of the road off before I go down to dine.’ She slanted a curious look in Lottie’s direction. ‘Can you dress hair, Lottie?’

‘I’ve practised on May and Ruth; they’re the other chambermaids. We do it for each other if and when we get a free moment, which isn’t often. It’s always busy here.’

‘We’ll see how good you are then, but I’d like some hot water first.’

‘Of course, my lady.’ Lottie bobbed a curtsey. ‘I’ll fetch it right away.’

In the kitchen Lottie found Mrs Filby and Jezebel talking in loud whispers while Ruth rushed round taking food to the dining room. Mrs Filby turned on Lottie with a low growl. ‘I blame you for this.’

‘What have I done now?’ Lottie looked from one to the other in astonishment. It was not uncommon to get the blame for anything that went wrong, but she had been out all day.

‘I let you take a day off and you breeze in late on the arm of that lieutenant who brought the injured soldier to the inn,’ Mrs Filby said angrily. ‘I don’t know what went on between you two, but it must have been something that pleased him or you wouldn’t have been singled out by the lady. You’re forgetting your place, Lottie Lane. You are a skivvy, little more than a slavey, so you can forget the airs and graces.’

‘But that’s not how it was,’ Lottie protested. ‘I bumped into the lieutenant by chance.’

‘So you say.’ Mrs Filby thrust a serving dish into Lottie’s hands. ‘Take this to the dining room and give Ruth a hand. We’re full tonight and rushed off our feet.’

‘Yes, rushed off our feet,’ Jezebel repeated, scowling. ‘You can carve the ham when you’ve finished in the dining room, Lottie. I’ve only got one pair of hands.’

‘I have to take some hot water to her ladyship. She’s getting ready to come down to dine, and she wants me to do her hair.’

‘You’re going to do her hair?’ Mrs Filby and Jezebel exchanged wry glances. ‘I’d like to see that, but she’ll have to wait. Do as I tell you first, and see to the stuck-up bitch when you’ve finished in the dining room.’

There was little that Lottie could do other than to obey her mistress, and then she had to appease Jezebel by carving the ham, which she did to the best of her ability. It was almost an hour later by the time she was free to take the hot water to Lady Aurelia. She opened the door with an apology on her lips, but was met with a sunny smile as Aurelia sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

‘Ah, there you are, Lottie. I seized the opportunity for a quick nap, which is a trick I learned during my husband’s last campaign. I find I can cope with staying up all night as long as I have plenty of naps in the day. You should try it sometime.’ She moved to the washstand. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this. There’s nothing as comforting as dousing one’s hands and face in clean, warm water, unless it’s a long and luxurious bath.’

Lottie filled the washbowl with the rapidly cooling water. ‘I’m sorry I took so long, my lady, but they are short-handed in the kitchen.’

Aurelia splashed her face with water and reached for the towel. ‘How thoughtless of me. I shouldn’t have commandeered your services, but I’m very glad I did. You seem to me to be an extraordinary young woman. Do you ever think about leaving this place and making a life for yourself in the outside world?’

‘Sometimes I do, my lady.’

Aurelia moved to the dressing table and sat down, handing a silver-backed brush to Lottie. ‘Let’s see what you can do with my hair.’ She met Lottie’s curious gaze in the fly-spotted mirror. ‘Tell me how you know Farrell. Did you have an assignation with him?’

Lottie smothered a sigh. Why did everyone jump to the wrong conclusion? ‘No, my lady. It wasn’t like that.’

‘Go on. I’ve known Farrell for at least five years, and I’m very fond of him. Moreover, I trust his judgement: if he thinks you are worth his attention, then I must take note. Tell me how you came to meet him.’

Lottie launched into an explanation as to how she had come to know Lieutenant Gillingham, and how they had met again at the Middlesex Hospital. Aurelia was a good listener and she seemed genuinely interested.

‘I’ve finished, my lady,’ Lottie said, fastening the last curl with a hairpin. ‘Is it satisfactory?’

Aurelia turned her head from side to side, examining her reflection from as many angles as possible. ‘More than satisfactory, Lottie. You have a natural gift for dressing hair. My maid could not have done better.’

‘I’m so glad you’re happy with it, my lady.’

Aurelia twisted round on the stool. ‘You know you’re wasted in a place like this. I’m not certain about nursing as a career, but I would gladly take you on as lady’s maid. You’re quick and intelligent and you’d pick it up easily.’

‘I hadn’t even considered that prospect, my lady, but I would like to do something for the brave men who risk their lives to keep us all safe.’

‘I applaud your sentiments, but you’ll forgive me if I don’t share your romantic notions of war and the battlefield. It’s a beastly business, Lottie.’

‘But you married a soldier, my lady.’

‘My family, the de Morgans, have a long military history. My father, being the second son, naturally went into the army, but when his elder brother succumbed to typhus, Papa inherited the earldom. I knew what I was letting myself in for when I married Dashwood, but it’s not the life for everyone.’ She rose from the stool. ‘I like you, Lottie, and I am in dire need of a maidservant. Unfortunately, Merriweather, who has been with me since I was a child, is not in the best of health and I think her days of following the drum are coming to an end. Would you be interested in taking her place?’

‘Taking her place, my lady?’ Lottie stared at her in disbelief. ‘Are you offering me the position?’

Aurelia gave her a long look. ‘Yes, I am. But you needn’t give me an answer at this very moment. Think about it tonight, and if you decide to throw your lot in with me, be ready first thing in the morning.’

‘Thank you, my lady.’ Dazed and taken by surprise, Lottie could hardly believe her ears, but Aurelia had picked up her fan and was heading for the door.

‘I’ll need you to show me to the dining room, Lottie. I’m hungry and I intend to eat my fill, as I always do before we embark on a campaign.’

Lottie rushed to open the door for her. ‘Are you planning to accompany your husband, my lady?’

‘It goes without saying. I believe an army wife should support her husband, no matter what. We’ll be leaving for the Crimea as soon as the order is given.’ She stepped outside, pausing for a moment to glance over the balustrade. ‘You would travel with me, of course.’

‘Do you mean to say that I would be going to the Crimea?’

Aurelia shot her an amused glance. ‘I thought that was what you wanted.’

‘It was – I mean – it is.’

‘Then you accept my offer?’

‘I do, my lady. Yes, indeed I do.’

Aurelia clapped her hands, her eyes shining with delight. ‘I am so pleased. I took to you at once, Lottie, and I know we will get on very well together. I’m not a demanding mistress, although I do like to have everything my own way.’ Her cheeks dimpled prettily and her laughter echoed round the gallery, returning again and again in a merry chorus. ‘You will dine with us tonight to celebrate.’

‘Oh, no, my lady,’ Lottie protested, horrified at the thought. ‘That wouldn’t do at all. What would Mrs Filby say?’

‘Mrs Filby will do as I tell her, and you are now my personal maid and nothing to do with Mr or Mrs Filby. I have appropriated you, Lottie. Lead on.’

Lottie was not at all sure that this was a good idea. The thought of sitting in the dining room together with the other guests and travellers was alien to her. She could barely imagine how it must feel to be waited upon, let alone to have Mrs Filby, Ruth and May at her beck and call. But Aurelia had spoken, and Lottie was coming to the conclusion that Lady Aurelia Dashwood was unused to having her wishes thwarted. She led the way to the dining room where Gillingham was already seated at a table by the window.

He rose to his feet and pulled up a chair. ‘Lady Aurelia, I wondered whether you would be joining me.’

‘Of course I am, Farrell, and so is Lottie.’ Aurelia laughed at his dumbfounded expression. ‘She has agreed to be my personal maid. Merriweather is too old and unwell to accompany me to the Crimea, and it seems that it’s Lottie’s ambition to go there, so we are all happy.’

‘Begging your pardon, my lady.’ Mrs Filby had come up behind them, and she was bristling. Lottie would not have been surprised to see the hairs standing to attention on her head like the hackles on a dog’s back.

‘Yes? What is it?’

Mrs Filby seemed oblivious to Aurelia’s icy tone and haughty stare. ‘Did I hear right, ma’am? You cannot take my servant without a by-your-leave.’

‘Can I not?’ Aurelia threw back her head and laughed. ‘But I can, and I will. Lottie is not your property, and she is free to do as she pleases.’

Breathing heavily, Mrs Filby folded her arms across her chest. ‘We’ll see about that, your ladyship. Wait until Filby hears about this.’

Gillingham glared at her. ‘You do not speak to Colonel Dashwood’s wife in that tone of voice, ma’am. Lady Aurelia has explained the situation and you would do well to accept it with good grace. As far as I can see, you treat your staff abominably, and I’m surprised that any of them remain in your employ.’

‘Well!’ The word escaped in an explosion of indignation. ‘I’ve never been spoken to like that in my whole life.’

‘Then perhaps it’s time someone put you in your place.’ Aurelia sat down and signalled Lottie to follow suit. ‘If you do not wish to serve us, please send someone who will.’

Mrs Filby cast a withering look in Lottie’s direction and stomped off towards the kitchen.

Moments later May arrived at their table with a tureen of beef stew, followed by Ruth with a platter of bread and a dish of butter. Lottie was about to jump to her feet to serve the stew, but a frown from Aurelia made her sink back on her chair. She sent an apologetic look to Ruth, who served them, tight-lipped and unsmiling.

‘Well then, Lottie,’ Gillingham said cheerfully. ‘So you’re to get your wish after all. You’ll be accompanying us when we embark for the Crimea.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Lottie waited for Lady Aurelia to start eating before picking up her spoon. For the first time in her life she was grateful for the strict rules of etiquette that had been drummed into her at school. At least she would not disgrace herself at table. She knew she was being scrutinised and she concentrated on her meal, barely tasting Jezebel’s excellent stew.

Gillingham and Aurelia chatted amicably throughout the meal, and to Lottie’s relief she was not expected to contribute to the conversation. She could feel Mrs Filby’s eyes upon her and the curious stares of the other diners, but eventually the tables were cleared, and Mrs Filby was called away. Even so, Lottie was relieved when Lady Aurelia announced that she was going to retire to her room. They left Gillingham to his brandy and cigar, with Ruth hovering in the background, waiting to make the tables ready for breakfast next morning.

‘You did well tonight,’ Aurelia said as Lottie brushed her hair. ‘You have a natural desire to look after people, and you’ll make an excellent maid. I’m pleased with you already.’ She shook her long golden hair so that it spread about her shoulders like a cloak. ‘I can put myself to bed. I’m not entirely helpless, and you look tired. We need to be up early, so I want hot water and a cup of chocolate at six o’clock on the dot. Good night, Lottie.’

Still in a daze at the sudden turn of events, Lottie made her way to the attic. She felt that she ought to apologise, even though she had done nothing wrong, but Ruth was obviously in a bad mood.

‘You must be off your head. I wouldn’t go to war, even if you gave me a hundred quid.’ Ruth gave her palliasse a shake. ‘Blooming bed bugs. The little devils get everywhere.’

‘I’m bitten all over,’ May complained. ‘I’d like just once to sleep in one of them four-posters we’ve got in the best bedchambers, with freshly laundered cotton sheets and an embroidered coverlet.’

‘Lottie will be sleeping in a tent with nothing but a horse blanket between her and the damp earth,’ Ruth said spitefully. ‘You wouldn’t find me camping on a battlefield.’

‘You won’t put me off.’ Lottie lay down on top of the patchwork coverlet. It was hot beneath the eaves and her bedding had also become infested, which only added to her discomfort. ‘Anything would be better than living like this.’

‘Don’t say things like that.’ May covered her head with the grimy sheet. ‘We got no choice.’

‘Speak for yourself. I’m going to find meself a rich husband, or at least one what can pay the rent each week and put food on the table.’ Ruth reached for a clay pipe and a poke of tobacco.

‘Don’t you dare light that pipe,’ Lottie said angrily. ‘You’ll set the place on fire one night.’

‘Yes, and the smoke makes me cough,’ May added. ‘Go to sleep, Ruth. We’ll be up again in a few hours.’

Lottie lay back and closed her eyes. This would be her last night sleeping in the attic, which was stifling in summer, freezing in winter, and damp and draughty in the intervening months. She might not be able to fulfil her ambition to nurse the wounded, but she would serve her country in a different way. She had known Lady Aurelia Dashwood for only a few hours, but already she was her devoted servant. Morning could not come soon enough, and an added bonus – she might meet Gideon again.




Chapter Four (#ud960f709-5c08-5551-98ef-43269ff9918b)


Jem was up and about, going through his seemingly endless set of chores before the first mail coach was due to arrive. Lottie could hear his cheery voice as she made her way down the wooden stairs to the yard, where the ostlers were preparing the horses and the young stable boy was adding to the already festering muck heap in the corner of the stable yard.

‘Jem.’ Lottie had to raise her voice in order to be heard above the clatter of horses’ hoofs and the deep drone of men’s voices. ‘Jem, will you fetch her ladyship’s luggage?’

He leaned the besom against the wall and came towards her, wiping his hands on the seat of his breeches. ‘So it’s true. You really are leaving us?’

‘It’s a wonderful opportunity, Jem. I’ll get the chance to travel and see the world.’

‘You’ll see a lot of things you don’t want to see,’ he said grimly. ‘I ain’t been to war, but I’ve heard the soldiers talking, and it don’t appeal to me. I’d rather slave away for Filby than risk my neck on the battlefield.’

‘I’m a lady’s maid now. Lady Aurelia has been on numerous campaigns with her husband, and she’s come through without a scratch. I’ll be with her, so I’ll be safe, and I might be of service to some of the wounded soldiers.’

Jem’s habitual grin faded into a frown. ‘You’d best watch out for them soldiers, or who knows how you might end up?’

‘I’m not a fool,’ Lottie said angrily. ‘I know what I’m doing, and you might at least try to be happy for me. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life working from dawn to dusk for a pittance.’

‘Maybe you’re right. I suppose joining the army would be a way out. It can’t be worse than this. Anyway, Trotter was telling me that the railways will put an end to mail coaches, and it’s already happening.’

‘You don’t have to be a soldier in order to get away from here. You could become an engine driver or a guard on the railway. You could do anything you set your mind to,’ Lottie said thoughtfully. ‘Anyway, you’d best fetch her ladyship’s things. Lieutenant Gillingham ordered the carriage for half-past six, so it should be here soon.’

Jem gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘Take care of yourself, Lottie. I’ll miss you, girl.’

‘I’ll miss you too.’ Lottie watched him as he loped off to take the outside stairs two at a time. She was sorry to leave Jem, who had been her true friend, but her spirit of adventure had been awakened and she was eager for new experiences. She waited, clutching the small valise that contained Lady Aurelia’s valuables, and it occurred to her suddenly that she ought to inform Uncle Sefton of her change in circumstances. It would be several months until she attained her majority, and he was still her guardian, even though she had not had any contact with him since starting work at The Swan. She was still thinking about it when Lady Aurelia appeared on the balcony, with Jem close behind staggering beneath the weight of her various valises and carpet- bags.

Lottie’s stomach churned with excitement as she heard the sound of approaching horses’ hoofs and the hired carriage was driven into the stable yard and came to a halt. Gillingham strolled out of the taproom and tossed a coin to Jem as he hefted the luggage into the growler.

‘Good grief,’ Aurelia said, laughing. ‘I thought I was travelling lighter than this. I’m afraid you’ll have to sit on the box with the driver, Farrell.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t worry, my lady. I intend to ride and I’ve hired a hack for the purpose.’

‘I would prefer to ride also but, as you see, I am not dressed for it.’ Aurelia glanced down at her elegant travelling outfit. ‘At least when I’m abroad I can get away with conduct that would be considered unseemly at home.’ She turned to Lottie with a mischievous chuckle. ‘Are you sure you want to be connected to a woman who breaks all the rules?’

‘More than ever, my lady,’ Lottie said firmly. ‘I want to be just like you.’

‘D’you hear that, Farrell? I have a staunch ally at last. Poor Merriweather was forever telling me that my actions were not those of a lady, and now I have carte blanche to do exactly as I please.’

Farrell helped Jem to place the trunk on end beside the driver. ‘I doubt if the colonel will approve, my lady.’

‘Dashwood adores me, as you very well know. He supports me in all that I do.’ Aurelia allowed Jem to hand her into the carriage. ‘Come along, Lottie. We’ve thirty or forty miles to go before we’re in Chatham, and by the looks of that clear sky it’s going to be another hot day.’ She settled herself in the corner. ‘You may sit beside me. I don’t expect you to perch on the roof or run behind.’

Lottie climbed in and made herself as small as possible, not wanting to cramp her mistress or to crease the voluminous skirts of Aurelia’s pale green poplin de laine gown. ‘I learn quickly, my lady, but this is all very new to me.’

‘Of course it is,’ Aurelia agreed, smiling. ‘You have had an extraordinary life for one so young, and I promise you it will be anything less than ordinary from now on.’ Aurelia closed her eyes. ‘I am going to have a nap. Wake me when we stop to change horses.’ Her perky straw hat slipped over one eye as she leaned back against the squabs.

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived outside the house in Chatham. Set in a large garden, surrounded by trees, with well-kept lawns and neat flowerbeds, the three-storey building looked comfortable and solid. The white stucco gleamed in the afternoon sunshine and pink roses clambered over the stone portico. A maidservant rushed out, followed by a man wearing a leather apron, who hefted the trunk from the driver’s seat as if it were filled with feathers instead of the weighty contents of Lady Aurelia’s clothes press.

Farrell had ridden alongside them for most of the way, but had gone on ahead when they neared their destination, and was waiting to hand Aurelia from the carriage. Lottie was the first to alight and she stood on the path feeling shy and apprehensive. It was too late to change her mind, but she felt shabby and out of place in her new surroundings. The housemaid fixed her with a curious stare, but neither of them spoke.

Aurelia sailed into the house, leaving Lottie little alternative but to follow in her wake.

The interior was spacious, and cool air wafted in through open windows, adding the scent of roses to that of lavender and beeswax polish. The stark whiteness of the walls was relieved by large oil paintings, mostly scenes of victorious military battles, and a cocked hat had been left on a pier table as if to emphasise the fact that this was a soldier’s residence. Aurelia took off her straw bonnet and tossed it in the air so that it landed on a marble bust of the Iron Duke.

Her merry laughter seemed to bring the silent house to life. ‘A direct hit, every time.’ She turned to Gillingham. ‘I’ll wager you couldn’t do as well, Farrell.’

He tucked his shako under his arm. ‘I’m sure you’re right, my lady.’

‘Don’t be a spoilsport.’ Aurelia snatched the hat from the duke, where it had hung over his sightless eyes at a rakish angle, and she placed it on Gillingham’s head. ‘Give me a smile, Farrell.’ She seized his shako and put it on. ‘How do I look?’

‘Dashing, as always, my lady.’

‘Lottie, remind me to order a shako from my milliner.’ Aurelia peered at her reflection in one of the many gilt-framed mirrors. ‘It is rather fetching.’

Lottie stood beside the housemaid, watching this piece of theatre wide-eyed. She had not imagined that titled ladies behaved with such frivolity, and there seemed to be little difference between Ruth’s flirtatious behaviour and that of the colonel’s wife. She glanced at the maid, expecting to see her looking shocked or at least a bit surprised by her mistress’s antics, but she appeared to be unmoved and was staring straight ahead.

‘Is it always like this?’ Lottie whispered.

‘This is nothing. Wait until they have a party, then you’ll see some goings-on.’ The maid jumped to attention at the sound of her name.

‘Tilda.’ Aurelia snapped her fingers. ‘Stop gossiping and bring tea and cake to the drawing room. By the way,’ she added casually, ‘Merriweather is unwell and will be staying in Bath for the foreseeable future. Miss Lane is my new maid.’

Tilda bobbed a curtsey. ‘Yes, my lady.’

‘Is the master at home?’ Aurelia demanded im-periously. ‘He should have been here to greet me.’

‘I believe he’s with Lady Petunia, my lady.’ Tilda curtseyed again before hurrying off.

‘If I didn’t know better I would be jealous of Lady Petunia.’ Aurelia posed in front of the mirror, making a moue at her reflection as she tilted the shako at various angles.

Gillingham crossed the floor to stand behind her. ‘You know, you do look splendid. In my hat.’ He tweaked it off her head. ‘But it’s a trifle too large for you, my lady.’

‘Spoilsport.’ She turned to face him. ‘Come and have some tea, Farrell, and stop calling me “my lady”. Lottie is one of us now. She won’t gossip if you call me Aurelia.’ She shot a sideways glance at Lottie. ‘You won’t, will you? I’m sure I can trust you to be discreet.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ Lottie followed Tilda’s example and curtseyed. ‘I mean, no. I won’t gossip. I saw things you wouldn’t credit when I was at The Swan.’

‘I’m sure you did.’ Aurelia beckoned to the manservant who was standing by the entrance with the pile of baggage. ‘Hansford, take my things to my room and show Lottie to her quarters. She will have Merriweather’s room.’

Hansford bowed. ‘Yes, my lady.’

‘When you’ve done that I want you to find the colonel and inform him of my arrival.’ She slipped her hand through the crook of Gillingham’s arm. ‘Dashwood simply adores Lady Petunia. I am definitely second best.’

‘Never,’ Gillingham said gallantly. ‘You have never come second to anything or anyone in your whole life, Aurelia.’

She laughed and pinched his cheek as they strolled off, arm in arm.

Lottie turned to Hansford. She had thought him surly at first, but now she could see that a long scar on the right side of his face was the cause of his permanent scowl. She simply had to satisfy her curiosity. ‘Who is Lady Petunia?’

‘Ask no questions and you’ll be told no lies.’ He picked up as much of the luggage as he could carry. ‘What happened to Merriweather? Why are you here instead of the old girl?’

‘I don’t know exactly. I think she was taken ill. That’s what her ladyship told me.’

‘Where did she find you?’ Hansford demanded as he limped off, burdened by his heavy load. ‘You smell like a taproom.’

Lottie sniffed her sleeve and her heart sank. He was right. Her clothes were impregnated with the smell of beer and tobacco smoke, but she had never noticed it until now. She followed him towards the back stairs. ‘I worked in a London coaching inn.’

He said nothing, concentrating all his energy on mounting the narrow staircase. He came to a halt on the landing and dumped the baggage on the floor, flexing his fingers. ‘I’d keep out of the servants’ quarters if I was you; at least until you’ve got rid of that stink. Mrs Manners, the housekeeper, don’t approve of public houses. If she thinks you’ve got loose morals you’ll be out on the street afore you can say knife.’

‘I am very respectable,’ Lottie said stiffly. ‘And Lady Aurelia hired me, so if Mrs Manners doesn’t like it she knows what she can do.’

‘Ho, like that is it? You’re going to be trouble, I can see that. What’s your name, girl?’

‘It’s Trouble with a capital T.’ Lottie picked up one of the heavier carpetbags. ‘But you may call me Lottie. Now, where do I take this?’

‘Follow me, and less of the cheek. You’d best mind your manners in the servants’ hall. You’ll find it a bit different from working in a hostelry.’ Hansford picked up the bags and led the way along a wide corridor, coming to a halt at the top of the main staircase. ‘This is her ladyship’s room. Open the door for me, there’s a good girl.’

Despite his condescending tone, Lottie did as he asked without any argument. She could hold her own with ostlers, coachmen and male travellers who thought that inn servants were easy game, but for now she would bide her time. She opened the door and stepped inside to the room of her dreams. Furnished in the French style with ornate gilded furniture upholstered in blue toile de jouy fabric, the room was light and sunny. Aubusson rugs placed in appropriate places made pools of delicate colour on the highly polished oak floorboards, and the scent of flowers vied with the lingering fragrance of Aurelia’s perfume. It was a heady mix and to Lottie it seemed a boudoir fit for a princess, let alone the wife of an army colonel.

Hansford dumped the baggage on the floor with a sigh of relief. ‘I dunno how one woman could need to bring so much with her, but it’s the same wherever we go, whether it’s on a campaign abroad or moving between Bath and Chatham.’

‘Do you always travel with them?’ Lottie asked curiously. She had noticed that Hansford walked with a limp. ‘Are you a soldier too?’

‘I was, until I was wounded in Afghanistan. I was the colonel’s batman in India when he was a captain seconded to the Bombay Sappers. He kept me on as his orderly, even when I was unfit for service.’

‘I see,’ Lottie said slowly. ‘He sounds like a good man.’

‘The best.’ Hansford wiped his hands on his apron. ‘You’ll be expected to unpack and put everything in its place, but I expect you know that.’

Lottie stared at the pile of luggage. ‘I’m used to working hard. This will seem easy by comparison.’

‘Better you than me, that’s all I can say.’ Hansford made a move towards the doorway. ‘Is there anything you want to know before I go?’

‘There’s just one thing,’ Lottie said hesitantly. ‘Who is Lady Petunia? Is she related to the colonel?’

Hansford’s twisted lips curved into a semblance of a smile. ‘You want to know who Lady Petunia is. You’d best follow me. I’m sure the unpacking can wait for five minutes.’

Lottie could not resist the opportunity to see more of the house and its grounds, and she was eager to discover who it was whose charms outdid those of the beautiful, spirited Lady Aurelia. She followed Hansford as he retraced his steps down the back stairs and through a maze of passages until they were outside in a large yard facing the stable block and coach house. He strode on, making surprising speed despite his uneven gait, and Lottie had to run in order to keep up with him. They passed through the kitchen garden where an aged gardener was tending to the rows of leafy vegetables, and at last they came to a low building surrounded by a brick wall. Lottie was used to the smell of horse dung, but the odour emanating from the pen was far worse. She covered her nose with her hand.

‘You’re having me on, Mr Hansford.’

He stopped with his hand on the gate. ‘It’s just Hansford, miss.’

‘All right, Hansford. Then it’s just Lottie from now on.’

He might have been grinning – it was hard to tell – but he unlatched the gate and ushered her into a straw-filled pen. ‘Permission to enter, Colonel?’

‘Permission granted, Hansford.’ A straw hat appeared from the depths of the sty, followed by a corpulent body, and then, as the colonel straightened up, a large black pig emerged.

Hansford closed the gate. ‘Her ladyship has arrived, sir.’

‘By Jove! Is it that time already?’ Colonel Dashwood bent down to stroke the sow’s head. ‘Sorry, old girl. I’ll have to leave you now.’ He looked up and frowned. ‘Who’s this, Hansford? Lady Petunia doesn’t usually like visitors, but she doesn’t seem to mind this young person.’

Hansford pushed Lottie forward. ‘This is Lady Aurelia’s new maid, sir.’

‘What happened to Merriweather? The old girl hasn’t turned up her toes, has she?’

‘I believe not, Colonel. Apparently she is unwell and has remained in Bath.’

‘Sorry to hear that.’ Colonel Dashwood looked Lottie up and down. ‘Pretty girl. Best keep her away from the barracks, Hansford. What’s her name?’

Lottie stepped forward. ‘My name is Lottie Lane, sir.’ She tickled the pig behind the ears.

‘Well, well, Lady Petunia approves. You’ve got a way with animals, Lottie Lane.’

Lottie stared at the pig in wonder. So this was Lady Aurelia’s rival. ‘I worked in a coaching inn until yesterday, Colonel,’ she said, controlling her desire to laugh with difficulty. ‘I’m more used to horses, but she seems like a nice pig.’

‘Lady Petunia is a Black Berkshire. She’s more intelligent than a dog, and most people, if it comes to that.’ Colonel Dashwood produced an apple from his jacket pocket and handed it to Lottie. ‘Give her this. She’s partial to an apple or two.’

Hansford cleared his throat. ‘Lady Aurelia is in the drawing room, sir. Shall I tell her that you’ll be with her as soon as you’ve changed your clothes?’

‘Eh? What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?’

Lottie held the apple on the palm of her hand and Lady Petunia took it with surprising gentleness. ‘She has very good manners, Colonel.’

‘Of course she has. Lady Petunia is a thoroughbred, and better behaved than most of the nobility. I’d have her in the house, but Mrs Manners wouldn’t approve.’

‘I’d best get back to my work,’ Lottie said, hoping that the smell of the pigsty was not clinging to her garments. It was bad enough to know that she stank of the alehouse, without adding animal odours as well.

Colonel Dashwood’s blue eyes twinkled beneath his thick white eyebrows, which matched his bushy white moustache. He was obviously a good many years older than his wife – old enough, Lottie thought, to be her father – but despite his portly frame and weather-beaten features, he had a kindly expression. During her eight years at The Swan, Lottie had learned a great deal about human nature, and her instincts told her that here was a man she could trust. She even liked his pig.

‘I’ve laid out your uniform, Colonel,’ Hansford said tactfully. ‘You have a regimental dinner to attend this evening, if you recall, sir?’

‘Dash it, I’d quite forgotten.’ Colonel Dashwood patted Lady Petunia’s head. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, old girl. I must leave you now.’ He followed Lottie from the sty. ‘Make sure you fasten the gate securely, Hansford. She got into the vegetable garden yesterday. Figgis was very upset.’

‘I will, don’t worry, sir.’ Hansford stayed back to make sure that Lady Petunia would not escape again, and Lottie followed the colonel into the house. To her surprise he retraced the route that Hansford had taken and entered through the scullery.

‘Where’s Hansford?’ he demanded, lowering himself onto a wooden stool. ‘I want him to help me off with my boots. Mrs Manners will have a fit of the vapours if I bring pig muck into the house.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Hansford? Where is the fellow?’

Lottie hesitated, wondering what was expected of her. It would not be the first time she had helped a gentleman off with his boots, but she was not at the inn now. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Hansford out in the yard, deep in conversation with Tilda. ‘Can I help you, sir?’

Colonel Dashwood puffed out his cheeks and his moustache bristled. ‘Where is Hansford? This isn’t a task for a slip of a girl like you.’

‘Let me try, sir. I see a lady in black bombazine coming this way. Could it be Mrs Manners?’

‘Pull off me boots, girl. What are you waiting for?’ Colonel Dashwood held up one chubby leg, turning red in the face with the effort.

Lottie grasped the toe and heel of the muddy boot, gave it a twist and a tweak and tugged hard. It slipped off as if the colonel’s foot had been greased. She used the same technique to pull off the other boot.

‘Well done,’ Colonel Dashwood said, wheezing a sigh of relief. ‘Hansford couldn’t have made a better job of it.’ He rose to his stockinged feet. ‘Take them into the boot-room. Hansford will clean them up.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Lottie slipped out into the yard just as Mrs Manners entered the scullery. She did not want to meet the housekeeper until she had had a chance to change, and she loitered outside until the sound of voices died away. She tried hard not to stare at Hansford and Tilda, who made an unlikely pair, and she looked up into the blue sky, watching the swifts dart and dive about like airborne acrobats.

Hansford turned his head to look at her. He broke off the conversation and strolled across the cobblestones, followed by Tilda. ‘I’ll see to them.’ He took the boots from Lottie. ‘You’d best clean yourself up too.’

‘You’ve got pig muck on your boots and the hem of your skirt.’ Tilda put her head on one side. ‘And your clothes smell something awful.’

‘I know. You don’t have to tell me.’

‘She’ll go mad,’ Tilda said, shaking her head. ‘Mrs Manners can’t stand slovenliness.’ She exchanged glances with Hansford. ‘Tell you what, Lottie, as you’re new here I’ll help you out this once. Leave your boots with Hansford, and I’ll find you a uniform to wear. You can sort your clothes out later.’

‘We have to keep Mrs Manners happy,’ Hansford added. ‘She’s a tartar when she’s roused.’

‘Why does the colonel keep her on?’ Lottie asked curiously. ‘Even he seems to be scared of her.’

‘Who knows?’ Hansford walked off towards the stables.

‘Come on.’ Tilda opened the scullery door. ‘We’ll get you something from the cupboard where Mrs Manners keeps the uniforms.’

The linen cupboard was situated at the end of a wide passage next to the housekeeper’s office. It appeared to be locked, but Tilda jiggled the door and it opened. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned. ‘Hansford was meant to fix this, but it’s handy being able to get a clean uniform or apron without having to grovel to Mrs Manners.’ She selected a black cotton dress and held it up against Lottie. ‘That looks about your size. You can change in the broom cupboard. I’ll keep a lookout for Mrs M.’

Minutes later Lottie emerged from the stuffy cupboard. ‘It fits.’

‘I knew it would,’ Tilda said smugly. ‘You can wash your duds in the scullery when we’ve finished clearing away the supper things. They’ll dry overnight in the laundry room.’

‘Thank you.’ Lottie held out her hand, but Tilda ignored the friendly gesture.

‘I only done it to please Herbie. He seems to think you’ll be good for her ladyship. She led poor old Merriweather a real dance, I can tell you.’

‘Herbie?’ Lottie stared at her, confused.

‘Hansford to you. We’re stepping out together, in case you hadn’t noticed, so hands off.’

‘It’s a promise,’ Lottie said firmly. She could see that Tilda thought she had won a great battle, although it was hard to understand the attraction. Hansford was a good twenty years Tilda’s senior, and his best friend could not in all honesty call him good-looking, but Tilda seemed to think him a great prize.

‘That’s settled then, but don’t expect me to keep getting you out of trouble, because I got better things to do.’ Tilda stalked off towards the kitchen, leaving Lottie to find her own way back to Lady Aurelia’s bedroom, but as luck would have it she turned a corner and came face to face with Mrs Manners.

‘So you are the new lady’s maid.’ Ermintrude Manners looked her up and down. ‘I wasn’t consulted about your appointment.’

Lottie bobbed a curtsey, not knowing what to say or do in such circumstances. It was hardly her fault that the housekeeper had been overlooked.

‘I suppose you understand your duties while you are in this house?’

‘I think so, ma’am.’

‘You address me as Mrs Manners.’

‘Yes, Mrs Manners.’

‘That’s better.’ Mrs Manners frowned thoughtfully. ‘I suppose you will have Merriweather’s old room, although I am loath to surrender it to someone like you.’

‘I can sleep anywhere, Mrs Manners. I shared a room at The Swan; I don’t mind doing so again.’

Mrs Manners flinched visibly. ‘Yes, I heard that you’d been working in a common coaching inn. Well, we’ll have none of your lewd behaviour and bad language in this house, so be warned.’

‘I never swear and I don’t allow men to take liberties,’ Lottie said angrily. ‘I’m a respectable young woman.’

‘So you say, but what were you doing in such a place at all, I might ask?’ Mrs Manners held up her hand. ‘No, don’t answer that. Come with me and I’ll show you to your room. I just hope you will live up to your boast, Miss Lane.’

They climbed the back stairs to the top floor where Lottie discovered she was to have a room of her own. It was large enough for an iron bedstead, a deal chest of drawers, a washstand with a tiled top and splashback, and a small cupboard. The floorboards were scrubbed to snowy whiteness and rag rugs gave the room a homely atmosphere. A dormer window looked out over the front garden, with glimpses of the road between the beech trees. It was not beautiful like Lady Aurelia’s boudoir but it was airy and comfortable.

‘It is not what you are used to?’ Mrs Manners’ sharp voice brought Lottie back from a delightful dream of sleeping on her own for the first time in her life.

‘No, it’s far better than anything I have had before. It’s a delightful room.’

‘Delightful? I’d hardly put it like that. Anyway, it’s yours for the duration of your stay in Chatham, although I doubt if that will be for long.’ Ermintrude Manners was about to leave the room, but Lottie barred her way.

‘I don’t understand. Why do you say that?’

‘You don’t look the type who could stand the life of a camp follower, or the sights and sounds of the battlefield, with gunfire, and mangled bodies lying on the ground and soldiers dying in agony and calling out for their mothers.’

‘Have you ever been on a campaign, Mrs Manners?’

‘Certainly not, but I’ve heard the soldiers’ tales and I’m very glad that I live here, in this lovely house, where I am safe from such horrors. Think hard before you get involved with Lady Aurelia, Miss Lane. Think very hard.’

The mention of Lady Aurelia’s name brought Lottie back to the present with a start. She had almost forgotten that she had duties to perform other than making herself comfortable in her new quarters. ‘I should be unpacking Lady Aurelia’s cases,’ she said urgently.

‘So you should. I was wondering when you were going to remember why you are here.’ Mrs Manners moved a little closer to Lottie, sniffing the air. ‘I suggest you purchase some cologne, Miss Lane. You have a very distinctive odour, and it is not pleasant.’

‘Yes, Mrs Manners, I’ll do that, of course.’ Lottie backed out of the room. ‘Excuse me, ma’am. I have a lot to do.’




Chapter Five (#ud960f709-5c08-5551-98ef-43269ff9918b)


Lottie had barely finished unpacking the large trunk when Lady Aurelia breezed into the room. ‘Heavens, did I bring all that luggage with me?’ She sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘I thought I brought only the bare essentials.’

‘I’m sorry, my lady. I would have been quicker, but I’m not entirely sure where everything goes.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ Aurelia said airily. ‘I’m sure it will come in time, but for now I need you to find a suitable evening gown for me to wear. The regimental dinners are so tedious, but one must attend. I shall need you to accompany me, Lottie.’

‘What do I have to do, my lady?’

‘Very little. You take my cloak and wait for me in the anteroom. It’s only a short walk to the officers’ mess, and I usually make my escape from the proceedings when the ladies leave the gentlemen to their port and cigars. Between you and me I find the other wives a complete bore.’ Aurelia kicked off her shoes and threw herself down on the satin coverlet.

Lottie gazed at the gowns she had unpacked and laid out over the back of a chair. ‘I’m sorry, my lady, but I don’t know which one to pick.’

‘I feel crimson,’ Aurelia said lazily. ‘Magenta is my favourite colour. I intend to be a peacock amongst the dowdy hens.’

It was not hard to find the shimmering silk taffeta gown amongst the paler muslins and satins. Lottie held it up and the creases seemed to iron themselves out as if by magic. Bugle beads glistened on the bodice and she could imagine how it must look by candlelight. ‘It’s beautiful, my lady, but the waist is so small. I’m not sure I could fit into such a gown.’

‘Then it’s lucky you won’t have to.’ Aurelia snapped into a sitting position. ‘You’ll have to lace my stays tightly, or I might have a problem myself.’ She yawned and reclined once again amongst the embroidered pillows. ‘I won’t be able to eat a thing, so you must ask Cook to send a tray to my room when we return. She knows what I like. Wake me up at half-past six, Lottie. I think I’ll take a nap.’

When Lottie first arrived at the officers’ mess, she had not realised that the Dashwoods’ house was adjacent to the barracks. It was a warm evening and Aurelia refused to wear her cloak, leaving Lottie to carry it for her. Colonel Dashwood had changed into mess dress and applied a liberal amount of bay rum to his thinning hair and an additional splash of cologne, which left a perfumed trail in his wake as he escorted his beautiful wife into the building. Lady Aurelia had been less liberal with the scent bottle, but the sunlight played on her golden coronet of curls, and turned the beads on her bodice into molten glass. Her waist, accentuated by the swinging bell of her crimson skirts, was whittled away to a hand span, and her low décolletage was complemented by a ruby and diamond necklace with matching earrings. Lottie basked in her reflected glory. She felt a sense of pride, like an artist who had created a masterpiece for the rest of the world to admire and praise, and it did not matter that her own gown was plain and downright dowdy.

Lady Aurelia outshone all the other women present, and it amused Lottie to see them dragging their husbands into the mess hall in an attempt to keep them at a safe distance from temptation. The unattached officers paid their respects, bowing over Aurelia’s gloved hand while keeping a wary eye on her husband. She greeted them with a pleasant smile and a nod of her head, but her attitude changed subtly when Gillingham approached. Lottie noted with some surprise that her ladyship’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled as she held her hand out to him.

‘Ah, Gillingham,’ Colonel Dashwood said affably. ‘Be so good as to escort my wife to the table while I have a word with the major-general.’ He patted Aurelia on the arm. ‘I’ll join you in a moment, my dear. I need to speak to Fluffy.’

‘Of course, Dashwood. Take as long as you like. I’m in good hands with Farrell.’ Aurelia slipped her hand through the crook of Gillingham’s arm, and they walked off, chatting like old friends.

‘Fluffy?’ Lottie murmured, gazing at the gentleman in question whose mess dress was heavy with gold braid and his chest emblazoned with medals.

‘Major-General Frederick Fothergill, known to his friends as Fluffy.’

She turned to find herself looking into the smiling face of Private Ellis, although she barely recognised him in his smart uniform. His pallor had been replaced by a healthy glow and the ugly bruise on his forehead had already begun to fade.

‘I didn’t expect to see you so soon, although I hoped you might still be here.’

‘I certainly didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to see you again so soon, Lottie.’ He glanced at the velvet cloak she was holding. ‘How did you become involved with Lady Aurelia?’

‘You make it sound like a crime,’ she said, laughing. ‘She has taken me on as her personal maid. I’ve come up in the world from washing out chamber pots.’

He shook his head. ‘You might think differently if her ladyship decides to follow her husband to the Crimea. It’s no place for a woman.’

‘Miss Nightingale doesn’t think so.’

‘Miss Nightingale has no experience of warfare.’ Gideon glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a sharp command. ‘I’m on duty, Lottie. Are you going to wait here for her ladyship? These affairs can go on well into the small hours.’

‘I suppose so. She told me to wait, so I suppose I must.’

‘Private Ellis.’

The staccato bark of his sergeant made Gideon snap to attention. ‘I might see you in between courses.’ He marched into the mess hall and the door closed behind him.

Silence echoed round the anteroom and for a moment Lottie thought that she was alone, but a muffled cough behind her made her turn her head to see a woman wearing the severe black uniform of a lady’s maid. The woman crossed the floor to stand beside her. ‘I’m Maggie Cole, Mrs Fothergill’s maid. You must be standing in for Miss Merriweather.’

‘I’m her replacement – Lottie Lane. Miss Merriweather is remaining in Bath, so I’ve been told.’

‘Poor old thing. She struggled to keep up with her ladyship. Sometimes she’d look so tired you’d wonder how she managed to keep going, so I’m not surprised.’ Maggie put her head on one side. ‘Where did you work before this?’

Lottie hooked the cloak over one arm. ‘I should hang this up or it’ll get creased.’

‘Give it to me and I’ll do it for you.’ Maggie took the garment from Lottie and strolled over to a row of pegs hung with military caps and shakos. She took a couple down and draped them over the back of a chair. ‘That’ll do,’ she said, hanging the cloak on the empty pegs before returning to Lottie’s side. ‘We have to look out for our ladies. Never mind the men, they can sort themselves out.’

‘Do we have to stand here all evening?’ Lottie asked anxiously. ‘I haven’t eaten yet and I’m starving.’

Maggie pulled up two stools, setting them close to the mess hall doors. ‘Leave it to me. I’m used to this game.’ She winked and nodded, turning her head as a door on the far side of the room opened and a procession of waiters marched towards the mess hall carrying silver serving dishes.

Maggie accosted the last one, a young fresh-faced private who looked pale and nervous. ‘Bring us a plate of food, love,’ she said, fluttering her lashes. ‘You wouldn’t see two lovely ladies go hungry, would you?’

He cleared his throat. ‘I’ll get into trouble, miss.’

‘What’s your name, Private?’

‘Perks, miss.’

‘Your first name, Perks.’

His blush deepened. ‘I have to go, miss.’

Maggie clutched his sleeve. ‘You can tell me, Perks.’

‘Rodney, miss.’

‘A very nice name, Rodney. I’ll see that the major-general hears about it if anyone says anything untoward. Bring us a small plateful of something tasty, there’s a good fellow.’

He nodded and hurried into the mess hall just as the doors were about to close. Maggie turned to Lottie with a smug smile. ‘See! That’s how you do it. We’ll have the tastiest morsel he can find, bless him.’

‘Poor boy,’ Lottie said softly. ‘You embarrassed him, Maggie.’

‘He’ll get over it, and I’ll give him a kiss to reward him for his trouble.’

‘I thought all ladies’ maids were prim and proper. You’re not a bit like that.’

Maggie threw back her head and laughed. ‘I am when it’s necessary. You’ll learn the tricks of the trade, Lottie my girl. But my motto is to have as much fun as possible while I’m young enough to enjoy myself.’

‘I suppose I can’t argue with that.’

‘My, you’re the serious one, aren’t you?’ Maggie eyed her curiously. ‘You never answered my question about your last position. Were you in service?’

‘Not really. I was a maid of all work in a coaching inn.’

‘Well, I never did. What with you speaking like the gentry and all that, I would have thought you were a convent girl. As for me, I was raised in the foundling hospital and sent into service when I was eleven. I don’t know who my ma and pa were and I don’t suppose I’ll ever find out.’

Maggie broke off as the waiters teemed out of the mess hall with their empty dishes. She winked at Private Perks as he hurried past. ‘Don’t forget us, Rodney, love.’

‘You shouldn’t tease him,’ Lottie said, trying not to giggle. ‘He’s just a boy.’

‘They’re all boys, but that doesn’t stop the army sending them into battle. They’ll grow up soon enough.’

‘Have you seen military service, Maggie?’

‘No, but I used to step out with a sapper. He’d seen conflict, and from what he told me it wasn’t pretty. I’m glad that Mrs Fothergill isn’t the sort of army wife who feels she has to follow her husband to war. She’s happy to stay at home and so am I.’

‘Lady Aurelia isn’t like that.’

Maggie pulled a face. ‘She’s got quite a reputation, has that one. You’ll find out, Lottie. I just hope you’re up to the challenge.’ She swivelled round on her stool as the waiters reappeared. This time they were empty-handed, except for Perks. He thrust a plate of food into Maggie’s hands. ‘That’s all I could get, miss.’

She blew him a kiss. ‘Thank you, Rodney. I’ll love you for ever.’

He dashed into the mess hall, leaving them with bread, cheese and a slice or two of roast chicken.

‘I do hope he doesn’t get into trouble,’ Lottie said through a mouthful of cheddar.

‘This will do, but he’d better bring us some dessert, or I’ll be very cross with that young man.’ Maggie bit into a hunk of bread. ‘He won’t warrant a kiss unless I get a bowl of strawberries and cream or some fruit jelly.’

‘Are we the only ladies’ maids in the camp?’ Lottie selected a piece of chicken.

‘The wives of the more junior officers are more likely to live in the town, and they’ll have a servant or two, but not like us.’ Maggie licked her fingers. ‘We’re far superior to most. Just remember that, my friend.’ She slid off her stool. ‘I’m going outside for a breath of air, but I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

Maggie’s idea of time seemed to be elastic and she was gone for such a long time that Lottie became worried and she went to open the door and look outside. Darkness was falling but she could just make out Maggie, who was sharing a cigarillo with the sentry. The end of the butt glowed in the dusk and puffs of smoke floated up into the sky.

‘Maggie,’ Lottie said as loudly as she dared. ‘They’ve cleared away the main course.’

Maggie took a last drag on the cigarillo before handing it back to the man on duty. ‘Ta, love. I needed that.’ She sashayed towards Lottie, exhaling smoke. ‘Don’t look so shocked. I enjoy a smoke just as much as the men.’

‘I was just thinking that you’d both be in trouble if you were caught,’ Lottie said calmly.

‘Life’s no fun unless you take a chance or two.’ Maggie opened the door. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for dessert.’ She linked her hand through Lottie’s arm. ‘Come on, love.’

They arrived back to find Private Perks standing self-consciously by the door, clutching a plate of strawberries and cream. Maggie released Lottie and snatched it from him. ‘You’re a darling, Rodney. You must be your mother’s pride and joy.’

He blushed to the roots of his blond hair. ‘I can’t get you any more food, miss. That’ll have to be the last.’

Maggie popped a strawberry into her mouth. ‘I fancy one of those little cakes,’ she said, eyeing a silver platter laid out with dainty pastries.

‘Let him go,’ Lottie said in a low voice. ‘Don’t tease the poor chap.’

Perks shot her a grateful look. ‘No more, miss. You understand, don’t you?’

‘Of course. We won’t bother you again.’ Lottie stood aside to allow him to escape into the mess hall. ‘Leave him alone, Maggie.’

‘You’re no fun.’ Maggie shoved the plate under her nose. ‘Have a strawberry. They’re delicious.’

The words had barely left her mouth when the door opened and Gideon emerged from the dining room. He came to a halt, frowning. ‘I might have guessed it was you, Miss Cole. Perks doesn’t know if he’s coming or going. He’s just spilled a whole jug of cream on Mrs Fothergill’s skirt.’

Maggie swallowed a mouthful of fruit. ‘Oh dear Lord, she’ll be in a state for days.’ She thrust the plate into Lottie’s hand. ‘Take this, and don’t let on.’ She slid off the stool just as the doors flew open and an irate woman erupted into the anteroom.

‘Oh Lord,’ Maggie said again, sighing. ‘It had to be her, didn’t it?’

‘Look at me, Cole. My best gown is ruined. I’ll make sure that young private is dealt with severely.’ Mrs Fothergill held out the skirts of her purple gown, which clashed horribly with her berry-red hair.

Maggie folded her hands in front of her. ‘I’m so sorry, madam.’

‘This gown cost a small fortune.’ Mrs Fothergill clutched her hands to her bosom. ‘I feel faint. Send for my carriage, Cole. I want to go home.’

Maggie bobbed a curtsey. ‘Yes, madam. Right away.’ She snapped her fingers at Gideon, who had been standing to attention, keeping his eyes averted. ‘You heard Mrs Fothergill, Private Ellis. See that her carriage is brought round immediately.’

Lottie noted the muscle twitching at the corner of Gideon’s mouth and she could see that he was controlling himself with difficulty, but he nodded and strode out of the building.

Lottie herself had no such means of escape and she hid the plate behind her back. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

Mrs Fothergill glared at her. ‘Who are you, girl?’

‘I’m Lady Aurelia Dashwood’s new maid, ma’am.’

‘Merriweather might have had a remedy, but I don’t expect a girl like you to know how to care for expensive fabrics. I’m surprised that Lady Aurelia took you on.’

‘Don’t take your anger out on her, madam.’ Aurelia’s angry voice caused Mrs Fothergill to turn with a start.

‘I didn’t see you there, my lady.’

‘Apparently not.’ Aurelia closed the door to the mess hall, shutting out the burst of conversation and laughter. ‘I saw what happened and it was entirely your fault. I hope you aren’t going to pretend it was Private Perks who was to blame.’

Mrs Fothergill’s cheeks puffed out as if she were about to explode. ‘He was holding the cream jug. It was he who spilled it all over me. Just look at my gown – it’s ruined.’

‘You jogged his hand,’ Aurelia said calmly. ‘You weren’t paying attention, Mrs Fothergill, and now the poor young man is in trouble because of your carelessness. It won’t do, and I shall tell Dashwood so.’

Lottie held her breath, looking from one to the other, although she had no doubt who would win this contest of wills, and Mrs Fothergill seemed to have come to a similar conclusion. She tossed her head and marched towards the outer door. ‘I think I heard the carriage approaching. Come along, Cole. Don’t dawdle.’

Maggie snatched Mrs Fothergill’s cape from its peg and followed her, pausing to turn her head and wink at Lottie before going outside.

‘Well, then, you can put the plate down now, Lottie,’ Aurelia said casually. ‘Poor Perks was in a state of agitated nerves and I think I know whom to blame for that.’ She held up her hand. ‘It’s all right, I’m well aware of Miss Cole’s antics, and if her mistress knew the half of it she would sack the woman on the spot. Don’t allow her to lead you astray.’

‘No, my lady.’ Lottie put the plate on one of the stools. ‘Are we leaving now?’

‘Yes, I’ve had enough chitchat for one evening, and Mrs Fothergill’s unfortunate accident gave me the opportunity to slip away.’ Aurelia beckoned to Gideon, who was standing by the door. ‘Private Ellis, you may see us home.’

Gideon snapped to attention. ‘Yes, my lady.’

‘Miss Lane is new to army life and I shall charge you with the responsibility of showing her around.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ Gideon held the door open for them. ‘It will be my pleasure.’

‘Not too much pleasure, I hope.’ Aurelia tapped him on the arm with her fan. ‘You’ll be leaving soon for the Crimea, Private Ellis. Just remember that.’

‘I will, my lady.’

‘Your cloak, my lady.’ Lottie hurried after her, but Aurelia dismissed the offer with a wave of her hand.

‘It’s a lovely warm evening. I don’t need it.’ She walked on slowly, leaving Lottie and Gideon to follow at a discreet distance.

‘Is it always like this?’ Lottie whispered.

He nodded. ‘Yes, and worse. This was a quiet evening compared to some.’ He leaned closer, lowering his voice. ‘Miss Cole has a certain reputation in camp, Lottie. I wouldn’t get too friendly with her if I were you.’

‘Thank you for your concern, but you are not me, and I am perfectly capable of choosing my own friends.’ Lottie quickened her pace. ‘I’m not a schoolgirl, Gideon. I’ve met all manner of people at the inn, and I can take care of myself.’

‘If you say so.’

She knew she had offended him, and deep down she was grateful for his concern, but it was really none of his business. They walked on in silence and Gideon left them outside the Dashwoods’ residence.

Tilda opened the door and Aurelia stepped into the entrance hall, acknowledging her with a smile. ‘Tell Cook that I’m hungry. Miss Lane would also like some supper.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ Tilda sketched a curtsey and hurried off towards the baize door that separated upstairs from the servants’ domain below stairs.

‘Shall I go and help her?’ Lottie asked anxiously.

‘That’s not necessary. The servants are well aware of your position in the household. You answer to me and me alone.’ Aurelia took off her cloak and handed it to Lottie. ‘You were hard on that young man. You’ve obviously met him before tonight. Is there something I should know?’

‘Not really, my lady. Lieutenant Gillingham brought Private Ellis to the inn after he had an accident. He stayed with us for several days until he was well enough to return to duty.’

‘Ah, I see. So you nursed him back to health – a sure way to win a young man’s heart.’ Aurelia mounted the stairs, pausing to glance over her shoulder. ‘By the way, I’m inclined to agree with Private Ellis. Miss Cole has a reputation for being free with her favours, and is not the sort of person who would normally be employed as a lady’s maid.’

‘That might be said of me, my lady.’

‘True, but you are a completely different proposition from Miss Cole, who lives by her wits and has somehow convinced Mrs Fothergill of her worth. Anyway, I’m tired of the subject now. I want to take off my stays and enjoy my supper. You may have yours when I am comfortably settled in my room.’

It was almost an hour before Lottie was free to sit down to her meal in the kitchen, which was deserted except for Cissy, a small slavey who was mopping the floor. The girl, who could not have been more than eleven or twelve, was heavy-eyed and kept stopping to lean on the mop handle. Lottie could remember her first weeks at the inn, when she had been about the same age as Cissy, and her heart went out to the exhausted child. She rose from the table, leaving the pie and pickles half eaten.

‘Cissy, let me finish that for you.’

‘What?’ Cissy opened her eyes wide, and a look of fear crossed her small features. ‘Don’t tell Cook I wasn’t doing this proper.’

‘You are doing very well considering the fact that you’re half asleep.’ Lottie took the mop from her. ‘I’m good at this and I can finish it in half the time. Why don’t you take my place at the table and finish up the pie for me? I can’t eat it and it would be a shame to leave it for Lady Petunia. I think she’s fat enough already.’

Cissy hesitated, eyeing the pie and licking a dribble of spittle from the corner of her mouth. ‘Are you sure, miss?’

‘Certain sure.’ Lottie worked the mop energetically. ‘Eat up and then you can go to bed. Where do you sleep?’

Cissy had already crammed her mouth full of pie and rendered herself speechless. She jerked her head in the direction of a small corner at the far side of the range.

‘Well, at least it’s warm in winter, even if it’s a bit too cosy in summer.’ Lottie wrung the mop out and took the bucket into the scullery where she emptied it into the stone sink. ‘There you are, Cissy. If you’ve finished I’ll wash the dishes while you get ready for bed.’

‘No, really, miss. I can manage now. Ta for the grub.’

Lottie smiled. ‘All right, if you’re sure. Good night, Cissy. Sleep tight.’

‘Don’t let the bed bugs bite,’ Cissy added, giggling.

Lottie gave her a hug. ‘Get some sleep, nipper.’ She lit a candle and made her way through the silent corridors and up the back stairs, but as she reached the first floor she heard the creak of a floorboard and the patter of footsteps. She blew out the candle. It was an automatic response and it left her in deep shadow, but moonlight filtered through a window at the far end of the landing, and as she peeped round the corner she saw Lady Aurelia heading down the main staircase. She had left her mistress ready for bed, but now it seemed that Lady Aurelia had dressed herself and, judging by the speed of her descent, she was in a hurry.

It was none of her business, but curiosity got the better of her and Lottie followed Aurelia at a safe distance. She wondered if her ladyship was sleepwalking, but she seemed to have a definite purpose, and she unlocked the front door as stealthily as a burglar. She slipped outside, closing it softly behind her.

Lottie hesitated, wondering whether she ought to leave well alone and retire to bed, but she knew she would get little sleep and she followed her mistress, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. A gap between the buildings left her nowhere to hide, and she came to a halt in time to see a tall male figure emerge from a doorway.

Lady Aurelia ran straight into his arms.




Chapter Six (#ulink_3ec60b47-c479-5e63-85cd-d39184660921)


Lottie clamped her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp of surprise. She could not make out the identity of the man who was kissing her mistress, but he was an officer. Then the couple disappeared from view, leaving Lottie to come to terms with what she had just seen. She turned and retraced her steps. She had been dazzled by Lady Aurelia’s charm and beauty, but having married a much older man maybe it was inevitable that she would take a lover. Lottie had certainly witnessed all manner of goings-on during her time at the inn, and perhaps she was being naïve, but she had imagined that officers and their ladies would behave with honour and chivalry, like the knights of old she had read about in school. She entered the house quietly and went straight to her room.

Next morning she awakened early, half expecting to hear the sound of a post horn announcing the arrival of a mail coach, but the house was eerily silent. She was used to sharing her room with Ruth and May, with all the attendant muddle and chaotic mess of discarded stockings and torn petticoats strewn on the floor or hanging from the rafters. The foul city smells had seeped through gaps in the roof tiles, and had mingled with smoke from Ruth’s clay pipe and the cheap scent that May purchased in the market. It was all history now, but perhaps the strangest thing of all was the silence. There had never been a quiet moment at the inn; even in the middle of the night there would have been sounds coming from the stables, and from the street outside. Ruth snored and May often talked in her sleep, shouting out unintelligible words.

Lottie rose from her comfortable bed and had a wash in cold water. She dressed, put up her hair and went downstairs to the kitchen, where Cissy was only just waking up.

‘Oh lawks,’ she said, scrambling to her feet. ‘Is it that late? I’ll be in for a hiding if Cook comes down to find I ain’t lit the fire.’

‘I’m up early, so don’t panic.’ Lottie went to the range and riddled the ashes. ‘We’ll soon get this going.’

Cissy yawned and stretched. ‘I’ll fetch some water. I got to go outside and visit the privy anyway.’ She snatched up two buckets and headed for the scullery.

Lottie was left to make up the fire, and when she was satisfied that the flames had taken hold she left it and went out into the yard. Cissy passed her, slopping water over the cobblestones as she hefted the buckets into the house. ‘I’ll put the kettle on, miss. We’ll have a cup of tea.’

‘That will be nice, thank you.’ Lottie took deep breaths of the clean air, untainted by the stink of the Thames and the manufactories that lined its banks. She could hear the sound of a bugle call and the clatter of booted feet on the parade ground, but tall trees obscured the view of the barrack buildings. There was already a hint of approaching autumn in the air, with a faint blue mist caressing the treetops, and touches of gold and russet amongst the foliage. She had sensed feelings of tension mixed with excitement and apprehension in Gideon during his stay at The Swan, and it was hardly surprising. The men of the Corps of Royal Sappers and Miners were preparing to go to war, and some of them would not return. Perhaps that was why Lady Aurelia had risked her marriage and her reputation by a clandestine meeting with her lover …

‘Ho, ho, young lady. I see you are an early riser like myself.’ Colonel Dashwood emerged from the scullery carrying a bucket of vegetable peelings. ‘My wife never rises before ten o’clock, and often it will be much later.’

‘I didn’t know, sir. I am new to the duties of a lady’s maid.’

‘Then you can offer your services to Lady Petunia, just this once, of course.’ He uttered a deep belly laugh. ‘Here, take the bucket, and I’ll fetch the shovel. I don’t trust the gardeners to muck out thoroughly. Come with me – er – what’s your name? I forget.’

‘Lottie, sir. Lottie Lane.’

‘Well, Lane, you’ll do nicely. I can’t abide women who shrink at the sight of anything remotely agricultural. What d’you say to that?’

‘I’m used to living above a stable, sir. I’ve emptied countless chamber pots onto the dung heap in my time at the inn.’

‘Splendid. You’ll make an excellent trooper, Lane.’

‘Trooper, sir?’

Colonel Dashwood strode on towards the pigsty. ‘You’ll accompany my wife when she travels to the Crimea.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Did she mention it to you?’

‘Yes, sir.’

He came to a halt at the gate. ‘We’ll be leaving for Southampton in six or eight weeks, not sure exactly when, and this mustn’t go any further, Lane. D’you understand?’

Lottie nodded wordlessly. Lady Petunia poked her snout over the top of the gate, gazing at her with small beady eyes. ‘Good piggy,’ Lottie murmured automatically.

‘Scratch behind her ears, the old girl loves that.’ Colonel Dashwood opened the gate and slipped into the pen. ‘Fill the trough, Lane, and fetch me the wheelbarrow. We’ll soon have Lady Petunia’s boudoir as clean and sweet-smelling as that of my dear wife.’

Lottie had much to think about as she made her way back to the house, having done all she could to help Colonel Dashwood make Lady Petunia’s sty habitable for such a grand dame of the pig world. The knowledge that Lady Aurelia was having an affair with one of her husband’s underlings had made her feel uncomfortable. Colonel Dashwood might be a hard taskmaster to his men, but he was like a loving father to his pig, and as they worked together he had treated Lottie as an equal. The news that they would be leaving so soon for the Crimea had come as something of a shock, but she was ready for anything.

She arrived back in the kitchen to find Cook in the middle of preparing breakfast. Tilda was rushing about taking cutlery and crockery upstairs to the dining room, and Cissy was at her usual place at the scullery sink, washing the pots and pans.

‘Where’ve you been, Miss Lane?’ Cook demanded angrily. ‘Her ladyship’s been ringing the bell for the last ten minutes.’

Lottie glanced at the large, white-faced clock on the wall above the mantelshelf. ‘Oh dear, I didn’t realise I’d been gone so long.’

‘You got caught by the colonel,’ Tilda said, chuckling. ‘I can smell Lady Petunia.’

‘Go on up. Never mind stopping to change. You’ll have to explain to her ladyship.’ Cook pointed to the stairs. ‘You’ll learn, miss.’

‘I’m so sorry, my lady,’ Lottie said breathlessly. ‘I was up early and Colonel Dashwood asked me to help him clean out the pigsty.’

Aurelia’s golden hair spilled over her shoulders as she sat in bed propped up against a small mountain of pillows. ‘I might have guessed. Never go outside before eight o’clock or you’ll suffer a similar fate. My husband adores that animal and he’ll commandeer the first person he sees to help him.’ She wrinkled her small nose. ‘You’d best go and change before you help me dress. I can stand most things, but the smell of pig first thing in the morning is not one of them.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ Lottie hesitated in the doorway. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got anything suitable to change into.’

Aurelia raised a delicate eyebrow. ‘Good heavens! Why not? You must have brought clothes with you from your last place of employment.’

‘They all reek of the taproom, my lady.’ Lottie hung her head. ‘I’m told they smell of tobacco and beer, but I was so accustomed to it that I never noticed.’

‘Oh, is that all? I’ve been subjected to far worse during my travels abroad, but I do object to farmyard odours in my boudoir. Go and change immediately.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ Lottie opened the door, but again she hesitated. ‘Is it true that we will be leaving for the Crimea in a few weeks?’

‘Of course. I thought that was understood. Is there a problem, Lottie?’

‘No, my lady. I’ll be proud to follow you wherever you go.’

‘Excellent. But I can see that we will have to get you outfitted for the journey. Can you ride a horse?’

‘I don’t know, my lady. I’ve never tried.’

‘Then we must arrange for you to have lessons. We have so little time in which to prepare. Now, change your gown and then you can help me dress. I’m going riding with Lieutenant Gillingham this morning.’ Aurelia threw back the coverlet and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She paused, frowning thoughtfully. ‘This might be the ideal time for you to have your first lesson. I think I have an old habit packed away somewhere. Merriweather would have known where to put her hands on it, but I want you to find it and try it on. We must be close enough in size.’ She stood up and stretched. ‘I’ll ask Lieutenant Gillingham to detail a man to ride with you.’

Hansford had to be called upon to bring a brassbound trunk down from the attic, which he placed in a spare bedroom for Lottie and Tilda to unpack. A strong smell of lavender filled the air as the sprigs were disturbed, sending showers of tiny blue flowers onto the polished floorboards. Lottie almost forgot the reason for their search as they lifted the delicate fabrics and shook out the creases of silk afternoon gowns, sprigged muslins, and cool cottons. At the very bottom they discovered the cream sateen riding habit. The lavender seemed to have kept the moths at bay and the gown was as good as new.

‘I wonder if this will fit me.’ Lottie held it up against her. ‘Why would clothes like this have been put away and forgotten?’

‘That’s what the rich people do.’ Tilda scrambled to her feet with a feather fan clutched in her hand. She strutted round the room, fanning herself and then stopping to peer over the top, fluttering her eyelashes. ‘Look at me, I’m a titled lady at a ball and you’re a handsome gentleman.’

‘You are a silly-billy, Tilda,’ Lottie said, laughing. She cocked her head on one side, listening. ‘Someone’s coming. Quick, put the rest away or we’ll be in trouble.’

They had just folded the last gown and put it in place when Mrs Manners poked her head round the door. ‘What are you doing in here, Tilda? Get back to the kitchen at once.’

Lottie closed the lid of the trunk with a snap. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Manners. It’s my fault. Lady Aurelia wanted me to find her old riding habit and I asked Tilda to help.’

‘It’s not your place to give orders, Miss Lane. However, I’ll overlook it this time as you were both doing something for her ladyship.’ Mrs Manners shooed Tilda out of the door. ‘Get along with you. Do I have to tell you everything twice?’

‘No, Mrs Manners. Sorry, Mrs Manners.’ Tilda’s voice faded into the distance.

Left on her own, Lottie tried on the riding habit and was surprised to find that it fitted as if it had been made for her. She studied her reflection in the cheval mirror that stood in the corner of the room, and it seemed as though she was looking at a complete stranger. She lifted her hand and waved to make sure that her eyes were not playing tricks on her, and she smiled. The elegant young lady waved back and smiled. It seemed like a miracle – a maid of all work at the inn had suddenly been transformed into a lady. Her smile faded. She might be dressed up, but she was still Lottie Lane, a common girl from the tavern. She picked up the long, trailing skirts of the habit and made her way back to Lady Aurelia’s room.

‘You’ll do.’ Aurelia looked her up and down. ‘But you cannot go riding without a hat. I’m sure I must have one that will go with that habit.’ She moved gracefully to one of the cupboards, which lined an entire wall, and flung it open.

The sight of shelves filled with headwear of all shapes and sizes made Lottie catch her breath. This was one cupboard that she had yet to explore, but the colourful assortment of hats and bonnets decorated with flowers, bows and feathers was dazzling. Aurelia selected a small straw hat with a half veil. She tossed it to Lottie. ‘Try that one.’

Lottie attempted to balance it on top of her head, but it slid over one eye. ‘It’s too small, my lady.’

‘Nonsense.’ Aurelia snatched a pearl-headed hat-pin from her dressing table and advanced purposefully on Lottie. With a deft movement she thrust the pin into the straw and secured it through a loop of hair. ‘There you are. Perfect. Now come along, Lottie. I sent a note to Lieutenant Gillingham requesting him to find someone to give you a riding lesson. They’ll be waiting for us.’

Lieutenant Gillingham leaped to attention when Aurelia approached, closely followed by Lottie. ‘Good morning, my lady.’ He bowed from the waist. ‘A lovely day for a ride.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Aurelia said primly.

Lottie caught her breath as she realised that the soldier holding the reins of her mount was none other than Private Ellis.

Aurelia greeted him with a curt nod. ‘I take it that you will be instructing Miss Lane today, Private?’

‘Yes, my lady.’ Gideon stood stiffly to attention, staring straight ahead.

‘Excellent.’ Aurelia stepped onto the mounting block and arranged herself on the side-saddle. ‘Lead on, Gillingham.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘There’s no need to follow us, Private. Take Miss Lane on an easy route, as this is her first lesson.’ She flicked the reins. ‘Walk on.’

Gideon relaxed visibly as they rode off. ‘Miss Lane, are you ready?’

Lottie was accustomed to the large coach horses, but the grey mare was comparatively small and dainty. She stroked the velvety nose and smiled into the animal’s lustrous brown eyes. ‘I hope you’ll be patient with a beginner.’

‘She will be,’ Gideon said. ‘She’s a game little mare, but she knows when to be gentle. Is it true you’ve never ridden a horse?’

‘Quite true.’ Lottie climbed onto the mounting block. ‘How hard can it be?’

After an hour of learning the rise and fall of a trot, Gideon slowed the pace so that his large black horse walked sedately alongside Lottie’s smaller mount, and they found a shady avenue of trees.

‘Why does her ladyship want you to have riding lessons, Lottie?’

The question came suddenly after a period of silence when Lottie was concentrating on keeping her seat. She glanced at Gideon, puzzled. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I never saw Merriweather riding a horse. It seems odd, unless she intends you to accompany her to the Crimea.’

‘I only learned that this morning.’

‘They can’t force you to accompany them abroad. You could leave and find another position, you know.’

‘Why would I do that?’ Lottie shot him a curious glance. ‘I’ve always wanted to travel and see more of the world. It might be my only chance.’

‘War isn’t pretty. You’d see things you wished you hadn’t seen, and you might put yourself in harm’s way.’

‘You’ll be going to the Crimea soon.’

‘But I’m a soldier, Lottie. I’m paid to fight for my country. It’s what I do.’

She drew her horse to a halt beneath the shade of a tall oak tree. ‘I asked Miss Nightingale if I could go with her, Gideon. It was you who gave me the idea that I might do something more useful than wash dishes and make beds.’

He reined in beside her. ‘Me? I don’t understand. What have I got to do with all this?’

‘When I was caring for you with your head wound it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Maybe I was destined to be a nurse.’

‘Well, I don’t know whether to be glad or sorry that I’ve brought you to this.’

‘Why would you be sorry? It’s my decision.’

A slow smile spread across his even features. ‘You’re right. I should be glad because now I’ve got the chance to get to know you better. Perhaps it was fate that brought us together.’

‘It was a bump on the head,’ she said, laughing. ‘Come on, I’ll race you to the stables.’

Lottie was stiff and sore after her first lesson, but Lady Aurelia insisted that she rode every day. After breakfast each morning, they walked the short distance to the stables, where their horses were saddled and waiting. Aurelia and Gillingham always led the way on these rides, breaking into a gallop when they were on open land, while Lottie and Gideon followed on at a slower speed. Sometimes they would be completely outpaced and find that they had been left far behind, only catching up with Aurelia and Gillingham when they returned to the barracks. Lottie looked forward to her riding lesson with Gideon, who was a good instructor and an entertaining companion. She was determined to become proficient in the saddle, although she doubted if she would ever be as good a horsewoman as her mistress, who had learned to ride when she was a small child.

The lessons were followed by frequent visits from Aurelia’s dressmaker and her brother, who was a tailor. They had been commissioned to make a habit for Lottie suitable to the winter climate in the Crimea, and a couple of heavyweight woollen skirts, as well as a worsted jacket cut in military style to echo, but not to compete with, the dashing outfits that Aurelia had chosen for herself.

Lady Aurelia was not a demanding mistress, but she was impetuous and unpredictable. Sometimes she would choose to lie in bed all day, refusing to eat or to offer any explanation of her lassitude to her anxious husband. The servants would tiptoe around on these occasions, fearful of making a noise and disturbing her ladyship, and Lottie would find herself banished from the room and forbidden to return until summoned, which invariably occurred in the early evening. Sometimes Aurelia merely wanted a tray of food sent to her room; at other times she decided to dress for dinner.





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