that the lady was a widow; that her elder son had been killed and that her younger son was somewhere in Russia, still – St Petersburg, perhaps? – looking for things, though what he sought was still a mystery. Nor had she met Anna.
Anna, had her parents’ title been English, would have been Lady Anna, she frowned. In England, of course, a countess would be the wife of an earl and she was as sure as she could be that Russian aristocracy sported no earls. Maybe though, the husband had been a count? She shook her head. It was all very confusing – and there was something else that might well put a different complexion on things. Anna Petrovsky could already be promised!
She removed her costume and placed it carefully on a hanger. It had been a mistake, she admitted; a very expensive mistake and entirely the wrong colour in which to impress someone who must surely detest anything red.
When the countess returned her call she would be more careful and dress more suitably. And when that happened, surely Anna – Lady Anna – would accompany her mother? She did so want to meet her; decide whether she was wasting her time in patronizing the family next door. It might well be, she was forced to admit, that she would have to cast her net wider in her quest for a wife for Elliot, though she hoped not. After all, it was not essential her son’s wife should have money; what she must have, though, was breeding. Breeding such as Helen had. No amount of money would buy it – a fact of life she had learned the painful way – and no amount of poverty could disguise it. But only let the girl next door be in the market for a wealthy husband, she pleaded silently, and the search was over – and Elliot’s womanizing too, did he but know it!
‘Well now, Miss Julia, and what have you come to tell us?’
Cook placed two cushions on the kitchen chair, then perched Drew on top of them. Ever since this morning, when Miss Julia had begged afternoon tea in the kitchen in exchange for some very, very good news, Cook had been on tenterhooks.
‘Like I promised – good news; cherry scone news.’ Julia drew her chair up to the table. ‘And no, Mrs Shaw, Drew may not have all those cakes’. Deftly she removed an iced bun from his plate, returning it to the tin, ‘even though I know you made them especially for him.’
Eyes bright, she waited until cups had been filled and passed round and Mrs Shaw had nodded that tea might begin before she said. ‘It’s about Alice.’
‘She’s well again? Her ladyship is coming home?’ Tilda gasped.
‘Yes – and no. She is very well, but she is no longer her ladyship and she won’t be coming to Rowangarth just yet. She has her very own home, now. That is where I have been – acting godmother to her little baby. Alice has married again …’
‘Oh, my word!’ Cook dropped her knife with a clatter, gazing stunned around the table. At Mary, who’d suspected, hadn’t she, where Miss Julia had been; at Tilda’s bright pink cheeks and at Jinny Dobb, whom Julia had said should be asked. There was no pleased surprise on Jin’s face, Cook thought. Jin, the sly old thing, merely looked – sly. Her face was without emotion – if you could ignore the I-know-something-you-don’t-know look in her pale blue eyes, that was. ‘Married?’
‘A year last July, Mrs Shaw.’
‘So when she left …?’ At last, Mary found her voice.
‘When she left us she wasn’t going to Aunt Sutton. I’m sorry if you were deceived, but Alice felt that people she knew and cared for might not take too kindly to her leaving her little boy behind.’
‘But she did leave him behind, for all that!’ Tilda Tewk had a way of putting things that was rarely the embodiment of tact.
‘Yes, but not for the reason you might think. Alice had a choice – and she made it!’
Julia took a deep breath. This was not as easy as she had thought. Miss Clitherow had taken the news calmly; below stairs, it would seem, they had not the same control of their curiosity – nor their emotions.
‘You mean, she had the choice between this little lad, here, and – and …’
‘And should we be talking like this in front of him?’ Mary whispered, sliding her eyes to the small boy.
‘It’s all right. He doesn’t understand. The cherry on his bun is of far more interest to him, at the moment,’ Julia smiled. ‘And Alice wasn’t an uncaring mother. She put Drew’s interests first; best he should grow up with his inheritance, she felt, and mother and I agreed with her.’
‘But where did she go, if it wasn’t to Miss Sutton?’ Tilda demanded. ‘Was it to him – the man she’s married to?’
‘To him,’ Julia said softly. ‘We wanted her to, once we knew he was not –’
‘Dead?’ For the first time, Jinny Dobb spoke. ‘That Tom Dwerryhouse hadn’t been killed, after all?’
‘That Tom was alive,’ Julia nodded. ‘The Army thought him dead, but he’d been taken prisoner.’ The lie slipped out easily.
‘And them Germans had locked him up and never told no one about it?’ Cook choked.
‘It happened a lot.’ All at once Julia felt relief that the news was to be accepted with no more than a modicum of surprise. ‘When it happened, things were in a turmoil at the Front. The Germans and Austrians were getting the better of us and things were in a bad way. No news of any kind was getting through. But how did you guess, Jin? Did you see it in the bottom of your teacup?’
‘Something like that, Miss.’ Slowly, she smiled.
‘But married …’ Cook took her apron corners, ballooning it out, ready to weep into it as she always did, when overcome.
‘And a mother,’ Tilda gasped, her romantic heart thumping deliciously. ‘What did she have, Miss Julia?’
‘A little girl. Daisy Julia Dwerryhouse. She’s very beautiful. I took my camera with me. As soon as the reel has been developed, you shall see Alice and Daisy – and Tom.’
‘Then she’s had two beautiful bairns,’ Cook pronounced, taking another bun from the tin, placing it defiantly on Drew’s plate. ‘And this lovely little lad here has a sister!’
‘A half-sister. Alice asked especially that I should tell you all about her remarriage. I hope you’ll all be happy for her. Mother and I are. We are hoping she will come and stay with us as soon as Daisy can make the journey.’
There, now! She had done it! Not only had she broken the news about Tom, but she had also let it be known that the Suttons – the Rowangarth Suttons, that was – were delighted about it. How the Pendenys Suttons would react to the news remained to be seen. To Nathan, it would come as no shock at all; to Elliot, it might have entirely different repercussions.
Determinedly, she pushed Pendenys to the back of her mind. Drew was Giles’s son; was even Sutton-fair, even though Elliot was dark as a gypsy.
‘Where is she, Miss?’ Tilda’s voice broke into her broodings. ‘I want to write – tell her how pleased I am.’
‘Alice would like that. I know she misses you all. She’s in Hampshire, but I’ll write down her address for you. And might I have another scone, Mrs Shaw? There
