like a story in a love book, isn’t it?’ Tilda breathed. ‘One with a happy ending …’ Tilda, who read every love story ever published, was an authority on happy endings. ‘I’ll write to Alice tonight.’
‘Us all will,’ Cook nodded. ‘And send a present for her little lass.’
‘Good. Well, best be off!’ Julia made to lift Drew into her arms, but Cook was quick to ask,
‘Leave him with us, Miss Julia? He does so enjoy playing with my button box. Just like Sir Giles did …’
‘Very well. But make sure he doesn’t put buttons in his mouth, and don’t dare,’ Julia gazed pointedly at the cake tin, ‘give him another iced bun – not even if he says pretty-please for it!’
‘And I’d best be getting back to the bothy.’ Jin rose to her feet. ‘Thank you kindly for having me, Mrs Shaw,’ she murmured, following Julia out.
‘You knew, Jin Dobb.’ Julia closed the kitchen door behind her. ‘Alice told me you knew about Tom right from the start, yet you never breathed a word – not even to me. How ever did you manage to do it?’
‘Easy, Miss Julia. For one thing, I promised Alice I’d never tell I’d seen him, and for another – well, scrubbing woman in the bothy I may be, but it was nice, all them months, knowing summat that lot in the kitchen didn’t know! And Miss – it was a sin and a shame there couldn’t have been another come back from the dead …’
‘It wasn’t to be, Jin. And I’ve got Drew.’ She took a long, unsteady breath. ‘Alice left me the child …’
‘That she did. And take heart, Miss. I saw happiness in Alice’s hand and there’s happiness to come for you, an’ all. I know it.’
‘How can you know, Jinny Dobb?’ Julia’s words were harsh with bitterness. ‘You’ve never read my hand.’
‘No more have I. But it’s all around you, like a glow. No one can see it but Jin, and Jin Dobb isn’t often wrong!’
‘It isn’t possible. I couldn’t. Not again!’ She didn’t want to be happy with any man but Andrew.
‘Not love again? With respect, Miss, there’s first love and there’s last love and love of all shapes and sizes in between, so don’t shut your heart to it, when you chance on it …’
‘But I won’t chance on it, so don’t ever say such a thing again!’
‘I won’t.’ She’d said what she had to say – now let it rest.
But Miss Julia would encounter love – when her heart was good and ready, that was; oh my word, yes! What she would make of it might be altogether another thing, but love again she would. One day …
Clementina Sutton had fretted and fumed alternately for the remainder of the week. How much longer she could remain in the London house waiting for the countess to return her call, she did not know. And when was she to meet Anna Petrovska? Clearly, something must be done, yet etiquette decreed she could not call again at the house next door. Correct behaviour demanded that she must now await a return visit and as yet the silly woman hadn’t even left her calling card!
How long before she must return to Pendenys? How long dare she leave Elliot alone, virtually, with no one to pull on the reins when he became bored and restless and decided to take himself off in search of pleasure!
His father didn’t care. Edward disliked his eldest son with undisguised feeling and avoided the poor boy like the plague. Trouble was, she brooded, Pendenys Place was so vast that avoidance came easily. So many rooms, inner doors, outer doors, unexpected staircases. People could go for days without meeting, if they were set on it.
It was then she had jumped moodily to her feet, lifted the lace curtain that covered the window and saw, oh, thanks be! a young woman in the garden next door who could only be Anna Petrovska.
At once she felt relief she’d had the good sense to have the fence removed; the fence she caused to be built – with good reason, mind! – when it seemed certain the people next door might be European refugees, common soldiers or gypsies.
In less than a minute she was standing at the garden wall, smiling a welcome over it, whispering, ‘Good morning, my dear – you must be Anna. I have heard so much about you.’
‘Good morning, ma’am. Are you the lady who called on Mama – Mrs Sutton of Pendenys? I am so pleased to meet you.’
She extended a delicate hand. ‘Aleksandrina Anastasia Petrovska,’ she smiled. ‘Anna …’
‘You have a very beautiful name.’ Genteelly Clementina touched her fingertips.
‘Ah, yes, but so long. I decided when I was a little girl that my birth-name was too awful to have to print out, so I insisted I became Anna. Vassily and Igor had short names – it was most unfair!’
The corners of her mouth lifted in an enchanting smile to show white, even teeth. She was, Clementina was bound to admit, not only aristocratic but beautiful and if Elliot didn’t think so, she would box his ears!
‘You have the same name as the poor little Grand Duchess,’ she murmured for want of something better to say.
‘Ah – the dear Anastasia, God rest her.’ Exactly as her mother had done, she crossed herself, head bowed. ‘She and I share the same natal day – birthday. I was called in her honour. We were, Mama assures me, born only two hours apart.’
‘Are you Roman?’ Clementina had to ask it, even though it was as wrong to enquire about a person’s religion as it was to ask the extent of their bank balance. ‘A Catholic?’ Well – all that crossing themselves …
‘I am Orthodox – Russian Orthodox …’
‘And is that Christian?’ Clementina sensed difficulties.
‘Yes, of course!’ She laughed with delight. ‘We are as devoutly Christian as the English, only we worship a little differently.’
‘Aaah.’ Clementina’s relief was heartfelt. ‘You mentioned Vassily and Igor. I thought –’
‘Vassily is Basil. I forget we speak only English, now, by command of Mama, though today they talk away in our own tongue – twenty to the dozen, is it you say?’
‘Then today is a saint’s day?’
‘No. Far, far better. Last evening my brother returned safely to England and we all laughed and cried and hugged and kissed. Mama is so happy.’
‘He’s back? Then be sure to tell the countess how very glad I am.’
‘I think you may tell her yourself. She intends to call on you tomorrow or the next day, she said, and give you her good news. You will not spoil it for her? You will be suitably surprised – yes?’
‘Not one word will I breathe,’ she beamed, happy beyond words. ‘And when
