violets and hurried towards them. “Lady Valentine, what a pleasure to see you again after such a long time.”
“And you, Mrs Holland. A very great pleasure.” Ignoring the woman’s outstretched hand, she held out her arms and enveloped her in a violet-scented embrace. “I was so very sorry to hear of your dear husband’s passing. I regret I was unable to attend Mr Holland’s funeral; but I had a number of pressing business matters to attend to, unfortunately.”
“I quite understand.”
Lady Valentine settled her shrewd but kind brown gaze on Marianne and held out her hand. “Hello, my dear. And you must be Marianne, all grown up, and as pretty as a candy box!”
“Thank you.” Marianne blushed as she was swept forward and all but smothered against the woman’s shelf-like bosom.
“But where’s the rest of your luggage, Miss Holland?” Lady Valentine asked as Marianne extricated herself. The baron’s widow frowned down at the single, worn rucksack at the bottom of the steps. “Surely you have more than that –?”
Marianne didn’t like to admit that she didn’t; she really hadn’t anything else to bring along. “This is it, I’m afraid. I, erm…I like to travel light.”
“Light?” the woman echoed. “You’ve barely packed enough for an overnight stay, much less a permanent residence in the uplands. You’ll need a jacket, at the very least, and trousers…a jumper, and a cardigan, and proper walking shoes. Not to mention a cocktail dress or two, should some nice young man invite you out to dinner.” She beamed.
“Sorry, but I won’t be going out to dinner, Lady Valentine,” Marianne said firmly. “I’m interviewing for a position at the veterinary clinic – the position you found for me – and I have an interview next week. That’s why I’m going with you to Barton Park ahead of mum and Elinor.”
“Quite right, my dear, yes, quite right. And do call me Lady Violet, please. No need to stand on ceremony here. But you’ll still need more than one bag.”
“But it’s summer. All I need are a few pairs of shorts, some jeans, and a couple of T-shirts, surely?”
“It’s not nearly so warm up there as it is here,” Elinor pointed out, ever the practical one.
Mrs Holland turned to Marianne. “I’m afraid she’s right, darling. Perhaps you should run back inside and throw a few more appropriate items in a suitcase –”
“No need, we’ll go shopping for more suitable attire once we arrive and settle in,” Lady Violet announced as she consulted her wristwatch. “We’ll miss our train if we don’t leave straight away.” She nodded at the driver. “Take Miss Holland’s bag, please.”
“Yes, my lady.” He picked up the rucksack and stowed it in the boot next to his employer’s jumble of Vuitton suitcases, then opened the rear passenger door and waited.
Marianne turned to her mother and sister and took it in turns to hug them goodbye. “I guess this is it. I’ll see you both soon.”
“Bye,” Elinor said, and squeezed her hands in reassurance as they drew apart. “Don’t worry,” she added in a low voice. “You’ll be fine.”
“Thanks.” She cast her sister a quick, grateful smile. Ellie might be irritating sometimes, with her calm efficiency and Zen demeanour, but she knew Marianne better than anyone.
Mrs Holland took her youngest daughter in her arms once again and held her tightly. “Have a safe trip, dearest,” she murmured into her daughter’s tangle of dark blonde hair. “I know I can trust you to stay out of trouble.”
Marianne drew back. “What sort of trouble could I possibly get into in the wilds of Northumberland? Catch a cold? Turn my ankle on a stone? Step in a pile of sheep poo?”
“I expect I’m being overprotective,” her mother agreed, and sighed. “I know you’ll be fine. Go and enjoy yourself, then, and don’t give me or your sister another thought.”
“I’ll try. But I will miss you, both of you. Goodbye.”
“You’ll see so many new things, and meet so many new people, you won’t have time to miss us,” Elinor assured her. “Safe journey.”
With a tremulous smile, Marianne turned and made her way to the limousine. She slid onto the back seat, scooting over to make room for Lady Violet, and settled herself beside the window.
Her journey – to Northumberland, and eventually, to a new life, and a new job as a veterinary assistant – was finally underway.
At some point past midnight the car glided to a stop at the end of a long, twisting drive, and Marianne woke from a half-doze to realise that she and Lady Violet had arrived at Barton Park.
The train had stopped several times during their journey northward to pick up and disgorge passengers before they finally reached their destination. After driving for miles through the darkness, past thickets of trees that lined the hilly upland roads, Marianne saw no sign of a house, nor any indication of a town or village – only trees, and rocks, and swathes of impenetrable blackness.
How the driver found the turning to Barton Park in the tree-crowded darkness was a mystery.
It felt, she thought now as she followed Lady Violet up the steps to the front door, as if they’d been traveling for eons.
She shivered. It was bloody freezing up here, too.
“I did tell you it was colder here,” the woman informed her as she drew her bouclé jacket closer against the chill. “When Tuppy had his grouse hunts, the fireplaces roared continuously.”
“Tuppy?” Marianne echoed. She felt stupid with tiredness after travelling all day; it was only the cold that kept her awake.
“Theodore, my dear departed,” Lady Violet explained. “Everyone called him Tuppy. No idea why, but I’m sure there was a reason, once upon a time…”
Marianne made no reply. She had a vague impression of a hulking pile of stone looming up before them as they reached the front door. All she really wanted at the moment, she realised as she hid a yawn behind her hand, was to crawl into bed under masses of blankets and sleep, preferably for the rest of the summer…
The door swung open.
“Welcome, Lady Violet,” the woman who opened the door said. She nodded at Marianne. “Hello, Miss Holland. I’m Mrs Fenwick, the housekeeper. Bertie,” she called out sharply over her shoulder, “come and fetch the ladies’ luggage upstairs, please.”
“I’m gan as fast as ever I can,” he grumbled. A man – Marianne assumed he was Mr Fenwick – gave the two of them a brief nod and bent to pick up their luggage. “Where to?”
“Please show Miss Holland to one of the guest bedrooms at the end of the hall,” Lady Valentine replied as she made her way up the stairs with Marianne and Bertie trailing behind her. “I assume they’re all ready?”
“Oh, aye. The
