A thin sliver of daylight filtered through the kitchen window as Rose and Cora sat down to drink a well-earned cup of tea. Maisie had survived her ordeal, and was sleeping peacefully in Billy’s old room.
Cora added two lumps of sugar to her cup. ‘I suppose if the worst comes to the worst we could seek employment as midwives.’
Rose sipped her tea. ‘As Papa would say, losing the baby this early is a blessing in disguise, but I can’t help feeling sorry for the poor girl.’
‘She’s little more than a child herself.’ Cora stifled a yawn. ‘I’m so tired, Rose. I must get some sleep.’
‘Go to bed. I’ll finish clearing up.’
Cora stood up, gazing anxiously at her sister. ‘You must be exhausted, too.’
Rose shrugged and smiled. ‘Oddly enough I’m not at all tired. It will probably catch up with me later, but when I’ve finished in here I’m going to Papa’s study to get pen and paper, and I’m going to write to Mrs Harman.’
‘But you don’t know where she lives, other than that it’s a place called Lyme Regis.’
‘I spoke to Mrs Blunt before she went off duty yesterday afternoon, and she remembered posting letters to Isabel Harman at Beehive Cottage. She might still be living there so it’s worth a try.’
‘I suppose so, but I’m too worn out to think. Wake me up in time for breakfast, Rose. We don’t want Papa to suspect anything.’
‘I agree. I’m hoping that Papa will agree to take Maisie on as scullery maid. He knows her situation, and I’m certain he would consider it unchristian to turn her away in her hour of need. I’ll be sure to point that out to him should he refuse.’ Rose finished her tea and stood up. ‘Go to bed, Corrie. Leave everything to me.’
Having banked up the fire in the range and tidied away all signs of the night’s events, Rose went to her father’s study and sat down at his desk to compose a letter to her mother’s old friend. She was reading it through when her father walked into the room. He came to a halt, staring at her in surprise.
‘Rose? It’s six o’clock in the morning. Why are you up so early, and to whom are you writing?’
She smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Papa. I should have asked you first, but I’m composing a letter to Mrs Harman.’
Seymour pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘Why are you writing to your godmother?’
‘Dr Grantley said that Mama needed rest and fresh air, and Mrs Harman lives by the sea in Lyme Regis.’
‘I think I follow your line of thought, Rose, but this is a matter for your mother and myself to decide, not you.’
‘I realise that, of course, but there’s no harm in finding out if my godmother still resides in Beehive Cottage.’
Seymour regarded her steadily. ‘Your mother had a restless night, and I’ve barely slept at all.’ He stood up again, and began to pace the room. ‘Perhaps you’re right, Rose. Maybe I haven’t been willing to face the fact that Eleanor’s condition is worsening.’
‘You look exhausted,’ Rose said softly. ‘You could go with her.’
‘And leave my flock? No, I couldn’t do that.’ He came to a halt by the desk. ‘Finish your letter and post it. If Isabel invites your mother to stay I’ll make sure that she accepts, and you will travel with her.’
‘But surely you ought to accompany her, Pa.’
‘I can’t leave Joshua to cope alone. He has almost completed his training, but this is not an easy parish to run. No, I will remain here, and, all things being equal, you will take your mother to Dorset. Cora can stay with me, and keep house while you are away.’
Rose could see that he had made his mind up and she knew that to argue would be futile. She seized the opportunity to mention Maisie. ‘That sounds an excellent plan, Pa. But Cora and Mrs Blunt would need extra help. It just so happens that Aunt Polly has no further need of Maisie’s services. Perhaps she could stay on as maid of all work … for a while, anyway.’
‘I suppose so. I know you will give me no peace unless I agree.’
‘We rely so much on Mrs Blunt. I’m sure she will be glad of an extra pair of hands.’ Rose signed the letter with a flourish and blotted the ink dry. ‘I’ll post this after breakfast, if you’ll be kind enough to give me a penny for the stamp.’
He smiled and nodded. ‘You are so like your dear mama was when I first met her. If she had made up her mind to a certain course of action, she would allow nothing to stand in her way. I believe I might have remained a dry old bachelor had she not seen something in me to love.’
‘I’m sure you sent many hearts aflutter, Pa,’ Rose said smiling.
‘I would not claim such a thing even if it were true. I’m afraid I was a dull dog, but Eleanor didn’t seem to think so. I’ve been much blessed with a wonderful wife and three healthy and handsome children. I’m proud of you all, and with William about to follow me into the ministry I couldn’t ask for more.’
Rose had to bite her lip to prevent herself from crying. The thought of her parents learning the truth about their beloved son was too much to bear. She made an excuse to leave the room, and instead of going to the kitchen to see if Mrs Blunt needed any assistance in the preparation of breakfast, she crossed the hall to the drawing room and let herself out into the garden through the French doors.
It was cold and there was a faint hint of frost icing the lawn, but the birds were singing their spring song and daffodils bowed gracefully in the gentle breeze. The air still smelled of soot, smoke and the effluent pumped out of the factories that lined the Regent Canal, but it was quiet and peaceful in the garden and she needed time on her own to think. The money they had saved so far would pay a little more than half the legal fees, but now there was no prospect of earning more at the saloon. Billy’s life and liberty hung in the balance, and there was no one to whom she could turn for help.
She folded her arms in an attempt to keep warm as she walked through the shrubbery, carefully avoid-ing small clumps of violets and golden celandines. This town garden had been her retreat and solace since she was a child. The old swing hung limp and neglected from an overhanging branch of a sturdy oak tree, and the climbing rose planted on the day of her christening had rampaged up the trellis and had reached the eaves above her bedroom window. In summer it would produce small creamy clusters of sweet-smelling flowers, filling her room with heady perfume. She looked up and saw that Cora’s curtains were still drawn. A fat pigeon was resting on the windowsill and its beady eyes stared down at her. If only she could fly like a bird, she would soar high up in the sky and head for the West Country. Perhaps a personal plea to Bennett Sharpe would persuade him to continue with Billy’s case regardless of their finances. She felt sure she could convince him that to win such a difficult case would greatly benefit his career, but she needed to speak to him in person, and that in itself was a problem as she did not know where to contact him. Then it came to her in a flash. ‘Scully!’ she said out loud, causing the pigeon to fly to the relative safety of the oak tree. A glimmer of hope lifted her spirits. Sharpe had said that Scully would know how to contact him in Cornwall, and there was nothing she would not do in order to save Billy from the hangman’s noose. She would visit Sharpe’s chambers in Lincoln’s Inn and leave a message for Scully to contact her as a matter of urgency. She hurried indoors and went to wake Cora. Everything must appear to be normal, she thought as she negotiated the stairs. No one must suspect that anything untoward had happened.
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