‘They are indeed, miss. And very fancy they are, too.’
The touch of disapproval, which almost amounted to hostility, in the woman’s voice, was accompanied by a very sharp look. Anne took a breath and said carefully, ‘You obviously regard me with suspicion, Mrs Culver. Why?’
‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. But I know that Lady Aldhurst’s dearest wish is to see Master James married and with a family.’
Somewhat mystified, Anne said, ‘That’s very natural. I hope she wishes him to be happy as well?’
‘Of course. And he will be, as long as he finds a wife from his own world, a lady of rank, breeding, a good name of her own that everyone knows. People in London don’t like mysteries.’
Mrs Culver’s intention was now plain. Though annoyed, Anne said calmly enough, ‘You are worried that Lord Aldhurst might be distracted from this goal by me, perhaps? You needn’t be, I assure you. But what have my clothes to do with it?’
‘They’re all wrong. Not even one of the kitchen maids here would wear the dress and boots you had on when you arrived. They’re more like a tavern wench’s things. But your underclothes are quite different.’
Anne began to laugh. ‘You’re suspicious because my chemise and my petticoat don’t match my dress and boots? But that is absurd!’
Mrs Culver flushed unbecomingly. ‘Master James brought you here, Miss Anne, and we’ve looked after you as well as anyone could expect. But—I’ll come straight out with it—we still don’t know who you are or where you came from.’
Anne gave her a twisted smile. ‘Any more than I do.’ There was an awkward, significant silence…The colour rose in Anne’s cheeks. ‘Oh, come, ma’am!’ she said angrily. ‘You surely cannot think I’m playacting!’
‘I suppose not. But how can we be sure?’
Anne went to the window and stood with her back to the housekeeper until she had mastered her anger. Then she turned and said, ‘I do not remember who I am or how I came to be lying on your drive. But I promise you that as soon as I feel I can face the world again I shall leave Hatherton, whether my memory has returned or not. Will that do?’
Mrs Culver looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t want to be cruel, Miss Anne. But I know Master James, and I can see he’s taken a fancy to you. And it mustn’t go any further. It would break his grandmother’s heart if he married badly. He is all she has left.’
‘Yes, well, if that is the case we must hope that he doesn’t actually fall in love with someone who is as unsuitable as I am,’ said Anne crisply. ‘But he is in no danger from me.’ She took up her book. ‘Now I think I’ve had enough of this conversation. Thank you for the clothes. When Lord Aldhurst returns you may tell him that I have a headache, and would prefer not to see him this evening.’
Mrs Culver found herself curtsying in response to the authoritative tone in Anne’s voice, and left the room rather apprehensively, wondering if she was making a mistake. Those last sentences had sounded as if they came from someone of quality, not at all the owner of a shabby dress.
But she delivered Anne’s message as requested that evening. And Master James’s air of disappointment reassured her once again that she was doing the right thing.
After Mrs Culver had gone, Anne sat at the window for some time with the book on her knee, but it lay unread. She was deep in thought. The housekeeper’s suspicions were ridiculous, but Anne could not disagree with her basic message. The sooner she left Hatherton the better. She sighed and set about some serious thinking…
She reflected again on the previous night’s dreams. The red door—where was it? She could almost believe she had actually tried and failed to knock on that door, and not just in her dream…She had been excited, full of happy anticipation, she remembered…But though she tried to hold on to it the picture dissolved and turned into a pool of blood. She heard her own voice shouting hoarsely, ‘No! No! It can’t be!’ and she suddenly felt sick. She thrust the image violently away out of her mind, and the pool vanished. But she was still shivering with horror…James’s book slid to the floor as she jumped up and walked agitatedly round the room, resolutely keeping her mind blank. She would not remember, it was better not to remember…
After a moment or two she had calmed down enough to sit down again and turn her mind to other matters. Was there a clue in the petticoat and the rest of her clothes? Had the boots and dress belonged to someone else? But who could that be…?
When Rose came in Anne was wearing nothing but the blue robe, anxiously examining her underwear.
‘Help me to look at these things, Rose,’ she said. ‘There must be something about them that will tell us where they came from.’
‘I’d say that they were especially made for you, Miss Anne. You can tell that by looking at this shaping. But there’s nothing else. And this dress is just like one the girls in the village wear.’
Anne pushed the clothes away dispiritedly. ‘I’m quite tired. I think I shall go to bed, Rose. Mrs Culver knows I don’t wish to see…anyone tonight.’
Rose nodded sympathetically. ‘You’ve done too much today, miss. But his lordship will be sorry not to see you.’ She said no more as she busied herself helping Anne to prepare for bed, but just before leaving the room she asked if Anne would like a glass of milk later on. ‘It’s a long time till morning, Miss Anne. A glass of milk might be welcome. I won’t wake you if you’re asleep.’
Too weary to argue, Anne nodded her head. She was already half-asleep by the time Rose had made up the fire, drawn the curtains and slipped quietly away.
She slept soundly and dreamlessly for several hours, but woke up when she heard her door open. The fire had died down somewhat, but there was enough light for her to see someone entering the room and approaching the bed.
‘Rose?’
‘I’m afraid it isn’t Rose.’ James Aldhurst put the glass of milk he was carrying down on the table by the bed, picked up her candlestick and took it over to the fire. In a few minutes the soft glow of candles was creating a pool of light round the bed.
Chapter Five
‘You shouldn’t be here!’ whispered Anne.
‘It isn’t late. No later than when I came last night. How is your head?’
‘My head? Oh, yes, my head! It’s much better, thank you. Why did you come?’
‘I was afraid you might be ill again. So when I saw Rose with the glass of milk I said I would deliver it.’
‘You shouldn’t have done that. Mrs Culver—’
‘Mrs Culver is in bed with a headache. Let me help you to sit up.’
He leaned over, and supported her with one arm while he rearranged her pillows. ‘There! Now drink the milk.’
He handed her the glass and sat down on the edge of the bed. She sipped it, looking at him warily over the rim of the glass. He took the glass from her and said, ‘I have some news for you.’
Anne leaned forwards eagerly. ‘You’ve found out who I am!’
‘No, no! Nothing as helpful as that.’ When she sank back disappointed against the pillows he went on, ‘But it might be a beginning. There was a coach accident the night we found you. It’s thought that the driver took a wrong turning a mile or two back along the Portsmouth Road and ended up stranded by a stretch of flood water. He tried to