Rose watched John’s face carefully as he read slowly down the last sheet of the long letter she’d handed him as soon as he’d finished his lunch. She waited patiently as he laid the folded sheets on the tablecloth. The hint of a smile touched his lips as he picked up his mug and drank deeply.
‘Well, what do you think, love?’
‘What I think,’ he said firmly, ‘is that she’s one great lady. An’ she thinks the world of you,’ he went on. ‘Sure I cou’d love her for that, even if I diden know her from Adam. I think you shou’d go. Isn’t it just what yer man Doctor Stewart recommended for you way back in March?’
‘But two months, John,’ she said uneasily. ‘It’s a long time.’
‘Aye, it is,’ he said, laughing wryly, ‘for a couple never parted a night in twenty two years, unless you count me sleepin’ in Jamie’s bed when you were so poorly,’ he added, looking at her directly. ‘But sure we might have been parted for good,’ he said coolly. ‘What’s two months compared to that, an’ me knowin’ you’re safe and well and has the best of everythin’? Wouldn’t it put you rightly on your feet before the winter? Sure she’s wanted to see you ever since our weddin’ day.’
‘Yes, it’s true,’ she replied, smiling suddenly.
She remembered the young woman whose knowledge of Irish geography was so vague she thought Armagh and Lord Harrington’s estates in Sligo were within easy visiting distance of each other. Only an afternoon spent with an atlas had prepared her for his plans for their wedding journey. Before that France and Italy were all the same to her.
‘We’ve had our plans often enough,’ she agreed. ‘But they never worked out. Like the plan you and I made for me to go and see my mother,’ she added sadly. ‘I really would love to see Lady Anne. She’s my oldest friend, despite the relationship between us.’
‘Sure what of that?’ he said sharply. ‘She knows if it hadn’t been for you, she’d never have married Harrington. You’re more like sisters, the pair of you. D’ye not mind the state she was in when she got news of the rail disaster and didn’t know you were safe? An’ she was even worse when you took ill. It wasn’t even a day after Hannah wrote before the flowers and the boxes of fruit started comin’. You go, love, and take the girls like she says. We can afford it well enough, thank God,’ he said warmly. ‘She’s right, it’ll be a new experience for them, leavin’ Ireland for the first time, an’ travellin’ down England on the train. Aye and meetin’ her boy and girl. What age are they now, I’ve forgot.’
‘Young Lord Richard is just twenty-one this month. Do you not remember they were married at the end of August and he was born the following May?’
‘Aye an’ we laughed and said there’d be some busy countin’ on their fingers. There was a desperate amount of gossip went on in that place now I think back to it,’ he said, a broad grin spreading across his face. ‘Sure they gossiped about us as well. They had us married an’ all from the first night we walked out.’
‘Well, they weren’t far wrong,’ she came back at him, laughing gaily.
It was a long time since she and John had spoken of those glorious summer weeks of ’75 in Kerry, when they’d walked in the evenings by Currane Lake and watched the water fowl sail across its calm surface, while Lady Anne in a green velvet dress was encouraging the shy and awkward Lord Harrington.
‘Is there any more tea, love?’ he asked, as he drained his mug. ‘No, don’t get up,’ he added quickly, as he saw her begin to move. ‘If there is, I’ll pour it. An’ if there’s not I’ll make some more, for I’m bone dry today, though it’s not all that warm for the end of May.’
He picked up the teapot and glanced over his shoulder as he weighed it in his hand. ‘Before you go, you’ll have to practise being waited on and not hop up like you were about to a minit ago.’
‘Do you not think I have had enough practice being waited on these last three months?’ she said ruefully.
He laughed as he refilled their mugs, glanced up at the clock and put hers down in front of her.
‘What time’s Hugh picking you up?’
‘It’ll be well after two,’ he said. ‘They’ve a visitor for lunch, so he had to scrub off the grease. He was not well pleased, but it means I’ve another half hour yet,’ he said settling himself. ‘And what about the girl? Lady Marianne, isn’t it? Wouldn’t she be the same age as Hannah?’
‘Not far off,’ she agreed. ‘They’re both eighteen now, but Marianne will be nineteen in November. There’s only six months in it.’
‘They’ll get on well enough I’d think. Hannah has a nice way with her. An’ any girl of Lady Anne’s will know how to behave herself.’
They looked at each other across the lunch table, both silent, each suddenly aware of what the other was thinking.
‘What about Sarah?’ John asked cautiously. ‘D’ye think she’ll be agreeable to go?’
Rose raised her eyebrows.
‘I really don’t know what to expect,’ she began. ‘She usually jumps at any chance to be up and away, but she’s not much enamoured of the aristocracy, as she calls them. I’m not sure what Lord Harrington’s proper title is now. Lady Anne still calls him Harrington, but I think it was an earldom he inherited. Whatever it was, Ashley Park is an enormous house. His great-grandfather owned half of Gloucestershire and he built it so he could entertain in the grand style and impress people. That may not go down too well,’ she ended, even more doubtfully.
‘Well, I still think you and Hannah should go,’ said John firmly. ‘I wouldn’t want to force Sarah, but I don’t want her to stop the two of you. You’ll enjoy seein’ Lady Anne and it’ll do Hannah good to have a holiday. She’s been that concerned about you she’s had no chance to think what she wants when she leaves school,’ he finished briskly as he caught the distant sound of the brougham on the hill.
‘Ye needen’t give a thought to Sam and me. Mrs Rea will see us right, but if Sarah’s not for goin,’ maybe Elizabeth could help us out,’ he said, bending down to kiss her. ‘Between Elizabeth and Mrs Rea, we could manage Sarah rightly,’ he assured her, pausing in the doorway as the brougham drew nearer. ‘I don’t want anythin’ stoppin’ you goin’. We’ll just have to fit things in round that,’ he said, turning away and striding down the garden path as Hugh drew up at the gate.
To Rose’s amazement Sarah expressed great enthusiasm for spending two months with people of a social class and of a level of affluence she had regularly described as indecent.
She puzzled over this sudden change of heart but it was only by chance that some days after Sarah’s declaration that she overheard part of a conversation which went some way to explaining what had happened.
‘You know, Hannah, it’s very easy to blame people for the things they do,’ began Sarah solemnly, as they wheeled their bicycles down the garden path. ‘But I don’t think you should make judgements until you know all the facts. You can’t really blame Lady Anne for living in a huge place and having pots of money and dozens of servants. She didn’t ask for it. It just happened. It’s what she does with it that matters,’ she announced firmly. ‘Besides, blaming people doesn’t get you very far.’
She was sorry not to hear Hannah’s reply as they cycled off down the hill, but it was a real relief she need no longer be anxious about Sarah’s behaviour when they actually got to Ashley Park. It was one less thing to think about in what looked like a very busy time.
This year the annual birthday celebration with the Sintons was due to be held at Ballydown, and although Mary Sinton had offered to have it in Armagh to spare Rose the effort, she’d decided that with the girls and Mrs Rea’s help she could manage. This year she would be forty-four and Sarah fourteen and she particularly wanted Elizabeth and Hugh to be there. If it hadn’t been for Elizabeth there might not be a party at all.
After the Annual Celebration, however, there were only two weeks to the end of June. Given the way her energy still ran out so quickly, she’d have to start preparations for the visit right away, if all three of them were to be to be properly provided with dresses and accessories.
Elizabeth was a real help and support. She brought the new season’s pattern books and samples of fabric from Belfast, suggested a dressmaker in Banbridge who could make their best dresses and came everyday to help with the travelling dresses and everyday dresses they’d make at home. She also made sure Rose didn’t overtax herself.
Though Hannah loved sewing, trimming and embroidering, she was determined to do well in her Leaving Certificate, so she helped only when she could take a break from her revision. Sarah’s sewing was perfectly competent and she did offer to help, but Rose decided it would be more peaceful if she and Elizabeth were left to themselves. Sarah was perfectly happy with this arrangement especially as she had already begun on her own preparations. While Rose and Elizabeth were at work in the parlour, she sat at the kitchen table and made copious notes from all the library books she could lay hands on that referred to either Gloucestershire or the Cotswolds. At regular intervals, she would favour the sewing party with the benefit of her studies.
First she dealt with the physical geography, then she turned her attention to the history of Ashley Park. Lord Harrington had indeed succeeded to an earldom and ought properly to be called Lord Ashley. She explained that while his son had been christened Richard Molyneux Harrington, he was now known as Lord Cleeve.
‘Can you really imagine saying, “Lord Cleeve, would you please pass the butter?” she demanded, one afternoon when Hannah and Rose were fitting her with a new day dress in a fine checked cotton.
‘Keep still, love, or the pins will stab you,’ said Rose patiently.
‘Sorry,’ she said, straightening up and holding her arms away from her sides. ‘But Ma, how will one know what to do?’ she persisted.
‘Hold on a moment till I’ve finished this bit,’ her mother replied, suddenly weary as she pinned another tuck in the softly draped skirt. ‘What do you think Hannah? Have we tucked it enough?’
‘Well, if we take it in any more she’ll have to stop eating,’ said Hannah lightly.
‘Yes, but small waists are in,’ Sarah protested. ‘I don’t want to look like a country cousin.’
‘Style is not a matter of clothes,’ said Rose firmly. ‘It’s a matter of manner and behaviour. But if you’re uncomfortable, it isn’t easy to be gracious. I think that’ll be all right,’ she added, walking round her.
‘Can I take it off now?’
‘Yes, and mind the pins.’
‘I hate trying on clothes,’ she said fiercely.
‘So do we all,’ said Rose sharply. ‘The price of vanity is discomfort,’ she added, as she sat down abruptly in the only chair not occupied by fabric or partly made dresses.
‘What about the butter, Ma?’ Sarah prompted, a few minutes later, when she’d climbed back into her school dress.
Rose hadn’t the slightest idea what she was talking about.
‘Would you be so exceedingly kind as to pass the butter, Lord Cleeve,’ said Hannah, with a perfectly straight face.
Rose relaxed a little and sat back more comfortably. The parlour looked like a dressmaker’s workroom, the mahogany table padded with an old blanket and a clean sheet. At one end, the new Singer sewing-machine sat waiting, at the other, a paper pattern already smoothed out ready to be pinned to the fabric Hannah had chosen for her travelling dress. Even the bookcases and window ledges had acquired a drapery of lace and pieces of ribbon waiting to be added to the finished garments.
‘There are some rules, Sarah, you can learn from a book like that one you brought from the library, but many of the most important ones you can only learn by observation. You mustn’t worry about it,’ she went on reassuringly, when she saw Sarah’s bright eyes had clouded over. ‘You’re both observant and this is a family visit, not a house party. What any family does when it’s at home is different from what happens if there are guests. When in doubt, it’s best to be more formal. There are some people who simply can’t tolerate informality in young people, but I can’t imagine Lady Anne’s family being like that,’ she said easily.
‘Perhaps Lord Cleeve won’t even appear,’ said Hannah thoughtfully. ‘He’ll probably go off with his Cambridge friends when their term finishes.’
‘It’s certainly nothing to be anxious about,’ Rose repeated firmly, concerned by the look on Sarah’s face.
‘You’re quite right, Ma,’ Sarah replied equally firmly. ‘They’re only ordinary human beings. And you’re much cleverer than Lady Anne.’
‘No, Sarah, I wasn’t cleverer,’ said Rose honestly. ‘I just paid attention. Poor Lady Anne was too unhappy to think of anything but riding. She was very good at that. But she might have been good at French, or water colour, or the piano, if she’d been able to give her mind to it. You can’t give your mind to things properly if you’re unhappy.’
Sarah looked at her solemnly and nodded her agreement.
‘Ma, d’you think we should call you Mama?’
She laughed and shook her head. ‘I’ll have to think about that one. Right now, I shall have to lie down for half an hour or I’ll be too tired to eat my supper and you know your father will be upset if I don’t.’
She left them to tidy up the room, went upstairs, and lay on top of the bedclothes. The room was pleasantly cool, the scent of flowers carried on the light June breeze. Whenever she had to concentrate she still felt exhausted and had such an urge to go away and not to have to make any more effort at all. She closed her eyes and whispered, ‘Mama.’ What would John say when she told him that?
The July evening was warm and rather humid, but a cool breeze from the lough blew in their faces as they leant over the rail of the ship waving their handkerchiefs at John, Sam and Jamie and Hugh and Elizabeth.
Their journey so far had gone without a hitch. The train from Banbridge arrived on time, the baggage had been whisked away in a cab and was waiting in their cabins when they arrived on board ship. They’d had time enough to walk round the upper decks and look at the sights of the harbour before the warning bell rang for visitors to leave the ship. There were hugs and kisses and hurried last messages as a second bell rang, even more peremptory than the first.
The gangways were run back. The last hawsers cast off. The throb of the engines deepened as the gap between ship and quay widened minute by minute. Soon they were moving down channel and the small figures still waving vigorously grew smaller and smaller. Sarah could contain herself no longer. ‘This is such an adventure, Ma. Aren’t we lucky?’ she said, her eyes sparkling as she turned towards her.
Rose stretched an arm round her and hugged her, but said nothing, her own eyes misted with the pain of parting. She’d promised herself not to cry, but for the last half hour she’d been far from sure she’d manage it.
Yes, indeed, they were lucky. Very lucky to be able to afford the comfort of elegant travelling dresses, cabs and first class cabins, porters and stewards to spirit away their cases. It was a far cry from her only other crossing, a very young servant from Currane Lodge, sleeping under a blanket in a communal dormitory far below the main deck.
She looked around at the berthed ships that lined the harbour, the tall construction of ladders and walkways surrounding the invisible shape of the Oceanic, the one they all referred to now as Jamie’s ship. Jamie too had been lucky for James Sinton had made his apprenticeship possible long before his father could have afforded it.
But what was luck? Could they ever have accepted this invitation if John hadn’t worked so hard, extending his knowledge and producing the improvements in textile machinery Hugh had then urged him to patent. The royalty from John’s patents had paid all their expenses and ensured they would feel no unease at Ashley Park on account of dress.
So why was it people who worked just as hard were thrown out of work? Or struck down by illness? What would have happened to her and the family these last months if John hadn’t had the money to pay Mrs Rea, or a good friend like Elizabeth to find her in the first place?
She sighed. Such questions were quite beyond her. Perhaps the only thing she could do was give thanks for her good fortune and make sure she never forget those that good fortune had passed by.
The figures on the dockside finally grew so small it was only an act of faith to continue to wave. She turned towards the bows. Ahead of them the red lights of the marker buoys winked along the deep water channel as the vessel moved through calm water heading for the open sea.
On the northern shore of the lough the dark Antrim Hills raised their craggy summits above the steeply sloping fields. To the south, the softer shores of Down caught gleams of evening sunshine, the light picking out the ripening wheat, broad russet patches glinting in a green landscape. Beside them, fields of stubble lay like pale patches in a rich tapestry, still untouched by new growth after the hay harvest.
She turned her face towards the open sea, the breeze off the water a delight, the cry of seabirds an evocative sound, as haunting as the litany of names, the promontories and protrusions of the Antrim coast, Sarah was reciting with enthusiasm. Soon they would reach the open sea and their course would turn southwards, crossing the Irish Sea in the night to arrive at Liverpool in the early dawn.
‘Ma, look, that must be it.’
Leaning back on the comfortable upholstery of the family coach, Rose glanced over her shoulder briefly.
‘Yes, we’re nearly there,’ she said gratefully, wearied not so much by the journey, but by the continuous excitements of ship and train, docks and harbours, and the unknown English countryside with its villages, towns and cities.
‘It’s bigger than Buckingham Palace,’ Sarah protested.
‘No, it’s not,’ said Hannah quietly. ‘It’s much wider than Buckingham Palace with those wings at both ends, but it’s only two storeys in the middle even if it does look like a Greek temple.’
Whether the coachman whipped up the horses to make a splendid arrival or whether the four matched greys scented home and the comfort of their own stable, Rose didn’t know, but the last mile or more through the park was accomplished in a very short time. The coach passed between formal gardens, rounded a huge fountain where mythical beasts supported a series of stone bowls surmounted by great jets of water arcing into the blue sky. They halted in the shadow of a wall that concealed the sweep of stone steps leading up to the entrance in the pillared south front.
Hardly had the younger of the two coachman opened the door, pulled down the step and offered his hand for Rose to alight, than a small, square figure came running across the gravel, the skirt and sleeves of her white gown flapping energetically around her.
‘Rose, Rose, my dear. I’m so glad to see you,’ Lady Anne exclaimed, as she threw her arms around her. ‘Are you exhausted? I promise to let you go and rest the moment I’ve kissed you all. I’ve been watching with Teddy’s binoculars for ages. Hannah, what a lovely dress,’ she went on, embracing her vigorously. ‘And Sarah. Your mother was right, your curls are just perfect for Mr Darcy. You must scowl for me when you’ve all had a rest,’ she said, hugging her.
‘Rose dear, can you manage the steps if Huntley and I give you an arm each, or shall I send for a chair and two stout lads?’ she asked, as a cluster of servants descended on the coach and disappeared with all the luggage.
Sarah and Hannah exchanged glances as they followed Lady Anne and their mother up the long flight of shallow steps to the broad terrace that lay in front of the entrance hall.
‘She’s all right,’ mouthed Sarah, as the sturdy figure ahead of her wrapped a protective arm round their mother.
‘Who do you think Teddy is?’ Hannah whispered, quite certain she would not be heard over the sound of her mother’s laughter.
Whatever anxieties Sarah and Hannah might have had on their arrival at Ashley Park, many of them were immediately laid to rest. Lady Anne saw their mother quietly settled in her room to be left undisturbed until it was time to change for dinner, then took them to their own rooms.
‘The posh visitors rooms are all at the front,’ she confided, as she marched them from Hannah’s bedroom to Sarah’s, then threw open the door of their own small, bright sitting room overlooking the gardens. ‘They’re huge and frightfully gloomy, so I’ve put you all on this side. I hope you won’t be bored,’ she went on anxiously. ‘I haven’t planned any outings until your mother is feeling better, but you can explore the house and the park. There’s quite a lot of it. Go where you like and do ask for anything you need. I’ve left some things here for wet days, but I hope the weather is going to be lovely for you,’ she said, pausing, as a housemaid approached and curtseyed to her and then to each of her guests.
Lady Anne introduced Betty, one of the housemaids, a sober girl with an unfortunate squint, who was to be shared between them.
‘She’s very strict,’ she confided, when Betty went off to do their unpacking. ‘She’ll scold you if you get grass stains on your white muslins, but I’m hoping by the end of the summer you’ll have taught her to laugh. Poor girl, she doesn’t seem to know how.’
For a whole week, before any of Lady Anne’s family arrived home, the two girls did exactly as she’d suggested. They explored the house, took long walks in the park and sought out all the tracks and trails where she still rode each morning.
Sarah made up her mind to find out everything she could about the running of such a huge establishment. She found her way to the kitchen, the stables, the bake house and the laundry rooms and was delighted to discover the servants were open and friendly. She interviewed them assiduously, asked dozens of questions and recorded her observations and discoveries in her diary.
She was thrilled to find so many new things to study. She walked the length of each of the greenhouses and discovered a special pit for raising melons. She found pineapples and peaches ripening and a huge old vine, so heavily laden it had been propped up with billets of wood to stop it bringing down the wall where it had flourished for over a century.
Beyond the house and stables lay the gas plant which supplied the kitchens and a newly installed electric generator. She made repeated visits to the laundry, the workshop and forge, the carpenter’s shed and the kitchens, determined to miss out no part of this self-sufficient world.
As for Hannah, she’d found what she liked best at Ashley Park on their very first morning. A part of the flower garden had not yet been redeemed from decades of neglect, but Lady Anne had insisted that at least the former paths be re-opened. There, Hannah had spent part of every morning with her sketch pad and watercolours.
The richness and profusion delighted her. She loved the roses and clematis that had run riot, climbed shrubs and trees and sent skywards great arching shoots laden with bloom, and the borders, once so carefully graded and pruned which had long since broken all bounds. She found magnificent lilies towering over tiny seedlings that pushed out on to the paths, releasing their perfumes at the merest touch of a passing dress.
‘Well, what did you discover after you left me?’ asked Hannah, as she set about stretching fresh sheets of paper for her water colours, one afternoon after lunch.
‘Mangles,’ said Sarah abruptly. ‘Taller than I am. Made in Birmingham and specially designed for very large sheets. They come out so dry even in winter you can iron them and hang them over the ceiling airers to finish them off. You don’t even have to hang them out,’ she added, sitting down at the table and reaching for her notebook. ‘Which is a good thing. After a house party, there might be as many as thirty pairs.’
‘How did you find out all that?’
‘I asked one of the laundry maids,’ she replied abruptly.
‘Do you like it here, Sarah?’
Sarah was frowning fiercely, but she knew from long experience that neither frowns nor smiles were an accurate guide to what her sister was feeling. The only way to be sure was to ask.
‘Yes,’ she said quickly. ‘But I couldn’t live here,’ she added after a long pause. ‘Could you?’
Hannah laughed and put her brush down.
‘I don’t think Da is likely to inherit an earldom,’ she said with a smile.
‘Of course not,’ Sarah retorted. ‘But I asked if you could live here. Live this sort of life in a place like this.’
‘Yes, I think I could,’ said Hannah slowly. ‘What about you?’ she asked, watching her sister carefully.
‘No, not me,’ Sarah said, shaking her head vigorously. ‘Too enclosed. Shut off from the world. From ordinary everyday things.’
‘But what’s more ordinary than dirty sheets?’
‘There’s nothing ordinary about having thirty pairs and your own small laundry to deal with them,’ she came back at her.
‘But you do like being here, don’t you?’ Hannah asked again.
‘Oh yes, it’s great,’ Sarah beamed unexpectedly. ‘I love Lady Anne and she’s so good to Ma. I’ll come here anytime she asks us, but I couldn’t live here.’
Hannah smiled, satisfied. Only Sarah would see the need to make such a distinction. She opened her paintbox and began to work on the morning’s sketches while Sarah turned to writing up her notes.
For half an hour the silence was broken only by the scuffles of the gardeners who were hoeing the flower beds that lay on both sides of the terrace below the open windows.
‘It’s no use, Hannah,’ Sarah said, throwing down her pencil in disgust. ‘I can’t get it all down. There’s just too much detail. Too much to explain, even if I label all the sketches.’
‘But you’ve got plenty of time, Sarah,’ the older girl replied, soothingly. ‘Look how much you’ve done in less than a week. Multiply by eight and think how much that will be. I’m sure you’ll have covered everything about the house and garden by then,’ she said encouragingly.
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right,’ she said reluctantly. ‘But words leave out so much. How would you like to have to describe just in words that lovely bit of garden you’ve found?’ she demanded, getting up and peering over Hannah’s shoulder at the pattern of colour shaping on the page. ‘I’m not as patient as you. I couldn’t do proper sketches of everything.’
The answer to Sarah’s problem came quite unexpectedly the following afternoon when Lady Anne sent Betty to ask the two girls to have tea with her and Rose in her own sitting room overlooking the park.
When they arrived, they found the conversation had moved once again to Kerry, a topic Sarah encouraged by every possible means, for she never tired of hearing about the summer of ’75 and how Rose and Lady Anne had each found the love of their life.
‘Do you remember that sweet little veil we ordered from Dublin?’ Lady Anne demanded, looking up at Rose as she poured tea for them all.
‘I don’t have to remember it,’ she replied smiling. ‘I still have it. Very carefully wrapped in linen. It has only yellowed slightly and all the little pearls are still there.’
‘Goodness, Rose, I can still see you in that veil. You looked lovely.’
‘Yes, she did,’ Sarah agreed. ‘Could we possibly see your pictures of Ma and Da?’ she asked politely. ‘I’m sure Mr Blennerhasset took some for you as well as for them.’
‘Mr Blennerhasset? My goodness, Sarah, I’d completely forgotten him. He was one of my sister’s admirers, but she turned him down. She turned all of them down,’ she explained, with a wry look at Rose. ‘I haven’t thought of him for years.’
‘Ma said I could bring his book with me. I thought perhaps you might like to see it,’ said Sarah tentatively.
‘How very thoughtful of you, my dear. I should love to see it. What a good idea. Do you like photographs?’ Lady Anne asked, looking at her with a slight, puzzled frown.
‘Oh yes,’ she replied quickly, her eyes sparkling. ‘I should love to take masses of photographs. Specially here. I could get so much more in than in a sketch but …’
‘Well, if you haven’t brought your Kodak, or if you haven’t got one, we can soon put that right,’ Lady Anne declared. ‘Teddy must have three or four of them by now. He used to have a huge wooden contraption with brass handles and long legs,’ she said laughing, ‘but now they’ve got smaller, so he says. I’m sure you can have one he’s not using, Sarah. He’ll be so delighted you’re interested.’
Sarah beamed with delight. She had no idea that photographic cameras had got smaller. The last time she’d seen one was when the school photographer came and his was just like the one Lady Anne described.
‘Rose dear, a little piece of cake. Just a little piece,’ she said coaxingly.
Rose laughed. ‘I will if you want me to, but then I won’t be able to eat any dinner,’ she warned. ‘You spoil us so.’
‘I’m making up for all the years I had to do without you. I can hardly believe I’ve got you all to myself at last. Well, nearly all. I don’t mind sharing you with Hannah and Sarah, and with Marianne and Teddy when they come,’ she said honestly, as she put the cake back on the trolley.
‘I warn you, Hannah,’ she went on grimly, ‘if Sarah wants to take pictures he’ll have you dressed as a goddess or a nymph, or some other bizarre thing so they can practise upon you. Marianne and I’ve got so bored posing for him, he doesn’t dare ask us any more,’ she explained, turning to Rose with a broad grin. ‘He has a studio in one of the attics and he develops in the knife room because it’s got no windows. You can’t imagine how horribly stuffy it is. Cook complains fearfully about the smell coming under the door. But Teddy can be very persistent,’ she added, her tone unusually thoughtful.
She put down her teacup and smiled at Sarah.
‘Sarah, dear, if you’ve finished your tea, I’d love to see old Blennerhasset’s book. Then, when Mama chases us away, we’ll go down to the library together and I’ll show you some of Teddy’s stuff.’
‘Right, won’t be a moment,’ said Sarah, as she popped up, shot across the room and disappeared at speed.
Rose and Hannah exchanged glances and grinned, while Lady Anne looked from one to the other and raised an enquiring eyebrow.
‘Sarah is practising being ladylike,’ Hannah explained. ‘before Lady Marianne and Lord Cleeve arrive. But sometimes she forgets.’