On a dull spring morning, Mr Godwin taught Latin in the schoolroom. Although his teaching did not inspire in Dorothy the same enthusiasm as lessons with her former governess, it did at least provide some distraction. She was returning a book to the schoolroom shelf when she heard wheels clattering on the cobblestones outside. She rushed to the window, hoping for a visitor, but with a sinking heart she saw her father. She wondered what sort of mood he would be in. She returned to her desk, piled her books together and walked over to her brother.

'It's only Father,' she said. 'Will you help me with my translation later?' They chatted as they went downstairs. When they arrived in the drawing room, their father was already there, standing in front of the chimney breast, his hand resting on the large stone mantel. To the children's surprise he had a smile on his face.

'Well, have you nothing to say to your father?' he asked.

'Hello, Father,' they said in unison.

'Good morning, William,' said Lady Keyt as she came into the room. 'I hope you have had a pleasant journey?'

'Yes, thank you.' He kissed her quickly, and Dorothy noticed his new coat and breeches, cream with mother-of-pearl buttons.

'There is something I wish to say.' He pulled out his handkerchief, blew his nose, and delivered his news. 'Ann, I am delighted to inform you that I have employed a new lady's maid on your behalf. Miss Johnson is an accomplished girl, and she will be of great service. Above all, she will release you from the burden of responsibility towards our dearest daughter.'

There was a stunned silence.

'Excuse me, William, but am I hearing you correctly? I don't wish for any extra assistance with Elizabeth; her nurse gives me all the help that I need.' Dorothy noticed her mother's hands turn white as she gripped the back of the chair. 'I am capable of finding my own lady's maid. If I wanted your help in household matters, I would ask you. Mrs Selley leaves two months from now, which gives ample time to find someone that suits me.'

'But my dear, you will like Molly. She is competent and reliable. She is also the daughter of a loyal constituency member. Her father has agreed.'

'I can see you are on first-name terms with this girl. It's most irregular a indeed, it undermines my own position within this household. Looking at you, however, it's obvious that you have made up your mind. I am sorry that we have come to this. So be it, but do not expect my sanction in what I consider to be a blatant disregard for my feelings.' Lady Keyt smoothed her dress, lifted her shoulders and, with a straight back, left the room.

'For heaven's sake, Thomas, why are you fidgeting? Stand still,' Sir William snapped, turning on his son.

'I am standing still, sir. It is you who is agitated, not I. If you will excuse me, I'll go and look after my mother.'

'Well, Dotty, follow your brother. I realize I can do nothing right in this infernal household!'

Dorothy fumed. Molly Johnson was the landlord's daughter that her father had likened to Dorothy.

'Don't ever call me Dotty. Your right to that name went a long time ago. If you bring this girl to Norton, I shall never speak to you again. Never.'

She glared at her father, picked up her skirts and ran after her brother.

The following morning they ate in silence. When Lady Keyt had finished her breakfast, she folded her large linen napkin and rose to go.

'Dorothy, I would be grateful if you would spend a little time with Lizzie. I have a slight headache.'

'Of course, Mama.'

Dorothy looked in on Lizzie on her way upstairs but she was still asleep. She would go to her later. Climbing the stairs to the attic, she passed Annie at the linen cupboard. Sheets lay across her arm, and a jug of water balanced on a china tray.

'Morning, miss,' she said. 'Just going to do the room for the new girl.'

'Would you do my room first, Annie? I would like five minutes alone.'

Dorothy paused on the threshold of Miss Byrne's room for the last time. New sheets would cover the bed and somebody else's clothes would fill the cupboard. She knelt down, prised open the floorboards and removed the book, cradling it in her arms.

Dorothy found Lizzie in her usual place on the half-landing. She was reading, her brow furrowed in concentration. 'Dotty,' she raised her head. 'We must give Miss Johnson a chance. She may be just what we need.'

Dorothy was about to reply when Elizabeth leant forward and stared into the rose garden, the book falling from her lap.

'Dotty, can you see the boy in the garden? He is looking this way. His clothes are most unusual.' Dorothy looked outside; the garden was empty and still, save for the leaves eddying around Ophelia's statue.

'I can't see anyone,' she said gently.

'Oh, Dotty, I can see that you don't believe me. Perhaps it is my medication. Now even my mind is going. For just one moment I want to be normal.' She grimaced, the small scar twisting in her cheek. 'Can you imagine what it's like?'

Dorothy couldn't imagine, it was beyond her capabilities, and for a moment she felt unutterably sad. 'I'm so sorry,' she replied at last. She knelt in front of Elizabeth and took her hands in her own. 'I didn't see a boy, but if you did, then he must have been there. You are not losing your mind; you are saner than the rest of us put together. I cannot give you back your dreams, but I can give you this.' She put Miss Byrne's book into her lap. 'Miss Byrne wrote these stories for us, and they have given me strength. Perhaps they can do the same for you.' When Elizabeth didn't answer she turned the pages. 'Do you see, Lizzie? The rest of the book is empty. Will you fill the pages with our story? Will you write about everything, the past, the present, and the future, so that someone, some day, might read it and know about us?' Elizabeth nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

12.

The coachman dropped her bag on the flagstone floor. 'The housekeeper will come for you.'

Molly looked at her face in the hall mirror. It was not the face she knew, the confident and pretty landlord's daughter.

'Morning, miss.' A footman passed. He winked and smiled, a silver tray balanced in his hand. 'Mrs Wright will be along shortly. No need to be afraid, she won't bite.'

'I'm not frightened, sir,' she replied, but her words sounded false. She longed for her bedroom, her Will, her mother, anywhere but here.

'Could have fooled me,' he said cheerfully, pushing the swing door closed with his foot.

Mrs Wright arrived, her grey hair scraped into a bun. She had small eyes in a mean face.

'Miss Johnson, come this way. Don't get any ideas in this house. Do as you are told or you'll be out of here before you know it. You will answer to me and her ladyship.'

Molly followed her under a stone archway and into a large inner hall. Portraits of long-dead Keyt ancestors stared from the walls; Molly hurried past to avoid their silent gaze.

A footman opened a pair of double doors, and Mrs Wright swept through to the drawing room. Molly cautiously entered after her.

'Excuse me, Lady Keyt, Miss Johnson has arrived.' Three heads turned towards her, the same three heads she had glimpsed through the window. Lady Keyt remained with her face in profile.

'Good morning, Miss Johnson.' She got up slowly, graciously, and walked towards her, her green silk dress rustling as she moved.

'Good morning, ma'am.'

'Curtsy, miss,' the housekeeper barked. Molly bobbed ineffectually.

'Mrs Wright, you may go, thank you.'

It was evident that Mrs Wright had no wish to leave. Her tongue clicked against her teeth as she left the room.

'This is my daughter, Miss Elizabeth.' Lady Keyt nodded at the girl in a high backed chair. 'This is Master Thomas, and this is my younger daughter, Dorothy.'

Molly smiled tentatively. Elizabeth was pretty, with her thick fair hair plaited around her head, but the poor legs hidden beneath a blanket saddened her.

'I believe you are to be my lady's maid,' Elizabeth said in her gentle voice.

'Yes, miss.'

'I shall enjoy that, I know.'

Before she had time to reply, the younger girl walked towards her. 'I can't imagine why Papa employed you; you're hardly old enough to be a lady's maid. And you won't be my companion because I don't need one.' She rushed to her sister's side.

Molly stared at her shoes, covered with mud. She couldn't believe that she had neglected to clean them.

'Dorothy, be polite to poor Miss Johnson. We must make her welcome in our home.' Molly looked up shyly. Despite her broken legs, Miss Elizabeth had the kindest manner.

'Miss Johnson,' Dorothy spoke grudgingly, 'that was churlish. I apologize.'

It was obvious to Molly that Miss Dorothy's apology did not come from her heart.

'Dotty, is that an admission of guilt? I cannot believe my ears.' At the sound of Thomas's voice, warm and teasing, Molly found herself blushing.

'Good morning, sir,' she mumbled, aware of Dorothy's scrutinizing eyes.

She was grateful for the arrival of Sir William, who came in with two spaniels at his heels.

'Greetings, Miss Johnson. Welcome to our home. Letitia, Sophie, leave Miss Johnson alone. I do apologize for my unruly dogs.'

'I love dogs,' she replied, suddenly aware of her country vowels. 'I always wanted one, but Ma said there were enough four-legged beasts at the Charter House, and a dog would be one too many.'

'Well, you will have no shortage of dogs here.' He smiled. 'Mathews, I am expecting Mr Clarke; tell him I will be with him shortly.'

'Yes, Sir William,' the footman replied.

Sir William turned back towards her. 'I hope you will forgive me, but I have business with my agent to attend to. I expect, however, that my wife will wish to go through the details of your employment. I hope you will be happy here, Miss Johnson.'

Molly nodded, reassured. His manner was polite. Perhaps her fears had no grounds.

'Children, I will see you later,' he said. 'Ann, I will leave you in Miss Johnson's capable hands.'

'Thank you.' Ann sat down and took up her embroidery. 'Thomas,' she said, putting on her glasses, 'please will you show Miss Johnson the house? We would not want her to get lost.'

'Yes, Mother,' he replied.

'Miss Johnson, after you have unpacked and refreshed yourself, I would be grateful if you would come to my room. I would like to go through the details of your duties.'

Molly followed Thomas from the room, keeping her eyes on the floor ahead of her.

'Don't worry about Dorothy,' Thomas said, when they were out of earshot. 'She's had a difficult time recently; she'll come round.'

Molly doubted that, but remained silent. In the first bedroom they came to, bright curtains hung at the windows, and a Turkish rug covered the floor. There were comfortable upholstered chairs beside the fire, and paintings of flowers and birds filled the yellow walls.

'Elizabeth chose everything in here. She wanted the room to be light and cheerful. The paintings are her own. She's talented, isn't she?'

Looking at the delicately painted flowers, Molly thought of her pots at the Charter House. She nodded in admiration. 'She has a gift. At home we have flowers everywhere. I've learnt a lot about them over the years.'

'Then you can share your knowledge with me.'

Molly looked up, her confidence growing. She glimpsed his faultless profile, the finely moulded jaw. 'Did you know,' she began, pulling her eyes away, 'most of the medicines in these bottles are made from plants? There are remedies for every kind of ailment.'

'I didn't,' he replied, 'but I can well believe it. My mother says that the medicines inside this cabinet keep Elizabeth alive. She had the whole world at her feet before the accident. Now she is reliant on these small bottles. What a waste, don't you agree?' Thomas turned towards her. 'Perhaps you can give her a little happiness.'

'I will try, sir,' she said, knowing she would do anything to gain his affection. When their eyes met, he smiled a resigned, sad smile, and she fell in love in that instant.

That evening, Molly's duties began. When she entered the delightful bedroom, it was possible to believe that her father was right, and that this would be a great opportunity for a simple landlord's daughter.

'Do you like pretty things, Miss Johnson? I believe from the look in your eyes that you have a taste for beauty.' Lady Keyt was sitting at the dressing table. Her dark hair hung to her waist, and the firelight softened her fine oval face.

'I do, milady,' Molly replied. She turned to look at the ornate bed hung with embroidered silk and tassels, the heavy silk curtains at the windows, and the flounced valances. Paintings in gilt frames covered the panelled walls, and there was silver everywhere: the dressing-table mirror, the brushes and combs, the candlesticks on the mantelpiece. 'I love nice things, I believe all girls do, but best of all I like fabrics. I think that is because of my sewing. Ma says I know a good thing when I see it, and I reckon the silk on your bed must have cost a fortune.'

Lady Keyt laughed, and Molly relaxed, knowing they would get along.

'I am unaware of the cost, but I am glad you like sewing for you will be in charge of my clothes, and when they need mending it will be your responsibility to do so. Can you manage that?'

'I surely can. I have mended most of my life, and my stitches are nigh-on impossible to see.'

'That is the perfect requirement for a lady's maid. Now, Molly a do you mind if I call you that, for we are to see a great deal of each other?'

'I would much rather be called that.'

'Well then, it's decided.' Lady Keyt's reflection smiled back at her. 'Ruth and Annie will empty the slops, lay the fires in my bedchamber and change the bed linen, but you will care for my wardrobe and act as my personal dresser. When you are not with me you will sit with Elizabeth. I hope you won't find the position tedious after the bustle of a coaching inn.'

'No, my lady. I'm sure I won't.' Molly's enthusiasm grew by the minute. Lady Ann Keyt was courteous and kind. As she helped her new employer into a gown of the finest silk and lace, her future seemed bearable after all.

When Lady Keyt was ready, her soft arms scented with rose water, her hair piled upon her head, she directed Molly to the servants' quarters.

'It's through the swing door in the ground-floor passage. They have supper at seven, dear, so you had better hurry along.'

When Molly pushed open the door, everyone stopped eating and turned towards her. 'Come here, miss,' Tompkins, the footman who had winked at her earlier, said, patting the empty chair beside him. 'It's all right, love, Mrs Wright isn't here a she eats with the butler, in her parlour, and there's still plenty of time. We get an hour at lunch and at dinner.'

Molly's keen eye counted eighteen indoor servants and noted every detail of the cheerful room: the heavy china, the pewter flagons on the long oak table, the burnished copper saucepans hanging from hooks on the ceiling. She listened as the conversation flowed.

'She's come up the hard way, has Mrs Wright,' Ruth the housemaid said. 'She has the job of hiring and firing and there's the problem: she doesn't think much of you being hired by the master himself. Watch yourself with Mrs Wright.'

Molly smiled, disguising her unease.

'She's been here for nigh-on twenty-five years, and she's climbed up from lower than Annie here and me.' Ruth prodded the girl beside her. 'She had two years on the fenders, hearths and slops and she don't take kindly to you being given right off what took her twenty years to get!'

Ruth shook her head and giggled, leaving Annie to finish her story. 'Now she's in charge of us all indoors. She pays the servants and the tradesmen and if anyone tries to skim her, she don't half get mad. She does all the accounts and if we disturb her, do we know it! She does the marketing, buys all the meat and veg. She acts like my namesake Queen Anne herself, not that I ever met her, her majesty being dead that many years.'