'I won't be alone, I'll have Nell with me,' Hope said, touched by this extraordinary display of concern. She moved forward and took the older woman's hand. 'Don't cry,' she said. 'I'll be fine.'

'Just make sure she doesn't whisk the baby away,' Lady Harvey said.

Her words were strange enough, but her expression was even stranger, for it was as though she was baring her teeth, except there were only a couple of brown stumps left.

Hope looked round at Rufus for an explanation, but he only shook his head and indicated the door.

It seemed incredibly rude to leave so quickly, but she really couldn't bear to stay. Not just because Lady Harvey was so strange, but the cottage itself was making her feel tense and anxious. 'I'm sorry this was such a brief visit, but I have to go now,' she said. 'I'll come and see you again soon.'

'You haven't even had any tea with me.' The older woman's voice was shrill and pleading. 'I was just going to ring for some.'

Rufus ushered Hope out.

'I'm sorry,' he said once they were outside, wearing a hangdog expression. 'She says some very odd things sometimes. As for ringing for tea! Perhaps she thinks Baines will pop out of the churchyard and bring her some.'

Hope giggled nervously. 'I shouldn't laugh at that. Poor old Baines. He was such a nice man.'

'One of the best,' Rufus said. 'I sawhim before he died, and he told me he wanted to go. He said it had been a privilege working for my folks, but he was tired now. He died the next day, and I was glad, really. I mean, if he had lived on where would he have gone?'

Hope knew as Rufus did that it would have been the workhouse. She was glad to see her childhood friend hadn't lost his social conscience.

'How do you manage with your mother?' she asked as they walked along the old drive.

'You mean when she's mad?' he said with disarming frankness. 'She isn't a danger to herself or anyone else. She only says strange things. She told me one day I had a sister!'

'Really?' Hope giggled. 'And what happened to this sister? Did Nell whisk her away?'

They both laughed, and then moved on to talk about more cheerful things.

They walked down to the lake for old times' sake, and were pleased to see that the old boat was still there. They sat on a log in a patch of sunshine and talked about anything and everything. Hope even told Rufus about Gussie and Betsy and the time she stole the pie when they were starving.

It was what she had needed, without knowing it: to be able to talk truthfully about the past, for she'd only glossed over her time in Lewins Mead to Nell for fear of putting ugly pictures into her sister's mind.

She didn't linger on that part of her life, though; it was enough to give him a brief glimpse of it and move on. Rufus wanted to know about the battles in the Crimea, particularly the Charge of the Light Brigade which had been reported on in great depth in every English newspaper.

Hope gave him her own scathing views on the so-called hero, Cardigan, and told him she felt it was appalling that back here everyone had cast Lord Lucan as the villain of the piece.

'My very favourite battle was the one they dubbed "The Thin Red Line",' Rufus said.

'Bennett watched that one,' Hope responded eagerly. 'He thought the Highlanders were the bravest men in history.'

'Russell of The Times The Times wrote about it so pa.s.sionately, I almost felt I was there,' Rufus said. 'He described them as "The Thin Red Line tipped with steel". Isn't that a marvellous description?' wrote about it so pa.s.sionately, I almost felt I was there,' Rufus said. 'He described them as "The Thin Red Line tipped with steel". Isn't that a marvellous description?'

'I just hope when they come home they are truly rewarded for their valour,' Hope sighed. 'There were so many heroic incidents out there, many of which will never be reported. Angus was badly wounded in the cavalry charge, but he still hauled an unseated trooper on to his horse with him and rode back with him through the blazing guns. As for Bennett, he might not have led charges or killed any Russians, but to the men whose lives he saved, he was, and still is, a hero.'

Rufus hung on her every word as she described the hospital and the endless procession of wounded and sick arriving daily. 'But now they've taken Sebastopol, it must all be over bar the shouting,' he said. 'They'll surely all be home for Christmas?'

'I hope Bennett gets home long before that, and warns me when it will be,' Hope said with a grin. 'It will be just like him to walk in the one day I'm in a mess. But enough of war and me. What about you, Rufus? Have you got a sweetheart?'

He grinned bashfully. 'I have indeed. Lily Freeman, she's the rector in Chelwood's daughter.'

'I'm very happy for you,' Hope said. 'Is she beautiful?'

'She is to me,' he said looking all dreamy-eyed. 'I love her and want to marry her. But I can't while Mother's this way. I can only just about keep us, let alone a wife, at the moment.'

It seemed incredible to Hope that Rufus's life had changed so dramatically. Whenever she'd imagined him in the past it was always in some kind of grand setting b.a.l.l.s, parties, out hunting on a horse like Merlin. She could never have pictured him in worn rough clothes with dirt beneath his fingernails, ploughing a field or feeding chickens.

'You are still a very young man,' she reminded him. 'Lily will wait if she loves you. I had to wait a long time for Bennett, but it was worth it in the end.'

'It's so good to have you back,' he said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. 'And even better to find that we can still talk about everything, just the way we used to. We'll always be friends, won't we?'

She kissed his cheek then. 'Always. For ever and ever. But now I must go on to Matt's, I've taken up too much of your day already. But come and see me at Nell's very soon?'

On 29 September Hope woke in the early hours with a twinge of pain in her stomach. It disappeared, but some ten minutes later there was another. By the fifth one, now nearly an hour later, she knew the baby was coming and went to wake Nell.

Uncle Abel had arranged for a midwife in Brislington village, who he considered to be the best, to attend the birth, and he'd already given his instructions that when the time came Nell was to send for her, and notify him.

Nell was very calm. She got dressed, stirred up the stove and made them both tea, then slipped out to see a neighbour who had a pony and trap and had already promised to fetch the midwife when the time came.

Hope had no intention of going back to bed until she absolutely had to. One of the sisters at St Peter's had always claimed that she'd noted babies came easier and quicker when the mother walked around.

Nell had everything ready for the baby; she'd made a whole drawerful of flannel nightgowns, jackets, bonnets and bootees. She'd got a wooden crib from somewhere, and knitted blankets and a shawl. Hope had glanced at them all before, but now that the event was so close she decided to take a better look.

She felt a surge of love for her sister as she saw the care that had gone into making the tiny garments. The little flannel nightgowns had delicate embroidery on the yoke, and she had trimmed the bonnets with lace.

At the bottom of the pile there was an older shawl, and Hope pulled it out to look at it. It was yellowing with age, but as soft and delicate as a cobweb. She wondered where it had come from, for it was clearly handed down, but she couldn't imagine anyone Nell knew having such a fine shawl.

She was holding it to her face when Nell came in, flushed from rushing up the road. 'Where did this come from, Nell?' Hope asked. 'It's so lovely.'

'It was yours,' Nell said.

'Mine! How could our family afford such a thing?'

'Someone gave it to Mother. I don't know who,' Nell said, and her voice was strangely sharp.

'I'm going to be just fine,' Hope said, a.s.suming Nell was worried about her. 'Women have babies all the time, and I've delivered a few too, so I know what it's all about.'

'I shall remind you of that if you start screaming,' Nell said tartly.

The midwife, Mrs Langham, arrived at twelve. She was a big, bossy woman with a large wart on her nose, but Hope was pleased to see she was very clean, and didn't look as if she swigged gin as so many so-called midwives did. Her husband had despatched a boy to inform Dr Cunningham the baby was on its way.

'But we'll have this one ready for him when he gets here,' Mrs Langham said jovially. 'You don't look the kind to hang around for a couple of days.'

She was right. By four in the afternoon the pains were so bad that Hope got into bed, and by six she was bearing down. In less than half an hour Mrs Langham was catching the baby in her hands and announcing it was a girl.

Hope lay back on the pillows and took the baby in her arms. She had expected the birth to be h.e.l.l, and it had come close. But she had never truly believed that when a baby was put into its mother's arms she would immediately love it. She had been wrong on that count, however, for the feeling which welled up inside her was so strong that tears flowed down her cheeks. Nothing in her life so far had ever felt so good, so utterly moving as the sight of that tiny little face.

'Oh, Nell,' she sighed. 'Can anything be more perfect, more wonderful?'

'She looks just like you when you were born,' Nell said, and she began to cry.

'Screamers I can deal with,' Mrs Langham said. 'But cryers, I need a brandy for those.'

Hope looked up at the big woman and her tears turned to laughter. 'You shall have a brandy,' she said. 'As big as you like. And Nell had better have one too.'

'So, what are you going to call her?' Uncle Abel said. He had arrived an hour after the delivery and seemed quite shaken that his skills were unnecessary. He had examined the baby, p.r.o.nounced her strong, healthy and quite the most beautiful he'd ever seen. Then he sat down and cradled her in his arms.

'Betsy,' Hope said without any hesitation. 'Betsy Hannah Meg Meadows.'

He looked pleased that the second name was to be his late sister's and the third that of Hope's mother. 'Why Betsy?' he asked.

'After someone I loved,' she said simply. 'I know Bennett will approve, it was when he came to visit her during the cholera that we met.'

'Have you had a letter lately?' he asked.

'Not since the one he wrote in August,' she replied. 'I think that means he's on his way home.'

'What a devil of a time it takes for letters from abroad!' Abel said reflectively. 'We have the telegraph now and that gives us news of what is happening just a couple of days after the event. But letters still take weeks!'

'There's a letter for you from the Captain!' Nell shouted up the stairs exactly a week after Betsy was born. 'I'll bring it up in a minute.'

Hope would have run down the stairs immediately had she not been feeding Betsy. Feeding was the best part of motherhood. She had a comfortable chair by the bedroom window which looked out on to the garden, and she could gaze dreamily out at the fields beyond the garden wall as Betsy suckled greedily at her breast.

Nothing before had come close to the joy of looking down at her small face, or feeling her tiny fingers clench hers; there was a faint smell on her head that Hope would sniff rapturously, and it was bliss after the feed to lie back in the chair cradling her in her arms.

Nell and Dora complained that she didn't allow them to have much time with her, and sometimes she was aware she was too possessive. But Betsy was her her baby, and right now while she was so tiny, all she wanted was her mother. baby, and right now while she was so tiny, all she wanted was her mother.

Nell came up with some tea on a tray. 'Can I hold her while you read the letter?' she asked as she put the tray down.

'She needs changing,' Hope said as she moved to hand the baby over and sawher dress had a wet patch. 'I never expected babies to be so leaky.'

'You just wait till she's a bit bigger,' Nell said as she laid Betsy down on a towel and removed the sodden napkin. 'You'll find it hard to deal with the washing. But come on, get that letter read; I want to hear his news.'

Hope sat back down and opened the envelope. It was only one page, and at the second line she blanched.

'Oh no,' she gasped. 'Bennett's sick.'

She continued to read, and when she'd finished she dropped the letter in her lap and covered her face in her hands.

'Tell me?' Nell said, hastily putting Betsy back in her crib and moving to drop on her knees in front of her sister. 'What does the letter say?'

'You read it, I can't. I think he must be dead.'

Nell picked up the letter and took it over to the window for better light.

'Dear Hope,' she read.

I hope you are well and that the baby has arrived by now, I also fervently hope that Bennett is now home with you and recovering his health. I have just got back from being off with the cavalry for a while, and of course I went looking for him only to be told he'd been taken sick with fever. By the time I got down to the hospital he'd already been sent off to Scutari.

Nell stopped reading when she heard Hope wail. 'It's all right, my love.' Nell dropped the letter and moved over to comfort her sister. 'He doesn't say Bennett's dead, only that he was sent off because he was sick.'

'That letter is dated 20 August,' Hope sobbed. 'Bennett had already been ill for a while then if he's alive, why hasn't he written?'

'You know how erratic the post is from there,' Nell said soothingly. 'Bad news travels faster than good, we all know that. If he'd died you would have heard.'

'You don't know what it's like there,' Hope insisted. 'Men die all the time and sometimes no one knows who they are.'

'But he's an officer,' Nell said firmly. 'They don't lose them!'

Hope looked up at Nell with fear-filled eyes. 'They took him to Scutari, Nell. That place is a h.e.l.l-hole, everyone knows that. He's dead. He's never coming back to me.'

Chapter Twenty-five.

Nell woke with a start, sat up and fumbled for the candle. Betsy was screaming and it was clear that once again Hope wasn't going to move to comfort her.

It had been this way for days now, and Nell was at the end of her tether. She got out of bed, pulled a shawl over her shoulders, and taking the candle, padded barefoot across the landing into Hope's room.

'There, there, my little love,' she said as she scooped the baby up into her arms. 'Nell's got you now.'

Betsy was soaking wet and clearly very hungry, sucking at her little fists.

Nell stripped off the wet nightgown and napkin and replaced them with dry ones, then moved closer to the bed. Hope was just the same way she'd been for days, lying flat on her back, staring into s.p.a.ce, seemingly unaware of anything.

'You must feed Betsy,' Nell said.

When Hope didn't reply, or even look at her, Nell called her name, tugged at her arm and repeated her request, louder this time. There was still no response.

'What will Bennett say if he comes back and finds his child half-starved?' Nell said angrily. 'You are her mother, for G.o.d's sake!'

'He won't come back. He's dead.'

An icy shudder ran down Nell's spine at the cold and expressionless tone of her sister's voice.

'If he is dead, then all the more reason for you to take care of his baby,' Nell spat at her. 'Sit up this minute and put her to your breast.'

Betsy began to scream again; even in the gloom of one candle Nell could see that her face was almost purple with rage.

'You are inhuman. This little sc.r.a.p wants nothing more than your milk. You can lie there for as long as you like feeling sorry for yourself, but you'll feed her first.'

Nell put the child down on the bed and wrenched Hope's nightdress open. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were as big as melons, the veins standing out because they were so engorged with milk. 'You will let her feed. I won't stand by and let you be so selfish.'

She picked up Betsy and put her to Hope's breast. She latched on hungrily, but still Hope didn't attempt to cradle her in her arms, or even look at her.