“I wonder if Mr. Andrew Frasier has a lady love?”
Laura’s stomach tightened. “It’s none of our business. I’m sure he would not like to hear two of the maids discussing his private affairs.”
“I suppose,” Mille said with a saucy grin. “But there’s no reason a girl can’t do a little dreaming.”
* * *
“A letter arrived for you this morning.” Mrs. Ellis held out the slim ivory envelope toward Laura. She peered at Laura through wire-rimmed spectacles that rode halfway down her long nose. Her silver-streaked hair was parted in the center and pulled back in a small, severe bun.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Laura took the letter and slipped it into her apron pocket. She quickly downed the last of her tea, rose from the table, and slipped out of the servants’ hall. Tucking her hand in her apron pocket, she wrapped her fingers around the letter and headed down the lower passageway. Hoping to take in a bit of sunshine and read her letter outside in private, she pushed open the door and stepped outside.
The fresh scent of newly mown grass and spring flowers greeted her as she walked out to the back courtyard. She followed the gravel path around the side of the house and entered the holly hedge border garden. Yellow and white daffodils with silvery-green leaves bobbed their heads in the light breeze. Pink, purple, and yellow tulips lined the flower beds, with feathery green ferns unfurling around them. Overhead, the plum tree looked like a pink cloud floating above the pathway.
Laura sat on the stone bench in the shade of the holly hedge and carefully tore open the envelope. She pulled out the single sheet of paper, and a rush of surprise flowed through her. Mum and Katie were the only ones who wrote to her, but this handwriting was unfamiliar. She turned over the letter and found Mrs. Graham’s signature at the bottom. Her shoulders tensed.
Dear Laura, I’m sorry to say your mum has had a very difficult time these last few weeks, and she is quite unwell. Katie and Garth did the best they could to take care of her, and I came most days, but she had a high fever and was growing weaker, so my husband and I took her to St. Joseph’s Hospital last Friday night.
Laura’s heart clenched, and she stared at the letter. How could she have gone about her duties every day and not realized her dear mum was suffering so? Tears filled her eyes, and she had to blink a few times before she could continue reading.
The nurses are giving her good care, and the doctors are hopeful she will recover from her pneumonia, but it is not certain. I wanted to prepare you in case the worst happens. I will visit her as often as I can, and I promise to send word when the situation changes.
The next paragraph was just as upsetting as Mrs. Graham told how her brother had been arrested and her three siblings had been taken to a children’s home.
I hope you will come to London if you can. I’m sure it would cheer your mum to see you and know that you are doing what you can to look in on your sisters and brother and let them know they are not forgotten. Please write and tell me if you’re coming. I will keep you and your family in my prayers.
Your friend,
Ruby Graham
Laura clutched the letter to her heart, her throat aching. After all they’d already suffered, now they were facing another round of painful hardships. Her brother and sisters had tried to take care of themselves and Mum, but it was too much for them. All the while they’d been hungry and not known where to turn. Her poor brother had felt so desperate he had stolen food. That was not like him, not at all.
She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Katie, Grace, and Garth must be terrified. Which home had they been taken to? Were they together, or had they been separated? Many of the homes accepted only boys or only girls.
She had to go to London. Her family needed her. Would Mrs. Frasier allow it, or would she sack her and hire someone else to take her place? If she lost her position, she would have no money to help her family. She might be able to find a new position in London, but how could she care for her siblings if she was working every day?
A choked sob rose in her throat, and she lifted her hand to cover her mouth. She ought to pray for Mum and her siblings, but she couldn’t seem to form her churning thoughts into words. Bowing her head, she waited, wishing for some comfort, but the heavens seemed distant and silent.
A breeze ruffled the plum blossoms overhead, and a few pink petals fluttered to the ground around her. She raised her hand, covered her eyes, and let her tears fall.
* * *
Andrew clasped his hands behind his back and strolled across the emerald-green grass in the old rose garden with his mother by his side. It was too early for the roses to bloom, but he could see the new shoots leafing out with the promise that they would put on a fine show in a few weeks. Now was the time for the borders to shine with rows of colorful tulips, bleeding hearts, grape hyacinths, and forget-me-nots.
It was good to be home and walk through his family’s private gardens. He’d spent hours out here when he was a boy, following Mr. Harding, the gruff but softhearted old gardener who’d taught him how to till the fertile beds, transplant perennials, and prune the climbing roses. In between those gardening lessons, Andrew chased rabbits and watched robins build their nests and feed their young.
He had stayed outside and followed Mr. Harding whenever the weather was agreeable—and sometimes even when it wasn’t. He had enjoyed those hours with the old man, soaking in the secrets of the garden. It kept him out of the house and away from his father, who had a fiery temper and was rarely pleased with anything Andrew said or did.
He clenched his jaw, pushed that thought away, and turned to his mother. “So, where is Father?”
“He’s in Scotland on a fishing trip. He should be back tomorrow or Saturday.”
Andrew nodded, thankful he and his mother would have some time together before his father returned.
“So, tell me about Italy.” She looked up at him with a warm smile. “I hope you didn’t spend all your time taking care of business.”
Andrew’s gaze drifted off across the garden as he recalled the highlights of the two months he’d spent in Italy with his friend and mentor, Henry Dowd. “Rome was amazing. There is a lot of history there and so many sights to see. But we spent most of our time near Florence. The countryside is beautiful, with several historic hilltop towns that date back to medieval times.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“Yes, it’s a charming area. Those hilltop towns have colorful, narrow streets and sun-drenched town squares they call piazzas. The artwork is remarkable, and the people are so friendly. The food is outstanding as well.”
“No wonder you enjoyed it so much.”
He grinned. “I did, and I hope to return someday.”
“And your business? Everything went well?”
“Yes. We settled the estate of one of our clients and completed the sale of all his Italian holdings.”
Their footman approached. “Excuse me, ma’am, but Mrs. Jackson has arrived.”
“Oh dear. Please tell her I’ll join her soon.”
The footman nodded and hurried back toward the house.
“I’m sorry, Andrew. I forgot Althea was coming today. She and I are heading up the Spring Fete Committee for St. Luke’s. We have all kinds of details to discuss.”
“That’s fine, Mother.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “Enjoy the time with your friend. I’ll see you after.”
“Thank you, dear.” She patted his arm, then walked toward the house.
Andrew pulled in a deep breath, savoring the scent of moist earth and fragrant flowers. A peaceful stroll around the rest of the garden to see what else was blooming would give him time to consider what he would say to his father when he returned from his fishing trip. The conversation most likely would not be pleasant, but it was long overdue.
He reached the end of the ros
e garden and set off down the gravel path that went toward the pond, then on to the orchard.
An unusual sound stopped him, and he cocked his head to listen. Was that someone crying on the other side of the holly hedge? After listening a moment more, he took a few steps in that direction.
When he reached the end of the hedge, he stopped and looked around the side. A young woman dressed in a black maid’s uniform and white apron sat on the stone bench. Her blond hair was pulled back under her maid’s cap, and she clutched a letter to her chest. Her shoulders trembled, and tears glistened on her cheeks.
His chest tightened, and he shifted back out of view. He wasn’t sure if he should speak to her or leave her alone to deal with whatever sorrowful news she’d received in that letter. Was it a broken romance or some painful family matter that caused her tears?
Either way, she might be helped by a compassionate word. He stepped around the end of the hedge and walked up the path.
2
Footsteps crunched on the gravel. Laura looked up and pulled in a sharp breath. Andrew Frasier walked toward her. She quickly rose to her feet, swiping the tears from her cheeks. How dreadful to be caught crying in his garden. What would he think of her? Worse yet, what would he say to his mother?
He slowed to a stop a few feet away. “I’m sorry to disturb you.” He studied her with a cautious look. “I was just out for a walk, and I thought I heard someone over here.” He glanced toward the hedge, then back at her. “Are you all right?”
She sniffed and straightened her shoulders. “Yes sir. I’m fine, thank you.” Though she was sure her nose glowed bright red and tears still glistened in her eyes.
He studied her a moment more, his gaze softening. “I’m Andrew Frasier, Mr. and Mrs. Frasier’s son. And you are…?”
“Laura McAlister, sir.” She gave a brief curtsy. “Mrs. Frasier’s lady’s maid.”
“Ah yes.” He glanced at the letter in her hand. “You seem upset. Did you receive some bad news?”
Heat filled her cheeks, and she lifted her chin. “I’ll be all right, sir. There’s no need for you to be concerned.” She might be a servant, but that didn’t mean she had to tell him about her personal affairs.
His gaze remained steady. “I only wanted to offer a listening ear and be of help if needed.”
She swallowed, surprised by his soft reply. He sounded kind, but he was a wealthy gentleman, the man who would inherit this estate. How could he understand what it was like to work long hours to meet the needs of your family, then be cut off from them and worried about them every single day?
Still, it might ease her sorrow to tell someone what had happened. She slowly looked up and met his gaze. “My mum is very ill. They’ve taken her to St. Joseph’s Hospital in London. I have a brother and two sisters who are too young to stay alone, and the police have taken them to a children’s home.”
His brows dipped. “I’m sorry. That sounds very serious.”
Tears blurred her vision, and she looked away. She wasn’t used to receiving sympathy from those she served. Mrs. Frasier was not a cruel mistress, but she focused on her own affairs and had never asked Laura about her family.
She looked down at the letter again, and a sense of urgency flowed through her. “I need to go to London to see my mum and find out what can be done for my brother and sisters. But I’m not sure if Mrs. Frasier will allow it. I don’t want to lose my position.”
He took a step closer.
Laura stiffened, gripping the letter.
“I’m sure when my mother hears about the situation, she’ll let you go take care of family matters in London. That shouldn’t put your position at risk.”
She studied his face, debating whether she should believe him.
“I could speak to her if you’d like.”
Why would he suggest that? The answer rose in her mind, and a shiver traveled down her back. “No, I…I don’t want to trouble you.” And more importantly, she didn’t want to be in his debt.
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m a solicitor. I’m used to speaking up for others.” A smile pulled up one side of his mouth. “I can be quite persuasive, especially where my mother is concerned.”
His words sounded sincere, and she was tempted to agree to the idea. But how could she be certain he wasn’t like Simon Harrington? What if he had offered his help only to try to win her trust and convince her to lower her defenses?
He studied her a moment more. “Well, what do you say?”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll need to be in London. I can’t abide the idea of my siblings forced to stay in a children’s home.”
“My mother is a compassionate person, especially where the needs of children are concerned. I’m certain she’ll understand.” He lifted his eyebrows and watched her expectantly.
If the request came from her son, Mrs. Frasier might be more likely to agree to an extended leave. Then Laura could travel to London to help her family without the fear of losing her position. That would also take her far away from Andrew Frasier. There would be no need to worry about feeling indebted to him.
She looked up. “All right. I’d appreciate it if you would speak to her.”
“I’ll be glad to do it.” He thought for a moment, then focused on her again. “I admire your commitment to your family. That says a lot about you.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out his card. “This is the address of my office in London. I’ll be back in town on Tuesday. If you need any assistance, I hope you’ll call on me there.”
Laura eyed the card. She had no money to pay a solicitor. What would he expect her to give him in exchange for his services? Her stomach recoiled.
“I have some contacts with those who oversee children’s homes,” Andrew continued, still holding out the card. “My family supported Dr. Barnardo, and I attended a few of his fund-raising events. Perhaps I could see what’s being done for your siblings.”
That comment tipped the scale. She slowly reached out and took his card. It might be a mistake, but she’d do just about anything to help her brother and sisters. She glanced at the address, but she didn’t recognize the street. No doubt his office was in an area of town she didn’t frequent.
She murmured her thanks and slipped the card into her apron pocket. “I should be going.”
He nodded. “My mother is meeting with a friend, but I’ll speak to her as soon as she’s finished. Then hopefully you can pack your bags and set off for London this afternoon.”
“Very good, sir.” She dipped a curtsy and strode down the path toward the servants’ entrance.
Andrew Frasier seemed to be a respectable man with honorable intentions, but she’d thought the same thing when she’d first met Simon Harrington. It would take more than a few kind words and an offer of assistance to gain her trust.
* * *
Katie held tightly to Grace’s hand and followed the long line of girls down the stone steps of the Grangeford Home for Poor and Destitute Children. One hundred seventy-three girls, ages five to sixteen, stayed in the three-story stone building. Katie rubbed her arms, trying to banish the chill as the girls’ footsteps echoed through the stairwell. Grangeford was a cold, gloomy place, but they were served three meals a day and each girl had her own bed. At least she and Grace had been allowed to have beds next to each other.
She and Grace had been given two plain brown dresses the day they arrived, and they wore an ivory-colored apron over them to keep them clean. Though they were fed and clothed, it was nothing like home. Everything seemed strange and different, and she’d struggled to take it all in. Each day she felt like she was walking through a dreadful dream that would never end. If only she could wake up and return to their rooms over the dress shop and to the love and comfort of Mum’s care.
Grace looked up, her face pale and solemn. Gray shadows below her eyes reflected her fitful night’s
sleep. “Do you think Mum will come today?”
Katie’s heart felt like a heavy stone in her chest, but she forced a slight smile for Grace’s sake. “I hope so.”
This was their fifth day at Grangeford. They’d received no word from their mum or Mrs. Graham since they’d arrived, and with each sunset the hope that Mum would get well and come to claim them grew dimmer.
Was she still alive? That was the question that pounded through Katie’s mind every waking hour and stirred her ghostly dreams at night. A tremor passed through her, and she tried to push that frightening question away. Surely if Mum had died, someone would’ve told her. Since she’d heard nothing, that must mean Mum was still in the hospital and would get better. And when she did, she would come and take them home so they could all be together again.
“Hurry along, girls.” Mrs. Hastings, the matron’s assistant, held open the door at the bottom of the stairs as Katie, Grace, and a dozen other girls passed through. The older woman wore a simple gray dress and a solemn expression. When the last girl stepped outside, the woman closed the door and turned toward them. “I want you to gather sticks and put them in those wooden crates by the shed.” She pointed across the open grassy area to a small whitewashed shed near the tall wooden fence.
An overnight windstorm had littered the lawn with broken branches from the tall trees surrounding the property. It was the second time they had been sent outdoors to clean up the lawn and collect sticks for kindling. Katie didn’t mind being assigned this chore. Gathering sticks and branches was a blessed change from sweeping, mopping, and dusting inside the home.
Grace gave a weary sigh, dropped Katie’s hand, and trudged across the grass. She scooped up a few small sticks, collecting them in her apron. Katie followed behind, gathering some of the larger branches and dragging them across the lawn toward the shed.
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