Chapter One
Rockwood Castle, June 1862
It was a hot summer day but the four-foot-thick stone walls kept the interior of the castle at an even temperature. Even so, the kitchen was not exactly cool, with a fire blazing in the black-leaded range and pans bubbling on the hob. Fanning herself with her apron, Cook slumped down on the chair she had claimed as her own. She pointed to the board on the wall where a bell was jangling frantically.
‘What’s going on above stairs, Molly? Tilly and Jennet have been running round all morning. That there bell hasn’t stopped ringing since I came down to prepare breakfast.’
‘It’s Lady Carey, Mrs Jackson,’ Molly said, sighing. ‘She’s had the girls chasing round in circles, getting Miss Nancy’s things packed for her trip to London.’
Edna Jackson shook her head. ‘I’ll never forget the day that Nancy Sunday came to Rockwood Castle. Poor little mite, she was half-starved and skinny – all stick-like arms and legs. Nine years old and already in service at the vicarage. Mrs Blanchard took pity on the child and brought her here.’
‘I don’t think Lady Carey thinks much of Mrs Blanchard’s plan to send Nancy to that expensive academy in London. She’s always reminding Nancy that she was a foundling left on the steps of the orphanage.’
‘It’s not for us to criticise our betters, Molly Greep.’
‘Hester Dodridge was housekeeper here before the late master upped and married her. She was once a servant, just like us.’
Edna pursed her lips. ‘For heaven’s sake, answer that bell before it jumps off its spring.’
‘I’m not a chambermaid, Mrs Jackson.’
‘That’s enough of your cheek. Go upstairs and see what they need or we’ll have Mr Jarvis descending upon us, wanting to know what we’re doing.’
‘Mr Jarvis can’t move so fast these days, Mrs Jackson,’ Molly said, giggling. ‘He must be seventy if he’s a day.’
‘That’s neither here nor there, Molly.’ Edna bristled angrily. ‘I myself have reached the age of sixty and I am just as sprightly as I was when I was twenty. Now, do as you’re told or you’ll find yourself back on your parents’ farm.’
Molly tossed her head. ‘I wouldn’t mind that. Or maybe Mrs Blanchard will decide to send me to London with Nancy. It would get me away from Rockwood village and all the gossips. I’ve never been further than Exeter.’ She marched out of the kitchen.
Above stairs, in her pretty bedroom situated in one of the four turrets, Nancy sat on the window seat, watching Hester and Rosalind arguing about what a young woman would need to take to London. Who would have thought that the simple act of leaving home to attend a prestigious young ladies’ academy could cause such a to-do? Nancy asked herself this a dozen times a day as she tried in vain to influence the choice of garments to be packed in the campaign trunk that Sir Bertram Carey had used in his army days, as well as a large valise and several hatboxes.
Hester had raised Rosalind and her three siblings during their parents’ long absences from home, and Hester had set ideas as to what was proper for a young woman of eighteen to wear. She was more concerned about practicalities like pantalettes, flannel petticoats, cotton lawn chemises, and nightgowns that left everything to the imagination, with wraps to cover modesty at all times.
Rosalind Blanchard laughed at the notion of Nancy having to wear flannelette nightgowns with high necks and long sleeves in the middle of summer.
‘Really, Hester. There’s no need for such modesty,’ Rosalind insisted. ‘Nancy will most probably be sharing a room with one or two other young females anyway. Miss Maughfling, the principal, said she was very strict about such things.’
Hester sniffed. ‘If you ask me, I think finishing school is a waste of time and money spent on a girl who had started life as a foundling.’
‘Where she came from doesn’t make any difference,’ Rosalind said sharply. ‘Nancy is a member of the family and as such she deserves the best chance in life.’
‘Neither you nor your sister attended such an institution.’
‘No, because when we were younger there wasn’t the money for such luxuries.’
Nancy listened to the argument with a feeling of resignation. She had always been painfully aware that Hester did not approve of her being treated as a member of the family. Rosalind, on the other hand, insisted that although Nancy did not bear the Carey name, she was one of them nonetheless. Hester might have captured the heart of the late Sir Lucius in his final years, but Rosalind was undoubtedly the head of the family. Married to ex-army officer Alexander Blanchard, Rosalind had taken charge of the practical day-to-day running of the household after her brother Bertie had been crippled by injuries received in the Crimean War. Rosalind ruled by love and respect, whereas Hester believed in following the rules with grim determination.
‘I’m quite happy to remain here and help with the housekeeping,’ Nancy said, sighing. ‘Please don’t argue.’
‘It’s just a discussion, dear,’ Rosalind said, smiling. ‘Of course you need undergarments and nightdresses, but I think you ought to have at least three sprigged muslin afternoon gowns, apart from your plain skirts and blouses. Maybe you ought to take that charming shot-silk dinner gown.’
‘She’s going to school,’ Hester said, frowning.
‘Nancy might get invited to the other girls’ homes. There might even be the chance to attend a ball. There’s the cream satin creation, trimmed with lace, which Meggie Brewer made for her. That would be eminently suitable.’
‘Nonsense. I thought it was too grand for her when it was made.’
‘Hester, dear! The whole purpose of the Academy is to teach manners, deportment, dancing and other social graces.’
‘And it’s costing a small fortune. Surely that sort of money could be spent on improvements for the castle, or clothes for the children.’
Rosalind folded the satin ball gown and laid it in the trunk. ‘Nancy has been educated to be a young lady. She will need a maid to attend her. I was thinking that Molly might be the most sensible choice.’
‘Why would a schoolgirl need a lady’s maid? Really, Rosie, this is getting out of hand.’
Nancy could stand it no longer. She rose from her seat, snatched up her bonnet, and escaped from her bedroom, leaving Rosalind to deal with Hester. Neither of them had thought to ask her which of the servants she would like to accompany her.
Nancy made her way down the spiral stairs leading to the main landing and the grand staircase, where ancestors of the Careys gazed down from their portraits with sightless eyes. A sound in the entrance hall drew her attention to Abel Wolfe, a giant of a man, who had lost one eye in a fight many years ago. Wolfe was never forthcoming about his past, but he was Sir Bertram’s devoted personal servant and everyone treated him with a degree of respect. Wolfe pushed the Bath chair over the threshold, taking care not to jolt his master too much.
Jarvis closed the main door and stood aside, casting a surreptitious glance in Wolfe’s direction. Nancy suspected that Jarvis did not approve of Wolfe, but the old butler was tight-lipped and too tactful to voice his own opinions. The hierarchy at Rockwood Castle was strict, unbending and observed by almost everyone.
‘Good morning, Nancy,’ Sir Bertram said cheerfully. ‘It’s a lovely day for a walk.’
‘I’m going to visit Patsy.’
Sir Bertram winked at her. ‘Getting away from the fuss upstairs, I expect. Good for you, Nancy. When in doubt, take cover.’
‘Time for your medicine, Sir Bertram,’ Wolfe growled. ‘You’ve had too much sun today.’
‘Balderdash, Wolfe. I’m as fit as a fiddle, even if I have to sit in this damned contraption all the time. I’ll have a tot of brandy and a cigar.’
Jarvis opened the door and stood stiffly to attention, staring straight ahead as Nancy stepped outside. Putting on her straw bonnet, she headed across the cobbled bailey and out through the tall wrought-iron gates. The sun beat down with the intensity of a hot June day. The air smelled sweetly of newly mown hay, garden flowers and a tang of brine from the sea. Sunlight sparkled on the swiftly running waters of the River Sawle as Nancy crossed the bridge. The Rockwood estate covered many acres of rolling countryside and farmland, and included the whole village. The wood on her left looked cool and green, a tempting area of shade away from the blazing sun, but she ignored its siren call and walked on, past the smithy and the wheelwright’s workshop. The sawmill was next, and the cottage that had once housed the manager had been completely rebuilt by Leo Wilder so that it was a home fit for him and his wife, Patricia. Nancy knew that she would miss all this more than she would have thought possible.
She quickened her pace until she reached the house, hoping that Patricia would be at home. Each time she visited there was something different to admire. The picket fence surrounding the garden had been painted white, and the flowerbeds were filled with hollyhocks and lupins. The scent from Patricia’s favourite rose bushes wafted on the warm air, and the whirring of the machinery in the mill was at odds with the birdsong and the gentle rustle of the leaves ruffled by the summer breeze.
Nancy’s knock on the door was answered by Fletcher, a servant with a criminal past, who had been rehabilitated and was now more protective of the family than any guard dog. Fletcher’s granite features rarely broke a smile and today was no exception.
‘Yes?’ Fletcher’s gravelly voice was not welcoming.
‘Is Mrs Wilder at home?’
‘I’ll see.’ Fletcher slammed the door, leaving Nancy standing on the step.
Nancy sighed and let herself into the house anyway. She was used to Fletcher’s ways. No amount of tactful comments or out-and-out criticism seemed to make any difference. Fletcher was never going to change, but she was devoted to the family and entirely trustworthy.
‘Patricia,’ Nancy called, crossing the spacious hallway. She opened the parlour door and was met by Fletcher, standing arms akimbo. The tattoos on her forearms gleamed in a shaft of sunlight, and her grey hair shone like polished steel.
‘Did I say the missis would see you?’
‘It’s all right, Fletcher,’ Patricia said sharply. ‘You know I am always at home to my family.’
Fletcher rolled her eyes. ‘Most families in my experience avoid each other like the plague.’
‘I’ve told you a dozen times not to close the door and leave my visitors outside, unless it’s someone we really don’t wish to see.’ Patricia patted a space on the window seat. ‘Come and sit down, Nancy. Would you like some lemonade or a cup of tea?’
‘Lemonade would be lovely. It’s really hot today.’
Patricia gave Fletcher a stern look. ‘Lemonade for two, please, Fletcher.’
‘You ain’t Lady Greystone now, and I ain’t no skivvy,’ Fletcher grumbled as she left the room.
Patricia sighed. ‘I don’t know why I keep her on, except that she’s really good at helping in the mill, especially if we get a difficult customer.’
‘Not many people would have employed Fletcher,’ Nancy said, laughing. ‘Rosalind takes in all the waifs and strays.’
‘My sister has a soft heart. She met Fletcher at a particularly difficult time in her life. We’ve all endured harrowing experiences in the past, as you well remember.’
Nancy sat down beside her. ‘It was hard sometimes when we were in London, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’
‘You were my staunch companion then, even though you were so young. We had some adventures, though, didn’t we?’
Nancy giggled. ‘I remember the people in Clare Market throwing rotten tomatoes at us when you sang to them.’
‘That was so humiliating. The crowd on the previous day had clapped and cheered. They took a hat round and raised a few pennies to beg me to return.’
‘Then there was the trip to Paris. I don’t suppose I’ll ever experience anything like that again.’
‘I should hope not,’ Patricia said, laughing. ‘Being involved in a jewel robbery was not the highlight of my life.’
‘But Leo rescued us and brought us safely home.’
‘I’ll never forget that week being tossed about in a smelly fishing boat before we docked at Rockwood Quay.’ Patricia sighed. ‘I have to admit it was all very exciting, but being married to Leo makes up for everything I went through in the past. I never thought I’d say so, but I’m happy being a mill owner’s wife.’
‘Leo is a lovely man.’ Nancy nodded emphatically.
‘But what brings you here today, Nancy? I thought you would be busy getting everything together for your stay in London.’
‘I had to get away from the castle. Hester and Rosalind can’t agree on anything, even what garments I need to take with me. I’m not allowed to choose which servant will go with me, although I don’t really need a personal maid. What will the other girls think?’
‘Miss Maughfling’s Academy is quite select, Nancy. I dare say all the other young ladies will bring their maids. You don’t want to be left out, do you?’
‘No, but I’m afraid they will guess that I’m not really one of them. Hester has always told me I should know my place, and I should be below stairs with the other servants.’
Patricia’s pretty forehead creased in a frown. ‘Don’t say things like that, Nancy. You are as good as any of us. Who knows, your papa might have been a lord or ev...
