Page 9 of A Lady of Conscience

“Assuredly.” Hannah stood, gathering the journal, her umbrella, and shawl. “Not all of my hours will be consumed by balls and assemblies during my visit. I shall have ample time for my friends.”

Miss Winthrop smiled. “I should like to call you friend, Miss Heywood.”

“Hannah, please.”

“Mattie,” Miss Winthrop replied, returning the courtesy. “Shall I call on you in Camden Place?”

“Please, do,” Hannah said. “My parents are arriving this afternoon with the remainder of the servants, and my horse and dogs, so it may be a bit busy for company, but anytime tomorrow or the next day would be convenient, I’m sure.”

After taking her leave from her new friend, Hannah returned to her family’s rented house in Camden Place, along with her maid. She and Ernsby entered to find the hall crowded with packing cases and trunks.

“Your parents have just arrived, Miss Heywood,” Mrs. Pritchett said.

Hannah quickly divested herself of her bonnet, gloves, and pelisse. She handed them to Ernsby. “Where are they?”

“Your father is in the library with your brother,” Mrs. Pritchett replied, “and your mother is in her room, unpacking. She has your dogs with her.”

“Thank you,” Hannah said, heading for the stairs.

By her room, she understood the housekeeper to mean their room. The choice of words was a matter of delicacy. Most fashionable couples didn’t share a bedchamber. Hannah’s parents had always been an exception. They shared a room just as they shared every other aspect of their lives. It was a scandalous fact to some of the servants. To Hannah, it was an example for her own future marriage.

She ascended the steps to the third floor, her skirts clutched in her hands. The master’s chamber was located at the end of a floral-carpeted corridor. She rapped softly on the door. The faint sound was answered by the high-pitched barking of Evangeline and Tippo.

“Come in!” her mother called in answer. “But pray don’t let them out!”

Hannah slipped into the room, shutting the door behind her. The grizzled pug and the three-legged black spaniel barreled toward her, wiggling with happiness. Hannah sank down on the floor, sweeping them up in her arms as they licked her face.

“You’re all right, Evangeline,” she said, kissing first one and then the other. “And you, Tippo, you foolish boy. I’m not going anywhere.”

Hannah’s mother, Phyllida Heywood, looked on with an expression of tender affection. A profoundly gentle lady, with dark auburn hair and a sweetly beautiful face, it was she who had taught Hannah to love and advocate for animals. Hannah couldn’t recall her mother ever having been without an injured mongrel on the mend, not during all the years of Hannah’s childhood.

Her mother’s lady’s maid, Gregson, stood beside the mahogany four-poster bed at the center of the room, single-mindedly unpacking a traveling case. There were trunks and boxes scattered over the mattress and on the upholstered chairs and small settee near the fireplace.

“They missed you dreadfully,” Mama said as Hannah stood. “And so did I.” She crossed the room to enfold her daughter in a warm, rose-scented embrace.

“It’s only been one day and night, Mama,” Hannah said, hugging her mother in return.

Her mother kissed her cheek before releasing her. “To Evangeline and Tippo, it has been an age. You were right to insist on us bringing them to Bath. I’ve been keeping them with me while Gregson and I unpack. A new house can be overwhelming to sensitive creatures. I advise accustoming them to it gradually.”

“No fear,” Hannah said. “I shall take charge of them now.” She paused. “What of the other dogs?”

“Far happier at home,” Mama said. “Flurry, Twig, Ignatius, and Odysseus require familiar hearths and wide-open spaces. William and Sara will look after them in our absence.”

Hannah nodded, satisfied with the answer. The Heywoods’ married butler and housekeeper, William and Sara, had been with the family all of Hannah’s life. There were no servants Hannah trusted more.

Her mother returned to the sarsnet-curtained bed where Gregson was removing a tissue-wrapped amber silk dress from the traveling case—a ball gown by the look of it. “Thank you, Gregson,” she said. “If you would give us a moment?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Setting aside the dress, the lady’s maid dropped a curtsy before withdrawing into the dressing room.

“Is your father still with Charles?” Mama asked.

“In the library, Mrs. Pritchett said.”

“Then we have time to talk.” Mama sat down on the edge of the bed. She patted the place beside her. “Come. Sit with me a moment.”

Hannah joined her mother, sinking down beside her on the mattress. Their full skirts bunched against each other.

Mama took Hannah’s hand gently in both of hers. “Your brother tells me that Lord St. Clare called yesterday.”