Page 4

‘I’m going to take Blackberry out,’ Alex announced to the room.

‘Rug up, darling. It’s going to be cold once that sun disappears behind those clouds coming in,’ Minerva called after her in an entirely cheerier tone. ‘Dinner’s simple and a bit earlier at seven, as Mrs Morrison is going to the play that’s on at St Peter’s School hall.’

‘Your mother chose a beef pie for this evening, Miss Alex; one of your favourites,’ Lambton murmured as she held the door for her.

Alex looked back at her mother to see only affection in her smile, the row about marriage already forgotten.

__________

It was the shivering chill that brought her out of the gloomy recall of earlier today. She noted Blackberry had completed another circuit of the parkland, far slower this time, and they were again at the entrance near the main road that led from London into York via the fashionable and wealthy homes of The Mount, where her family lived. She let the memory of the conversation dissipate, her breath coming harder for the cold ride, although the exhilaration of the gallop had helped to blow out some of the anger and gain some perspective. With her horse now still, she noticed her ladies’ maid approaching.

‘Getting a bit nippy, Miss.’ Holly held a hand above her eyes to look up at Alex. ‘You looked a bit sad?’

Alex smoothed her long black skirt, straightening it over the lace-up boots, feeling the autumn chill finding its way through her thin jacket. She should have listened to her mother and rugged up more.

‘Sometimes it’s hard being the only child – there’s just too much focus all the time.’ She straightened her shoulders, instantly chagrined. ‘Listen to me; I sound pathetic. Ignore that self-pitying remark, Holly.’ She nimbly unhooked her leg from the side-saddle and easily slipped down to the ground. Alex pulled the rein over Blackberry’s head to lead her. ‘They want an answer on marriage.’

Holly’s mouth twisted with sympathy.

‘Is twenty-five really that old? Where is it decreed that I must marry by this age?’

Her maid cut her a supportive grin but Alex knew she couldn’t blame Holly for likely considering her far too choosy as much as indulged. ‘Lady Frobisher loves you to bits, Miss. She worries about you, wants the best for you. She’s not the enemy.’

‘I know, I know,’ Alex sighed. ‘I am my own enemy. I assure you my mother is not the villain here. She’s simply a Victorian trapped in this new age who believes every daughter is essentially a wife in training. That’s how she was raised. She is determined I feel the same keen sense of family duty, especially since . . .’ She didn’t finish that painful thought. ‘Well, anyway, according to women of my mother’s ilk, their daughters should not have dreams that stretch beyond the front door of the household. There are times when I wonder why she bothered to educate me. Forgive me, Holly. I’m sounding horribly ungrateful.’

‘Nothing to apologise for, Miss. We all have dreams. There’s no harm in them.’

Alex was prodded into deeper guilt as she imagined Holly’s life of endless work duties for the Frobishers and one day off a month, which she mostly spent travelling to and from Burnley to see her parents and siblings.

‘What are yours? Marriage? Family?’

Holly lifted a shoulder. ‘Yes, of course. I hope for both but there’s not much time for romance with work the way it is.’ She looked away immediately. ‘I’m not laying any blame, Miss. I love my job with your family.’ But she frowned.

‘What? Go on,’ Alex encouraged.

‘Well, I suppose I’ve always wanted to be a shopkeeper,’ Holly admitted. Alex hadn’t anticipated the honesty of Holly’s choice and it must have shown in her surprised expression.

‘Sorry, Miss. I’ve spoken out of turn again.’

‘No, not at all . . . I’m intrigued, truly I am. A shopkeeper,’ she repeated, sounding impressed. ‘Really?’ She nodded at Holly’s self-conscious smile, happy for her personal maid, who had slowly become a confidante since they were introduced four years ago.

‘Now you’re twenty-one, Alex, your birthday present is your very own maid,’ her mother had said in a hushed, conceited tone. ‘Happy birthday, darling. Meet Holly.’

Alex remembered feeling instantly embarrassed for both herself and the new woman in her life. Holly was being passed over like a commodity and Alex had prickled with indignity, so she’d set out from their first hour to keep their relationship as balanced as she could without drawing raised eyebrows. And she’d discovered that pragmatic Holly was wise beyond her twenty years and it was often she who cautioned the young debutante about fraternising too closely with staff. ‘One day you might have to sack me,’ Holly had once jested, but Alex had heard the truth riding beneath the humour.

‘In all this time you’ve been at my side, why haven’t I known about this?’

Holly smiled wider. ‘Why would I mention it? It’s just a silly daydream.’

Alex hid the soft blow of the injury she felt from being locked out of Holly’s inner desires, especially as they’d effectively grown up together these past years.

Blackberry gave a snort of impatience and Alex obliged by leading her off the parkland. They paused again at the entrance.

‘What sort of shop did you have in mind?’

‘Drapery, I always thought, but now I like to daydream about a teashop or a cake shop.’

‘Oh, but that’s wonderful.’ She meant it. ‘Not even Mrs Morrison makes a pot of tea, or chocolate, as you can.’