Читать книгу: «The Christmas Wedding»

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Map

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

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About the Author

Also by Dilly Court

About the Publisher

Map

Chapter One
The Carrington House, Queen Square, London, December 1867

Daisy Marshall put aside the garment she had been mending for Master Timothy.

‘What is it, Franklin?’ she asked, gazing warily at the butler, who had entered the morning parlour without bothering to knock. Such small infringements of etiquette from the upper servants were not unusual, and obviously designed to put her in her place.

‘For you, miss.’ With disapproval written all over his face, Franklin proffered a silver salver on which lay a sealed envelope.

Daisy’s breath caught in her throat as she recognised the writing, and she snatched it up, hoping that Franklin was not familiar with the bold cursive script belonging to Julian Carrington, the elder son and heir to the family fortune.

‘Thank you, Franklin.’ She made an effort to sound casual and unconcerned, but Franklin had a way of reducing her to the lowly status of a scullery maid.

He looked down his long nose. ‘Mrs Carrington wishes to see you in the drawing room, miss.’

‘I’ll be there directly.’ Daisy waited until he had left the room. The Carringtons’ butler had never approved of her – he had made that plain from the outset – and neither had Mrs Thompson, the housekeeper. The lot of a governess was not a happy one, as Daisy had discovered to her cost. She had found herself occupying a nebulous position where she belonged neither upstairs nor below stairs, but all that would change very soon. Daisy raised her hand to touch the gold ring set with a sparkling diamond that Julian had placed on her finger, although it now hung round her neck on a silk ribbon, hidden from view. The Carringtons’ money had come originally from coal mining in Yorkshire, and it was no secret that they hoped their son would marry into the landed gentry, but Julian would be twenty-one on Christmas Eve, and he planned to announce their betrothal at his birthday party.

Daisy opened the envelope carefully, not wanting to tear the expensive hand-made writing paper, and she inhaled the scent of Julian’s favourite cologne. It was almost as if he were sitting beside her, and she closed her eyes, revelling in the exotic blend of aromatic essences and spice. She sighed happily: in two days’ time it would be official. When he returned home Julian would place the ring on her finger in front of his whole family. Daisy Marshall from Whitechapel, the orphaned daughter of a leather merchant, would be raised from her humble status of governess to that of fiancée to the elder son of a well-to-do family. Quite how it had happened was still something of a surprise. The dashing twenty-year-old Oxford undergraduate, who had hopes of a career in the diplomatic service, was much in demand during the London season. Daisy was well aware that his domineering mother and ambitious father had their sights set on someone from a good family for their future daughter-in-law, but Julian had other ideas. He had convinced Daisy that for him it was love at first sight, and she had been similarly smitten. Now all that remained was to break the news of their engagement to the family.

Daisy broke the seal and opened the letter carefully, a smile curving her lips, but as she read the contents her hands began to tremble and the words blurred, running together until they made no sense.

Oxford

December 1867

My darling Daisy,

You can’t imagine how difficult it is for me to find the words that will inevitably break your heart, as it is breaking mine when I put pen to paper. The truth is that I cannot marry you. There, I’ve said it and it cannot be undone. I still love you dearly, but I realise that for us to wed would be a dreadful mistake. My parents will never accept you as one of the family and I will be cut off without a penny. I cannot hope to earn enough to make a proper home for you and any children we might have, and to marry you under such circumstances would be irresponsible, if not downright cruel. I love you too much to see you brought down by poverty and disgrace, therefore I am breaking our engagement, even though it has remained a secret and was never an official obligation on my part.

I will return home for my birthday party, but afterwards I will be leaving for Paris, where I have been fortunate enough to obtain a very junior position in the British Embassy.

Please keep the ring as a token of my undying affection and esteem, and I pray that you will find someone more worthy of you than myself.

Your loving friend,

Julian Carrington

Daisy crumpled the letter in her hands and clasped them to her bosom. She was trembling from head to foot with shock, but tears would not come. Pain, sadness, despair and finally anger flooded her with emotion, but still she was dry-eyed. Jilted – the word would be engraved on her heart for ever.

A timid knock on the door preceded the appearance of a housemaid. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, miss, but the master is getting impatient. He sent me to fetch you.’

Daisy tucked the crumpled sheet of paper into the pocket of her plain grey woollen dress and she rose to her feet. ‘I’m coming.’ Even to her own ears her voice sounded strained and edgy, but she had her feelings under control. Whatever it was that the master had to say could not be as earth-shattering as the contents of Julian’s letter.

The drawing room on the first floor was furnished in the height of fashion with heavy mahogany furniture upholstered in crimson velvet, matching velvet curtains and a carpet with such thick pile it felt like walking on a croquet lawn. The former Adam-style mantel had been ripped out on Mrs Carrington’s instructions and replaced by a huge, black marble fireplace that dominated the whole room, and a fire blazed up the chimney. An enormous Christmas tree took up one corner of the room, and was lavishly decorated with tinsel and glass baubles imported from Germany at enormous expense. At any other time Daisy would have been delighted, if only for Master Timothy’s sake. He was what her aunt Eleanora would have called ‘an afterthought’, being eleven years younger than Julian, and his parents were invariably too busy to spend much time with him. It was Daisy who read him a story each evening when he was tucked up in bed, and Daisy who took him for outings to the park or the Zoological Gardens.

‘I sent for you ten minutes ago. What kept you?’ Albert Carrington stood with his back to the fire, glaring at Daisy through the thick lenses of his gold-rimmed spectacles. ‘Well, what have you to say for yourself?’

Daisy had never felt comfortable in Mr Carrington’s company. He was said to have trebled the family fortune by investing heavily in the stock market, and it was rumoured below stairs that the master would receive a knighthood for his services to industry and his generous gifts to charity. Even so, his manner was cold and calculating, and all the servants were in awe of him.

‘I’m sorry, sir. I was mending a garment for Master Timothy.’

‘That’s no excuse.’

Mrs Carrington held up her hand. ‘Let me handle this, Albert.’ She fixed Daisy with a hard stare. ‘I won’t beat about the bush, Miss Marshall. As you know, Master Timothy will be starting school in January, and therefore we will no longer be in need of your services.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Albert said, frowning. ‘This is the end of the quarter and you will receive your wages from Mrs Thompson, together with a character, which should assure you of a position elsewhere.’

‘I’m to lose my job?’ Daisy looked from one to the other. ‘But who will look after Master Timothy during the school holidays?’

‘That is not your problem,’ Mrs Carrington said icily. She rose majestically from the sofa and ushered Daisy from the room. She lowered her voice. ‘Don’t imagine that we haven’t noticed what’s been going on between you and our elder son. I’ve seen the way you flirt with him, and it is just as well your time with us had ended naturally, otherwise I’m afraid I would have had to terminate your employment.’

Daisy stared at the floor, unable to meet her employer’s angry gaze. ‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional.’

‘It never is.’ Agnes Carrington lowered her voice. ‘When you find another position, keep yourself to yourself. Nothing but ill can come of any relationship you enter into with members of the household. And beware of male servants, too. That’s the best advice that I can give you. Now pack your bags and leave. Don’t upset Master Timothy by saying goodbye. I’ll tell him you wish him well at school.’ She whisked back into the drawing room and closed the door in Daisy’s face.

The hansom cab trundled through the city streets, weaving its way through the carts, carriages and brewers’ drays. Snow was falling steadily from a leaden sky and it was bitterly cold. Workers hurried homeward, mufflers flying out behind them and their hats pulled down over their brows so that the only parts of their faces visible were the reddened tips of their noses. Less hurried were those out shopping for last-minute presents. The pavements were crowded with men and women laden with packages wrapped in brown paper, or baskets overflowing with festive food. Costermongers’ barrows illuminated by naphtha flares offered a tempting selection of oranges, lemons, rosy-cheeked apples and mountains of walnuts, together with bunches of red-berried holly and waxy white and green mistletoe. It was almost Christmas, a time for rejoicing, but all the way home Daisy could think of nothing other than the letter that Julian had written, ending their brief relationship. The rumbling of the cab’s wheels and the drumming of the horse’s hoofs sounded to her ears like a repetition of his name, over and over again, until she could think of nothing else. The ache in her heart intensified with every turn of the wheels and the further they drove from Queen Square, the deeper her despair. The last time she had seen Julian they had been deeply in love and filled with excitement for the future, but now he had severed the delicate thread that had bound them. She had left the house with a shadow over her name, and she had not even been allowed to say goodbye to Master Timothy, who would imagine that she had deserted him. He was too little to be sent away from home, too sensitive a child to face the rigours of public school life, and it was almost Christmas. She had planned to fill his stocking with oranges, nuts and small toys she had purchased from the bazaar in Soho Square. She had left the packages in the nursery, but she doubted if he would receive any of them; Mrs Carrington would make sure that nothing was left to remind her younger son of the governess who had loved him like a mother.

Daisy stared blindly at the crowded pavements, seeing nothing but a blur of shapes and colours, misted by the thickly falling snow. It had promised to be the best Christmas she had ever had, and now it was going to be the worst. She had told her aunt about her romance with Julian, and now she would have to face the consequences. Questions would be asked to which Daisy had no answer. Aunt Eleanora had drummed the importance of a good marriage into Daisy from an early age. Now she had to face her aunt’s disappointment as well as her own heartbreak.

The cab drew to a halt outside the leather merchant’s premises on Whitechapel Road. Situated within earshot of the Bell Foundry, with the Earl of Effingham pub conveniently close by, and the New Royal Pavilion Theatre just across the street, it was a thriving commercial area. Sidney Marshall was a successful leather merchant, having inherited an already thriving business on the death of his elder brother, Daisy’s father, in the cholera epidemic of 1849. Shortly afterwards Daisy’s mother had died in childbirth, leaving two-year-old Tobias and the infant Daisy to the care of her brother- and sister-in-law.

Daisy and Tobias had been brought up above the shop and had wanted for nothing as children. Toby had attended a good school and had gone on to study medicine at the London Hospital. Daisy herself had also benefited from a good education at Miss Lonsdale’s Academy for Young Ladies, but having left school with a prize in just about every subject Daisy had found herself with little purpose in life other than to sit at home and wait for a suitable husband to appear. That was what her aunt expected, but not what Daisy wanted, and, after a battle with both guardians, she had applied for the position of governess in the Carrington household. Now she was returning home, broken-hearted and struggling to believe that Julian could have treated her in such a way.

Daisy alighted from the hansom cab and hefted the valise containing all her worldly possessions to the pavement. It was now snowing so heavily that she did not see the man who was walking with his head bent against the storm, and he sidestepped in order to avoid tripping over her case, almost knocking her off her feet.

‘I’m so sorry.’ The stranger steadied her with both hands. ‘Are you all right?’

Daisy nodded. ‘It wasn’t your fault. I had to put my case down in order to pay the cabby.’

‘No harm done, but the pavements are very slippery.’ He picked up the valise. ‘Have you far to go?’

‘No, this is home.’ Daisy pointed to the name above the premises. ‘I live above the shop.’

‘Marshall’s, a well-known name in this area. So you must be Miss Marshall? Are you Toby’s sister, by any chance?’

His smile was irresistible and she noticed that his hazel eyes were fringed with impossibly long lashes. Aunt Eleanora would have said it was unfair for a man to have such an asset. Daisy dragged herself back to the present and managed a smile.

‘Yes, I’m Daisy. How do you know Toby?’

‘I’m Nicholas Neville, but my friends call me Nick. Toby and I studied at the London.’ He proffered his arm. ‘Allow me, Miss Marshall. We don’t want any accidents.’

She would normally have rejected such an offer, but there was something about Nicholas Neville that made it impossible for her to refuse, and she leaned on his arm. He picked up her valise and they made it to the shop door.

‘Thank you,’ Daisy said breathlessly.

‘I shan’t be seeing Toby for a while because I’m going home for Christmas, but I hope we meet again, Miss Marshall.’ Nick placed her valise on the floor.

‘I’m sure we will. Anyway, thank you for your help.’ Daisy turned her head at the sound of footsteps on the bare boards and her heart sank when she saw her uncle’s clerk scurrying towards them with his peculiar crab-like gait.

‘Miss Daisy, what are you doing here?’ Jonah Sawkins cast a hostile glance at Nick.

Daisy had disliked Sawkins from the moment they first met, but her generous uncle had rescued Jonah from the workhouse and trained him to be his clerk. Sidney Marshall believed that there was good in everyone, and he would not have a word said against Jonah. Daisy knew her uncle’s clerk to be sly and devious, and she was tempted to snub him now, but Jonah Sawkins had a way of getting his own back for any slight, real or imagined, and she held her tongue.

‘Would you be kind enough to take my valise upstairs, Jonah?’ Daisy turned to Nick. ‘Thank you once again for your help. I hope I didn’t delay you, too much?’

‘Not at all. I’ve just come off duty at the hospital, so no harm done. Anyway, it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Marshall.’ Nick gave Sawkins a sympathetic smile. ‘The bag is rather heavy. Perhaps you’d rather I took it upstairs?’

Daisy held her breath. She knew that Sawkins was sensitive about the abnormal curvature of his upper spine and his legs bowed by rickets in childhood. His deformity and his early years spent in the workhouse seemed to have twisted his personality, but although he had had a poor start in life Daisy had realised some time ago that Sawkins was ambitious, and she suspected that he could be ruthless if challenged.

He hefted the valise onto his bent shoulders, shooting a malicious glance at Nick. ‘I can manage on me own, ta very much.’ He hobbled behind the counter and opened a door leading to a flight of stairs. The red Turkey carpet glowed like a hot coal in the dim light, and Sawkins negotiated the stairs with surprising speed.

‘He’s been here for years,’ Daisy said by way of an excuse for his rudeness.

‘Yes, I believe Toby has mentioned him in the past. Anyway, I must be going.’

Nick let himself out into the street and Daisy raised her hand in farewell, but he had already disappeared into the swirling snow. She closed the door and was enveloped by the all-too-familiar smell of leather and dubbin, which she only noticed when she had been absent for a while. She was about to go upstairs when Sawkins appeared behind the counter, glaring at her beneath his shaggy eyebrows.

‘I told the mistress you was here,’ he said with a sly grin. ‘She weren’t expecting you. Got the sack, did you?’

‘It’s none of your business, Jonah.’ Daisy had not meant to snap at him but her nerves were frayed, and she was afraid that she might break down and cry if her aunt questioned her too deeply. She slipped past him and made her way upstairs where she was greeted by Hattie, the Marshalls’ cook-housekeeper, who had been with them for ever. Daisy could not remember a time when Hattie had not been there to tell her wonderful stories about mermaids and unicorns, or to bandage a cut knee.

‘Welcome home, Miss Daisy,’ Hattie said, wrapping her in a comforting hug. ‘We wasn’t expecting you, so this is a real treat.’

Daisy returned the embrace. ‘It’s good to be home.’

‘I’ll go and put the kettle on.’ Hattie gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘Your aunt is in the parlour. She’ll be so pleased to see you, my duck.’ She waddled off along the landing, leaving Daisy to make her way to the parlour.

Eleanora Marshall was standing by the fire. In early middle-age she was a fine-looking woman with a good figure, glossy brown hair and an air of authority. She turned with a start at the sound of the door opening. ‘Daisy, my darling. Sawkins told me you were here. What a lovely surprise.’

‘I know you weren’t expecting me, Aunt.’

‘Why are you here? I thought you would be spending Christmas with your fiancé and his family.’

Daisy clenched her gloved hands in an attempt to stem the tears that suddenly threatened to overcome her. ‘Julian doesn’t want to marry me,’ she said softly.

‘You mean he’s jilted you?’

‘He’s been offered a position in the French Embassy. It was too good to turn down, and our engagement was never official.’

‘I don’t see what that has got to do with anything,’ Eleanora paced the floor, her high-heeled boots tip-tapping on the polished boards. ‘There’s more in this than meets the eye. Has his mother interfered? Has he met someone with more money and better connections?’

‘I don’t know, Aunt. He wrote a letter—’

‘You mean that the coward didn’t even have the decency to tell you face to face that he’s reneged on his promise?’

‘He was in Oxford when he sent the letter, and I’ve lost my job because Master Timothy is being sent to boarding school in the New Year.’

‘A likely story. I think that woman has got wind of the romance and it’s her way of putting a stop to it. I know what it’s like, Daisy. I saw the way your parents suffered at the hands of your mother’s family, and they wanted nothing to do with you or your brother. We’d better not mention this to your uncle,’ Eleanora concluded. ‘He wouldn’t take kindly to someone toying with your affections.’

‘You haven’t told him of my engagement?’

‘No, my dear, I wanted to be certain before I gave him the news. I know how delicate these matters can be.’

‘Julian might change his mind,’ Daisy said hopefully. ‘I’m sure his mother knew something, and maybe she persuaded him that he was making a mistake.’

‘To be swayed so easily is not a good sign. He sounds like a weakling. You’d be better off with a decent local man than a milksop who’s afraid to stand up to his mother.’

Daisy gazed at the daguerreotype on the mantelshelf portraying her parents on their wedding day, which was the image that she had clung to during her childhood. She could see how pretty and appealing dark-haired, dark-eyed Marguerite must have been to young James Marshall, and Aunt Eleanora swore that Daisy was the image of her late mother. Daisy never quite believed her aunt, but she loved to hear the story of how her parents had met. In fact she had heard it so many times that she could recite it word for word. It was a true romance of a young woman whose family considered themselves to be upper middle class and a man whose family were in trade. James had come to their house in Finsbury Square to deliver a new saddle, and it had been pure chance that had led him to the front door instead of the tradesmen’s entrance at exactly the moment when Marguerite Gifford had just returned from a shopping expedition. It was, as Eleanora was fond of telling her niece, love at first sight. After that the young couple had met secretly, and in the face of much opposition from both families they had eloped to Gretna Green. Daisy studied the smiling faces of her parents in their bridal finery. Perhaps she would never know the love and happiness they had shared, albeit so briefly, but she owed it to their memory to stand firm. She would not waste her tears on someone who was too weak to fight for the woman he loved.

‘You’re right, Aunt. But now I must look for another position. At least Mrs Carrington was fair enough to give me a good reference.’

‘A sap to her conscience,’ Eleanora said with a wry smile.

‘And I’m fortunate to have you and Uncle Sidney and a nice home,’ Daisy added hastily. ‘You’ve always been good to me, Aunt. Both Toby and I know how lucky we’ve been.’

Eleanora sank down on the nearest chair. ‘I have something to tell you, Daisy. Take a seat, please. Looking up at you is making my neck ache.’

‘What is it? You seem upset.’ Daisy perched on the edge of a chair. Surely there could be nothing worse than the news she had received earlier that day?

‘Your uncle has sold the business and we intend to retire and move to the country. There, I’ve said it. Don’t look at me like that, Daisy. We were going to break it more gently, but you’ve forestalled us by leaving the Carringtons.’

‘It wasn’t my choice, Aunt.’ Daisy hesitated for a moment as a confused jumble of emotions threatened to overcome her. The apartment above the shop had been her home ever since she could remember; she knew all the shopkeepers in the vicinity, and the names of all the residents of Meggs’ Almshouses, who benefited from Aunt Eleanora’s generosity at Christmas and Easter. She had enjoyed theatrical presentations at the New Royal Pavilion Theatre, including pantomimes, and she had taken omnibus rides to the West End, where exciting department stores were being opened. Daisy’s lips trembled – it was all too much to bear, and it was Christmas.

‘I know you’re upset, Daisy, and this doesn’t help, but I had to be honest with you.’

Daisy took a deep breath. She must not cry like a baby, even though her heart was breaking. ‘Where are you going to live?’

‘An elderly aunt has died and left me her cottage in Essex. It’s where I grew up and it has enough land to enable us to keep a pig and some chickens, and grow our own vegetables. The country air will be good for your uncle, and I don’t want him to work himself into an early grave.’

Daisy stared at her in astonishment. ‘But I thought you were happy here. Uncle Sidney isn’t an old man.’

‘He’s been in this business since he was a boy, and we’ve saved enough to keep us quite comfortably. The dirt and smoke in the city isn’t good for his health, nor mine, come to that. We’ll have a better life in the country.’

‘But what do I do if I can’t find another position?’

‘We’ll be here for another week or two, Daisy. I’m sure you’ll find something, or you can come and live in the country with us. It’s not a huge cottage, but there is room enough for you, should you decide to accompany us.’

‘But what about Toby? I know he lives in at the hospital but he’s about to qualify. Where will he go then?’

Eleanora smiled. ‘You can ask him yourself. He’s just walked into the room.’

Daisy jumped to her feet, turning to face her brother. ‘Did you know of this, Toby?’

‘That’s a nice welcome. I haven’t seen you for weeks. Is that all you can say?’ Toby crossed the floor in long strides and enveloped her in a brotherly hug.

‘Did you know that Uncle Sidney is retiring to the country?’ Daisy demanded as he released her and went to kiss his aunt on the forehead.

Toby straightened up, facing her with a sympathetic smile. ‘Yes, I did, but why are you here? I thought you were spending Christmas with the Carringtons.’

Daisy sent a warning look in her aunt’s direction. Now was not the time to tell Toby about Julian. Her brother was fiercely protective and she knew he would be furious. She would tell him later, when she was feeling less fragile. ‘I’m no longer needed there,’ she said calmly. ‘Master Timothy is being sent to boarding school, but Mrs Carrington has given me a good reference.’

‘I’m sorry, Daisy. I know you liked the little fellow.’ Toby’s concerned expression gave way to a wide grin. ‘But I’ve got news that will cheer you up.’

‘You’ve passed your exams?’

‘Yes, I’m a qualified doctor.’

Daisy reached up to brush his cheek with a kiss. ‘Well done. I knew you could do it.’

‘Yes, well done indeed,’ Eleanora added, smiling. ‘Your uncle will be so proud.’

Toby slipped his arm around Daisy’s shoulders. ‘There’s something else, too.’

‘What is it?’ Daisy asked anxiously. ‘I don’t think I can take another shock. What are you trying to tell us, Toby?’

Chapter Two

Toby looked from one to the other, obviously savouring the moment. Daisy could see that he was enjoying himself, but her nerves were on edge, and she was not in a mood to cope with another piece of earth-shattering news.

‘All right. Don’t look daggers at me, Daisy.’ Toby paused for effect, but a stern glance from his aunt made him continue hastily. ‘I’ve always wanted to specialise in surgery, and I’ve been offered a position as a junior houseman at the London.’

Daisy flung her arms around his neck. ‘Congratulations, Toby. That’s wonderful.’

‘But what will you do now, Daisy?’ Toby’s smile faded. ‘Have you applied for another position?’

‘I’ve told Daisy about our move,’ Eleanora said firmly. ‘I hope she’ll decide to come with us.’

‘That sounds eminently sensible.’ Toby took Daisy by the hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze. ‘The change of air would do you good, and who knows? You might get swept off your feet by a handsome landowner.’

Daisy snatched her hand free. ‘Why does everyone assume that marriage is the answer to everything? I want to prove that I’m worth something in my own right, if only to myself.’

‘Good heavens, Daisy! You’re not turning into one of those bluestocking women, are you?’

‘No, of course not, Toby. I just want to do something worthwhile.’

‘You’re upset, dear,’ Eleanora said softly. ‘Think it over, but you really don’t have much alternative now that you’re not living in Queen Square. We wouldn’t think of leaving you on your own in the city, and you have no income to support yourself.’

‘I spent years at Miss Lonsdale’s Academy learning Latin and Greek and solving complicated mathematical problems. Are you saying that it’s all been a waste of time?’

‘Calm down,’ Toby said, chuckling. ‘I don’t know why you’re getting yourself in such a stew. You were only a governess, after all.’

Daisy knew that Toby had not spoken out of spite, but his words seemed to echo Mrs Carrington’s opinion of the girl her son had wanted to wed, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

‘You’re right,’ she said slowly. ‘I was just a governess, but I’ll prove one day that I can do more than that. In the meantime,’ she added, turning to her aunt and forcing a smile, ‘I will come with you, of course, and I’ll find out if living in the country suits me.’

Despite the fact that Toby was at home for Christmas it was going to be a subdued celebration. Eleanora’s mind was obviously on the forthcoming move to the country, and she spent most of her time sorting through her clothes or packing up small objects that had some sentimental value. Sidney disappeared to the pub at the first opportunity on Christmas Day and Toby went with him, leaving Daisy to wonder how things had come to this. Christmas was supposed to be a joyous occasion, but she had been jilted by the man she loved and had lost her job. It was not so much the money, it was the fact that she had grown fond of young Timothy, and he returned the affection. She had looked forward to being part of the Carrington family – now that was never going to happen. She was emotionally bruised, and although she tried to be positive, she could not summon up any enthusiasm for life in the wilds of Essex.

But it was Christmas Day, and Uncle Sidney and Toby were in a merry mood when they returned from the Earl of Effingham, having imbibed rather too much rum punch. Aunt Eleanora was not amused, but the table was set and, as was their custom, Hattie and Jonah sat down with them to enjoy the roast turkey with all the trimmings. Uncle Sidney did his best to be jolly, but Daisy was very conscious of the underlying current of anxiety felt by all at the move. Jonah was sullen and silent throughout the meal, and Daisy could feel his eyes upon her although he turned away hastily when she glanced at him. Toby was in fine fettle and did his best to raise their spirits, but it was a relief when the last of the Christmas pudding and brandy butter was eaten. Toby left, having a prior engagement to meet up with friends, while Eleanora and Sidney retired to the parlour, no doubt to snooze by the fire. Hattie went to the kitchen to begin the washing-up, and Daisy was clearing the table when Jonah closed the dining-room door.

‘What are you doing?’ she demanded. ‘I have to take these dishes to the kitchen.’

Jonah sidled up to her, grinning stupidly. ‘It’s a pity we got no mistletoe. I’d have an excuse to kiss you, miss.’

‘You’re drunk.’ Daisy stepped aside. ‘You’d best get on with whatever you’re supposed to be doing, Jonah.’

‘I’ve got money saved and Mr Marshall has persuaded the new owner to take me on. In less than a year I reckon I’ll be managing the business, and we could live here above the shop. I’d make you a good husband, Daisy.’ He moved closer and attempted to put his arm around her but she pushed him away.

‘It’s the wine talking, Jonah. I’ll excuse you because it’s Christmas, but you’re forgetting yourself.’

His smiled faded and his lips twisted into a grimace. ‘Not good enough for you, am I? What happened to the toff who was supposed to marry you?’

‘You’ve been listening at keyholes,’ Daisy said angrily. ‘It’s none of your business. I’m sorry if it hurts your feelings, but I don’t want to marry you and never will.’ She dodged round the table and opened the door. ‘Come one step closer and I’ll scream. My uncle wouldn’t take kindly to this sort of behaviour.’

‘You’ll be sorry. One day you’ll regret turning me down, Miss Marshall. I might have a twisted body, but I’m nobody’s fool. You’ll seek me out one day, begging for my help and see what you get then.’ He brushed past her and limped off, cursing beneath his breath.

Daisy sat down at the table and reached for her wine glass. It was still half full and she downed it in one gulp. At least Jonah had helped her to decide what course she would take. The wilds of Essex seemed much more attractive now.

Jonah did not bother her again, although she was very conscious of his presence every time she went through the shop, but she did her best to ignore him. The next two weeks were spent sorting out what they would take to the new house, filling even more packing cases and trunks. Each day Daisy hoped she might get word from Julian, and every time she heard a male voice in the shop below, she strained her ears, willing it to be the man who had professed to love her. But Julian Carrington had not had the decency to write and apologise for her sudden dismissal, or even to enquire if she had found another position. For all he knew she might be selling bootlaces on street corners or working in the nearby blacking factory. Daisy had to face the fact that he had gone to Paris to take up his new position, leaving her to break her heart and suffer the humiliation of being jilted.

On a bitterly cold day in the middle of January, Daisy and her uncle and aunt left their home in Whitechapel. Toby had not officially started his new position at the hospital, and as he had time on his hands he had decided to accompany them. Daisy suspected that his decision was motivated more by curiosity than anything else, but Toby had said vaguely that he had a friend who lived somewhere in that part of Essex and he might pay him a visit. Her gregarious brother seemed to have friends everywhere and Daisy had not questioned him further. It was good to have the family together again, no matter what the reason.

It was snowing again, but Jonah insisted on seeing them off. ‘You’ll return soon enough,’ he whispered as Daisy edged past him. ‘And I’ll be waiting.’

She did not look back as Toby handed her into the waiting hackney carriage, but even as they drove off she was aware that Jonah Sawkins was standing in the shop doorway, watching until they were out of sight.

‘Cheer up, Daisy,’ Toby said, grinning. ‘You might even enjoy living in Little Creek. Let’s hope it isn’t as dull as it sounds.’

As the train pulled out of Bishopsgate Station, Daisy’s last hope of seeing Julian evaporated like the great puffs of smoke and steam belching from the massive engine. Although she knew it was unlikely, she had thought he might have written to her. She had been tempted to return the ring, but she would not give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his cowardly behaviour. It was tucked away in her jewellery box, along with a few cheap trinkets and the rope of pearls that her mother had worn on her wedding day. Daisy sighed and settled down to gaze out of the window.

The train trundled through rural Essex, stopping at every station to disgorge people and livestock onto the platforms, and to pick up more passengers. Daisy stared out of the window at the countryside as it flashed past, but all that registered were the stark bare branches of the trees, stretching towards the grey sky like dead men’s fingers. Ploughed fields lay dormant, imprisoned by neatly trimmed hedgerows, and muddy rivers slithered like snakes, heading for the sea.

Daisy had seen little of Toby during the journey as he had joined a group of young men in another compartment and she could hear their raucous laughter above the clickety-clack of iron wheels as they crossed the points, and her uncle’s stertorous snores. Aunt Eleanora was supposed to be reading a novel, but she too kept nodding off, leaving Daisy alone with her thoughts.

When they arrived at Little Creek Station Daisy stepped out onto the platform, taking deep breaths of the ice-cold air, sharpened by the briny tang of the sea and the smell of brackish mud from the saltings.

‘Godforsaken place,’ Toby said as he hefted a couple of carpet bags onto the platform. ‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing, Uncle?’

‘Take deep breaths, boy.’ Sidney inhaled deeply and exhaled with a satisfied smile. ‘That is fresh air. We’re going to enjoy a long and healthy retirement in the country. You ought to join us, Toby. Set up a practice in the village and live a long life.’

‘And die of boredom,’ Toby said, laughing. ‘No, thank you, Uncle.’

‘Find a cab to take us to the cottage, Sidney.’ Eleanora glanced up at the sky where clouds were forming rapidly, threatening even more snow.

Daisy looked round, liking what she saw, but feeling slightly nervous. Had she made the right choice? There was no way of telling. She followed her uncle as he strode along the platform to speak to the stationmaster.

‘Ho, there, my man. Where will we find a conveyance to take us to Creek Cottage?’

The stationmaster smiled wearily. ‘Begging your pardon, sir, but this ain’t a big city. We don’t have the luxury of hansom cabs and such like.’

‘But there must be someone who can transport us to our destination.’

‘It’s barely a mile to Creek Cottage.’ The stationmaster stared pointedly at the pile of luggage. ‘I dare say I can find someone to deliver your cases to you later this afternoon.’

‘Are you saying we’ll have to walk to the cottage?’ Daisy cast an anxious glance at her aunt, who was dressed for the city in her best gown and high-heeled boots, totally unsuitable for traipsing along country lanes.

‘Yes, miss. Unless you want to wait around on the off chance of someone turning up with a farm cart.’

Sidney turned to Daisy with a worried frown. ‘You’d better warn your aunt. I told her to dress suitably, but you know how she is.’

Daisy knew only too well. It was hard to imagine fashionable Eleanora Marshall rolling up her sleeves and tending to livestock, or baking bread, although that would not be necessary now, for Hattie had decided to join them in their move to the country, and she had gone on ahead to make the cottage ready.

‘I’m afraid there is no transport,’ Daisy said breathlessly as she hurried back to where her aunt was waiting with Toby. ‘We’ll have to walk to the cottage.’

‘Out of the question.’ Eleanora folded her arms across her bosom. ‘Last time we were here my cousin’s solicitor met us and transported us to our destination.’

Daisy and Toby exchanged wary glances. ‘I’m afraid that’s not going to happen today, Aunt,’ Daisy said gently. ‘You could always sit in the waiting room and hope that someone comes along with a farm cart, although it might be filled with straw and animal droppings.’

Eleanora tossed her head. ‘Out of the question. I’ll walk, but if it rains I’ll be very angry. Thank goodness I sent Hattie on ahead. I told her to light fires in all the rooms, so at least the house will be warm.’ She marched off to join her husband and the stationmaster.

‘This should be fun, Daisy,’ Toby said, chuckling. ‘I can see that life in the country will suit Aunt Eleanora down to the ground.’

‘I’m glad you find it amusing.’ Daisy suppressed a giggle with difficulty. She doubted whether her aunt and uncle would see the funny side to their predicament, and she did not want to make matters worse when they were obviously in a state of distress. She hurried over to them. ‘Perhaps if Toby and I were to walk to the village we might find someone to help.’

‘Yes, yes, whatever you wish,’ Sidney said irritably. ‘For heaven’s sake go and sit in the waiting room, Eleanora. I’ll stay with you while the youngsters look for a suitable conveyance.’

The stationmaster was about to walk away when he paused, cocking his head on one side. ‘Someone is coming, so you might be in luck, ladies and gentlemen.’ He hurried off in the direction of the ticket office.

‘I can hear the rumble of carriage wheels,’ Daisy said eagerly. ‘Toby and I will go and see what we can do.’ She followed the stationmaster with Toby striding along at her side.

‘I’m glad I came, if only for the show.’ Toby was first through the gate, but he came to a sudden halt. ‘Well, I’ll be blowed, look who it is.’ He rushed over to the man who leaped off the box, handing the reins to the messenger boy who had been loitering by the ticket office.

‘It’s you,’ Daisy said dazedly. ‘What a strange coincidence.’

Toby released his friend, turning to Daisy with raised eyebrows. ‘Do you two know each other?’

Nick Neville smiled and bowed. ‘Miss Marshall, delighted to meet you again, although I’m astonished to find you and Toby here in Little Creek.’

‘We bumped into each other outside Uncle’s shop when I arrived home before Christmas,’ Daisy said by way of explanation. ‘I meant to tell you, Toby, but with the move and everything I forgot to mention it.’

‘Instantly forgettable, that’s me,’ Nick said, chuckling.

‘But what are you doing here, old boy?’ Toby demanded, grinning. ‘I thought you said you were going home to sort out some family matters.’

‘And that’s what I’m doing. My father died a couple of months ago, leaving Creek Hall to me. I’ve been down here since before Christmas, trying to get things straight, but it’s an uphill task.’

‘I knew your pa was a doctor in rural Essex, but I thought it was Colchester or thereabouts.’ Toby gazed at his friend in amazement.

‘I used to tell people it was Colchester because no one had ever heard of Little Creek, and it saved a lot of explaining. I’m not ashamed of my roots; I suppose it was just laziness.’ Nick smiled ruefully. ‘Anyway, I might set up a practice in Little Creek. The people in the village seem to rely on an ageing midwife, or else they have to travel the eleven miles to Maldon.’

‘But you’d hardly scrape a living, old boy.’

Daisy nudged her brother in the ribs. ‘It’s none of your business, Toby.’

‘But it is, Daisy. There’s no money working in an out-of-the-way place like this, and Nick was the top student in our year.’

‘Even more reason to devote myself to those who most need my services.’

‘You could have had the job they’ve offered me, Nick. I only scraped through by the skin of my teeth.’

‘You’ll work your way up to Harley Street, if I know anything about you, Toby old chap. Anyway, where are you going? Maybe I can give you a lift.’

‘Do you know Creek Cottage?’ Daisy eyed him hopefully. ‘My aunt and uncle would really appreciate a ride in your chaise. Toby and I can walk.’

‘As it happens I do know the place, and it’s not far from Creek Hall. In fact I believe at one time it belonged to the estate. Anyway, I’ll just check if the parcel I was expecting has arrived and then I’m at your disposal.’ With a cheery smile Nick strode into the ticket office, leaving Daisy and Toby to explain his presence to their uncle and aunt, who had also heard the approaching vehicle and had come to find out if they were in luck.

Toby had just finished telling them about Nick when he reappeared carrying a small package, which he deposited beneath the seat, and after introductions and explanations, Eleanora and Sidney clambered into the chaise and Nick drove off, promising to return and meet Daisy and Toby on the road. He drove off just as it started to snow and Eleanora’s black umbrella disappeared into the distance, bobbing up and down like a dancing mushroom.

‘Give me the city any day,’ Toby said grimly. ‘You can hop on a bus or hail a cab, or find a nice coffee shop and wait until the rain passes.’

‘Stop grumbling.’ Daisy took his arm. ‘I’ve just had a thought, Toby. I don’t know the way to Creek Cottage, and neither do you.’

He shrugged. ‘Someone will know. We’ll enquire when we get to the village.’

They walked on despite the fact that it was snowing, although it stopped eventually and a pale wintry sun emerged from behind the clouds. The village of Little Creek was spread over half a mile or so. The sound of hammering emanated from a smithy at the edge of the village, and they came to a school, where ragged children were racing about the yard, splashing in icy puddles, chasing each other and screaming with laughter. A Saxon church was surrounded by a graveyard, which was overlooked by the vicarage, and the village inn was conveniently near, as if to entice the worshippers to stop for a glass of ale before returning home to the terraces of thatched cottages on either side of the main street. Toby was about to enter the inn and ask for directions when Nick returned with the chaise and reined in beside them.

‘It’s not far,’ he said cheerfully, ‘but you both look a bit bedraggled and you might as well finish the journey in comfort.’

Daisy allowed Toby to help her into the vehicle and she sat beside Nick, who waited until Toby had leaped on board before flicking the reins and urging his horse to walk on.

‘You’ve seen the cottage,’ Daisy said shyly. ‘What is it like?’

Nick turned to her with a wry smile. ‘Put it this way, I would gladly swap cold, draughty Creek Hall for Creek Cottage any day. Your aunt and uncle’s house might not be large, and I only saw the front parlour, but it’s warm and cosy. I really envy you.’

‘You don’t mean that, Nick.’ Toby clutched the side of the chaise as it lurched forward, the horse seeming to sense that it was going home. ‘Is your home as grand as it sounds?’

‘It’s seen better days.’ Nick flicked the whip above the horse’s ears, urging it to a steady trot. ‘Anyway, I have to go to Maldon tomorrow to see my late father’s solicitor. Whether I stay or not depends on the terms of the will. If there’s no money for the upkeep of the house and grounds I might be forced to sell and move back to London.’

Daisy shot him a curious glance. ‘Has Creek Hall been in your family for a long time?’

‘Almost two hundred years. An ancestor of mine built it, having sold his interest in a shipbuilding business, and moved south with the idea, I think, of becoming a country squire.’

‘What made you choose medicine as a career?’ Daisy studied his profile and decided she liked what she saw. A high forehead, a straight nose and a firm chin, all of which, as Aunt Eleanora would have said, added up to a man of character.

‘You don’t ask that sort of question, Daisy,’ Toby said impatiently. ‘It’s a calling. Nick and I decided to serve mankind.’

It was Daisy’s turn to chuckle. ‘You went to medical school because you didn’t want to take over the business from Uncle Sidney. Be honest, Toby.’

He grinned. ‘Yes, that too.’

Daisy turned to Nick. ‘Are you as cynical as my brother?’

‘Toby likes to make out that he doesn’t care, but I’ve seen him at work and I can promise you that it isn’t so.’

Daisy smiled and squeezed her brother’s arm. ‘I’m very glad to hear it, but what about you, Nick?’

‘It seemed natural to follow in my father’s footsteps. He served the people of Little Creek and the surrounding area for the best part of thirty years, hence the dilapidated state of the family home. A country physician barely makes a living.’

‘Join me in Harley Street when I get there,’ Toby said airily. ‘We’ll have the best practice in London.’

Daisy shook her head. ‘Dream away, brother. You know that Uncle Sidney hasn’t enough money to set you up in a venture of that sort.’

‘I’ll think of something.’ Toby sat back against the padded squabs and they lapsed into silence.

Daisy’s curiosity was aroused by the brief glimpse into Nick Neville’s life, but she refrained from asking questions, sensing that he was a private person, disinclined to talk about himself, and she concentrated on the scenery. The lane skirted the edge of a wood and followed the course of the creek to a bend in the watercourse where the land opened out to reveal a smallholding.

‘That’s your new home,’ Nick said cheerfully. ‘That is Creek Cottage.’

Her first impression was favourable and the setting would have made an artist reach for his brushes. Trees and bushes grew down to the water’s edge on the far side, and in the distance, through a gap in the foliage, Daisy could see what appeared to be a very grand house.

‘Is that Creek Hall?’ she asked eagerly.

Nick threw back his head and laughed. ‘No, indeed. My home is much nearer. That is Creek Manor, the residence of Squire Tattersall.’ Nick’s smiled faded. ‘He owns most of the land round here.’

‘Well, our place looks pleasant enough.’ Toby slipped his arm round Daisy’s shoulders. ‘What do you think?’

Daisy nodded. ‘It looks cosy.’ Her first thought was of the doll’s house that her uncle had made for her one Christmas when she was eight or nine. The door in the centre of the building was shielded from the weather by a tiled porch, which she imagined would be smothered in roses in the summer. There was a window either side of the porch and three more nestling beneath the eaves like sleepy half-open eyes, smiling down at the newcomers. The whitewashed walls had a look of solidity and permanence that Daisy found very appealing.

‘That’s your new home.’ Nick glanced at Daisy with a questioning look.

‘It seems very well kept and welcoming,’ Daisy said slowly. ‘You said that Creek Hall isn’t far from here …?’

‘About a mile. You must come to dinner one evening. I can guarantee a good meal because Cook opted to stay, even though I can’t afford to pay her until I start up in practice.’

‘Please don’t go to any trouble on our account,’ Daisy said hastily. ‘But I would love to see your home.’

‘I wouldn’t mind a decent meal before I return to London. Our cook could do with a few lessons on the subject, if you ask me.’ Toby patted his belly and grinned. ‘Hattie will probably leave anyway. She’s a Londoner through and through, as am I, and I can’t imagine you living here for long, Daisy. You’ll be back in London before the month is up.’

Daisy shook her head. ‘I’m prepared to try, if only for our aunt and uncle’s sake. They’ve done a lot for us, Toby.’

‘I know, but we’re grown up now.’ Toby gazed at the cottage, frowning. ‘What on earth will you find to occupy your days as a country doctor, Nick?’

‘I have more than enough to keep me busy.’ Nick brought the horse to a halt and leaped to the ground. He held his hand out to Daisy. ‘I’m sure there is much you could do for the village, if you put your mind to it.’

Daisy accepted his help to alight. ‘We’ll see. At least I’m willing to accept change and take it as a challenge. My dear brother is a stick in the mud.’

Toby sprang from the chaise, landing in a puddle left by melting snow, which made Daisy laugh.

‘There,’ he said crossly. ‘I told you the country is no place for a gentleman, let alone a qualified doctor. My boots are wet and the polish is ruined. Who’s going to clean them?’

‘You are.’ Daisy knocked on the door. ‘Don’t you dare ask Hattie or she really will give in her notice.’

‘Maybe we can get a girl to come in from the village to do the housework.’ Toby grabbed Nick’s hand and shook it. ‘Thanks for the ride, old chap. I’ll certainly be a guest at your table whenever you say, but make it soon because I doubt if I can stand being here for more than a day or two.’

Nick smiled and nodded. ‘Always grumbling, Toby. Maybe one day you’ll look on the bright side of life instead of seeing problems, real or imagined.’

‘I’m a realist and you’re a dreamer.’ Toby glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the door opening.

‘Toby, dear,’ Eleanora said urgently. ‘Your uncle needs a hand to move a trunk that was left in the entrance hall.’

‘Maybe I’ll come to the Hall with you, old chap.’ Toby sighed. ‘I can see I’m going to be worked off my feet if I stay here.’

‘Don’t you dare run off and leave me.’ Daisy grabbed his arm. ‘I hope you’re joking.’

Aunt Eleanora chose to ignore his remark. ‘The furniture will arrive later, but the carrier has left our trunks in the most awkward place and you know how your uncle suffers from his back.’

‘Come on, Toby. The two of us will make light work of it.’ Nick looped the reins over the horse’s head and handed them to Daisy. ‘Would you mind holding on to Hero? He’s old and docile, so he won’t give you any trouble. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

Daisy took the reins, eyeing the animal warily. ‘Are you sure he won’t make a sudden bolt for home? I’m not used to horses.’

‘Have you ever ridden one?’

‘No. I was brought up in Whitechapel. There are plenty of cabs and omnibuses to take you wherever you wish to go.’

‘You’ll find it very different here,’ Nick said, chuckling.

‘Please hurry,’ Eleanora called over her shoulder as she retreated into the house. ‘Sidney is stuck halfway up the stairs and Hattie is struggling with the kitchen range. I think there might be a bird’s nest in the chimney.’

‘I think I might get the train back to London,’ Toby said grimly. ‘Life in the countryside is far too hectic for my taste. Give me peasoupers and smoky taverns any day of the week.’

Nick shooed him over the threshold. ‘Stop grumbling and do something useful.’ He glanced over his shoulder, giving Daisy an apologetic smile. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘Don’t worry about me.’ She stroked the horse’s velvety muzzle. ‘I’m new at this, Hero,’ she said softly. ‘Please be a good creature and don’t bolt or do anything silly.’

Hero rolled his eyes and nodded, as if complying with her request. She sighed with relief. Perhaps she could get used to being this close to such a large creature, although she hoped that Nick would return quickly. She cocked her head on one side, listening to the rushing sound of the water and the cawing of crows. The countryside seemed almost too quiet after the constant din of traffic and the babble of voices in the city. Here there was nothing but the gentle whispering of the wind in the trees and the sounds of nature …

The idyll was shattered by the sound of her aunt’s voice raised to a shriek and a loud thud emanating from the cottage. Forgetting her charge, Daisy dropped the reins and ran towards the house.