mothball-smelling chest; a sure sign that she wasn’t expected back.
Quickly, she searched under the bed and moved the chest of drawers in case it had slipped out of sight. Nothing. Perhaps Lily had found it while clearing the room and had hung onto it for safekeeping.
Hesitating for only a moment, Stella went into Lily’s room. Just as she was beginning to search, she heard a creak on the stairs. Dashing out of the room she came face to face with a startled Lily.
Lily screamed. She clutched her chest. ‘Whit a fright you gave me!’
‘Sorry!’ Stella cried, turning pink with embarrassment. ‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘You been in ma room?’ Lily accused.
‘I was just having a quick look. I’ve lost a letter – the one that came for me the other day. It’s special. I thought you might have found it and kept it for me.’
Lily leaned up against the wall to catch her breath. ‘So it was you that left the door unlocked – I was afraid we had burglars.’
‘Oh, Lily, I’m so sorry. Come and sit down.’ Stella steered the maid into her bedroom.
‘I’m glad it was just you, lassie,’ Lily said, calming down. ‘I hate been in the hoos all by ma sel’. Cook’s away for the coming week, seeing as the mistress and Mrs Templeton aren’t coming back for another fortnight.’
‘Where have they gone?’ Stella asked.
‘Durham. Staying near Andrew.’
Stella’s insides twisted. ‘Have you heard how he is?’
Lily shrugged. ‘When the mistress last spoke tae Cook, she said Andrew was having the time o’ his life. Likely he’ll be there till the end of his holidays.’
Stella felt resigned. ‘That’s good, if he’s happy.’
Lily eyed her. ‘So what did you dae to mak’ the mistress tak’ against you, Stella? She was in a bad fettle when she left.’
Stella sighed. ‘I was sticking up for Mr Lomax and Esmie.’
Lily nodded. ‘I mind when they were friends – the mistress and Miss Esmie. She was a kind sort, Miss Esmie – and Captain Lomax was a handsome man. We all liked him too and the mistress was happy in those days.’
Rain spattered against the skylight and Stella knew if she delayed any longer, she’d get a soaking cycling back.
‘Lily, did you find my letter from Dublin?’
‘Aye, I did. It fell oot the linen when I stripped the bed.’
‘So where is it?’
‘I asked the mistress if I should tak’ it round to The Anchorage for you but she said she would dee it . . .’
‘She never did.’
Lily said, ‘Well, she’s been awa’ since. I’m sure you’ll get it when she’s back.’
Stella had no such confidence. It was far more likely Lydia had simply thrown it away. She could hardly bear the thought that she might have read it first. For Lily’s sake, she tried not to show how upset she was at the maid not passing on the letter herself.
Seeing how the sky was now completely grey, Stella declined a cup of tea.
‘I better get back before the rain gets worse.’
Cycling back, the wind had strengthened and Stella found it hard to stay upright. By the time she reached The Anchorage, she was soaked to the skin. Tibby sent her off to have a hot bath. That night, Stella couldn’t get warm and lay shivering while she berated herself for being so careless in losing Hugh’s lovely letter.
Two days later, Stella came down with a chill and a heavy cold that went to her chest and kept her in bed. Tibby, having banished her to bed, was not a diligent nurse. It was Elsie, the gardener’s wife, who came up with cups of tea and bowls of broth. Despite her kindness, Stella lay feeling utterly homesick and longing for her time in Ebbsmouth to end.
It wasn’t until the last week of the holiday that Stella had shaken off her cold and was feeling like her old self again. Only then did she finally write an affectionate letter back to Hugh, telling him about the early part of the holiday and not the rift with Lydia. She said she would like it if they carried on writing to each other and that there was no one else courting her.
Unable to remember the exact postal address of his sister in Dublin, she hoped that the letter would eventually get to him. She didn’t know the size of the Irish city, but surely there could only be one Mrs Henry French? Stella consoled herself with the thought that she could always write to him in