“You can, Wendy.”
“You can let me off at that bus stop up there if you like,” Wendy said, pointing ahead.
Caitrin wound down her window to say goodbye as Hector stopped and Wendy got out, but he interrupted by leaning across and handing the girl a banknote.
Wendy stared at it in amazement. “A fiver! Never had one of these before.”
“Unfold it. There are two fivers. Use the money to go be a lorry driver, Wendy. Drive all over the place, and see everything that needs to be seen. You deserve it, there’s no time like the present, and your country needs your service.”
Tears brimmed in Wendy’s eyes. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Madam. I’ll always remember this.” She sniffed back her tears, took a step forward, and lowered her voice as she said, “Can I ask a question, if you don’t mind?”
“Yes, what?” Caitrin said.
“What’s in the horse box?”
“The Crown Jewels.”
Wendy’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed. “That’s funny, that is. Clever. I would never have thought of that one in a million years.”
She waved as they drove away, and Caitrin watched her image getting smaller in the mirror. “She looks so little and alone.”
“Aren’t we all?” Hector said. “I cannot believe you told her about the Crown Jewels.”
“Mum raised me not to lie. And that was a very kind thing you did for Wendy.”
“I hope she gets to drive lorries.” He gave her a weary smile. “You’re not wearing your wedding rings.”
“I’m not married.”
“But you were a maid.”
“Yes.”
“Yes? That’s it?”
“What would you like to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me.”
“For a start, in service I learned all about the ludicrous display of cutlery Elizabeth Ashtonthorpe laid out last night.”
“That was a bit much, and I did wonder how you navigated it so well.”
“With the Slump, there was no work, and the family was having a hard time, so I went to be a maid at Quantock Priory in Somerset.” Caitrin’s face tightened, and she angled away, gazing out of the side window. “I was fifteen and learned to take care of myself in that place.”
“You had a difficult time there?”
“The youngest son of the family, he was a big hulk of a creature, had this ‘they all belong to me’ attitude about the maids. He had already hurt a couple of them before I got there, and he’d gotten away with it.”
“But not you?”
“He hurt me too.” Her knuckles rapped a hard tattoo on the glass. “But I’m told his limp is permanent.”
“What did Wendy whisper to you? Her big secret.”
“Wendy said she couldn’t be a lorry driver because of having a baby when she was fifteen. They sent her off to a home for unwed mothers, where she had the baby, came back alone, and has no idea what happened to it.”
She turned to face him, her expression profoundly sad. “There are thousands of Wendys. They marry early, have babies, and settle into being old before they’re twenty-one. They deserve at least a fighting chance at a wider horizon. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Hecky, but the landed gentry have got to go. No more parasites. It’s got to be our turn now.”
9
Their next stop, Hammersleigh Hall, was an unlovely pile buried deep in a wooded valley. The road through the estate was neglected, as were the flower beds, which had long since gone to seed that spread over the uncut lawns, and Hector had to stop several times to remove fallen branches so they could continue. Wallace, Sir Hereward’s butler, stood at the door to greet them. He looked equally decrepit, but his welcome was sincere.
“Lord Hector, it has been so long. Welcome back to Hammersleigh Hall.”
“Hello, Wallace. This is my wife, Caitrin.”
“M’lady.” Wallace bent a little at the waist, his lungs whistling with the effort. “Sir Hereward will be so pleased to see you.”
He ushered them inside, and Caitrin shivered. Outside, it was not a cold day, but dampness made it so inside. She guessed that none of the doors or windows had been opened in centuries.
“This way.” Wallace led them through the Great Hall, which was guarded by dusty suits of armor commanded by dark portraits of glowering ancient Walters-Hammersleigh aristocracy, and into the library. Caitrin caught her breath. These old buildings never smelled particularly fresh, but this one had the scent of recent decay.
“Lord Hector and his wife to see you, Sir,” Wallace announced to a bed set up near the window.
They approached the bed. Sir Hereward was a tiny, low rise in the center of the blankets. He had been reduced to a skeleton over which the skin was stretched taut. His eyes were bright, though, and he spoke in a strong, clear voice.
“Hector, my boy, what an unexpected surprise. Excuse me for not getting up. I can’t do that anymore. And who is this lovely apparition?” A skeletal hand slipped out from the bedclothes.
