Brenda had come back into the room, and soon they set about doing the washing up together. When all was done, Maisie kissed her stepmother on the cheek. “Good night, Brenda. And thank you too. I’m tired now, but I’ve work to do before I turn in. I’m going to the library for a while.” Maisie stepped away towards the door, turning back as she grasped the handle. “I won’t do anything else, I promise. She’s an ordinary little girl, and I’m sure Billy’s going to find her people very soon, so at least we’ll know who she’ll go home to, when the time comes.”
Having caught up with her work, and made notes regarding Robert Miller, Maisie felt weary as she made her way up the stairs, reaching for the banister at each step. She walked on tiptoe along the landing as she approached Anna’s room, where she had left the door ajar, and peered in to check on the child. Anna was not in her bed, but standing by the window, Emma sitting on her haunches by her side. She was looking down towards the stables, where a night-light remained on—the groom was making his final rounds before returning to his cottage. Unaware of Maisie’s presence, the child rested a hand on the big Alsatian’s head, and brought her face close to the dog’s ruff.
“Emma, her name’s Lady. We’ll call her Lady, and we’ll go for walks together. Anna, Emma, and Lady.”
Maisie stepped back and crept back downstairs towards the library. She was risking her heart, and she knew Frankie was right—it had to stop, for all their sakes. But she couldn’t help thinking today’s risk had been worth it.
It was as she drove back into London on Sunday afternoon that Maisie reflected upon the several days she had spent at Chelstone, and the commitment she had made to her father and stepmother. With the Preston boys at home in London—and there was still a consensus that they might well be back at Chelstone in short order—Frankie and Brenda had voiced a desire to return to their own home, yet they did not want to remove Anna from the house she was becoming used to. Indeed, she had been up at dawn to rush down to the stables, where the groom found her curled up on a horse blanket outside the pony’s stall, Emma having taken up a place alongside her. Maisie agreed that every Friday afternoon she would return to the Dower House, and would not leave again until early on Monday morning, when the girl from the manor came up to get Anna off to school. Frankie and Brenda would look out for Anna from Monday after school until Friday lunchtime.
However, the events Maisie replayed again and again in her mind were those of the Sunday morning. Word had spread among the staff at Chelstone that the little girl had no suitable clothing for riding a pony. One of the gardeners came to the house with a pair of long trousers that had belonged to his son when he was Anna’s age, and the groom found a pair of very old leather boots in a trunk in the tack room that might suit a child, though perhaps thick socks might be required. Brenda suggested that Anna could wear her white blouse until another was found, as it could easily be washed and dried before school the following day. In the same trunk, a small bowler hat had been discovered, leading Maisie to wonder if the clothing had once belonged to James’ older sister, the girl who had died so young. By all accounts she had been a fearless rider.
But it was seeing Frankie with Anna that challenged Maisie’s composure. Her father’s sure hand, his clear instructions, and the way he taught the girl to groom her pony before she even thought about riding, how she should run her hands across the pony’s body and down her legs, feeling for heat or something that had not been there before. And Anna was so serious, following his every word, and each and every person present—not only Maisie, but Brenda, Lady Rowan, the groom, and even Robert Miller, who had insisted that he wouldn’t miss the event—seemed to react to the moment when Frankie said to the child, “Do you understand, Anna?”
And the little girl who had seemed so intent in removing her very essence from the world looked up at him and said, in a calm, strangely mature voice, “Yes, Mr. Dobbs.” She patted the pony and rested her head against her neck. “Can I ride her now?”
“Better get the girl on that fine steed, Mr. Dobbs,” said Robert Miller.
Once Anna had learned how to mount, and to hold the reins, Frankie slipped a lead rope onto the bridle and led his charges out to the paddock. The onlookers dispersed, and only Maisie walked with her father and Anna down to the paddock, flanked by the two dogs. And as Frankie let out the lead rope, and Anna felt the pony move, she began to laugh, to chuckle as if this were the best thing she had ever done in her life.
“Can I go faster, please?” she called to Frankie.
“Not yet, love. Walk before you can run, Anna. Don’t get rush-headed—you don’t know the pony well enough yet.”
Anna nodded, as if taking in Frankie’s words. But now, as Maisie remembered the morning, and the way in which Anna began to rediscover her voice, she knew that soon enough her true identity would be discovered—and then what? Frankie was right—she could well be removed from Chelstone and billeted with children in another area. And she knew why she had assigned Billy the job of finding the woman who’d been seen with Anna. He would be thorough, and if the woman existed, he would find her. Had Maisie taken on the job herself, she would have dragged her feet.
Chapter 17