Julia knew that, if the same question were to be addressed to Mama, the answer would be no, and that Aunt Lucy would be aware of that. But she also knew that Aunt Lucy shared some characteristics with her niece Sophie, and that she did not always choose to do exactly what people expected of her.

As Mr. Hatton came into the hall from his study to join them, Aunt Lucy replied, “I don’t see why not, my dear, in a private setting such as this. Don’t you agree, sir?”

When Mr. Hatton heard what Julia’s question had been, he turned to her and said in a very level voice, “That is very good news, Miss Maitland.” It was only when she saw the expression in his green eyes that she realised how much the answer meant to him.

Ten

The morning brought two letters from Derbyshire.

The first was for Julia and came from Emily at Cressborough Castle. She had been over to see Sophie and Harriet at Banford Hall, and she passed on all the gossip from the sisters. They were all looking forward to Julia’s return, and Papa had asked for her to be told the same. Emily said that the Earl and Countess were in good health, and that they would all three be staying at the Castle for the next few weeks. Freddie had finally written a short note from Spain, to say that he was well but not looking forward to the colder weather, as the regiment was likely to be in the mountains over the winter. There was no mention of Dominic Brandon.

The second letter was from Mama for Aunt Lucy, full of pride at having achieved an invitation from the Earl and Countess for Julia and her aunt to stay at the Brandon’s town house overnight on their forthcoming journey back to Banford Hall. There was no mention of Dominic Brandon in the letter, but seeing Julia’s face fall at the suggestion of returning via London told her aunt what she had already guessed.

As Mrs. Jones was in the room with them at the time, all Aunt Lucy said was, “We can discuss our route to Derbyshire when we get back to Bath, my dear. I have suggested to Mr. Hatton that we leave here on Monday morning. He will escort us as far as Beaminster, and we will travel on from there.”

Her aunt laid the letter down and picked up a book she had been reading, so Julia went up to her room and began to write a long reply to Emily. She recounted some information that she had heard about the local smuggling, but made no mention of Aunt Lucy’s ankle.

Later that morning, Julia came across Mr. Hatton in the hall, and he asked her to join him in his study.

“I have spoken to Mr. Whitaker, Miss Maitland. There is no farmhand named Jem on the estate here as far as he is aware, nor have any of our labourers been injured recently. I have sworn him to secrecy about the matter, and it was rather odd, as somehow he seemed to be relieved at the news.”

“Do you think that he suspects that something is going on somewhere on the estate, but he does not know what?”

“That’s possible—he may not feel that he knows me well enough yet to trust me completely, but hopefully that will change soon.”

Julia looked thoughtful, then said, “Do you think that Mr. Jones might be involved? He was born in this area and has been employed here for much longer than Mr. Whitaker, I imagine.”

He looked startled for a moment. “Of course, you said that Mr. Jones had taken Jem into the kitchen for his wife to attend to the wound. So presumably Mr. Jones had either found him lying somewhere, or was with him when he was hurt?”

“Yes, one or the other.”

“Hmm.” He was drumming his fingers on the desk as Julia waited. “You did offer to help me, so could you ask his wife whether they, and in particular Mr. Jones, have any close friends in the village?”

“Very well,” she replied. “After I have seen how Aunt Lucy is, I will look for her and ask the question.”

Later Julia found Mrs. Jones upstairs, sorting the household linen.

“In case I do not have a better opportunity, Mrs. Jones, can I thank you now for being so kind to my aunt since her accident? It has been a great weight off my mind that she has had you to care for her and to call upon. And I have been able to make several excursions into the countryside around here knowing that she was in such good hands.”

Mrs. Jones looked flustered but flattered at these remarks, and assured Julia that it had been a pleasure to be of assistance. From this, the conversation moved on to how long Mrs. Jones had been at Morancourt, where she had been born and brought up, and how she had met her husband.

“Mr. Jones was a soldier as a very young man,” she told Julia, “but I met him after he came back from France about twenty years ago. There was a whole group of them who went to join the army from near here, for most could not find any employment in this area. He was lucky, for his father was already employed on this estate so, when Mr. Jones came back, he was offered a job by Mr. Henry Hatton. My husband did well, and ended up being in charge of the farm here.”

“Does he mind not doing that anymore?”

“No, for it really needs a younger man in charge now—Mr. Henry Hatton bought more land later on, several years before he died, so there has been much more to do now than before. Mr. Jones is quite happy looking after the park, and he gets more time to meet his old friends from the army in the local public houses.”

“It must be pleasant to keep in touch with friends from so long ago?”

“Yes. Some lads were killed or wounded of course, but others came home in one piece. A few married French girls whilst they were abroad, and brought them home when they had finished with the army. It must be odd having to leave all your family behind like that, though I suppose that the French girls were able to keep in touch with them before the Blockade.”

“Oh, yes!” said Julia, “I had not thought of that. I know that some goods—silk for instance—are difficult to come by now because of the Blockade?”

“Yes, although it’s surprising what you can get in Bridport if you really know where to look. One of the other men living in the village has a friend in that town, Frank, who has some very useful connections.”

After some further conversation, Julia left her, and later went to tell Mr. Hatton what she had discovered.

“Mr. Jones had served in France, you say, Miss Maitland? That’s interesting, and also other local people that he’s known for a long time? And she mentioned someone called Frank? That could be Frank Jepson. And that was a clever idea of yours about the silk.”

“I am sorry that I cannot be of more use,” said Julia, “but I do not have much time left, and perhaps it would be unwise for my interest to be known.”

“I agree, and there are other ways that information can be discovered.”

How dull my life is going to be when I leave here, thought Julia.

“This is your last evening, Miss Maitland. May I introduce you to the waltz in the ballroom tonight?”

“Certainly, sir, although I have no means of knowing how long it will take me to become proficient. Would you say that you are a competent teacher?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Probably not, Miss Maitland, with my limp restricting my agility, but I hope that between us we shall do very well!”

Julia then remembered something that she had wanted to ask him.

“Would you mind if I try to make a copy, however amateurish, of the picture in your library? It would be a pleasure for me to have it when I am back in Derbyshire and,” she hesitated, “be a happy memento of a very pleasant stay here at Morancourt.”

She nearly added, “with you,” but she suddenly felt so emotional that she feared she might burst into tears.

“Oh! Of course you may do so if you wish.”

“Thank you. I have been so busy enjoying myself that I have not had time to use the small box of paints and the few sheets of watercolour paper that I brought with me from Bath.”

Julia turned and, without saying any more, went up the stairs to fetch them.

It was some two hours later that Aunt Lucy came to find her.

“Julia, I have been searching for you all over the house. Fortunately, I learnt that Mr. Hatton knew where you were. How is your painting?”

Julia rose from the seat at the table she had been using, allowing her aunt to see what she had been doing. The watercolour was not a bad copy of the painting on the wall, and at the bottom Julia had just written “La Passerelle.”

“What does that mean, my dear?”

“It is a nickname, but I suppose that you could otherwise call it ‘Paradise.’ ”

Her aunt, surprised, looked from the painting to her niece without saying anything, but she put her arm around Julia’s shoulders for a few moments and held her tightly.

Then Aunt Lucy said, “It is nearly time to dress for dinner, my dear,” before she turned away and left the room.

Julia looked out of the window of the library for a few minutes without seeing anything. Then she put her painting materials into the box and closed the lid, rolled up her copy of the picture, and hurried to take everything back upstairs.

Mrs. Jones and the cook had clearly decided to surpass themselves in preparing the dishes on the menu for dinner. They had even, Julia discovered, prepared one of the desserts using the lemons that Julia had bought in Beaminster.

“I suppose,” said Mr. Hatton, “that this is the Derbyshire pudding that you mentioned to me the other day?”

“Of course, sir,” said Julia with an equally enigmatic expression.

Aunt Lucy clearly enjoyed this repartee, and the rest of the meal. She was looking fully restored to health, and dinner passed with many happy exchanges of views.