It was something Margaret wished for too.

‘Edward, have you made any progress at all about finding that child’s parents?’ she asked him one day, just before Christmas. They had finished dinner and were sitting in the drawing room. She was on the sofa with a piece of embroidery in her lap but was making no attempt to ply her needle. He was in an armchair reading a newspaper. He put it down.

‘No, I’m afraid not. These things take time.’

‘Surely people, especially landed gentry, do not just disappear into thin air.’

‘They do in Russia at the moment,’ he said grimly. ‘The situation is chaotic and the stories coming out are horrendous. Both Reds and Whites are perpetrating unimaginable horrors. If the count and countess have survived, heaven knows where they are.’

‘I believe there is a charitable society in London that takes care of displaced Russian children. It is run by a Russian lady married to an Englishman. You could take her there.’

‘Why? Do you want to be rid of her?’

‘Edward, she does not belong here.’

He was disappointed. He had hoped, by bringing her to Upstone Hall, he would be making a loving home for her, but it had not turned out like that. Lydia and Claudia were like ghosts in the house, occasionally seen flitting here and there, sometimes heard talking quietly in a mixture of Russian and English, but never real, never part of the household. And sometimes, in the middle of the night, he heard Lydia screaming. He would slip on a dressing gown and go up to stand outside the nursery door, listening to her sobbing and Claudia soothing her. Unable to do anything for her, he would go back to bed, feeling helpless, wishing Margaret could bring herself to be a mother to her.

‘She is not a nuisance, is she?’ he asked.

‘No, she is very quiet – too quiet, I think. She would surely do better among her own kind.’

‘Darling, it would be cruel to uproot her again so soon after bringing her here. Can’t you imagine what the poor child has been through? Her nurse and brother were shot in front of her eyes. Her clothes were covered in their blood when she was brought to me. It will be a long time before she gets over that.’

‘You are determined on keeping her here, aren’t you?’

‘What else would you have me do? I brought her here, accepted responsibility for her and that responsibility is ongoing.’

She gave up. He was not going to change his mind, which only went to confirm her worst fears.


The household was gearing itself up for Christmas, doing a lot of cooking, buying and making presents, discussing the decorations and the parties they meant to attend, and though they talked to Lydia about it, she understood very little. She knew it was a happy time when wishes were granted to good little girls. Her wish was that Mama and Papa would come, which would be the best present of all, but when she told Sir Edward, he took her between his knees and kissed her. ‘The trouble is, my little one, I still do not know where they are.’

‘Are they lost? Or hiding?’

‘You think they may be hiding?’ he asked, surprised that she had thought of it.

‘We were hiding at Kirilhor. We had to be quiet all the time and stay in the kitchen and back parlour. When the bad men were coming, we had to leave. Papa said we would go on a big ship.’

It was the first time he had heard her speak of that time. ‘And you did, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. Did they come on a big ship too?’

‘No, I do not think so, my sweet. I have asked everyone I know. I think they were left behind in Russia. As soon as I hear anything I will tell you, I promise.’

She was miserable for a few days after that but brightened as Christmas Day drew nearer. There was a Christmas tree which she helped to decorate and parcels were put all round the bottom of it which were not to be opened until after Christmas dinner. This would be at one o’clock after everyone had been to church, including all the servants, except Cook and the kitchen maid left behind to make sure dinner was on the table on time.

Church, which they attended every Sunday, was the only time Sir Edward and Lady Stoneleigh took her anywhere together. Dressed in a warm woollen coat in a soft blue, with a tam-o’-shanter on her curls and her hands in a muff, she stood and sat and knelt between them and enjoyed the singing. On Christmas Day she was allowed to join Sir Edward and Lady Stoneleigh for dinner of roast goose and Christmas pudding. She was becoming used to English food and, like all small children, her appetite was good.

After that the presents were distributed from under the tree. Lydia received a jigsaw puzzle, some books, and a china doll from Sir Edward and Lady Stoneleigh. From Claudia she had a handkerchief with her name embroidered in the corner and from the kitchen staff a box of home-made sweets. Claudia had helped her to make a needlecase for Lady Stoneleigh and a bookmark for Sir Edward. ‘How beautifully you have done it,’ her ladyship said, and kissed her cheek. Sir Edward kissed her too, but it was Lady Stoneleigh’s peck which surprised and pleased Lydia. It was the first time she had shown any sign of affection. Sir Edward noted it too and decided it was a good sign; his wife was at last coming to accept the child.


Winter gave way to spring. The daffodils appeared in the grass and the leaves reappeared on the trees. People stopped telling Lydia she would be reunited with her parents, stopped talking to her about Russia at all. The past became a kind of dream; Mama and Papa, Andrei and Tonya were people who came to her in her sleep and had no presence in her daytime life. The people in her waking hours were Claudia, of course, Sir Edward, whom she loved, Lady Stoneleigh, whom she saw only occasionally, and the servants. With so many servants about, she soon began to pick up a little English, but it was not the English of Sir Edward and his wife; it was Norfolk with a strong Russian accent which many people found difficult to understand. Edward, hearing it, decided something must be done about it and employed an English teacher.

Miss Graham was young and enthusiastic. She wore knitted jumper suits, long strings of beads and did her dark hair up in a bun. She spoke no Russian and Claudia was needed to translate at first, but Lydia was a bright child and learnt quickly. In her head she had decided that if she were good, if she did everything she was told and tried hard at her lessons, everyone would be pleased with her and then she would be reunited with her family all the sooner. It was a childish logic she told no one until one day when Sir Edward came to the schoolroom to sit in on one of her lessons. It made Miss Graham all flustered, but he smiled to set her at her ease. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Pretend I am not here.’

The lesson went on and after it had finished he drew Lydia between his knees. ‘Well done, sweetheart,’ he said in English. ‘I did not realise how clever you are. You have learnt remarkably quickly.’

Some of the words he used were unknown to her, but she realised he was pleased because he was smiling. ‘Does that mean I can go home now?’

‘Home?’ he asked, puzzled. ‘Do you mean to Russia?’

‘Yes, to Mama and Papa. I want to go back to them.’

He sighed. ‘The trouble is that the bad men are everywhere and it would not be safe. If I could find them, I would bring them here. You would like that, wouldn’t you?’

She nodded, her eyes alight with hope, and he felt a cur for giving her hope when he feared there was none. He gave her a little pat on her bottom and sent her back to Miss Graham and Claudia and then he went downstairs to find his wife.

She had been out riding and was in her room changing out of her riding clothes. Her complexion was pink from the exercise and her eyes bright. ‘Good, you are just in time to help me off with my boots,’ she said, sitting in a chair and lifting one foot.

He knelt down and pulled the boot off, stroking her stockinged foot as he did so. ‘Did you have a good ride?’

‘Yes, I went through the park, along the towpath, across the common and back through the wood. What have you been doing?’

‘I had a report to write for the Home Secretary.’ The second boot joined the first on the floor. ‘He is concerned about the numbers of Russian refugees coming into the country and how best we can accommodate them. Fifteen thousand at the last count.’

She smiled. ‘No doubt you advocated taking them into private homes.’

‘Some could be housed like that, it is true.’

‘Like Lydia.’ She was still not totally sure Edward had been telling the truth about Lydia, though she had to admit she was a fetching child and really no trouble.

‘Yes. She has come on by leaps and bounds. Her English is quite good enough for her to be sent to school.’

‘Boarding school?’

‘No. She is too young and too vulnerable. It would undo all the good we have been able to do. I think the local village school would be best. She is an intelligent child and will enjoy school and meeting other young children. I will arrange for her to go after the summer vacation.’

‘Have you had no news at all about her parents?’

‘Afraid not. I fear they have not survived. We must do our best to bring her up as they would have wished.’ He paused. ‘I think she is old enough to leave the nursery behind and have a room of her own, don’t you?’ It was said tentatively because the move represented another step Margaret had to take towards accepting the child.

He was still kneeling at her feet, still stroking her foot, gently massaging the toes, something he knew made her squirm with pleasure. She leant forward and taking his face in her hands bent forward to kiss him. ‘You know exactly how to get round me, don’t you?’ she said, laughing.