“Oh!” Hester was impressed in spite of herself. Her acquaintance with the law involved only Oliver Rathbone, the brilliant barrister she had met through Callandra and Monk, and about whom her feelings were so painfully mixed. But that was “personal. Professionally she had for him only the profoundest admiration. “I see. You must be very proud of him.”

“Yes indeed.” Oonagh continued on her way to the stairs and hesitated till Hester was beside her, then began to climb them. “My younger sister’s husband also works in the company. He is very skilled in all matters to do with printing. We were very fortunate that he chose to become one of us. It is always better when an old company like Farralines can remain within the family.”

“What do you print?” Hester inquired.

“Books. All kinds of books.”

At the top of the stairs Oonagh turned along the landing, carpeted in Turkish red, and stopped at one of the many doors. After a brief knock she opened it and entered. This was entirely different from the blue room downstairs. The colors were all warm yellows and bronzes, as if it were filled with sunlight, although in fact the sky beyond the flowered curtains was actually quite a threatening gray. There were small, gilt-framed landscape paintings on the walls, and a gold-fringed lamp, but Hester barely had time to notice them. Her attention was taken by the woman who sat facing them in one of the three large floral armchairs. She seemed tall, possibly even taller than Oonagh, and she sat with a stiff back and erect head. Her hair was almost white and her long face had an expression of intelligence and humor which was arresting. She was not especially handsome, and even in youth she could not have been a beauty-her nose was too long, her chin far too short-but her expression obliterated all such awareness.

“You must be Miss Latterly,” she said with a firm, clear voice, and before Oonagh could effect any introduction. “I am Mary Farraline. Please come in and sit down. I understand you are to accompany me to London and make sure that I behave myself as my family would wish?”

A shadow crossed Oonagh’s face. “Mother, we are only concerned for your welfare,” she said quickly. “You do sometimes forget to take your medicine…”

“Nonsense!” Mary dismissed it. “I don’t forget. I simply don’t always need it.” She smiled at Hester. “My family fusses,” she explained with humor. “Unfortunately, when you begin to lose your physical strength, people tend to think you have lost your wits as well.”

Oonagh looked over at Hester and her expression was patient and conspiratorial.

“I daresay I shall be quite unnecessary,” Hester said with an answering smile. “But I hope I shall at least be able to make the journey a little easier for you, even if it is only to fetch and carry, and to see that you have all you wish.”

Oonagh relaxed a little, her shoulders easing as though she had been standing unconsciously at attention.

“I hardly need a Florence Nightingale nurse for that.” Mary shook her head. “But I daresay you will be a great deal better company than most. Oonagh says you were in the Crimea. Is that right?”

“Yes, Mrs. Farraline.”

“Well sit down. There is no need to stand there like a maidservant.” She pointed to the chair opposite her and continued talking while Hester obeyed. “So you went out to nurse with the army? Why?”

Hester was too taken aback to think of an immediate reply. It was a question she had not been asked since her elder brother Charles had first demanded of her why she wanted to do such a dangerous and totally unsuitable thing. That, of course, had been before Florence Nightingale’s fame had made it almost respectable. Now, eighteen months into the peace, Florence Nightingale was second only to the Queen herself in the respect and admiration of the country.

“Come now,” Mary said with amusement. “You must have had a reason. Young ladies do not pack their bags and abandon all their families and friends and depart for foreign lands, and disastrous ones at that, without a very pressing reason.”

“Mother, it may have been something quite personal,” Oonagh protested.

Hester laughed aloud. “Oh no!” she answered them both. “It was not a love affair, or being jilted. I wished to do something more useful than sit at home sewing and painting, neither of which I do well, and I had heard of the terrible conditions from my younger brother, who served in the army there. I-I suppose it suited my nature.”

“That is what I imagined.” Mary nodded very slightly. “There are not many ambitions for women. Most of us sit at home and keep the lamps burning, literally and metaphorically.” She looked around at Oonagh. “Thank you, my dear. It was most thoughtful of you to have found a companion for me who has a sense of passion and adventure, and has had the courage to follow it. I am sure I shall enjoy my trip to London.”

“I hope so,” Oonagh said quietly. “I have no doubt Miss Latterly will look after you very well and prove interesting company. Now I think I had better have Nora show her your medicine case and how the dose is prepared.”

“If you really feel it is necessary…” Mary shrugged. “Thank you for coming, Miss Latterly. I look forward to seeing you at luncheon, and then at dinner of course, which will have to be early. I believe our train leaves at a quarter past nine, so we shall board it at least half an hour before that. We shall have to leave here at a quarter past eight. That usually is too early to dine in any comfort, but there is no help for it tonight.”

They excused themselves, and Oonagh took Hester to Mrs. Farraline’s dressing room and introduced her to the lady’s maid Nora, a thin, dark woman with a grave manner.

“How do you do, miss,” she said, regarding Hester politely, and apparently without the slightest envy or resentment.

Oonagh left them, and for the next half hour Nora showed Hester the medicine case, which was as simple as Mary had indicated, merely a matter of a dozen small glass vials filled with liquid, one for each night and morning until she should return again. The dose was already prepared; there was no measuring to be done. All that was necessary was to pour it into a glass already provided and see that Mrs. Farraline did not accidentally spill it, or far more seriously, that she did not forget that she had taken it and repeat the dose. That, as Oonagh had pointed out, could be extremely serious, possibly even fatal.

“You are to keep the key.” Nora locked the case and passed the key, tied to a small red ribbon, to Hester. “Please put it around your neck, then it cannot be lost.”

“Of course.” Hester obeyed, and slipped the key inside her bodice. “An excellent idea.”

Hester was sitting sideways on the dressing room’s single chair; Nora stood next to the wardrobes. Mary’s cases were spread out where the maid had packed them. With the wealth of fabric in every single skirt, half a dozen dresses took up an enormous space. A lady who expected to change at least three times a day-from morning dress to something suitable to go out for luncheon, and then to afternoon dress, tea gown and dinner gown-could hardly travel with less than at least three large cases, if not more. Petticoats, chemises, corsetry, stockings and shoes would require one alone.

“You won’t need to tend to any clothes,” Nora said with proprietary pride. “I’ll take care of all of that. There’s a list written out of everything, and there’ll be someone at Miss Griselda’s to unpack. All you might have to do is dress Mrs. Farraline’s hair for her in the morning. Can you do that?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Good. Then that’s all I can show you.” A slight frown shadowed her face.

“Is there something else?” Hester asked.

“No, no, there’s nothing.” Nora shook her head. “I just wish she wasn’t going. I don’t hold wi’ travel. There’s no need. I know Miss Griselda’s newly wed, and expecting her first child, and the poor soul worries something wretched, from all the letters she’s been sending. But that’s the way some folk are. She’ll be all right, like as not; and either way, there’s nothing the mistress can do.”