The Swan Maid. Dilly Court

turned to Hansford. She had thought him surly at first, but now she could see that a long scar on the right side of his face was the cause of his permanent scowl. She simply had to satisfy her curiosity. ‘Who is Lady Petunia?’

      ‘Ask no questions and you’ll be told no lies.’ He picked up as much of the luggage as he could carry. ‘What happened to Merriweather? Why are you here instead of the old girl?’

      ‘I don’t know exactly. I think she was taken ill. That’s what her ladyship told me.’

      ‘Where did she find you?’ Hansford demanded as he limped off, burdened by his heavy load. ‘You smell like a taproom.’

      Lottie sniffed her sleeve and her heart sank. He was right. Her clothes were impregnated with the smell of beer and tobacco smoke, but she had never noticed it until now. She followed him towards the back stairs. ‘I worked in a London coaching inn.’

      He said nothing, concentrating all his energy on mounting the narrow staircase. He came to a halt on the landing and dumped the baggage on the floor, flexing his fingers. ‘I’d keep out of the servants’ quarters if I was you; at least until you’ve got rid of that stink. Mrs Manners, the housekeeper, don’t approve of public houses. If she thinks you’ve got loose morals you’ll be out on the street afore you can say knife.’

      ‘I am very respectable,’ Lottie said stiffly. ‘And Lady Aurelia hired me, so if Mrs Manners doesn’t like it she knows what she can do.’

      ‘Ho, like that is it? You’re going to be trouble, I can see that. What’s your name, girl?’

      ‘It’s Trouble with a capital T.’ Lottie picked up one of the heavier carpetbags. ‘But you may call me Lottie. Now, where do I take this?’

      ‘Follow me, and less of the cheek. You’d best mind your manners in the servants’ hall. You’ll find it a bit different from working in a hostelry.’ Hansford picked up the bags and led the way along a wide corridor, coming to a halt at the top of the main staircase. ‘This is her ladyship’s room. Open the door for me, there’s a good girl.’

      Despite his condescending tone, Lottie did as he asked without any argument. She could hold her own with ostlers, coachmen and male travellers who thought that inn servants were easy game, but for now she would bide her time. She opened the door and stepped inside to the room of her dreams. Furnished in the French style with ornate gilded furniture upholstered in blue toile de jouy fabric, the room was light and sunny. Aubusson rugs placed in appropriate places made pools of delicate colour on the highly polished oak floorboards, and the scent of flowers vied with the lingering fragrance of Aurelia’s perfume. It was a heady mix and to Lottie it seemed a boudoir fit for a princess, let alone the wife of an army colonel.

      Hansford dumped the baggage on the floor with a sigh of relief. ‘I dunno how one woman could need to bring so much with her, but it’s the same wherever we go, whether it’s on a campaign abroad or moving between Bath and Chatham.’

      ‘Do you always travel with them?’ Lottie asked curiously. She had noticed that Hansford walked with a limp. ‘Are you a soldier too?’

      ‘I was, until I was wounded in Afghanistan. I was the colonel’s batman in India when he was a captain seconded to the Bombay Sappers. He kept me on as his orderly, even when I was unfit for service.’

      ‘I see,’ Lottie said slowly. ‘He sounds like a good man.’

      ‘The best.’ Hansford wiped his hands on his apron. ‘You’ll be expected to unpack and put everything in its place, but I expect you know that.’

      Lottie stared at the pile of luggage. ‘I’m used to working hard. This will seem easy by comparison.’

      ‘Better you than me, that’s all I can say.’ Hansford made a move towards the doorway. ‘Is there anything you want to know before I go?’

      ‘There’s just one thing,’ Lottie said hesitantly. ‘Who is Lady Petunia? Is she related to the colonel?’

      Hansford’s twisted lips curved into a semblance of a smile. ‘You want to know who Lady Petunia is. You’d best follow me. I’m sure the unpacking can wait for five minutes.’

      Lottie could not resist the opportunity to see more of the house and its grounds, and she was eager to discover who it was whose charms outdid those of the beautiful, spirited Lady Aurelia. She followed Hansford as he retraced his steps down the back stairs and through a maze of passages until they were outside in a large yard facing the stable block and coach house. He strode on, making surprising speed despite his uneven gait, and Lottie had to run in order to keep up with him. They passed through the kitchen garden where an aged gardener was tending to the rows of leafy vegetables, and at last they came to a low building surrounded by a brick wall. Lottie was used to the smell of horse dung, but the odour emanating from the pen was far worse. She covered her nose with her hand.

      ‘You’re having me on, Mr Hansford.’

      He stopped with his hand on the gate. ‘It’s just Hansford, miss.’

      ‘All right, Hansford. Then it’s just Lottie from now on.’

      He might have been grinning – it was hard to tell – but he unlatched the gate and ushered her into a straw-filled pen. ‘Permission to enter, Colonel?’

      ‘Permission granted, Hansford.’ A straw hat appeared from the depths of the sty, followed by a corpulent body, and then, as the colonel straightened up, a large black pig emerged.

      Hansford closed the gate. ‘Her ladyship has arrived, sir.’

      ‘By Jove! Is it that time already?’ Colonel Dashwood bent down to stroke the sow’s head. ‘Sorry, old girl. I’ll have to leave you now.’ He looked up and frowned. ‘Who’s this, Hansford? Lady Petunia doesn’t usually like visitors, but she doesn’t seem to mind this young person.’

      Hansford pushed Lottie forward. ‘This is Lady Aurelia’s new maid, sir.’

      ‘What happened to Merriweather? The old girl hasn’t turned up her toes, has she?’

      ‘I believe not, Colonel. Apparently she is unwell and has remained in Bath.’

      ‘Sorry to hear that.’ Colonel Dashwood looked Lottie up and down. ‘Pretty girl. Best keep her away from the barracks, Hansford. What’s her name?’

      Lottie stepped forward. ‘My name is Lottie Lane, sir.’ She tickled the pig behind the ears.

      ‘Well, well, Lady Petunia approves. You’ve got a way with animals, Lottie Lane.’

      Lottie stared at the pig in wonder. So this was Lady Aurelia’s rival. ‘I worked in a coaching inn until yesterday, Colonel,’ she said, controlling her desire to laugh with difficulty. ‘I’m more used to horses, but she seems like a nice pig.’

      ‘Lady Petunia is a Black Berkshire. She’s more intelligent than a dog, and most people, if it comes to that.’ Colonel Dashwood produced an apple from his jacket pocket and handed it to Lottie. ‘Give her this. She’s partial to an apple or two.’

      Hansford cleared his throat. ‘Lady Aurelia is in the drawing room, sir. Shall I tell her that you’ll be with her as soon as you’ve changed your clothes?’

      ‘Eh? What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?’

      Lottie held the apple on the palm of her hand and Lady Petunia took it with surprising gentleness. ‘She has very good manners, Colonel.’

      ‘Of course she has. Lady Petunia is a thoroughbred, and better behaved than most of the nobility. I’d have her in the house, but Mrs Manners wouldn’t approve.’

      ‘I’d best get back to my work,’ Lottie said, hoping that the smell of the pigsty was not clinging to her garments. It was bad enough to know that she stank of the alehouse, without adding animal odours as well.

      Colonel Dashwood’s