The Swan Maid. Dilly Court

of a floorboard and the patter of footsteps. She blew out the candle. It was an automatic response and it left her in deep shadow, but moonlight filtered through a window at the far end of the landing, and as she peeped round the corner she saw Lady Aurelia heading down the main staircase. She had left her mistress ready for bed, but now it seemed that Lady Aurelia had dressed herself and, judging by the speed of her descent, she was in a hurry.

      It was none of her business, but curiosity got the better of her and Lottie followed Aurelia at a safe distance. She wondered if her ladyship was sleepwalking, but she seemed to have a definite purpose, and she unlocked the front door as stealthily as a burglar. She slipped outside, closing it softly behind her.

      Lottie hesitated, wondering whether she ought to leave well alone and retire to bed, but she knew she would get little sleep and she followed her mistress, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. A gap between the buildings left her nowhere to hide, and she came to a halt in time to see a tall male figure emerge from a doorway.

      Lady Aurelia ran straight into his arms.

       Chapter Six

      Lottie clamped her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp of surprise. She could not make out the identity of the man who was kissing her mistress, but he was an officer. Then the couple disappeared from view, leaving Lottie to come to terms with what she had just seen. She turned and retraced her steps. She had been dazzled by Lady Aurelia’s charm and beauty, but having married a much older man maybe it was inevitable that she would take a lover. Lottie had certainly witnessed all manner of goings-on during her time at the inn, and perhaps she was being naïve, but she had imagined that officers and their ladies would behave with honour and chivalry, like the knights of old she had read about in school. She entered the house quietly and went straight to her room.

      Next morning she awakened early, half expecting to hear the sound of a post horn announcing the arrival of a mail coach, but the house was eerily silent. She was used to sharing her room with Ruth and May, with all the attendant muddle and chaotic mess of discarded stockings and torn petticoats strewn on the floor or hanging from the rafters. The foul city smells had seeped through gaps in the roof tiles, and had mingled with smoke from Ruth’s clay pipe and the cheap scent that May purchased in the market. It was all history now, but perhaps the strangest thing of all was the silence. There had never been a quiet moment at the inn; even in the middle of the night there would have been sounds coming from the stables, and from the street outside. Ruth snored and May often talked in her sleep, shouting out unintelligible words.

      Lottie rose from her comfortable bed and had a wash in cold water. She dressed, put up her hair and went downstairs to the kitchen, where Cissy was only just waking up.

      ‘Oh lawks,’ she said, scrambling to her feet. ‘Is it that late? I’ll be in for a hiding if Cook comes down to find I ain’t lit the fire.’

      ‘I’m up early, so don’t panic.’ Lottie went to the range and riddled the ashes. ‘We’ll soon get this going.’

      Cissy yawned and stretched. ‘I’ll fetch some water. I got to go outside and visit the privy anyway.’ She snatched up two buckets and headed for the scullery.

      Lottie was left to make up the fire, and when she was satisfied that the flames had taken hold she left it and went out into the yard. Cissy passed her, slopping water over the cobblestones as she hefted the buckets into the house. ‘I’ll put the kettle on, miss. We’ll have a cup of tea.’

      ‘That will be nice, thank you.’ Lottie took deep breaths of the clean air, untainted by the stink of the Thames and the manufactories that lined its banks. She could hear the sound of a bugle call and the clatter of booted feet on the parade ground, but tall trees obscured the view of the barrack buildings. There was already a hint of approaching autumn in the air, with a faint blue mist caressing the treetops, and touches of gold and russet amongst the foliage. She had sensed feelings of tension mixed with excitement and apprehension in Gideon during his stay at The Swan, and it was hardly surprising. The men of the Corps of Royal Sappers and Miners were preparing to go to war, and some of them would not return. Perhaps that was why Lady Aurelia had risked her marriage and her reputation by a clandestine meeting with her lover …

      ‘Ho, ho, young lady. I see you are an early riser like myself.’ Colonel Dashwood emerged from the scullery carrying a bucket of vegetable peelings. ‘My wife never rises before ten o’clock, and often it will be much later.’

      ‘I didn’t know, sir. I am new to the duties of a lady’s maid.’

      ‘Then you can offer your services to Lady Petunia, just this once, of course.’ He uttered a deep belly laugh. ‘Here, take the bucket, and I’ll fetch the shovel. I don’t trust the gardeners to muck out thoroughly. Come with me – er – what’s your name? I forget.’

      ‘Lottie, sir. Lottie Lane.’

      ‘Well, Lane, you’ll do nicely. I can’t abide women who shrink at the sight of anything remotely agricultural. What d’you say to that?’

      ‘I’m used to living above a stable, sir. I’ve emptied countless chamber pots onto the dung heap in my time at the inn.’

      ‘Splendid. You’ll make an excellent trooper, Lane.’

      ‘Trooper, sir?’

      Colonel Dashwood strode on towards the pigsty. ‘You’ll accompany my wife when she travels to the Crimea.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Did she mention it to you?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      He came to a halt at the gate. ‘We’ll be leaving for Southampton in six or eight weeks, not sure exactly when, and this mustn’t go any further, Lane. D’you understand?’

      Lottie nodded wordlessly. Lady Petunia poked her snout over the top of the gate, gazing at her with small beady eyes. ‘Good piggy,’ Lottie murmured automatically.

      ‘Scratch behind her ears, the old girl loves that.’ Colonel Dashwood opened the gate and slipped into the pen. ‘Fill the trough, Lane, and fetch me the wheelbarrow. We’ll soon have Lady Petunia’s boudoir as clean and sweet-smelling as that of my dear wife.’

      Lottie had much to think about as she made her way back to the house, having done all she could to help Colonel Dashwood make Lady Petunia’s sty habitable for such a grand dame of the pig world. The knowledge that Lady Aurelia was having an affair with one of her husband’s underlings had made her feel uncomfortable. Colonel Dashwood might be a hard taskmaster to his men, but he was like a loving father to his pig, and as they worked together he had treated Lottie as an equal. The news that they would be leaving so soon for the Crimea had come as something of a shock, but she was ready for anything.

      She arrived back in the kitchen to find Cook in the middle of preparing breakfast. Tilda was rushing about taking cutlery and crockery upstairs to the dining room, and Cissy was at her usual place at the scullery sink, washing the pots and pans.

      ‘Where’ve you been, Miss Lane?’ Cook demanded angrily. ‘Her ladyship’s been ringing the bell for the last ten minutes.’

      Lottie glanced at the large, white-faced clock on the wall above the mantelshelf. ‘Oh dear, I didn’t realise I’d been gone so long.’

      ‘You got caught by the colonel,’ Tilda said, chuckling. ‘I can smell Lady Petunia.’

      ‘Go on up. Never mind stopping to change. You’ll have to explain to her ladyship.’ Cook pointed to the stairs. ‘You’ll learn, miss.’

      ‘I’m so sorry, my lady,’ Lottie said breathlessly. ‘I was up early and Colonel Dashwood asked me to help him clean out the pigsty.’

      Aurelia’s golden hair spilled over her shoulders as she sat in bed propped up against a small mountain of pillows. ‘I might have guessed. Never go outside before eight o’clock or you’ll suffer a similar fate. My husband