The Swan Maid. Dilly Court

him every now and then, but I haven’t heard from him for ages, and I haven’t seen him since I was six.’

      ‘So you come from a military family.’

      ‘I was born in India, but I don’t remember much of my time there, although I do recall a white house with a beautiful garden and sweet-smelling flowers. I often dream of walking up the path and knocking on the door, but I always wake up before it opens.’

      ‘Why did you leave? It sounds too good to be true.’

      ‘When Ma died of a fever, Pa sent me to England to be looked after by my Uncle Sefton. I’m sure I was a miserable little thing, and he didn’t want to be saddled with me in the first place. Anyway, as soon as he could, he packed me off to boarding school.’

      ‘So how did you end up slaving away in a coaching inn? It seems such a waste.’

      ‘Uncle Sefton married late in life and his wife didn’t want me around. I was just twelve when I was sent to work here. I didn’t have any choice in the matter.’

      ‘Didn’t your father have anything to say about such a decision?’

      ‘Of course I wrote to Pa, begging him to let me join him, but I had to wait months for a reply, and when it came he said he was stationed on the North-West Frontier, and that I’d be safer in London – so here I stayed. That’s my life in a nutshell. What about you?’

      ‘My father died some years ago. He was a soldier, and it was taken for granted that I’d follow him into the army. My mother lives in Whitechapel, close to the Garrick Theatre. She takes in lodgers, and I help her as much as I can financially. That’s me in a nutshell, too.’

      Lottie jumped to her feet at the sound of someone bellowing her name. ‘Oh Lord! That’s Mrs Filby. She’ll be furious if she knows I’ve been sitting here chatting to you. I have to go, Gideon, but I’ll pop in later, when the rush is over.’

      ‘Don’t forget me, Lottie.’

      She glanced over her shoulder, smiling. ‘As if I would. Drink your tea.’

      On the fourth day Gideon was dressed when she brought him his breakfast gruel and a cup of tea. He had shaved and, despite the bruise on his forehead, he looked dashing in his uniform.

      ‘What are you doing, Private Ellis?’ She placed the bowl and mug on the washstand. ‘You mustn’t overtax yourself.’

      ‘I’m a fraud, Lottie. I can’t stay here any longer, much as I would like to remain and be cosseted by you. I have to report to my unit.’

      ‘Oh, well, I suppose you know best.’

      He smiled and took both her hands in his. ‘You’ve been wonderful. I owe my speedy recovery to you.’

      ‘Nonsense. I didn’t do much other than to bring you food and drink.’

      ‘I won’t have that, Lottie. A trained nurse couldn’t have done better.’

      She withdrew her hands, aware that she was blushing furiously. ‘It’s very kind of you to say so, but I know nothing about nursing. It was a matter of luck and Mother Nature was on your side.’

      ‘Maybe, but you did your part, and I’m truly grateful.’

      ‘You’d better eat your breakfast. You need all your strength if you’re to ride all the way to Chatham.’

      ‘This is one thing I won’t miss.’ He sat down and began spooning the thin sops into his mouth. ‘I could do with a plate of bacon and eggs and a nice fat sausage.’

      ‘You are better,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’m so glad to see you up and about. When they brought you here I thought you were going to die.’

      ‘If the ladder hadn’t given way I would never have met you, Lottie. I’m just sorry that I won’t have the chance to get to know you better.’

      ‘Do you think you’ll be leaving for the Crimea very soon? They’re talking about nothing else in the taproom.’

      ‘I can’t say for certain, but I don’t think it will be long.’ He dropped the spoon into the empty bowl. ‘There, are you satisfied now? It’s all gone.’

      ‘I’m not your mother, Gideon,’ she said, laughing. ‘But I will be sorry to see you go.’

      ‘Will you?’ His smile faded and he reached out to clasp her hand. ‘I wish I could say that we’ll meet again, Lottie, but I’m afraid this really is goodbye.’

      She was struck by a sudden and almost overwhelming desire to cry. She had known him for only a few days, but it seemed that he had become a part of her life, and now he was about to leave and she would never see him again.

      ‘You’ll be back, Gideon,’ she said, forcing herself to sound more cheerful than she was feeling. ‘You’ll return covered in glory.’

      ‘Will you be waiting for me?’ He dropped his hand to his side and his expression was bleak. ‘I’m sorry. That was wrong of me. I couldn’t ask that of anyone, least of all you. I’ll be going into battle, even if we’re just digging saps or laying wires for the telegraph. The chances are I won’t return.’

      Acting on impulse, Lottie flung her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. ‘You will survive, Gideon. I know you will.’ She backed away, blushing. ‘I just wanted to wish you good luck.’

      Gideon’s cheeks flamed and his eyes were suspiciously bright. ‘I’ll take that kiss with me to the Crimea, and if I get downhearted I’ll remember how it felt to be embraced by the beautiful girl who saved my life.’

      Lottie was momentarily lost for words, but the door burst open and May erupted into the room. ‘You’re wanted in the kitchen, Lottie. Mrs Filby’s been looking for you and she ain’t best pleased.’ She gave Gideon a cursory glance. ‘There don’t seem to be much wrong with you, mister. Anyway, there’s someone waiting for you in the stable yard. He says he’s come to take you to Chatham, and he’s in a tearing hurry, so you’d better not keep him waiting.’

      Gideon grabbed his cap and rammed it on his head, wincing as it touched the tender part of his scalp. ‘I’ll be off then. Take care of yourself, Lottie.’

      ‘You, too.’ Lottie turned away, and began stripping the bed. Her first instinct had been to rush out onto the balcony and wave to Gideon, but May was already suspicious, and she was a terrible gossip.

      ‘Give me a hand, May,’ she said casually. ‘I’d better get the room ready for the next occupant.’

      ‘He’s sweet on you.’ May pursed her lips. ‘I bet you’ll miss him something chronic. You’ve spent every spare moment up here.’

      ‘He was sick. I looked after him as best I could. That’s all.’

      ‘Maybe you think you’re a touch above us chambermaids now. Perhaps you should sign up with Miss Nightingale and her nurses. You’d have lots of injured soldiers to look after then.’

      Lottie recognised the signs of jealousy. May could be very mean when she thought someone was getting preferential treatment. ‘Maybe I will. It would be better than slaving all day, and sometimes all night, in this place.’

      Lottie stood outside the Institute for the Care of Sick Gentlewomen in Upper Harley Street, trying to pluck up courage to knock on the door. She had dressed in her Sunday best, which she realised now was sadly lacking in style, and was shabby compared to the attire of the well-dressed ladies who frequented this part of London. She had walked from Gresham Street and the hem of her skirt was caked with dirt and bits of straw, but there was little she could do about that now. Taking a deep breath she knocked on the door, but she was seized by a moment of panic when she heard approaching footsteps and the turn of the key in the lock.

      The door was opened by a parlourmaid wearing a neat black dress with a spotless white cap and apron. She looked Lottie up and