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“Indeed.” He held out the salver, and she took the missives, turning them in her hands in wonder.
The first letter was from Miss Grace, the second from her brother Jules.
Anna opened Jules’s letter carefully and spread the letter out with her hands. It was short and curt. What she read there made her blood run cold.
She would have to leave for London immediately.
* * *
Anna took the mail coach to London early next morning.
It had been difficult explaining this to Phoebe and Marks, without elaborating on any details. She’d explained that she had a family emergency and that her presence was required urgently in London.
“I’ll be back, at the latest in a fortnight, Phoebe. I promise.”
Phoebe had stared at the ground, darkly. “So now you’re leaving me, too.”
Anna attempted to embrace her, gently, but the girl pushed her away. “Everyone always leaves me. So, I really shouldn’t be surprised.” She stormed out of the room, banging the door so loudly behind her that the paintings on the walls rattled.
Anna would have gone after her, but Marks reached out to hold her back. He shook his head. “Mrs Marks and I will take care of the girl. You go and catch that coach. And make sure to return.”
Anna gave him a grateful look. “I’ll be back before the earl returns.”
Marks nodded. “You do that. But make sure you don’t run into him.”
That was unlikely, Anna thought. The earl would not be frequenting the place she was heading for.
* * *
Anna had to share the inside of the coach with three other passengers, but the mail coach was swift, and she would be in London in less than five hours. Her trunks were fastened on the roof, and she had her reticule clasped firmly on her lap. It was heavy with a purse of coins. It was not the full amount St John had promised her, but a generous month’s wage.
Anna stared out of the window, her heart heavy.
Hungersford Hall had long disappeared behind her, and she did not register the little picturesque villages, trees and fields that they were passing by now.
Why did it feel like she was leaving forever? When had this become home? When would she see this place again, Phoebe, and the earl? She pulled out a handkerchief and stifled a sob.
The soldier in scarlet regimentals looked away, embarrassed. The gentleman who sat next to him opened his newspaper and hid behind it, feigning indifference.
The woman who sat next to her made soothing clucking sounds, which, oddly, made her want to burst outright into tears.
“Goodbyes are always hard,” she said sympathetically. “A sweetheart, maybe?”
Oh, if only!
“Yes,” Anna said through her tears, and wiped her nose.
“I won’t see mine until Christmas,” the woman said with a sigh, and pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing the corners of her eyes. “He is a bookbinder, and I am in service, you know, in the Marchmont household.”
The man across from her lowered the newspaper. “You mean to say, Felix Marchmont? The banker? He is said to be rich as Croesus.”
“The very same.” The woman nodded. “I am head housemaid there. Was given a leave of absence to visit my ailing mother, which is unusual for these households, I must say. The Marchmonts, though rich, treat their domestics well.”
Anna lowered her handkerchief. “Do they?”
“Oh yes. Mind you, the work is like everywhere else, if not more, because they entertain lavishly, especially during Christmas time. A ball every week, supper parties, teas, soirees, the list never ends,” the woman groaned. “And there is a dire lack of domestics these days. But they pay well, and I’ve been setting aside every single penny so that my Jake and I can finally get married. I calculated it might take us still two more years until I can leave service.” She bestowed a bright smile on Anna. “My name is Hetty, by the way. Hetty Baker.”
“Anna,” she replied. “Anna Vale.”
