Actually, Eustace looked a little shaken, and Averil supposed he was remembering the horrible Mrs. Slater again. To distract him, she said, “I imagine you will be able to run about with Hercules while we’re there. And if I remember rightly, Nanny Fredericks always made the most delicious cakes.”
She was glad to see Eustace lose his pinched look and smile.
“Hercules needs a good run,” Violet said, and patted the dog’s big head. Averil had found the girl to be good company on the journey, not at all the sullen creature she had been at the Home. It was as if once Violet left London behind she had become a completely different person, but perhaps that was only because she was no longer weighed down with whatever secrets were making her so afraid.
“Is this visit about your sister?” she said now.
“That is none of your business,” Beth interrupted.
“I don’t mind,” Averil assured Beth, and smiled at Violet. “Yes, it is about my sister. I suppose you’ve heard me speak of her?”
“Sally said you were looking for her.”
“Sally Jakes?” Averil tried not to sound as surprised as she felt. How did Violet know Sally?
“Sometimes we have to go to The Tin Soldier,” Violet said airily, but she wouldn’t look at Averil. “To see if any of the women are there when they shouldn’t be.”
Averil opened up a little more, in the hope it would encourage Violet to do similar. “My mother and sister lived at The Tin Soldier before my mother died. Afterward my sister vanished and now I want to find her.”
Violet looked interested. “What was her name then?”
“Rose. I think. I feel as if I remember her being called Rose, anyway.”
“So many of the little ’uns go missing in the East End,” Violet said, almost gently. “I’m glad you’re looking, Lady Averil.”
By now the coach had come to a village and was rattling along the high street. The coachman stopped to ask directions, and soon they drew up outside a neat little whitewashed cottage, opposite the church. Almost immediately an elderly woman came out of the front door and stood at the gate, glaring suspiciously at the coat of arms on the door.
Averil recognized her at once. Although the nanny she’d had as a child had been younger and slimmer, there was still something about this woman that was familiar and brought her memories back. Although not all of them, unfortunately, were happy ones.
Rufus had dismounted and a moment later Eustace and Hercules erupted from the coach, followed by Averil, Beth, and Violet.
“Oh dear!” the old woman declared, her eyes widening. “So many of you.”
“Nanny Fredericks?” Averil came to take her hands warmly in her own. “Do you remember me?”
The old woman peered up at her with eyes that looked cloudy. “Dear child,” she said, her voice shaky. “Of course I remember you. Do, do, come inside.” She gave Hercules a rather uneasy look.
“Perhaps Eustace can stay out in the garden with Hercules?” Rufus suggested. “He is rather big, isn’t he?”
“More like a horse than a dog,” Averil agreed, giving him a grateful smile.
He smiled back. Averil thought the ride had done him good; he looked less caught up in his own thoughts. Before, when they’d set out, he’d seemed distant and moody, but now his eyes were warm and amused when they rested on her.
She wished she understood him better. She wished she knew what was going on in his head sometimes. Averil was aware she had a tendency to try to fix things—and people—and reminded herself that Rufus was a grown man and would not look kindly upon her interference. No matter how much she wanted to give it.
Once inside the cottage, Nanny Fredericks’s niece carried in the tea and cake, and Violet took some out to Eustace. Averil had introduced the earl, and now she introduced Beth.
“Well, it was you I wanted to see,” the old woman said a little testily. “No need to bring me titled gentlemen and companions, my dear. I often think about you, when you were a baby, and your mother. And father,” she added, her lips tightening. “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but he turned rather nasty at the end. He could have softened his heart toward your poor mother, but instead he hardened it. Oh well, they’re all gone now, and the big house, too, sold off to strangers.”
“It’s still there then?” Averil asked. “I remember it, a little. Of course I was four when my father died and left me an orphan.”
“And then you were shuffled off to your father’s trustees and their idea of how a child should be taken care of,” Nanny Fredericks clearly disagreed.
Averil smiled at Beth. “I had the best of carers, nanny.”
“Humph.”
“In your letter you said that you had something of my mother’s to give me?”