“Yes, that’s right. She gave it to me when I visited her that last time in London, when I took you to see her, do you remember? I put it aside—I thought your father would take it from you—then I quite forgot about it. It was your letter that reminded me, and I searched it out the other day to give it to you, my dear.”
Averil was touched by her kindness. “Thank you, nanny.”
When the niece came back to freshen up their cups, Nanny Fredericks directed her to a small desk in the corner and the item wrapped in a cloth in the drawer.
Tentatively Averil unwrapped it, and saw that it was a locket. Beautifully made, with silver filigrees and precious stones set around the central miniature portrait of her mother. It looked expensive and Averil wondered why her mother had not sold it, to keep herself and her daughter safe a little longer. But from what Rufus had said, her mother had refused payment from Percival’s parents, too.
For a moment she gazed down upon the face she barely remembered. The beautiful and unreliable Lady Anastasia.
“There, you have it now.” Mrs. Fredericks was watching her and gave a satisfied nod. “It was what she wanted.”
“I am most grateful to you, nanny.” Averil blinked back her own tears. Beth reached across to pat her hand, and noticing it Nanny glared. Evidently she was the only one allowed such familiarity.
Rufus cleared his throat. “Lady Averil said that you’ve remembered something about her sister,” he said, and received his own glare. “Mrs. Fredericks, let me explain. I am helping Lady Averil to find her sister, and anything you can tell us may be important.”
The old nanny’s expression softened, but Averil thought that was more to do with Rufus’s charm than anything else. “I see now, thank you for explaining it to me, my lord. Well, it isn’t a great deal, but I thought it might help, as you say.” She settled herself more comfortably in her chair. “When I went to see Lady Anastasia, and I went quite a few times, although only the once with you, child. Well, that other woman was always there, sticking her nose in, trying to take over the conversation. I don’t know how Lady Anastasia put up with her, but then she was always so kind. Too kind. As you know, her kindness did for her in the end.”
Averil wondered if kindness really had anything to do with her mother bolting with her lover, but this wasn’t the time to quibble. “What other woman, nanny?”
“Sally, her name was. Nasty creature. Jealous, I’d say. Lady Anastasia was so beautiful, and Sally was a freckly thing.”
Averil took this in, exchanging a glance with Rufus. Sally, again. The woman seemed to crop up everywhere.
“What was the baby called, nanny? Do you recall? Sally thought it was Rose.”
“Rose, that’s it,” Nanny said, with a decisive nod of her head. “She had skin like rose petals, and that’s why your mother said she would call her Rose.”
Averil sighed, sadness washing over her.
Nanny leaned forward, her old face creased with determination. “I think that if anyone knows what happened to your sister, my dear, then it is that Sally woman. Don’t you trust her, take my advice.”
Averil exchanged another glance with Rufus. They would need to follow up some of these questions, but it was no use worrying about it now. Southbrook Castle awaited them.
Soon afterward they took their leave. As the others were settling themselves back into the coach, Averil remained with Nanny a moment longer, holding her hand and thanking her again for her kindness and hospitality. Nanny Fredericks was smiling and nodding, and then suddenly she looked beyond her and jumped quite violently.
“Nanny? What is it?”
“My goodness,” the old woman said. “For a moment I thought I saw your mother! It gave me quite a start. My eyes are not as good as they used to be, my dear.”
“My mother?” Averil followed the direction of her gaze. Beth was just climbing into the coach. She supposed, if she had bad eyesight, then from the back, Beth might almost be of a similar build to her mother.
“I miss her, you know,” Nanny went on sadly. “Lady Anastasia was so full of life. As if there wasn’t a moment in the day she didn’t have to fill. Everything around her was bustle and commotion. Once she was gone the big house felt like a mausoleum.”
“Yes. I remember the silence. My father locked himself away in his rooms. It was horrid.”
“She shouldn’t have done it. I told her that and I think she knew she had made an error of judgment, but still . . . She was such a dear. One couldn’t help but forgive her.”
Averil wondered if she would have been so generous. When her father had spoken to her, that once, she’d seen the misery in his eyes. He’d come to her the morning after her mother left. “Your mother is gone,” he’d said, and she saw his lips tremble before he tightened them. “I should never have married her, Averil, but I thought I might change her. And she was so beautiful. Now she is gone and we must go on with our lives as best we can without her. We will never speak of her again.” And with that he touched his hand briefly to her head and left her, calling for her nanny.
Now she smiled and kissed the old woman’s cheek, and promised to come back again soon.
Rufus was waiting to help her up the step, and he leaned close to murmur in her ear. “Sally. And no doubt Jackson. I think we need to talk to them both when we get back to London.”
“I agree.”
“Are you all right? This has been an emotional visit for you, Averil.”
Averil managed a smile, and held out the locket for him to see. “My mother,” she said.