"We shall have to see about that," said Lady Harriet firmly. "Sir Fabian thinks she should be here with her half-sister and -brother."
"I know they will never give her up."
"She is a Framling and I am her grandmother. I have my rights."
"It would not be good for the child to take her away immediately."
"We shall in time make them see sense."
"But, Lady Harriet, sense to you might not be sense to them."
She looked at me in surprise that I could make such a suggestion. I did not flinch. I had made up my mind, as I had with Lavinia, that she should not dominate me. If they objected to my behaviour, I should simply have to make them understand that I was here only because I did not want to leave the children. I was more useful to Lady Harriet at this time than she was to me, and that gave me an advantage. My status was not that of an ordinary nursery governess.
"We shall see," she said ominously. Then she added, "I want you to go along and see these people."
"I intend to. Polly is very dear to me, and so are her sister and Fleur."
"Then I should like you to go as soon as possible."
"It is what I intend."
She nodded. "Explain to them the advantages the child would have here. In spite of her birth she is still my grandchild. I think they should be made to understand what that means."
"I think they will want to do what is best for the child."
"Ah. Then you can make them see good sense."
"I am not sure what their reaction will be, Lady Harriet."
"I have confidence in you, Drusilla." She bestowed a smile on me—a reward in advance for bringing her ill-begotten grandchild back to the flock, I thought. But it was not going to be as easy as that. I knew Polly and I knew Eff. They would be as resolute as Lady Harriet herself. "Well," she went on, "now that Louise and Alan are here, their future is assured."
"What of their father?" I asked. "When he returns he may have plans for them."
"Oh no." She laughed. "He will do nothing. He will see that they are better with me."
"Is there news ... ?"
"We have had very little. He was in Lucknow with that nanny and her husband." She sniffed to show distaste. "They were all safe. We did hear that. But, of course, those dreadful things are still going on. Those wicked people—to murder those who have done so much for them. English men, women and little children ... murdered by natives! They will get their just deserts, never fear."
I said, "I am glad to hear they are safe."
Lady Harriet nodded. "Well, Drusilla, it has been a long day for you ... and for me. I will say good night now. The children are sleeping, I suppose."
"Oh, yes, they are very tired."
"I have no doubt of that. I am sorry to impose the duties of nursery maid upon you. But they are used to you and it is best for the time being. I think too many changes would not be good for them at the moment. But I have a good nanny in mind."
"I certainly think that for the time being they are best with me. I have looked after them throughout the journey ... and before. They very much miss their Indian nurse."
A look of disapproval crossed her face. "Well, we shall have a good English nanny ... and that will be an end to all that. Good night, Drusilla."
"Good night, Lady Harriet."
How strange it was to be in this house once more ... to be actually living under its roof!
I went to my room. The sheets seemed very clean and cold, and the room airy and a little austere. There were too many memories ... beyond the gardens ... the green, the old church ... and the rectory ... the scenes of my childhood.
I thought of my father. I could see him, walking from the rectory to the church, his prayer book under his arm, his fine hair blowing untidily in the wind ... his thoughts far away ... in ancient Greece, most likely.
So much had happened since I left.
I did not feel tired, and yet as soon as I lay between those cool, clean sheets I fell into a deep sleep, so exhausted was I both physically and emotionally.
The next day I spent with the children. I took them for a walk through the old churchyard. I saw Colin Brady and his wife. There was a young baby now.
Ellen Brady, the doctor's daughter, now Colin's wife, insisted that I come into the rectory, where she gave me a glass of her elderberry wine. Colin came and joined us. The children sat quietly by.
I thought that / might be sitting there by the tray dispensing glasses of my elderberry wine to visitors. No. I would never have settled for that, although I had no doubt that Lady Harriet still considered it foolish of me not to have done so.
"We thought of you when we heard the news, didn't we, Ellen?" said Colin.
Ellen said they had.
"All those terrible things. How could they? It must have been really frightening."
The children had been taken by the maid to look at the garden, so they could speak freely by this time.
"And Miss Lavinia ... the Countess. What a terrible thing to die like that ... and so young ..."
I agreed, thinking: You have no idea how she died. You could never have imagined it.
When I went into the village people came to speak to me. Shopkeepers came out of their shops as I passed.
"Oh, I'm glad to see you back, Miss Drusilla. It must have been terrible. All those awful things ..."
They were interested in the children.
"It will be nice to have little ones at Framling. Lady Harriet will be pleased."
There was no doubt that she was. She mourned Lavinia, I knew. It seemed outrageous to her that natives should attack the English, but that they should murder her daughter was even more outrageous. Perhaps I had never really understood her. One thing she did care for was children—and now her grandchildren. I knew there was going to be a great battle for Fleur.
I thought about that a good deal, and as soon as I was assured that the children were sufficiently settled to do without me for a few days, I decided to go to see Polly. So I wrote to her.
Lady Harriet visited the nursery. I encouraged the children to talk to her, but I noticed they kept close to me when she was around.
She did not force herself upon them. That would not be Lady Harriet's way. But I could see how pleased she was when Louise addressed her directly. Alan averted his eyes when she was near and refrained from jumping.
"The children seem to be very quiet," she said to me once when they had gone to bed.
"They have to get used to their surroundings," I told her. "They have lived through so many changes. But they will settle in time."
"They shall be taught to ride."
I said I thought that an excellent idea.
"I shall delay getting the nanny ... just for a little while yet."
I told her I thought that was a good idea. "Let them get accustomed to new faces for a while."
She nodded with approval.
"The news is getting better," she said. "General Roberts is working wonders. He is showing those dreadful people who are the masters, and Sir John Lawrence, they seem to think, deserves great praise for the part he has played. It seems that soon things will be more or less normal out there ... as normal as they can be in such a place. It may well be that we shall have Sir Fabian and the children's father home sooner than I had hoped."
"That will be a great relief for you, Lady Harriet."
"Indeed yes. Then, of course, we shall have wedding bells. Lady Geraldine has waited long enough."
I did not want to look at her. I thought I might betray something.
"There will be no delay," she went on, "not once Sir Fabian is home. It is the last thing he would want." She smiled indulgently. "He is rather impatient, I'm afraid. He always has been. When he wants something he wants it at once. So ... I am sure there will be a wedding ... soon."