After that the presents were distributed from under the tree. Lydia received a jigsaw puzzle, some books, and a china doll from Sir Edward and Lady Stoneleigh. From Claudia she had a handkerchief with her name embroidered in the corner and from the kitchen staff a box of home-made sweets. Claudia had helped her to make a needlecase for Lady Stoneleigh and a bookmark for Sir Edward. ‘How beautifully you have done it,’ her ladyship said, and kissed her cheek. Sir Edward kissed her too, but it was Lady Stoneleigh’s peck which surprised and pleased Lydia. It was the first time she had shown any sign of affection. Sir Edward noted it too and decided it was a good sign; his wife was at last coming to accept the child.
Winter gave way to spring. The daffodils appeared in the grass and the leaves reappeared on the trees. People stopped telling Lydia she would be reunited with her parents, stopped talking to her about Russia at all. The past became a kind of dream; Mama and Papa, Andrei and Tonya were people who came to her in her sleep and had no presence in her daytime life. The people in her waking hours were Claudia, of course, Sir Edward, whom she loved, Lady Stoneleigh, whom she saw only occasionally, and the servants. With so many servants about, she soon began to pick up a little English, but it was not the English of Sir Edward and his wife; it was Norfolk with a strong Russian accent which many people found difficult to understand. Edward, hearing it, decided something must be done about it and employed an English teacher.
Miss Graham was young and enthusiastic. She wore knitted jumper suits, long strings of beads and did her dark hair up in a bun. She spoke no Russian and Claudia was needed to translate at first, but Lydia was a bright child and learnt quickly. In her head she had decided that if she were good, if she did everything she was told and tried hard at her lessons, everyone would be pleased with her and then she would be reunited with her family all the sooner. It was a childish logic she told no one until one day when Sir Edward came to the schoolroom to sit in on one of her lessons. It made Miss Graham all flustered, but he smiled to set her at her ease. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Pretend I am not here.’
The lesson went on and after it had finished he drew Lydia between his knees. ‘Well done, sweetheart,’ he said in English. ‘I did not realise how clever you are. You have learnt remarkably quickly.’
Some of the words he used were unknown to her, but she realised he was pleased because he was smiling. ‘Does that mean I can go home now?’
‘Home?’ he asked, puzzled. ‘Do you mean to Russia?’
‘Yes, to Mama and Papa. I want to go back to them.’
He sighed. ‘The trouble is that the bad men are everywhere and it would not be safe. If I could find them, I would bring them here. You would like that, wouldn’t you?’
She nodded, her eyes alight with hope, and he felt a cur for giving her hope when he feared there was none. He gave her a little pat on her bottom and sent her back to Miss Graham and Claudia and then he went downstairs to find his wife.
She had been out riding and was in her room changing out of her riding clothes. Her complexion was pink from the exercise and her eyes bright. ‘Good, you are just in time to help me off with my boots,’ she said, sitting in a chair and lifting one foot.
He knelt down and pulled the boot off, stroking her stockinged foot as he did so. ‘Did you have a good ride?’
‘Yes, I went through the park, along the towpath, across the common and back through the wood. What have you been doing?’
‘I had a report to write for the Home Secretary.’ The second boot joined the first on the floor. ‘He is concerned about the numbers of Russian refugees coming into the country and how best we can accommodate them. Fifteen thousand at the last count.’
She smiled. ‘No doubt you advocated taking them into private homes.’
‘Some could be housed like that, it is true.’
‘Like Lydia.’ She was still not totally sure Edward had been telling the truth about Lydia, though she had to admit she was a fetching child and really no trouble.
‘Yes. She has come on by leaps and bounds. Her English is quite good enough for her to be sent to school.’
‘Boarding school?’
‘No. She is too young and too vulnerable. It would undo all the good we have been able to do. I think the local village school would be best. She is an intelligent child and will enjoy school and meeting other young children. I will arrange for her to go after the summer vacation.’
‘Have you had no news at all about her parents?’
‘Afraid not. I fear they have not survived. We must do our best to bring her up as they would have wished.’ He paused. ‘I think she is old enough to leave the nursery behind and have a room of her own, don’t you?’ It was said tentatively because the move represented another step Margaret had to take towards accepting the child.
He was still kneeling at her feet, still stroking her foot, gently massaging the toes, something he knew made her squirm with pleasure. She leant forward and taking his face in her hands bent forward to kiss him. ‘You know exactly how to get round me, don’t you?’ she said, laughing.
‘Do I need to?’
‘No. We’ll do whatever you think is best.’
He stood up, took her hands and propelled her towards the bed.
‘Edward, it’s the middle of the day.’
‘So what? I love you at any time of day, all day, every day.’
Lydia was temporarily forgotten.
Lydia was given a lovely bedroom on the second floor. Unlike the nursery, it had a thick patterned carpet, curtains with a pretty pattern of flowers and leaves, a bed with a cover which matched the curtains, a tall wardrobe in which to keep her clothes, a dressing table and a little desk. Its windows looked out over the stables on one side and the terrace at the back of the house on the other. She loved it. It had a dressing room adjoining it which was made into a bedroom for Claudia. She was not told the reason for this change and would not have understood if she had. Claudia said it meant she was here to stay.
In September Miss Graham left and Lydia went to school every day, escorted there by Claudia. The school had only one classroom divided by a curtain. The little children on one side were taught their letters by Miss Smith, the big ones on the other had lessons in English, arithmetic, geography and history given by the headmaster, Mr Connaught, who had a wooden leg. There was a pot-bellied stove in the middle of one wall, surrounded by a fireguard on which wet coats were hung when it rained, causing steam to rise from them. Shoes, boots and clogs stood drying off in sentinel rows around it.
Lydia, bewildered and afraid, even though Sir Edward had explained why it was necessary for her to attend school, joined the little ones. It was not an unmitigated success. The other children looked on her as some kind of freak, mimicked her accent and laughed and pointed at her gymslip and pristine white blouse, her black stockings and shiny black patent shoes, something few of them could afford. She did not complain. Putting up with everything she found strange was all part of her strategy to be good enough to be allowed to go home.
This hope died, or rather was killed outright, when Sir Edward received a letter from Baron Simenov.
‘They are dead,’ he told Margaret as he read it over breakfast after Lydia had gone off with Claudia to get ready for school.
Margaret looked up sharply. ‘Who are dead?’
‘The Kirilovs.’ He finished reading. ‘This is a letter from Baron Simenov. He is back in London. The cause of the White Army is lost.’
‘What did he say about the Kirilovs?’
‘The count and his wife were caught and questioned on the way through Red-held territory, and in the course of a search, some precious gems were found concealed on their persons. It is punishable by death to export jewels from the country and they paid that price. The story was told to the baron by Ivan Ivanovich, the servant who had taken Lydia to Simferopol. He returned to Kirilhor. It was the talk of the village apparently.’