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milk slowly, but it did little to quell the fluttering inside her.
     
    ***
     
    At last Ellen emerged from the house. ‘What do you think? Dora has ordered four more bottles of my chutney, and asked me to do some extra hours again tomorrow. Lady Deverell suggested you sit upstairs with Beatrice while I’m working. I told her I don’t like you sitting out here on your own.’ Ellen looked around the yard. There was no sign of Leo or the stable lads now.
    ‘Won’t Beatrice mind?’ Amy said, swinging her legs over the wall and jumping down.
    ‘It isn’t her decision. Anyway, I don’t think she will mind. If you ask me the girl is lonely and will more than likely be glad of the company.’
    The prospect of spending a few hours upstairs in Tapscott Manor thrilled Amy. Beatrice was Leo and Laurence’s younger sister and the same age as Amy. They had played together as children, but once Amy started working in the laundry, Beatrice’s attitude had changed. It was clear that now Amy was a servant, they could no longer be close friends.
    Ellen slipped one arm through Amy’s. In her other arm she carried a basket of fruit supplied by the kindly Dora. The cloudless sky shimmered, and was empty except for a few buzzards dipping towards the shelter of the wood. Amy discarded her shawl on top of the basket, laying bare her slender arms, and Ellen could feel her daughter’s soft skin beneath her fingers.
    ‘I saw you talking to Leo,’ Ellen said lightly, and without thinking she added, ‘Be careful of him, Amy.’
    The memory of Leo’s touch still lingered and Amy smiled in response to her mother’s worry.
    ‘It isn’t funny,’ Ellen reprimanded. ‘Leo drinks too much, and I don’t think he knows what he’s saying or doing most of the time. He’s breaking Lady Deverell’s heart with his goings-on that I do know. There’ll be scandal in the village before long, mark my words.’ Ellen had seen the lecherous way Leo gazed at Amy; Laurence too, despite his pious demeanour. Had Amy been born a lady, or from a suitable background, it would be acceptable of course. Leo and Laurence would only be two in a long line of eligible suitors wanting to take Amy’s hand in marriage. Her elder daughter was a beautiful young woman, but a woodsman’s daughter, a commoner. No, marriage wasn’t what they had in mind. Ellen thought of Lillian, her other daughter, and wished Amy had inherited Lillian’s quiet, placid nature. Lillian at fourteen was her father’s favourite. The sensible one he called her, and it was true.
     
    The shortest way to Primrose Cottage, where they lived, was through Oakham Wood, and unless it had recently rained heavily, this was the preferred route home. To cut through the wood, Ellen and Amy took a path across the meadow and headed towards the trees, the path that Leo had ridden along earlier. They followed the track as it wound its way into and through the wood, and after the glare of the sun the shelter of shade was welcome. Eventually it brought them into a clearing. Felled trees, now taken away, had left stumps which formed a circle. Sunbeams speared down through the opening in the overhead branches and twinkled between the leaves.
    ‘Oh Mum, look, it’s like a fairy ring.’ Amy pointed out clusters of yellow-orange fungi which had luckily escaped the axe. They each chose a tree stump and sat for a while munching on apples, watching and listening to the wood come alive. Insects buzzed past, or stopped to examine late bluebells at Amy’s feet.
    Munching on her apple, Ellen became aware of a sound in the wood she couldn’t place. She sat alert, trying to identify the noise. Wild cats had been seen in Delamere Forest. Was it possible they could have come as far as Oakham Wood? A flicker of fear swept over her and, not wanting to alarm Amy, Ellen finished her apple and stood, suggesting they carry on towards home.
    As soon as Ellen was back on the path she saw Leo Deverell coming towards her,