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her.’
    ‘Dora took her into the library, sir.’ She got to her feet. ‘There’s a fire there.’
    He nodded, gave Sarah a sad little smile of approval. ‘Well, your work here is over. Thank you for all you’ve done.’
    ‘Oh – sir, I just wish I could have done more.’ She began to put on her coat.
    ‘You did all anyone could do – and more than most.’
    Sarah gave a helpless little shrug. ‘Well …’ she said, and then: ‘I suppose I’d better get back home.’
    Kelsey nodded. After a moment Sarah asked:
    ‘Sir – what about the baby? Will she be all right?’
    He paused. ‘Poor little thing,’ he said. ‘Five weeks premature. It’s not the best beginning for her. She’s going to need the best care possible. Mr Savill will need to find a good nurse for her. But if she’s well looked after she might just be all right.’ There was no conviction in his voice. ‘She’ll need to be fed in a few hours,’ he added. He gave a rueful smile. ‘We can only hope she’ll thrive on cow’s milk or goat’s milk or gruel. To give her the best chance she needs
mother’s
milk, of course, but I’m afraid wet-nurses have rather gone out of fashion. In any case, how could we get one here now, in this weather?’
    When she got back to the cottage Sarah found Blanche awake and hungry. Ollie was awake too and voiced his relief at her return. As she fed the baby she told Ollie of all that had happened at the house. Later when he and the baby were asleep she lay in bed, gazing into thedark. She kept thinking of the tiny, new-born Savill infant and of what the doctor had said.
    Next morning, after Ollie had gone to work and the three older children had gone trudging through the falling snow to school, Sarah asked her neighbour, Esther Hewitt, to come in and stay with Agnes and the baby for an hour while she went out. A few minutes later she left the cottage and set off back up the hill to Hallowford House.
    Florence opened the back door to Sarah’s ring and Sarah kicked the snow from her boots and entered. As she did so she asked how the baby was.
    Florence sighed as she closed the door. ‘Poor little mite. Emmie spent the night with her in the nursery. Though I don’t think either one of ‘em got much sleep. The doctor’s due back any time now. He said he’d call and see how the baby was getting on.’
    ‘Would it be all right if I go up?’ Sarah asked.
    ‘Oh, I’m sure it would.’
    Florence moved with her to the foot of the back stairs and directed her up to the nursery on the second floor. As Sarah set off up the stairs she soon realized that she could have found her way without the cook’s directions, for the sound of the baby’s crying came floating down to her. Reaching the nursery door she knocked and entered. Emmie was sitting by the fire with the crying baby in her arms. Seeing Sarah she said quickly,
    ‘Oh, Sarah, thank the Lord you’ve come. I just don’t know what to do.’ She looked to be on the verge of tears.
    Sarah took in the scene for another second and then proceeded to take off her coat. As she did so Emmie said over the sound of the baby’s crying: ‘Is there any sign of the doctor yet?’
    ‘No, not yet.’
    Emmie said despairingly, ‘I wish he’d get ‘ere. We just can’t feed ‘er properly. We did what the doctor said – Dora and me. We’ve tried ordinary milk and when that didn’t work we tried ‘er with thin gruel. But she won’t ‘ave none of it. And what she do get down ‘er she brings right up again. And she just keeps crying all the time.’
    ‘Does Mr Savill know?’
    ‘Oh, yes, and he’s that worried. But ‘e’s as much at a loss as we are. ‘E don’t know nothing about babies.’
    Sarah laid her coat down across a chair and stepped forward, holding out her arms. ‘Here – give her to me.’
    With a heartfelt sigh of relief Emmie allowed Sarah to take the baby, and she watched as Sarah settled herself in the chair and unbuttoned her dress. In