‘I’m just being honest. Whereas you, as always, are too wrapped up in your emotions to see what’s as plain as a pikestaff to the rest of us.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Hope, staring down the table at him, ‘and what is that precisely?’
‘That you’re hopelessly out of your depth and wishing you had never gone to Germany in the first place on some fool’s errand to see Dieter’s family, because then you wouldn’t now be stuck with a child that’s draining you of all energy. Is that precise enough for you?’
‘I say, Arthur, give it a rest, won’t you?’
‘That’s all right, Kit. I can fight my own battles, thank you very much!’ Hope’s voice wobbled, and to Allegra’s surprise, the unimaginable happened: her cousin’s cool reserve faltered and she burst into tears and fled from the room, knocking over her chair as she went.
Chapter Nineteen
Hope was in the cocoon-like warmth of the Victorian glasshouse in the kitchen garden; it was where she’d always escaped to when she was upset as a youngster. More often than not, Arthur’s cruelty had been the reason. On one particular occasion she had sobbed her heart out for hours on end. It still upset her to think of it. To this day she still could not understand how her brother could have done what he did.
On her seventh birthday, she had been given a tame canary. She had loved that beautiful little bird so much. One day Arthur deliberately let it escape from its cage in her bedroom. It flew straight out of the open window, but to her delighted relief returned that same evening. However, a few days later she found the cage open and no sign of the canary. She discovered it dead on the ground below her bedroom window; it had been crushed flat. She knew Arthur had done it, although he vehemently denied it. From that day on she kept her room locked and wore the key around her neck on a ribbon.
At the sound of footsteps, she turned to see Romily looking in through the doorway of the glasshouse. Her heart sank. Being found by a woman who was so sophisticated and composed, and so perfectly in control of her emotions, made Hope feel a hundred times worse; as though she was a pathetic child who’d made a fool of herself by throwing a tantrum.
‘You poor thing,’ Romily said. ‘What can I do to help you?’
Hope tried to say something, but couldn’t manage it; her throat was too bunched up with anger and tears. All she could do was shake her head and try to blow her nose on her already sodden handkerchief.
‘Here,’ said Romily, coming over and sitting on the dusty wooden stool beside her, ‘take mine.’
Reluctantly Hope took the proffered square of prettily embroidered linen.
‘Now you can tell me to mind my own business, but putting aside your brother’s despicable provocation, it strikes me that you’re probably suffering from a combination of exhaustion and anxiety, in the way that any new mother would. Am I right, or am I totally wide of the mark? And as I said, you could just tell me to mind my own business.’
Hope wiped her eyes and blew her nose again. ‘I just feel so completely overwhelmed,’ she said. ‘I’ve never looked after a child before. I do all those illustrations for children’s books, but I don’t know the first thing about them. Now that I’m responsible for one, I’m failing spectacularly in every way. And there isn’t any time to do anything else.’ She kept to herself that the worst of it was that Arthur’s provocation had upset her because it was entirely true. She did regret taking on the responsibility of poor little Annelise. Moreover, she was being torn apart by guilt that she could think of herself before Sabine and Otto.
‘Kit mentioned that he thinks you’re up against a deadline to deliver some illustrations to your publisher. Is that also what’s worrying you?’
Hope nodded. ‘I’ve promised I’ll have the bulk of the drawings with them by early next week. But I have no idea how I’m going to do it. I thought I’d be able to work at night when Annelise was in bed, but I’m just too shattered to do anything of worth.’
Her lips pursed, Romily stared over at the row of neatly lined-up clay pots on the bench. Such was her concentration, Hope could have almost believed she was actually counting them. ‘Well,’ she said eventually, ‘it’s a tall order you have to contend with, but it’s not insurmountable. We can easily solve part of the problem.’
‘How?’
‘I see two solutions. One, you could hire a nanny to look after Annelise; or two – which I favour, and would be the quickest way to help you while you’re here – is that we do as Lady Fogg says and get all hands on deck. I’m sure Mrs Partridge would be the first to do what she can to help, as will Florence, and I’ll do my bit too, and even Kit and Allegra if we ask them nicely. I think we can safely agree that it would be preferable to leave Arthur out of the arrangement.’
‘But you have work to do yourself,’ said Hope, her voice trembling with an unsteady note. She was stunned at Romily’s suggestion. ‘And Kit and Allegra wouldn’t know one end of a baby from the other.’
‘Do any of us? We’ll all just have to muck in and knuckle down.’
A fresh batch of tears pricking at the backs of her eyes, Hope pressed the handkerchief in her hand to her lips. ‘Why are you being so understanding towards me?’ she murmured.
‘I don’t like to see anyone suffering, and I think you’ve been quietly suffering for too long on your own.’
Suspecting that Romily was talking about more than just her inability to cope with Annelise, and wondering what she knew, and from whom she’d learned it, Hope said, ‘I’m afraid I was quite rude to Florence first thing this morning. She was trying to help and I was horrible to her. And I don’t even know why. Would you tell her I’m sorry, please?’
‘Of course. But telling her yourself would be better, don’t you think?’
Hope bristled. ‘Are you trying to belittle me and put me in my place?’
Romily looked at her with a frown on her face. ‘Why would I want to do that?’
Any number of reasons sprang to mind, but Hope suddenly saw how petty she was being. Here was this relative stranger doing her best to help, and all Hope could do was question her motives. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve become so used to my own company and feeling wretched that I sometimes forget how to be nice to others.’ She paused. ‘And you’re the first person I’ve admitted that to.’
‘Then I’m honoured you felt able to say it. Now then, do you have everything you need to work on these illustrations?’
