Part 1
East Anglia
England
Chapter 1
Cambridgeshire
July 1939
Geraldine Fitz-Herbert, Fitz to her friends, put her finger to her lips and winked at her younger brother, Michael, before slipping back behind the long velvet curtain that hung at the window of Badcombe House.
The hard heels of her governess clipped along the floorboards of the corridor, nearing the nursery of the country home where the Fitz-Herbert family had been in residence for generations.
‘She’s coming,’ whispered Michael, Fitz’s half-brother through their father’s second marriage. Her own mother had passed away when Fitz was just eight years old. The new Mrs Fitz-Herbert was much younger than her husband and between them, they’d had Michael when Fitz was ten years old.
‘Shh. Don’t say a word,’ replied Fitz, pressing herself further back against the wall and trying to control her breathing.
The door opened. Fitz heard Michael’s chair scrape on the wooden floorboards as he rose to greet their governess.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Stevens,’ he said.
‘Good afternoon, Michael,’ came the reply. The footsteps came to an abrupt halt. ‘Where’s Geraldine?’ Although Fitz was nearly twenty-one, while her father was away on business and an extended holiday, accompanied by his wife, Fitz had been left under the care of the governess. Fitz was less than happy aboutthis arrangement. However, her father was due to return next week and, as a result, Fitz sincerely hoped she would be free of the governess’s control.
‘I don’t know,’ Michael replied.
‘Is she sick?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Was she here for her lunch?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you don’t know where she is now?’
‘No.’
Miss Stevens let out an impatient sigh. ‘I do hope she’s not misbehaving again. She’s not, is she? Speak up, now and tell the truth. Where is your sister?’
Fitz felt a wave of guilt. She didn’t want to get Michael into trouble but, at the same time, she didn’t want to stay for afternoon tea in the garden with the Dowager of Badcombe and the Dowager’s friends from the local parish, where the conversation would be embroidery, flower arranging, the hymn choice for Sunday service and what nice young man they could introduce her to at the upcoming summer ball.
It was a glorious June afternoon, the sun was shining, the sky was a beautiful blue and the freedom this brought was calling to her. Fitz knew her mind. A mind she did not care to occupy with sewing and the like.
‘I don’t know where she is,’ replied Michael.
Oh, how Fitz loved her brother for not giving her up. Hopefully, the old battleaxe of a governess would go and look somewhere else for her now. Fitz held her breath.
‘I see. I shall have to waste my time trying to find her,’ complained Miss Stevens. ‘I don’t know what your parents will say when they get back from their trip next week. Your sister has been nothing but trouble. Take out your reading book andread silently until I come back to take you down to greet the Dowager.’
The governess left the room, locking the door behind her. Fitz waited until Miss Stevens’s footsteps had faded away, then she was bundling her way out from behind the curtains.
‘Are you really going?’ asked Michael.
‘Yes. I am.’ Fitz rushed over to the bookcase at the back of the nursery. It really shouldn’t be called a nursery these days, as neither she nor Michael were babies. It really should have been renamed as the school room, or prison, as Fitz thought of it. A room where imagination was stifled, traditions were kept and stuffy rules implemented. A place certainly not for children. And if her father knew they were being locked in, she was sure he would be horrified. He and her stepmother had been away for three months now and they couldn’t get back soon enough as far as Fitz was concerned. Then they could sack the dreadful Miss Stevens.
‘When can I come with you?’ asked Michael. ‘Can I come today?’
