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the eldest of eight children had given her a maternal quality that she had never lost. Her face, apple-cheeked and prim, within the sedate circle of her bonnet was full of kindness.
    ‘Of course you will, love. You can be when you wish. But don’t look as if it’s going to be such pain to you. Or is it that you’re homesick already? Silly child. You’re not leaving Darkwater forever.’

4
    E VERYTHING HAD GONE ACCORDING to plan. Fanny and Hannah had arrived safely in London to find that the children were due from the ship docked at Tilbury by midday the next day. Fanny had contained her excitement about her own private plans sufficiently even to go shopping for Amelia’s ribbon. She meant to go with Hannah to meet the children, take them by cab to Paddington and put them on the train for Devon, then take Hannah aside and say good-bye.
    Hannah would be dreadfully upset, she might even be angry, but she was a servant and must do as she was ordered. She was quite capable of taking the children safely to Darkwater and breaking the news of Fanny’s escape.
    Escape? It was odd that that was the word that came to her.
    Of course she didn’t mean to tell Hannah where she was going. That could result in Uncle Edgar fuming and fussing to London to insist on her returning home. She would merely say she had a situation and was going to take it up that day.
    It had all seemed so simple. The only thing she had overlooked was her emotional reaction to the new arrivals.
    She hadn’t thought they would look so small and desperately self-contained and lost. It hadn’t occurred to her that she might see herself in them, herself as she had been seventeen years ago, just as frightened and lost, just as eager for a welcoming voice.
    But there they were, the strange little trio, rooted to the ground with apprehension. Miss Nightingale and her nurses, the pride of doing a worthwhile task, the possibility of meeting some young man who would marry her for love, all swept out of Fanny’s head. She was kneeling on the dusty sooty ground to gather the children into her arms.
    The amah was bowing low. Behind her the strange man said, ‘I take it you are Miss Davenport?’
    Fanny straightened herself. The little girl whom she had embraced stood aloof, her black eyes still staring warily, but the boy’s cold hand was curled within her own.
    ‘I am. And you’re the gentleman from the shipping company who so kindly met my little cousins.’
    He bowed. ‘My name is Adam Marsh.’
    She hadn’t needed to know his name. She wondered how she could best give him his guinea with dignity and bid him farewell. She thought he was behaving in a slightly too familiar way for a mere employee of a shipping company. He was really staring at her quite openly. His eyes were very dark brown, almost black.
    ‘Thank you, Mr Marsh, for your help. My uncle will no doubt be writing to you. In the meantime, he instructed me to give you this.’
    She held out the guinea in her gloved hand. She thought that for a moment Mr Marsh looked surprised, as perhaps was not to be wondered at. He would hardly expect to receive money from a young woman. But in a moment his fleeting expression of surprise had turned to what seemed to be amusement, and he took the coin with another bow. He was well-dressed, she noticed, his coat of excellent cut, his linen immaculate.
    ‘My thanks to your uncle, Miss Davenport. But surely we’re not parting immediately. I believe I was to see you safely on your train for Devon.’
    ‘That’s quite unnecessary. I have my maid waiting at the other side of the barrier. We have ordered a cab.’ She looked up at the waiting young man. Something made her add, ‘Though I would be grateful if you would see us to the cab and find a porter for the luggage…’
    ‘The porter is waiting. And in the cab we’ll perform introductions. I believe you don’t yet know the children’s names.’
    He was very self-assured. It was scarcely his business, a