Beyond Canterbury, the warmth of the sun in the motorcar made her eyes heavy, and her head flopped to one side as she fell asleep on the rug I’d wrapped around my shoulders the night before.
I knew better than to try to make her more comfortable. Instead I let her sleep.
And what in God’s name was I to do about the Major’s motorcar?
By the time we’d reached the Sussex border later in the afternoon, she was awake again, and complaining, more a whimper than a cry. Her mouth turned down, and her eyes looked so sad I could have picked her up and held her. Pulling to the verge, I turned to her.
The nuns and the other children were the only family this child had ever known, and she had been taken unceremoniously from them. But the fire must have frightened her and made the initial separation much easier.
Now she wanted familiar faces and familiar surroundings, and she began to cry in earnest, great tears rolling down her cheeks.
I lifted her into my lap and held her, feeling such guilt I could hardly bear it.
The last of the biscuits stopped the tears, and she looked at me with large, bewildered eyes before falling asleep on my shoulder. I put her carefully into the seat beside me before driving on.
Even with the best of intentions, there was no way to carry her back to France now. By this time Sergeant Larimore had already sailed, and I was already long overdue in Sussex.
I bought more milk for her just before crossing the Kent border into Sussex, and turned toward Ashdown Forest.
And I still didn’t know what I was to do with Sophie.
I didn’t even know the child’s last name.
S ophie was crying again, a forlorn little creature huddled in her blankets by the time we’d reached Hartfield, and my level of guilt had spun out of control. Night had fallen, and I was wondering how I could find my way through the heath.
I couldn’t go to The King’s Head. Arriving with a very young child would cause comment that would get back to the Ellis family almost overnight. And the explanations I would have to make would only add to the gossip.
I had no choice but to continue to Vixen Hill.
I was halfway there when Sophie fell into a restless sleep. It was just as well, because suddenly a motorcar coming out of a side track nearly cut me off.
I stopped quickly, throwing out an arm to keep the sleeping child from sliding off the seat.
By that time Inspector Rother was out of the motorcar and stalking toward me in my headlamps.
My heart sank.
“You do realize,” he said, “that you can be taken into custody after what you’ve done?”
“I’m so sorry, Inspector. I was under orders.”
“I doubt that. Where have you been, Miss Crawford?”
“To Dover,” I told him truthfully. “I’m a nurse, Inspector. I was needed, and I went. Now I’ve come back to Ashdown Forest to continue answering your questions.”
“I told you not to leave.”
“So you did. But this was a military matter, and not for my own pleasure. If you will telephone the port, the officer in charge, a Captain Wilson, will tell you that it was a matter of a man with a head injury who had to be identified and processed.”
That gave him pause, and it was still the absolute truth.
“And when did this summons come? Were you the only nursing sister available for this task?”
“I was the only one who could recognize him. As for how the summons came, a clerk from the inn came to Vixen Hill to tell me that there was an urgent message for me. He and I drove back to The King’s Head, I put through my telephone call-there are witnesses to that as well. I set out for Dover immediately with an Army officer. The woman at Reception can verify that.”
“At what time?”
“I don’t know the time. But I did see you walking toward Bluebell Cottage, and your constable, Constable Bates, even spoke to the clerk as we drove into Hartfield. I left some ten minutes later.”
“The Ellis family was not aware that you had left. They have been concerned. I have spoken to them.”
“Sadly, there was no way I could send a message to them.” But I’d left word at the inn. Had no one gotten it? “I would have spoken to you, but you were occupied with Bluebell Cottage. Did you find something significant there?”
“We went there to search for another body. See that you don’t take such liberties again,” he said gruffly, and turned back to his vehicle, leaving me to stare after him.
Chapter Sixteen
I drove with great care the rest of the way to the turning for Vixen Hill, and in spite of that, the tires swerved in a rut, and Sophie woke up and started to cry again. She was hungry and very, very tired. I was so grateful that Inspector Rother hadn’t seen her in the darkness.
Sergeant Larimore had had her best interests at heart, but he hadn’t thought it through any more than I had when I began to search for Sophie.
We pulled up in front of the door to the hall, and I turned off the motor.
In the quiet that followed, Sophie sniffed and looked at me as if to ask why we were stopping.
She turned to look up at the imposing house before her, tears still streaking her cheeks, and then held up her arms to me to take her out of the motorcar.
Keeping her well wrapped against the cold, I carried her to the door and lifted the knocker. But Daisy must have heard the motorcar arrive, because she opened the door at once.
“Oh, Miss, we was so worried!”
“I’m sorry, Daisy. It’s a long story. Is-everyone all right?”
“Yes, Miss. It was you we was worried about.” She peered into the shadows at the bundle I was carrying. “Is that a baby?”
“A child,” I said, “hungry and tired and frightened.”
“I’ve looked after my brothers and sisters,” she said. “I can manage. But where did she come from?” She reached for Sophie, who pulled away.
“I’ll take her down to the kitchens, Daisy. Will you lead the way?”
There was no one in the hall as we entered. Daisy had been building up the fire when I knocked, her tongs lying on the carpet, an extra log in the wood box for the evening. She hastily put the tongs back where she’d found them, and, dusting her hands, she went through the door into the passage.
“The family is dressing for dinner,” she said. “Should I send for Mrs. Matthew?”
“Later, perhaps.”
We made it to the kitchen without meeting anyone. Around me sat the array of dishes that would be taken to the sitting room in another quarter of an hour. Onions baked in a cream sauce, a side dish of greens, a small platter of roasted chicken and potatoes. I felt my own empty stomach growl at the sight.
We put Sophie down in one of the wooden chairs, and Daisy found milk for her in the pantry, as well as a scone that had been left over from tea.
Sophie sat on my lap and drank the milk, then nibbled at the scone, her gaze sweeping the kitchen and then scanning Daisy’s face. I expect she had never seen so much food or been in a room quite so warm. After a moment she got down and held out the cup to be filled again, and still nibbling at the scone, she considered me.
