Free A Mother's Shame by Rosie Goodwin Page A

other places he might have taken her to. It was all very strange though. Why hadn’t Isabelle said goodbye to her – and why would she have left without her clothes and her possessions?
    As she headed for the staircase, Helena had to accept the fact that Charles must have removed Isabelle from the house by force. But where could she be, other than at Hatter’s Hall? There was no way that Helena was prepared to wait until after the child’s birth to see her daughter again. Somehow she was going to have to find out where Charles had taken her. The way she might do this occurred to her as she climbed the stairs. But first she would instruct Polly to pack Isabelle’s possessions as Charles had requested.
    As soon as she had spoken to Polly, she hurried back downstairs. Opening the green-baize door at the end of the long hallway, she strode through the kitchen, causing Cook’s mouth to drop open as she hastily stood up from the table where she had been enjoying a cup of tea following the breakfast rush. It was a rare thing to see the mistress in the kitchen apart from when she came to discuss the menus each week.
    ‘It’s all right, Cook, do carry on,’ Helena told her as she let herself out into the snow in the back yard. She then lifted her billowing skirts and daintily picked her way across to the stable-block where Hoskins was busily rubbing down one of the horses.
    ‘Is your Steven about?’ she enquired without preamble and Hoskins scratched his head.
    ‘Aye, ma’am, he is that. He’s up above wi’ his mother.’ He pointed to the crude wooden staircase at the end of the stable-block that led up to the living quarters he shared with his family.
    ‘Then would you be kind enough to tell him that I wish to see him immediately?’
    ‘Yes, ma’am. Right away.’ Hoskins shot off to do as he was told as Helena stood there tapping her foot impatiently. The horses whinnied and scratched at the straw-covered floors of their stalls, but at that moment Helena was oblivious to them.
    Young Steven Hoskins came down the staircase looking anxious. ‘’Ave I done summat wrong, missus?’ he asked, full of concern.
    ‘Oh no, not at all,’ Helena assured him with a smile as she took his hand and led him to the other end of the stable-block where they could not be overheard. Steven was eleven years old. A good, hard-working lad already and Helena had a soft spot for him.
    ‘I would like you to do a little errand for me if you would,’ she told him.
    He nodded instantly. ‘O’ course I will, missus, if I can.’
    ‘Good boy. Now here’s what I want you to do . . .’ Helena leaned down to him and after a whispered conversation he nodded.
    An hour later, Jacobs loaded the trunks containing Isabelle’s possessions into the carriage and climbed inside, and as Hoskins urged the horses on, Helena watched from the drawing-room window as young Steven slipped from the shelter of the stables and leaped up onto the back of the carriage.
    A pang of guilt sliced through her. The poor boy. The weather conditions were appalling and she just hoped that he would be able to hang on long enough to report back to her where Isabelle was. If he could manage to do that, she would see that he was well rewarded, but for now all she could do was wait for his return.
    Two hours had passed when the maid came to inform her, ‘Young Steven is here, ma’am, and he says he needs to see you.’
    ‘Send him in please, Rose.’
    The maid looked mildly surprised but went to do as she was told and the boy came into the room holding his cap respectfully as he peered about him in awe. He had never been further than the kitchen before, and the house beyond the green-baize door was even grander than he had imagined.
    ‘So, Steven, did you manage to do what I asked of you?’ Helena’s nerves were taut and she spoke more harshly than she had intended to. The poor child looked frozen through.
    ‘Yes, missus, I did.’ He shuffled from foot to foot for a