Free Echoes of a Promise by Ashleigh Bingham

interfering in your excellent management, Mrs Frost,’ she said, after she’d signed the monthly household accounts and checked the kitchen orders. Tomorrow morning she was to interview a local girl for the position of parlour maid. ‘I’m sure it won’t be long before my sister is well enough to take on her duties of mistressof this house.’
    Sporadic correspondence arrived at Cloudhill from Caroline and Hedley in America, amusing letters describing how the couple were unashamedly playing their British aristocrat roles to the hilt and being entertained in high style everywhere they went.
    Hedley and I have concocted various little English scenes which are very popular when we perform them at house parties. It’s hilarious to give the impression that we attend court regularly, and then to observe the enthusiasm of our republican hosts as they watch us demonstrate the correct protocol to be followed when meeting the Queen.
    My dears, you would die laughing if you could see them practising how to bow and curtsy without wobbling.
    Christmas arrived, and with Emily still unwell, it was Victoria who took on the role of hostess when the usual collection of Clifford aunts, uncles and cousins of all ages descended on the great house for the family’s traditional Yuletide celebrations.
    It was a busy time for the household, but as long as the kitchen staff kept up a supply of splendid food, the relatives were perfectly able to organize their own entertainment. Victoria found them a pleasant, easy-going group who were happy to play charades, billiards and cards, or sing popular songs around the piano. They went for long walks and danced in the evening, and sat for hours drinking tea by the fire while they exchanged an endless supply of family gossip.
    Emily came downstairs to join the company whenever she felt sufficiently well, and she was fussed over by them all.
    As Victoria stood on the steps and said farewell to the Clifford relatives, she thought that this had probably been the jolliest Christmas she’d ever spent. No commotions, no formality.
    ‘Emmie, have you heard from Mama and Papa?’
    Emily shot a glance towards Martin. He frowned. ‘Victoria, I invited your parents to join us here, but they declined. They’ve leased the house in Hanover Square to some family from York, and are taking a villa in the south of France. Permanently.’
     
    Victoria’s happiness soared when mail from Peter began to arrive – first, a bundle of letters that he’d posted from Cape Town. He reported that he and his uncle were in the best of health, the Fortitude was sailing splendidly, and a later he was able to describe the splendid trading opportunities they were discovering in Burma, Siam and Java. Perhaps her happiest moment came when he confirmed that he had collected all her letters that were waiting for him at the British Consulate in Singapore.
    My dearest, when I held them in my hands, I could almost imagine that it was you I was holding. And, yes, of course I took them to bed with me – not that they could ever truly replace the joy we shared. By the way, you’ll be delighted to hear that the carpenter has already widened the bunk and it’s waiting for you – for us, my darling Vicky.
    In May, Victoria wrote to him with the news that Emily had produced a healthy baby boy and named him Tobias: Emily and Martin are happy for me to make my home here with them until that wonderful day when you come back and take me on board the Fortitude. That’s where I truly belong .
    It wasn’t long before Emily began to feel unwell again and the doctor confirmed that there was another baby on the way. ‘Vicky, I’m so glad to have you here with me still. What would I do without you?’ she said, placing Toby in her arms. At six months he was a happy, alert little fellow who sat gurgling contentedly on her lap and tugging at her necklace.
    ‘Well now, Master Toby,’ Victoria said, trying to distract him for a moment while she