Ella’s Journey: The perfect wartime romance to fall in love with this summer. Lynne Francis

folded linen into the chest of drawers in Grace’s room, marvelling yet again at the large number of items it was deemed necessary for a young lady of wealth to have. Absorbed in her task, she didn’t hear Grace’s footsteps until she was almost upon her. The youngest daughter of the house was the only one to bear a resemblance to her mother: tall, with glossy brown hair that always behaved perfectly. She carried herself with a confident air borne out of having been, at least until John was born, the cosseted baby of the family.

      Ella whirled round, startled, instantly feeling guilty as though she had been caught out in an act more suspicious than putting away the laundry. Grace was regarding her with an expression that Ella found hard to read; with hindsight, she would have said that it was akin to a cat stalking its prey.

      ‘I had an interesting conversation with Esther this afternoon.’ Grace paused and Ella turned back to her task with a sinking heart.

      ‘Yes, I couldn’t remember why they had left their mill to come and live in York. I knew it had something to do with the tragic death of Esther’s brother Richard. Esther reminded me that he had died in a fire that destroyed the mill. A fire started by one of their ex-employees.’ Grace paused for dramatic effect. ‘She was called Alice Bancroft. Isn’t that your name, Ella? Ella Bancroft? Are there many Bancrofts in the area that you come from? Was she a relative of yours?’

      Ella felt as though iced water was being poured slowly through her veins. She started to shiver, before slowly pushing the full linen drawer closed and turning back to face Grace.

      ‘She was my sister…’ Ella spoke barely above a whisper.

      There was a long pause. Ella raised her gaze to meet Grace’s. The room was very quiet; she was conscious of the crackle of the fire in the bedroom grate, the slow tick of the bedroom clock, the faint ‘clip-clop’ of a horse’s hooves passing along the road outside. Grace’s dark-brown eyes held Ella’s gaze; was there the faintest hint of triumph in her expression?

      ‘I see…’ Grace said slowly. She turned away from Ella and went to look out of the window. ‘You realise what this will mean if I tell Father?’

      Ella nodded, mutely. She had seized on the word ‘if’ rather than ‘when’, and a small flicker of hope was born. Did Grace mean that she would be prepared to protect her secret?

      Grace pressed on, either unaware of Ella’s acquiescence, or unconcerned by it.

      ‘It is clear to everyone how fond John is of you. Mother is always commenting on it. I would be sad to see you go and I know John would be, too. But Father would be furious to know that we were harbouring the sister of a common criminal under our roof. Not just a –’ Grace searched for the right words, ‘– a run-of-the-mill crime, either. But murder, and the murder of the son of a family friend.’

      She swung round suddenly to look at Ella. ‘What did you hope to gain by your employment here?’

      ‘It wasn’t like that, miss.’ Ella, stung by her words, could contain herself no longer. ‘And I would never have sought employment here if I had known of any connection with Northwaite.’

      Ella subsided, defeated by the enormity of what was happening. She would have to return to Nortonstall and tell her mother that she had now failed twice in her employment and had left without references from either of them. Grace, however, hadn’t finished. She turned back to look out of the window.

      ‘Perhaps we can be of use to each other? If I keep your secret from Father, perhaps you might be of service to me in due course? I think I will ask whether I may have you as my lady’s maid. You will need to remember, of course, that I bear a risk in not revealing your history.’ A thought seemed to strike Grace and she turned sharply from the window. ‘Heavens, could it be possible that you might murder us all in our beds?’

      Ella opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She sensed Grace’s critical regard upon her.

      ‘No, I think we are quite safe. You do not seem to have a violent nature.’ Grace paused. ‘Let no more be said. It is as if Esther had never spoken. She has no inkling of the situation, and let it be so with everyone else. Only you and I know the truth. It will be our secret.’

      As Grace spoke she gave Ella an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Ella shrank away from her touch, then hoped that Grace hadn’t noticed her reaction. She couldn’t afford to antagonise her. As Grace turned and left the room, Ella’s thoughts raced. Whatever assumptions Grace may have made, she didn’t know the truth. She only knew who had been blamed for the fire, which wasn’t the same thing at all. It was quite possible that the only people who were in possession of the truth were dead. In the midst of her distress Ella felt a flash of sympathy for Esther. She, too, was still living with the sadness of the death of a sibling. She, too, had been horribly reminded of it today, by Grace.

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      ‘So, you will do it for me?’ Grace’s voice was hushed and urgent.

      Dressed in her high-necked white nightgown, she was gazing at Ella’s reflection in the mirror while she brushed out her hair before bed. Ella was bemused. Grace’s proposal had taken her by surprise.

      Edith, Grace’s eldest sister, was engaged to be married, and as a result she’d moved up a notch in the world, her visits to fashion houses and jewellers having taken on an air of even greater importance now that she was preparing for her wedding and her future. Grace was envious of the status her sister had acquired and had taken it into her head that she had to be next. She considered Ailsa, her older sister, currently visiting relatives in Edinburgh, to be no great beauty and thought she was unlikely to captivate a suitor anytime soon. Grace, however, had her sights very firmly set on Edgar Broughton, the son of a baronet, handsome and debonair. Despite her best efforts, Grace had as yet failed to do more than engage him in light and polite conversation at the various social events of the season. To her chagrin, she had been unable to even elicit the promise of a dance from him at the recent ball at her aunt’s house in London’s Manchester Square.

      However, Edgar Broughton and his father were due to visit the Ward household, staying overnight in York on the way to their family seat in Northumberland for Christmas. Grace had decided that this was her best chance of winning Edgar Broughton’s heart, and she wanted Ella’s help to do so.

      Ella regretted that, early in her first year of employment at Grange House, before she had learnt the importance of keeping her distance, she had mentioned something of her background to Grace. Mistaking their similarity in age as a possible affinity, she had told Grace about her mother Sarah’s prowess as a herbalist, and how her custom had dwindled over recent years. She hadn’t chosen to elaborate on why, but she had let slip that the family were reliant on what little money Ella could send them to survive. Grace’s attention had been caught.