The Summer Maiden

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018

Copyright © Dilly Court 2018

Cover photographs: Front © Gordon Crabb/Alison Eldred (Girl); Background © Shutterstock (ships/harbour)

Cover design by Claire Ward © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017

Dilly Court asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Source ISBN: 9780008199647

Ebook Edition © January 2017 ISBN: 9780008199654

Version: 2018-03-19

For Lottie Atchison, my second great-niece, with love

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

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Wapping, London, Summer 1873

Caroline Manning stood a little apart from the rest of the mourners who were preparing to walk away from her father’s grave. The interment was over, the last words of farewell to a good man had been said, and his widow, Esther, had dropped a crimson rose onto the coffin. Her face was hidden behind the dark veil of widow’s weeds, but Caroline sensed that her mother was crying. Tears stung her own eyes, but she was determined to be brave. She had loved her father dearly, but she knew that Papa would have wanted her to support the rest of the family and help her mother through the trauma of such a great loss. Max and James, her younger brothers, had been away at boarding school when their father had fallen ill and died, and Esther had travelled to Rugby with Sadie, her friend and companion, to bring them home. The boys had been brave throughout the interment, but Jimmy had broken down and sobbed when the first handful of earth fell on the coffin, and he was clinging to their mother, who was now weeping openly. Caroline could see that fourteen-year-old Max was struggling and she placed her arm around his shoulders.

‘Papa didn’t suffer, Max. He just slipped away, so Mama told me.’

Max dashed his hand across his eyes. ‘Yes, that’s what she said, but I’m going to miss him.’

‘We all are.’ Caroline gave him a comforting hug. ‘We’d best follow the others, Max. We have to get the train back to London.’

‘We’re going now, Carrie, dear.’ Esther braced her slender shoulders and led Jimmy away from the yawning chasm of Jack Manning’s last resting place.

‘I won’t be long.’

‘The train will be here soon,’ Sadie said firmly. ‘Come on, Carrie, love. Best foot forward.’

‘I said I won’t be long.’ Caroline could not help a note of impatience creeping into her voice. She had so far kept herself composed, but she was in danger of losing the cast-iron self-control that had helped her to get through the carriage ride from their home in Finsbury Circus to Waterloo Bridge Station, and the journey on the Necropolis Railway to Brookwood Cemetery. Mama had her standards and would not travel any other way than first class, even though Aunt Sadie was quite happy to use the omnibus and had even braved the Metropolitan Railway, which ran underground.

‘Come with me, Max. We’ll let Carrie have a minute to herself.’ Sadie beckoned to Max and he allowed her to take him by the hand, something that he would never have done normally.

At any other time Caroline might have smiled to see her usually strong-willed brother acting so meekly, but this was not a normal day. Sadie was no relation, but she had been with the family ever since Caroline could remember, and had become a surrogate aunt with an enduring place in their affections.

The distant sound of a train’s whistle jolted Caroline back to the present and she raised the tea rose to her lips, inhaling the delicate perfume before allowing it to flutter through the air, landing on the coffin with a gentle thud. Papa had loved tea roses and she had picked several from the garden with the morning dew still upon them, choosing the biggest and the best to bring with her on Papa’s last, sad journey. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, raising her face to the cloudless azure sky. She wondered if Papa and her two baby brothers, who had been taken by whooping cough, were looking down on her, but that was childish and, at seventeen years old, she knew better.