Chapters (53)
- Cover
- About Alison Stuart
- Also by Alison Stuart
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgements
- Preview of The Goldminer's Sister
The woman took a breath and shook her head. ‘No. Mr Penrose said nothing to us.’ She ran her hands down her apron and, as if remembering herself, said with stiff formality, ‘I’m Mr Cowper’s housekeeper, Mrs Harris. Mr Cowper’s at the mine but it’s the work of a moment to fetch him. Come in, Miss Penrose, you look all done in—and what happened to your pretty coat?’
‘Some ill-mannered oaf on a horse knocked me into the mud.’
Mrs Harris clucked her tongue in sympathy. ‘Weather’s been foul this last week. Folk are saying it’s going to be a bad winter. Now give me that coat and hat.’
Eliza gratefully divested herself of her sodden coat, hat and gloves into the hands of the housekeeper, who showed her into a small but well-furnished parlour with a pretty bay window. She settled Eliza into a comfortable chair beside a cheerful fire and left her with a promise of tea.
Eliza sank into the chair, conscious of her aching muscles and lack of decent sleep for nearly two days. She closed her eyes, grateful for the warmth and glad that the long journey that had commenced when she sailed from Liverpool in early March had at last come to an end. She dozed, waking to the rattle of tea cups.
‘I should’ve let you sleep.’ Mrs Harris set the tray down. ‘It’s a trek to get here, isn’t it?’
Eliza managed a smile. ‘It is, but nothing a good cup of tea won’t cure. Tell me, is Pretty Sally far from here? Is there some sort of transport I can hire to take me up there?’
Mrs Harris stood quite still, her smile frozen on her face. ‘Don’t you worry about that for now,’ she said. ‘I’ve sent the boy for your uncle; he’ll be here presently. You just sit quiet and enjoy your tea. There’s some Dundee cake for you too. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.’
Alone again and revived by the tea and cake, Eliza rose to her feet and examined her appearance in the mirror by the door. She pulled out her handkerchief and rubbed at a mud smear on her cheek. She took the pins from her hair and tried to restore it to an orderly knot. She had barely finished the rough toilette when the front door crashed open.
‘Where is she?’