Chapter 22

In little more than two weeks Dowie descended from her train in the
London station and took a hansom cab which carried her through the
familiar streets to Eaton Square. She was comforted somewhat by the mere
familiarity of things--even by the grade of smoke which seemed in some
way to be different from the smoke of Manchester's cotton factory
chimneys--by the order of rattle and roar and rumble, which had a
homelike sound. She had not felt at home in Manchester and she had not
felt quite at home with Henrietta though she had done her duty by her.
Their worlds had been far apart and daily adjustment to circumstances is
not easy though it may be accomplished without the betrayal of any
outward sign. His lordship's summons had come soon, as he had said it
would, but he had made it possible for her to leave in the little house
a steady and decent woman to take her place when she gave it up.

She had made her journey from the North with an anxiously heavy heart in
her breast. She was going to "take on" a responsibility which included
elements previously quite unknown to her. She was going to help to hide
something, to live with a strange secret trouble and while she did so
must wear her accustomed, respectable and decorous manner and aspect.
Whatsoever alarmed or startled her, she must not seem to be startled or
alarmed. As his lordship had carried himself with his usual bearing,
spoken in his high-bred calm voice and not once failed in the
naturalness of his expression--even when he had told her the whole
strange plan--so she must in any circumstances which arose and in any
difficult situation wear always the aspect of a well-bred and trained
servant who knew nothing which did not concern her and did nothing
which ordinary domestic service did not require that she should do. She
must always seem to be only Sarah Ann Dowson and never forget. But
delicate and unusual as this problem was, it was not the thing which
made her heart heavy. Several times during her journey she had been
obliged to turn her face towards the window of the railway carriage and
away from her fellow passengers so that she might very quickly and
furtively touch her eyes with her handkerchief because she did not want
any one to see the tear which obstinately welled up in spite of her
efforts to keep it back.

She had heard of "trouble" in good families, had even been related to
it. She knew how awful it was and what desperate efforts were made, what
desperate means resorted to, in the concealment of it. And how difficult
and almost impossible it was to cope with it and how it seemed sometimes
as if the whole fabric of society and custom combined to draw attention
to mere trifles which in the end proved damning evidence.