‘And the dragonfly—’

‘Oh, the dragonfly! And those darling autumn berries, bryony or something.’

‘I regard Tassy’, Mrs Ferrars said, ‘as a true artist, with a real gift.’

From the other side of the room, Marianne called, ‘So has Elinor.’

There was sudden silence. Everyone turned and looked at her.

‘What?’ Fanny said dangerously.

‘I don’t know who this Tassy person is,’ Marianne said, ‘and I don’t care. Nor do I care for the utter inhibition of botanical watercolours, actually. But Ellie draws like a dream. She can draw anything. Harry’s right to ask her to draw for him. You’d be amazed at what she can draw.’

Elinor, gripping Harry’s hand, stared at the floor. How had the evening come to this?

‘Who is that?’ Mrs Ferrars enquired of Fanny.

‘Mother, you met her earlier. She’s John’s half-sister, one of the three.’

‘Oh,’ Mrs Ferrars said contemptuously, ‘them.’ She gave another deliberate sniff. ‘No money and plainly no common sense either.’

There was a distinct exclamation of anger, and Marianne plunged forward and flung her arms round her startled sister.

‘Don’t listen to them, Ellie. Don’t pay any attention. They’re just small-minded, money-obsessed—’

‘Sh,’ Elinor said desperately, struggling to stay upright and, at the same time, to put her free hand over Marianne’s mouth. ‘It’s OK, I’m OK.’

‘Is she crying?’ Harry said.

Marianne nodded vehemently, taking both hands away from grasping Elinor and covering her face with them.

Elinor said, slightly desperately, ‘Yes, I think she is.’

‘Why don’t you’, Fanny said crisply, ‘take Harry back to bed and see if you can’t calm Marianne down at the same time? What a ghastly scene, totally unnecessary, John always said she was hysterical.’

Elinor put her free hand out to take Marianne’s.

‘Come on, M.’

Bill Brandon was suddenly beside them. He looked at Marianne with an expression that betrayed everything he felt.

‘Can – can I help you? Can I—?’

Elinor smiled weakly at him. ‘I’ll just try to get her quiet with Harry.’

‘I’m not crying,’ Harry said.

‘No, nor you are.’

‘Will you tell me if there’s anything …’

Elinor turned, holding Harry still in one hand and Marianne in the other. As she turned, she caught a glimpse, across the room, of Sir John and Lucy Steele talking animatedly together, their eyes fixed on the group in the doorway. She said to Bill Brandon, ‘Well, you could murder a few people for me, if you like,’ and then, as she saw him struggling to take in what she had said through his own distress, added with as much lightness as she could muster, ‘only joking.’

‘Sorry, dear,’ Mrs Jennings said, peering into the bathroom, ‘but Lucy’s here.’

Elinor stopped wiping her face. She stared at Mrs Jennings’s reflection in the bathroom mirror over the edge of her washcloth.

‘What?’

‘Lucy’s here, dear. No, I didn’t ask her. I didn’t. She’s just turned up, all bright and breezy, without so much as a phone call, saying she just has to see you. How’s Marianne?’

‘Asleep. She slept quite well, considering.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Poor girl, so emotional.’

Elinor dropped the washcloth. ‘She was defending me.’

‘I know, dear. It was adorable. Even if it ruined the evening. Now, what am I to do about Lucy?’

Elinor sighed. She pulled her hair off her face into a rough ponytail and secured it with a clip. ‘I suppose I’ll see her.’

Mrs Jennings gestured towards Elinor’s pyjama bottoms and grey T-shirt. ‘Like that?’

‘Well, Mrs J., I’m not dressing up for Lucy.’

Mrs Jennings gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘No, dear, I quite see that. I’ll get you both some coffee.’

Elinor turned round to face her. ‘You’re lovely, but I don’t want to encourage her to stay, exactly.’

‘Like that, is it?’

‘Mrs J., I’ve got to get back to Devon and I—’

Mrs Jennings held up a hand. ‘You can’t go anywhere in pyjamas with no breakfast inside you. You’re as pale as a ghost. Talking of pale, did you see Bill’s face last night when Marianne—’

‘Yes,’ Elinor said shortly.

‘Right,’ Mrs Jennings said. ‘Right. I’m not one to butt in where I’m not wanted. Charlotte’s always telling me to mind my own business. Fine one to talk, she is. Well, Elinor dear, your current business is sitting on my sofa in full make-up and ridiculous shoes. So run along and deal with it, would you?’

‘Ellie!’ Lucy cried, leaping up from the sofa.

She was wearing skinny jeans and stilettos, and her hair had been tonged into long, soft curls which hung well below her shoulders.

She caught Elinor by her upper arms. ‘Wasn’t that amazing?’

‘Amazing?’

‘Last night! Wasn’t it fabby? She was so lovely to me. Gosh, Ellie, are you OK? You look, you look …’

‘Awful?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t – I didn’t want – Were you up all night with your sister?’

Elinor detached herself. ‘Marianne was fine, thank you.’

‘I just thought—’ Lucy began.

Elinor glared at her. ‘She’s fine,’ she said. ‘She’s asleep.’

Lucy took a long, elaborate breath and said, with deliberate politeness, ‘I’m so glad.’

‘Yes. Well.’

‘Ellie?’

‘What?’

‘Wasn’t she just lovely to me last night?’

Elinor was in no mood to be helpful.

‘Who?’ she said.

Lucy sat down on Mrs Jennings’s sofa again with a little bounce. ‘Ed’s mum, of course.’

‘Edward’s mother?’

Lucy bent her head so that her hair swung forward becomingly. ‘She was so sweet. She made such a fuss of me and Nance. So did your sister-in-law. I just loved your sister-in-law. Did you see her shoes?’

Elinor lowered herself into an armchair opposite the sofa. She leaned forward. ‘Lucy …’

‘Yes?’

‘Lucy,’ Elinor said, ‘they weren’t sweet to you for anything particular. I mean, I don’t know why you’re so happy, because they don’t know about you and Ed, do they, so they weren’t pleased for that reason.’

Lucy tossed her hair back. ‘I knew you’d say that!’

Elinor said resignedly, ‘Well, it’s obvious.’

Lucy leaned forward. ‘Ellie. Listen. I can’t expect you not to be a bit jealous of everything looking so rosy for me, but they liked me. They really did. I won’t let you rain on my parade; I know they liked me. And I adored them. Why didn’t you say how amazing your sister-in-law was?’

Elinor said nothing. Lucy peered at her. ‘Ellie, have you got a hangover?’

‘No,’ Elinor said between gritted teeth.

Lucy slipped off the sofa and knelt beside her. She tried to take Elinor’s hand. ‘You’re a fantastic friend, Ellie. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a brand-new, lovely best friend like you. Next to Ed, you mean the world to me, you really do, even though we’ve only known each other a few months.’

‘Please get up.’

Lucy put up a hand, as if to try and stroke Elinor’s forehead.

‘Don’t,’ Elinor said. ‘Don’t.’

Lucy sighed. She got to her feet, with difficulty, in her heels. ‘Poor you,’ she said. ‘You carry so much, and all alone. It must be awful seeing someone like me with all this lovely future rolling ahead of them, and new friends like Fanny. I hope you’ll tell Fanny that I thought she was awesome.’

Elinor stared at the rug under her bare feet in silence.

‘I know she liked me,’ Lucy repeated, still standing over Elinor. ‘You couldn’t mistake it. Nor Ed’s mother. I was expecting her to be really frosty with me because I know she’s got a killer reputation—’ She broke off. ‘Was that the doorbell?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Who could it be?’

Elinor roused herself slightly. She said, ‘I have no idea. Some friend of Mrs J.’s. Bill, maybe.’

‘Oh, of course,’ Lucy said with emphasis, ‘Bill coming to ask after Marianne.’

The sitting-room door opened, revealing Mrs Jennings holding a tray of mugs and behind her, slightly dishevelled and looking as short of sleep as Elinor felt, was Edward Ferrars.

‘There!’ Mrs Jennings said loudly. ‘One dressed girl, one undressed girl, one young man, and three mugs of coffee!’

She advanced into the room and put the tray down on the low glass table by the television. Neither girl said a word. Edward stood frozen in the doorway, his gaze directed at the ceiling.

Mrs Jennings straightened up. She looked round at them. ‘What on earth’s the matter? Don’t you three know each other?’

Elinor swallowed. She said, ‘Yes, of course, it’s just that I was not expecting – We weren’t—’ She stopped and glanced at Lucy. Lucy was staring out of the window, holding the absurd pose of a fashion model, her lips slightly parted. Elinor looked, cornered as she was, at Edward.

‘Hello, Ed.’

He croaked something in reply, hardly intelligible. Mrs Jennings marched back towards the door.

‘I don’t know what’s going on. With a daughter like Charlotte, tongue-tied isn’t a problem I ever have to face, thank goodness. I’ll be in my bedroom, telephoning, if you want me. Or,’ she added to Elinor, ‘you need an interpreter?’

Elinor said faintly, ‘Thank you for the coffee.’

Mrs Jennings pushed Edward a little further into the room and then bustled out, closing the door resoundingly behind her.

Elinor picked up a mug of coffee and held it out to Lucy. ‘Coffee?’

Lucy gave a little smirk, but didn’t speak. She accepted the coffee and resumed her seat on the sofa, staring into her mug. Elinor looked at Edward. ‘Coffee, Ed?’