"You went willingly to the altar."

"It seemed all right then, but I'm a big girl now. / decide what I am going to do."

"I'm sorry it didn't work out well."

"Are you? You know, he ought to have married you. You'd have got on well. You would have liked all that talk about olden times. It is just up your street. I can see you getting excited because someone dug up a pot which was used by Alexander the Great. I wouldn't care whether Alexander or Julius Caesar used it. To me it would just be an old pot."

"You're unromantic."

That made her laugh. "I like that. I'm terribly romantic. I'm having quite a good time ... romantically, as a matter of fact. Oh, I'm so glad you're here, Drusilla. It's like old times. I like to see you look at me disapprovingly. It makes me feel so gloriously wicked."

"I suppose there are ... admirers?"

"There always have been admirers."

"With disastrous results."

"I have already told you I am a big girl now. I don't get into silly scrapes any more."

"That, at least, is a mercy."

"You're looking prim again. What is it?"

"You haven't asked about Fleur."

"I was coming to that. What about her?"

"She is well and happy."

"Well, what is there to be so disapproving about?"

"Just that you happen to be her mother and are somewhat casual about the relationship."

"I have to remind you, Miss Delany, that I am now your employer."

"If you feel like that I will return to England at the earliest possible moment."

She burst out laughing. "Of course you won't. I'm not letting you go now. You've got to stop here and put up with it all. Besides, you'll always be my old friend Drusilla. We've been through too much together for it to be any other way."

I said, "You didn't see Fleur before you left. In fact, have you seen her at all since Polly took her?"

"The good Polly didn't want me unsettling her. Those were your own words."

"You know that Fabian is aware."

She nodded. "I've been lectured on my folly."

"I hope you didn't think I told."

"He said it was Polly who told, because he had come to conclusions about you. He seemed to be more angry about that than anything else."

"He has been good," I said. "He has deposited a sum of money for Fleur, to be used at Polly's discretion ... for her education and all that. They are going to have a governess for her. She has to be educated."

"That's fine. What have we got to worry about? And that dreadful Janine was murdered. That worked out very well."

"For you perhaps—hardly for her."

"Blackmailers deserve their fate."

"Have you thought of poor Miriam?"

"I didn't remember her very much. You were the one who was running round getting to know them all while I was in acute discomfort awaiting the birth. It was a horrible place and I'm so glad it's all over."

"Shall you tell Dougal?"

"Good Heavens, no. Why should I?"

"I thought perhaps you might want to see Fleur and have her with you ... though Polly and Eff would never allow that. Or ease your conscience, perhaps."

"Conscience is something one has to learn to subdue."

"I am sure that is one lesson at which you have excelled."

"There goes Drusilla again. Oh, I mustn't remind you of our respective positions or you'll get huffy and I don't want that. Besides, I like those stern asides. They are pure Drusilla. I'm glad you're here. What about this nanny Mama has sent out with you?"

"She is very good. I like her enormously. She is sensible and, I am sure, absolutely trustworthy.",

"Well, that's what I expected, since Mama found her."

"We got on very well." I started to tell her about our journey and the hazardous ride across the desert and the disappearance of Monsieur Lasseur, but I saw that her attention strayed. She kept glancing in the mirror and patting her hair. So I stopped.

I said, "What about the children?"

"The children?"

"Oh, have you forgotten? You have two born in wedlock. We have already discussed and dismissed your illegitimate offspring."

Lavinia threw back her head and laughed.

"Typical Drusillaisms," she said. "I love them. I'm not going to give you the pleasure of being dismissed for impertinence to your mistress, so don't think I am. You have been chosen for me by my determined mama and my overbearing brother approves of the decision ... so you will have to stay."

"Your brother?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact it was he who suggested it in the first place. He said to me, 'You used to get along well with that girl from the rectory. You went to school with her. I daresay you would be amused to have her here.' When he said that I didn't know why I hadn't thought of it before. I said, 'How would she come?' You know Fabian. He replied, 'By steam to Alexandria and then on from Suez.' I didn't mean that, of course. I said, 'Why? How could she?' 'Well,' he said, 'she's a very erudite young woman. She could teach the children. That's what genteel, well-educated young women of flimsy means do—and the rectory girl is exactly that.' "

She laughed and I felt a foolish elation. He had suggested it. It must have been when he had come home and was courting Lady Geraldine that he had spoken to Lady Harriet.

I wanted to ask about Lady Geraldine, but I felt this was not the moment to do so. Lavinia, by no means clever academically, would be an adept at discovering one's feelings towards the opposite sex.

So I just said, "Oh ... was it like that?"

"Coming from Mama it is like the passing of an Act of Parliament, and the approval of Fabian is like the signature of the Monarch. So, you see, it becomes law."

"You don't always take their advice, I'm sure."

"That is why sin is so enticing to me. If I hadn't such a forceful family it wouldn't be half as much fun. My dear, virtuous Drusilla, so different from your erring friend, I can't tell you what joy it is to have you here. It was delightful that the command from Framling should coincide exactly with my wishes. I'm going to have lots of fun."

"I hope there are not going to be more predicaments like ..."

She put her finger to her lips. "The subject is closed. I'm out of that one. Seriously, Drusilla, I'll never forget the part you played in it. Then I snatched Dougal from right under your nose."

"He was never mine to snatch."

"He could easily have been. I reckon if he hadn't suddenly become important in Mama's eyes he might still be delving in his books and paying his snail-like courtship to you. He might not have arrived at proposing yet. Speed is not Dougal's greatest strength. But the progress would have been steady ... and so right for him, really, and it might have been a solution for you. Better than that priggish old Colin Brady, whom you had the good sense to refuse. But then you would always have good sense. At the same time, Dougal would have been happier without his grand title. Poor Dougal! I could feel almost sorry for him. Swept off his snail's path to marry the woman who was the most unsuitable in the world for him. Still, it was Mama's decree and that is like the laws of Medes and the Persians, which you would know of."

I was suddenly very happy to be here. I felt life had been dull too long. I was alive again. Everything was strange, a little mysterious—and Fabian had suggested that I should come.

I wondered why. For the convenience of the Framlings, of course. Lavinia needed a companion, perhaps someone to rescue her from the result of possible peccadilloes, of which there would certainly be many here, where there were more opportunities than there had been in a French finishing school. And I had proved myself very useful once. Fabian would remember that.

Therefore, one of the decrees, which had ordered the marriage of Dougal and Lavinia, was now extending to me. I was to leave everything and report for duty—so here I was.

I was afraid she would see my elation and connect it with Fabian, so I said, "I should like to see the children."

"Drusilla has spoken. I shall indulge her whim, just to show how pleased I am to have her here. I will take you to the nursery."

She led the way from the room up a staircase and we were at the top of the house, where the nurseries were ... two huge rooms with smallish, shrouded windows set in embrasures. There were heavy drapes, which gave a darkness to the room.

I heard voices and I guessed Alice was already there, making the acquaintance of her charges-to-be.

Lavinia took me to a room where there were two small beds, mosquito-netted, and there was the inevitable punkah on the wall.

The door to the communicating room was opened and a small, dark woman in a sari emerged. With her was Alice.

"This," I said, "is Miss Alice Philwright. Alice, this is the Countess."

"Hello," said Lavinia in a friendly fashion. "I am glad you are here. Are you introducing yourself to the children already?"

"It is the first thing I always do," said Alice.

They went into the room. The slight, dark woman stepped aside to let us pass. She looked apprehensive and I believed that she feared our arrival meant her departure. I smiled at her and she returned my smile. She seemed to read my thoughts and to thank me for them.

Louise was enchanting. She reminded me a little of Fleur, which was not surprising, as they were half sisters. She had fair, curly hair and delightful blue eyes; her nose was small and pretty, but she lacked the tigerish look which I had noticed when I first saw Lavinia, who at that time would have been very little older than Louise. She was a pretty child, but she had missed her mother's great beauty. She was a little shy and stayed close to the Indian woman, to whom she was clearly attached. The boy was not quite two years old. He was taking his first steps and was a little uncertain of his balance.