I thought that / might be sitting there by the tray dispensing glasses of my elderberry wine to visitors. No. I would never have settled for that, although I had no doubt that Lady Harriet still considered it foolish of me not to have done so.

"We thought of you when we heard the news, didn't we, Ellen?" said Colin.

Ellen said they had.

"All those terrible things. How could they? It must have been really frightening."

The children had been taken by the maid to look at the garden, so they could speak freely by this time.

"And Miss Lavinia ... the Countess. What a terrible thing to die like that ... and so young ..."

I agreed, thinking: You have no idea how she died. You could never have imagined it.

When I went into the village people came to speak to me. Shopkeepers came out of their shops as I passed.

"Oh, I'm glad to see you back, Miss Drusilla. It must have been terrible. All those awful things ..."

They were interested in the children.

"It will be nice to have little ones at Framling. Lady Harriet will be pleased."

There was no doubt that she was. She mourned Lavinia, I knew. It seemed outrageous to her that natives should attack the English, but that they should murder her daughter was even more outrageous. Perhaps I had never really understood her. One thing she did care for was children—and now her grandchildren. I knew there was going to be a great battle for Fleur.

I thought about that a good deal, and as soon as I was assured that the children were sufficiently settled to do without me for a few days, I decided to go to see Polly. So I wrote to her.

Lady Harriet visited the nursery. I encouraged the children to talk to her, but I noticed they kept close to me when she was around.

She did not force herself upon them. That would not be Lady Harriet's way. But I could see how pleased she was when Louise addressed her directly. Alan averted his eyes when she was near and refrained from jumping.

"The children seem to be very quiet," she said to me once when they had gone to bed.

"They have to get used to their surroundings," I told her. "They have lived through so many changes. But they will settle in time."

"They shall be taught to ride."

I said I thought that an excellent idea.

"I shall delay getting the nanny ... just for a little while yet."

I told her I thought that was a good idea. "Let them get accustomed to new faces for a while."

She nodded with approval.

"The news is getting better," she said. "General Roberts is working wonders. He is showing those dreadful people who are the masters, and Sir John Lawrence, they seem to think, deserves great praise for the part he has played. It seems that soon things will be more or less normal out there ... as normal as they can be in such a place. It may well be that we shall have Sir Fabian and the children's father home sooner than I had hoped."

"That will be a great relief for you, Lady Harriet."

"Indeed yes. Then, of course, we shall have wedding bells. Lady Geraldine has waited long enough."

I did not want to look at her. I thought I might betray something.

"There will be no delay," she went on, "not once Sir Fabian is home. It is the last thing he would want." She smiled indulgently. "He is rather impatient, I'm afraid. He always has been. When he wants something he wants it at once. So ... I am sure there will be a wedding ... soon."

It seemed so reasonable now. Everything was different at home. When we were in India, travelling from Delhi to Bombay, I had perhaps dreamed impossible dreams.

Here, I could realize how foolish I had been.

I had had a rapturously loving reply from Polly.

"I'm just singing all over the place. Eff says I'm driving her mad. It's just that I'm so happy you're safe and sound and back home. We'll be waiting, so come just as soon as you can."

The papers heralded the good news. The Mutiny was fast coming to an end and black headlines in the papers proclaimed victory. General Roberts and Sir John Lawrence were the heroes. There was a great deal written about the loyal Sikhs and the treacherous sepoys. But all would be well. The wicked had been shown the evil of their ways and the just were trium­phant.

Old men sat by the pond and discussed the relief of Lucknow. Names like Bundelkhand and Jhansi were tossed about with abandon. They had all defeated the villainous Nana Sahib; they had triumphed over Tantia Topee. They had put the mutineers where they belonged.

There was peace in the air. The spring was with us; the faint hum of insects mingled with the sound of clipping shears as the garden hedges were cut.

This was home. And I set out to see Polly.

I told the children that I would be away only for a few days. They had taken a great fancy to Molly, one of the parlourmaids, and I knew they would be happy with her. She would take them down to the drawing room in the afternoons to spend an hour with Grandmama. This had become a ritual which they accepted, and they were indeed becoming less in awe of her. I felt I could leave them safely and in any case I did feel it was necessary for me to hear what Polly had to tell me.

She was waiting for me at the station. Her eyes filled with tears when she saw me and for a few moments we clung together.

Then she became practical. "Eff stayed at home. She'll have the kettle boiling by the time we get back. My goodness, am I glad to see you! Let's have a look at you. Not bad. I've been that worried ... you out there in all that. Enough to make your hair curl. When we heard you was back ... you should have seen us ... Eff and Fleur ... Oh, she remembers you all right. To tell the truth, sometimes Eff's a bit jealous. She is like that. But it's good to see you. I've told you, I've been singing all over the place ever since ... nearly driven Eff off her rocker. Well, here you are."

We said little in the cab going to the house. And there it was, so dear and familiar.

The door was flung open and there were Eff and Fleur— Eff the same as ever and Fleur grown far more than I had expected ... a beautiful, dark-haired girl, who threw her arms round my neck and kissed me.

"Well, are we going to stand here all night?" demanded Eff. "I've got the kettle on the boil. And there's muffins for tea. Got to be toasted. Didn't dare start till you come. Didn't want them all dried up, did we?"

And there we were sitting in the kitchen, too emotional to say very much at first, but so happy to be together.

I had to meet the governess. "Mrs. Childers, a real lady," I was told. "Come down in the world," Polly added. "She's ever so particular, and glad to be here. No airs and graces ... just fond of Fleur, and my goodness, is Fleur fond of her. Clever, she is. History, geography and French, would you believe? Fleur's a natural for that. You should hear 'em parleyvousing. Eff and me just curl up, don't we, Eff?"

"You do," said Eff. "I know French when I hear it, and it's not all that to laugh about. And it's right and proper that Fleur should speak French, because most ladies do, and that's what she's got to be."

Mrs. Childers turned out to be a very pleasant woman. She was in her late thirties, I imagined; she was a widow and very fond of children. She had obviously, as Eff told me, come down in the world, but—Eff again—there was "no side to her." She faced facts and, as Polly said, they might not be Lady High and Mighty or Lady Muck, but they treated her like one of themselves and she could take it or leave it.

Mrs. Childers had obviously taken it, and she told me that she was happy in the house and fond of Fleur. So it seemed they had all come to an excellent arrangement.

Each morning Mrs. Childers took Fleur into the park. They looked at flowers and things, Eff told me. It was something called botany.

Eff went often to the market to shop, and this gave me an opportunity to be alone with Polly.

She very soon began to talk about Lady Harriet's visit.

"Sent for me, she did. 'Please come to Framling without delay.' Who does she think she is? 'You go and take a running jump at yourself,' I said, not to her ... but to Eff. Then down she comes. You should have seen her. I would have took her into the kitchen, but Eff would have her in the parlour. She was going to take Fleur with her, she said. 'If you think that,' I said, 'you've got another think coming. This is Fleur's home and this is where she stays.' She started to tell us how much more she could do for her. So could we, I told her. Do you know we own this house now? Yes, we bought it, and we're on the way to getting next door. Eff talks about retiring to a little place in the country."

"The country! You, Polly! But you love London."

"Well, when you're getting on a bit it's different. Eff always liked a bit of green. Anyway, it's not for now. It's for later. But what I'm saying is we can look after Fleur without her ladyship's help. Now what about you? You're living there ... with that woman."

"The children are there, Polly ... Louise and Alan. You'd love them."

"If they're half as nice as their sister, I reckon I would. I reckon they're glad to have you, but it can't be much fun in that house with her ladyship."

"I manage. She is fond of the children and she realizes that they need me. I was with them all through that terrible time in India, remember."

Polly nodded. "You know, if you couldn't stand her you could always come here. I reckon we'd manage all right the way we're getting on. Rents are coming in regular and now that we've got our own house ... it's good. Mind you, we had a struggle to get it and we were a bit short at one time. That reminds me. I ought to have told you before. Well, I had to do it. You'll understand, I know."