"I expect so, Polly. What is it?"

"Fleur's been ill."

"You didn't tell me."

"There wasn't no sense in worrying you when you were so far away. There was nothing you could have done. There was one time when it was touch and go."

"Oh, Polly! Do you mean that?"

"H'm. If that old grandmother had been there then, I reckon Fleur would have been with her by now. We'd have had to let her go. Something in her throat it was. It could have been the end of her if she hadn't had this operation."

"This is terrible, Polly. And I didn't know it."

"There was this man ... a clever surgeon or something. Dr. Clement told us about him. He thought he was about the only man who could save her. Mind you, he was one of the Harley Street men ... and it was fancy prices to get him to work. We had to find the money. We'd just bought the house. If it had been earlier we could have used that money and let the house go. But there we were ... not much we could lay our hands on. Well, we'd got the house now, but that wouldn't have meant much to us if we'd lost Fleur."

I looked at her in horror, but she shook her head and smiled at me. "It's all right now. He did the job ... it was a complete cure. I'll tell you what we did. Remember that fan you'd got ... the one the old lady gave you?"

I nodded.

"There was a bit of jewellry in it."

"Yes, Polly, yes."

"I took it to the jeweller and he said that piece of glitter was worth quite a lot of money." She looked at me apologetically. "I said to Eff, 'This is what Drusilla would want if she was here.' She agreed with me. We had to have that money quick. I had to make up my mind there and then. And there were the jewels and there was dear little Fleur ... so I took the fan to the jeweller and he bought the jewels ... took them out he did ... ever so careful ... It saved Fleur's life.

There was even some over, so we took her to the seaside with that ... Eff and me. A rare old time we had. You should have seen the colour come back into that little one's cheeks. You see ..."

"Of course I see, Polly. I'm glad ... I'm so glad."

"I knew you would be. What's a bit of stone compared with a child's life, eh? That's what I said to Eff. And I tell you this. He's made a good job of the fan, that jeweller. It looks just like it did before. I've kept it very special here. Just a minute."

I sat still, feeling shaken, while she went away to get it. I could never think of peacock feathers without seeing that terrible bloodstained fan lying at Lavinia's feet.

Polly stood before me and proudly opened the fan. It looked scarcely different from when I had last seen it; the place where the jewels had been was neatly covered.

"There!" said Polly. "A pretty thing it is. I'll never forget what it's done for Fleur."

As soon as I returned Lady Harriet wanted to know what had happened.

"They are adamant," I told her. "They will never give Fleur up."

"But didn't you point out the advantages I could give her?"

"They think she is better with them. They have a governess, you know."

"I did know. What any good governess would be doing in a place like that, I cannot imagine."

"She seems to be a very intelligent woman and she is very fond of Fleur."

"Rubbish!" said Lady Harriet. "They must be brought to their senses. I can assert my rights, you know."

"The circumstances are rather extraordinary."

"What do you mean? Fleur is my grandchild."

"But you have only just learned of her existence."

"What of that? I know she is my grandchild. I have a right."

"You mean you would go to law?"

"I will do anything that is necessary to get possession of my grandchild."

"It would mean bringing out the facts of the child's birth."

"Well?"

"Would you care for that?"

"If it is necessary it will have to be done."

"But if you took this matter to law there would be publicity. That would not be good for Fleur."

She hesitated for a moment. Then she said, "I am determined to get the child."

I felt it was a little ironical that when Fleur had been born she was unwanted by her mother and we had been at great pains to find a home for her. Now there were two strong factions—one determined to get her, the other to keep her.

I wondered who would win.

Time was slipping by. Louise and Alan were growing up into Framling children. They were given riding lessons, which delighted them, and each morning they spent half an hour in the paddock with a Framling groom. Lady Harriet used to watch them from her window with great satisfaction.

The nanny arrived. She was in her mid-forties, I thought, and had been looking after children for more than twenty-five years. Lady Harriet was pleased with her. She had worked in a ducal family, Lady Harriet told me—only a younger son, but still ducal.

"She will relieve you of the more onerous duties," she said. "You can confine yourself to the schoolroom now."

The children accepted Nanny Morton, and as she was in full possession of that nanny-like gift of keeping a firm hand and at the same time conveying the impression that she was one of those omniscient beings who would protect them against the world, she soon became part of the daily routine and she helped them gain a strong hold on that state which is all-important to the young: security.

Now and then they referred to their mother and the ayah, but these occasions were becoming more rare. Framling was now their home. They loved the spaciousness of that mysterious and yet now-familiar house; they loved their riding; and although they were in awe of their formidable grandmother, they had a certain affection for her and were gratified on those rare occasions when she expressed approval of something they had done; then they had Nanny Morton and myself.

Those weeks that they had spent cooped up in Salar's house and the general feeling of unease that they must have experienced made them appreciate the peace of Framling, the glorious gardens, the exciting riding and the general feeling of well being.

Lady Harriet often talked of Lady Geraldine.

"There is some restoration to be done in the west wing," she told me. "But I am doing nothing. Lady Geraldine may want to change it all when she comes." And then, "Lady Geraldine is a great horsewoman. I daresay she will want to improve the stables."

Lady Geraldine had a habit of cropping up in the conversation, and as time passed she did so more frequently.

"Surely there is nothing now to keep Sir Fabian in India," she said. "I am sure he will be home soon. I shall invite Lady Geraldine over so that she is here when he comes. That will be a nice surprise for him. Louise and Alan had better make the most of the nursery. They may have to be sharing it before long."

"You mean Fleur ..."

"Yes. Fleur, and when Sir Fabian marries." She gave a little giggle. "Lady Geraldine's family are noted for their fertility. They all have large families."

She was getting more and more excited, because she could not believe he would be away much longer.

Then Dougal came home.

We were at lessons in the schoolroom when he arrived. There was no warning.

Lady Harriet came in with him. I heard her say before she appeared, "They are having their lessons with Drusilla. You remember Drusilla ... that nice sensible girl from the rectory."

As if he needed reminding! We had been good friends. I had seen him in India, and he knew I had looked after the children there. But Lady Harriet was never very clear about the relationships of menials.

He came in and stood still, smiling, his eyes on me, before they went to the children.

I stood up.

Lady Harriet said, "Children, your papa is here."

Louise said, "Hello, Papa."

Alan was silent.

"How are you?" said Dougal. "And you, Drusilla?"

"Very well," I answered. "And you?"

He nodded, still looking at me. "It has been so long."

"We heard about Lucknow. That must have been terrible."

"Terrible for us all," said Dougal.

"I think the children might finish with their lesson," said Lady Harriet, "and as it is rather a special occasion, we will all go to my sitting room."

They left their books and I paused to shut them and put them away.

"You will want to be with your papa, children," said Lady Harriet.

"Yes, Grandmama," said Louise meekly.

Dougal looked at me. "We'll talk later," he said.

I was alone in the schoolroom, reminding myself that, in spite of all that had gone before, I was only the governess.

The children did not seem to be particularly excited to see their father, but Lady Harriet was delighted; the reason was that he brought news that Fabian would soon be coining home.

"This is good news from India," she told me. "My son will soon be on his way home. The wedding will take place almost immediately. They would have been married now, but for those wicked natives. I have started thinking about what dress I shall wear. As the bridegroom's mother I shall have my part to play, and Lizzie Carter, although a good worker, is rather slow. Louise will make a charming bridesmaid and Alan will be quite a stalwart little page. I always enjoy planning weddings. I remember Lavinia ..."

Her animated expression faded. "Poor Dougal," she went on briskly. "He is a lost soul without her."

I had never noticed his reliance on her, but I did not imply this. The mention of Lavinia was as painful to me as it was to Lady Harriet.