“What fun!” said Jago. “What a delightful way in which to spend a morning.”

“Would you like some refreshment before we go, Mr …”

“Call me Jago, and I am going to call you Olivia. After all, we are not strangers, are we? We have met through our go-between, dear Caroline. I feel I know you so well.”

“It’s lovely to see you,” said Olivia warmly. “I’ve always wanted to meet some of the people Caroline wrote about. You’re almost exactly as I imagined you.”

“But not quite. Better or worse?”

“You’re much more handsome and amusing.”

“Oh, Caroline, you’ve been misrepresenting me, after all.”

“You don’t know him yet, Olivia.”

“She has a sharp tongue, your sister.”

“She always did have that–repartee, isn’t it? I was never clever enough for it.”

” ‘Be good sweet maid and let who will be clever.’ Your sister Caroline brings out the erudition in me … which I must confess is a little sparse.”

“Olivia was asking about refreshments,” I said. “We have just had breakfast.”

“Well, so have I. Let’s set about choosing this hat, shall we? I’m all agog.”

Olivia looked very pretty in her pale blue gown with a hat to match. A little matronly, yes, but how becoming that was! Happiness had changed her, even given her a little of that confidence which she had once lacked to such a large extent. It surprised me that a man like Jeremy could have done that for her. I wondered whether she irritated him as Gwennie did Paul. She was a very different person from Gwennie. There was none of that self-assertion which I believed was anathema to men. My observations told me that men liked to consider themselves supreme. In the short time I had seen Olivia and Jeremy together I realized that she was subservient to him although she had provided him with what he needed for a life of ease. It was different with Gwennie. She never ceased to remind her husband that his residence in the house of his forefathers was only possible because of her good will.

We pulled up before Rosie’s establishment. A man in livery opened the door and ushered us in. A woman in black and white came forward hastily.

“Oh, Mrs. Brandon, Madam, good morning!”

Olivia said: “Good morning, Ethel. We shall be wanting a hat for my sister, Miss Tressidor.”

Ethel clasped her hands and regarded me with ecstasy as though supplying a hat for me was a task which would please her more than anything in the world.

“But first,” said Olivia, “we should like to see Madam Russell herself.”

“Do come in, please,” begged Ethel, “and I will tell Madam. The gentleman will come too?”

“Oh yes, Miss Ethel. He wants to be present,” said Jago, passing a very experienced glance over Ethel’s charms which were considerable. I noticed speculation in his eyes. Ethel was aware of it, too. No doubt she was accustomed to such looks from the men who accompanied their womenfolk into the establishment. She preened a little as we followed her into a small room elegantly furnished. The curtains and carpet were the colour of lapis lazuli and even had streaks of gold in them.

When Ethel had gone I whispered, “Imagine. All this is Rosie’s.”

“Rosie is very clever, obviously,” said Olivia.

“Who is the priestess of this holy temple?” asked Jago.

“She’s Rosie, who has come up in the world.”

Ethel returned and asked us to follow her. We were taken to a room with the same coloured rich furnishings and I noticed that the blue-and-gold motif was repeated throughout the establishment.

A woman rose from a desk as we entered. She was tall, very slim and clad in black; her hair was piled high on her head and that with her high heels gave her elegance and height. But the eyes were as mischievous as ever.

“Why,” she cried, “if it is not Miss Caroline!”

I went to her and hugged her, reacting on impulse.

“Oh, Rosie,” I said, “I hardly recognized you amidst all this splendour.”

“It’s the same old Rosie. Well, not quite the same … a bit older and much wiser. That’s how it should be, eh? And the gentleman?”

“Mr. Jago Landower. He comes from Cornwall.”

He bowed to her.

“It is so good of you to allow me to enter this holy of holies.”

“I like that,” she said. “Holy of holies, eh? I wish I’d thought of that.”

“He thinks he can help me choose a hat,” I said.

“Is this for the christening?” asked Rosie.

I nodded.

“I have the very thing.”

“I knew you would have,” cried Olivia. “Isn’t it wonderful to see her here, Rosie?”

“It’s a great pleasure.”

“What a marvellous establishment you have here,” said Jago. “I wish I wore lovely hats with whirly feathers.”

“You would have to go back a few centuries,” I told him. “I think they’d become you rather well.”

“Of course they would. How boring to be in this age! As far as dress is concerned, I mean.”

“I should hardly think the rest of it is boring for you, Mr. Landower,” said Rosie. “Now I’m sending for champagne. This is a celebration. How long is it since I saw you, Miss Caroline?”

“Quite a long time.”

“And here you are in London for the christening. What a fine baby she is, eh? And you’re going to be the proud godmother.”

“Yes, I’m pleased and honoured by that.”

“Of course I’d want Caroline to be my baby’s godmother,” said Olivia.

The champagne was brought. Rosie asked Jago to pour it out, which he did and brought it round to us all, his eyes bright with pleasure. He was enjoying this.

I whispered to him: “I hope you are finding your trip worth while.”

“Completely,” he answered. “Thank you for letting me come.”

“I didn’t let you. You came uninvited.”

“Nevertheless, I shall be at the christening. I have already asked Olivia for an invitation.”

“Which has been granted?”

“With alacrity.”

Rosie herself presided over the selection of my hat. I was seated before a mirror and several were brought out for me to try on. She wanted to know what my dress would be. It was to be the same one which I had worn for my mother’s wedding and once at Landower. Cream-coloured, I explained, and I had an emerald brooch which my mother had given me.

Rosie decreed that the hat must be emerald green. It really was rather enchanting and everyone agreed that it suited me admirably. There was an ostrich feather—half green, half cream, which shaded my eyes.

“Perfect!” cried Jago.

“Yes,” agreed Rosie. “You are right.”

Rosie wanted to give me the hat as a present, but Olivia insisted on paying for it. When I saw the price I was a little alarmed. I was clearly not rich enough to shop at Rosie’s establishment.

I said I must pay for the hat myself, although I should be impoverished for some time to come; but at last Olivia won the day. She wanted to give me a present, she said, and would be very hurt if I did not accept this hat which was clearly meant for me.

Before we left I had a word with Rosie.

“I’d like to talk to you … sometime,” she said.

“Oh … what about?”

“Something … Could you come alone?”

“Is there something wrong?”

She lifted her shoulders. “I’d like to talk … all the same,” she said enigmatically.

I said I would make sure of seeing her again before I went back to Cornwall.

We went back to the house.

Olivia asked Jago if he would care to stay for luncheon and he accepted with enthusiasm.

Two days later the christening took place. It was a solemn and moving occasion. Naturally Aunt Imogen was present and she was quite affable to me though somewhat aloof. I felt a new responsibility. This little child was my goddaughter.

I was so proud and went out and paid more than I could afford for a silver porringer on which I had her initials engraved.

I spent a good deal of time in the nursery. I think Nanny Loman found me rather a nuisance but she bore with me patiently because no doubt she thought I should not be there long; but Olivia was delighted with my interest in her baby.

“It makes me very happy,” she said. “I feel safer now. If anything happened to me you’d be there to look after Livia.”

“What do you mean … if anything happened to you?”

“Well, if I wasn’t here.”

“But why shouldn’t you be here? You’re not likely to pass over Livia to her doting godmother, are you?”

“I mean if I wasn’t here …”

“If you were to die, you mean?”

“Yes, that.”

“My dear Olivia, look at you! Plump, revelling in married life … with a doting husband and a perfect baby … what are you talking about?”

“I know I’ve got all that … but it just occurred to me.”

“That’s like you, Olivia. You’re always afraid good things won’t last for you. I thought you’d got over that.”

“I have. Life is good. But I was just thinking … that was all. Forget I said it.”

I kissed her.

“It’s done me a lot of good to see you, Olivia. Things have worked out well for you and you deserve all the happiness there is. May you always be as happy as you are now.”

“I’d like you to be happy too, Caroline,” she said wistfully. “Jago is very attractive. I think he likes you.”

“He does … along with the entire female population that is not too old or ill-favoured.”

“You are cynical.”

“It suits me to be.”

“Your time will come.”

I patted her hand. I thought the conversation was drifting towards danger.

I said: “I shall have to think of going fairly soon.”

“Stay,” she begged; and I said I would for a few more days.