“It was my fault. Jonathan asked me to stay behind but I went.”

“And you saw it, and it upset you. You don’t blame Jonathan, I hope. He was doing what had to be done.”

“I see all that,” I said. “I just wish it hadn’t had to happen.”

“My dear girl, that’s what we all wish. We’ve got to forget this. David says you have nightmares. It’s that, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Such a pity. But you’ve got to grow away from it. It was like that with me… after that night in the mairie with the mob screaming for my blood outside. It comes back even now. Sometimes I dream. One can’t come through these experiences unscathed. There is only one thing to do… grow away from them… that is, accept them as a necessary part of the world we live in.”

“You are right, of course. Dear Maman, I will try. I will think of what they tried to do to you. I will think of my grandmother… and then I will see that it has to be.”

She smiled. “And now,” she said, “there is the wedding. I’ve such a lot to talk to you about concerning that. For one thing, I don’t think we should take the babies.”

“No. I was thinking of that.”

“Grace Soper is quite capable of taking charge.”

“She does in any case.”

“She adores them both and they love her too. They would miss their nursery. I don’t fancy the journey with them. Then of course they would be in a strange place… and after all we shall only be away for a few days.”

I agreed with her.

Then we talked about clothes and all the time I was thinking about Jonathan and Millicent taking their vows—which he would never keep. I wondered if she would.

The wedding was to take place on the first of June. A few days before, our party set out for Pettigrew Hall, which was on the way to London—in fact it was about midway between the City and Eversleigh.

My mother and I rode in the carriage with Mary Lee, my mother’s lady’s maid, who would look after us both, and with us were the trunks containing our clothes and anything we should need. David and Dickon went on horseback and we were easily able to make the journey in a day, having set out very early and arriving at Pettigrew Hall at six in the evening.

We were warmly welcomed by Lord and Lady Pettigrew. Jonathan was already there.

Pettigrew Hall was more modern than Eversleigh. It had been erected just over a hundred years before when the great hall was no longer the centre of the house, and was a squarish solid stone edifice built round a court; and the kitchens, buttery and pantry were all underground. A magnificent staircase, which went to the top of the house, wound round a well as it went, so that from the very top landing one could look right down into the hall.

The drawing room was on the ground floor and it had glass doors through which the very beautiful gardens could be seen. The dining room, which was also downstairs, had similar views; and there were many bedrooms. The servants’ quarters were in the attic at the top of the house. It was richly furnished and there were several specimens of the Gobelin tapestry which had begun to be manufactured in France about a hundred years before and soon found its way into English country houses.

Lady Pettigrew’s taste seemed to me a little flamboyant; she had scattered pieces of marquetry all over the house; the hangings of the beds and the curtains were in the richest colours; and some of the ceilings had been painted with allegorical scenes. It was as though she wished to proclaim her importance to the world in everything she did—so naturally it would be obvious in her home.

The room I was to share with David was next to that assigned to my mother and Dickon. They were large and lighter than our Elizabethan ones and I thought them charming with their tall windows and marble fireplaces.

There would be several people staying at the Hall for the wedding. The Farringdons were of course there, being great friends of the Pettigrews; and Lady Pettigrew told us as she came up with us to show us our rooms—a very gracious gesture from such a grand lady and one which showed us how delighted she was to have us—that she was eager for us to meet the Brownings. They were such charming people and she was sure we were going to enjoy the company of Sir George and his wife Christine and their truly charming daughter Fiona.

David said when we were alone: “She is indeed an overpowering lady, and I fancy her daughter takes after her. But I don’t think she will be able to subdue Jonathan as Lady Pettigrew does his lordship.”

“I am sure,” I replied, “that Jonathan will know how to look after himself.”

“Oh yes. You can trust Jonathan for that.”

It was to be a grand wedding. Lord Pettigrew was very influential in banking and, I suspect, political circles; and that meant that the marriage of his daughter was an event of more than usual importance. And as Dickon held great sway in the same society there would be many people who would want to attend the wedding.

The ceremony was to take place in the village church in the morning, after which all the guests would return to Pettigrew Hall for the reception. Many would come down from London as well as from the surrounding country. Ourselves and the Farringdons and Brownings were the only house guests—though perhaps one or two might stay for one night, as Lady Pettigrew did not want them to leave too early after the reception.

When we went down to dinner that night we were greeted by the Farringdons—Gwen, John and Harry—and George and Christine Browning and their daughter Fiona, who was very pretty and about eighteen I should imagine.

“Are we all assembled?” said Lady Pettigrew, bearing down on us. “Let us go in to dinner. I daresay you are all ready for it. Travelling is so exhausting. I am glad you are staying with us and not popping in and out as I fear so many of the guests will be doing. How could it be otherwise? So many people want to see my daughter married.”

John Farringdon murmured that it was indeed a happy occasion.

“And none the less so because we have had to wait a long time for it,” added Gwen.

“Oh circumstances… circumstances…” cried Lady Pettigrew, waving her hand as though to dismiss these tiresome eventualities. She was of course referring to the death of Sabrina on account of which the wedding had been delayed. “Now let’s go in. George, will you take Gwen, and John, Christine. Now, Jonathan, I am going to make you very cross. You are not to take Millicent. David shall take her and you can take Claudine.”

I felt that ridiculous emotion as I slipped my arm through his. He gave me a one-sided grin and in some way I felt that we were conspirators.

I whispered: “I’m sorry to be the reason for making you cross.”

He laid his hand over mine and squeezed it gently. “Just a brief contact such as this sends me into paradise,” he said.

I laughed softly. “Ridiculous as ever… even on the eve of your wedding.”

I was seated next to him. Millicent was opposite next to David. Lady Pettigrew at one end of the table surveyed us all as a general might his officers while she also kept her eyes on other ranks serving from the kitchens. I noticed Lord Pettigrew, from the other end of the table, watching her with a mixture of exasperation and tenderness. I thought: He is very different from Jonathan; and it occurred to me that if Millicent became more and more like her mother as the years passed, Jonathan’s marriage might be a stormy affair.

There was a buzz of conversation as neighbours whispered together, but Lady Pettigrew was the sort of woman who could not bear her command to slip even for a moment and she liked to know everything that was being discussed, and such was her forceful personality, that the conversation soon became general.

It was not long before the subject of the war in Europe cropped up and in particular the successes which Napoleon Bonaparte was achieving all over Europe.

I noticed that Harry Farringdon, who was seated next to Fiona Browning, appeared to be rather taken with her, and I felt a little qualm of uneasiness as I remembered Evie Mather.

I had not seen Evie for some time. She had been at Aunt Sophie’s once or twice with her sister, and I wondered now about her. Mrs. Trent had been so anxious that something should come of her friendship with Harry Farringdon, and Mrs. Trent was, in her way, as forceful a woman as Lady Pettigrew, and the manner in which Harry was paying attention to Fiona Browning indicated that Evie’s might be a lost cause.

“The Reverend Pollick is determined that there shall be no hitch,” Lady Pettigrew was booming from the head of the table. “He is a man who takes his duties very seriously and for that we applaud him, do we not, Henry?” Lord Pettigrew murmured agreement. “He insists on a rehearsal. So tomorrow it is going to take place. It won’t be necessary for everyone to attend… only the principals of course. But if any of you would like to step into the church, I think you might find it interesting.”

Everyone at the table declared they would not miss it for anything.

“Such a fussy little man, the Reverend gentleman. Mind you, he always remembers that he owes his living to us, and I suppose, understandably, he’ll look upon this wedding as his personal triumph.”

There was talk then about previous weddings and Lady Pettigrew went on: “Your turn next, Harry.” At which everyone all lifted their glass to Harry Farringdon and I noticed that Fiona Browning had turned quite pink.

We left the men with their port while Lady Pettigrew led her battalion to the drawing room, where she held forth on the blessings of marriage, and how happy she was to see Millicent joined in matrimony to a man of her parents’ choice.