Lou drained the wine from her glass, doubt of her ability to help them creeping in like a spectre at the feast. William stepped forward to refill her glass. His presence reminded her of the awkward silence in which Sally had dressed her for dinner. She’d got that wrong, too, hadn’t she? Crossed the unseen barrier that should have separated them. By being over-friendly in feeling that she could say what she wanted, she had placed Sally in an impossible position. She washed away the nasty taste in her mouth with another mouthful of wine. Again, her glass was refilled. Her untouched meat was taken away, and a choux pastry swan appeared. She stared at it gliding serenely on a slick chocolate lake. Taking her fork, she pushed it across the plate towards the gilded edge, wondering whether beneath the surface, it was paddling desperately to stay afloat.

When the meal came to an end, Sir Charles got to his feet. ‘Come along, my dear,’ he said to Lady Mandeville. ‘And you, too, sister.’

Lou was about to rise from her chair, but seeing that neither Charlotte nor Emma had moved, she hesitated.

‘Mother and Father and Aunt Lenora always leave us to our own amusement on the evening before the shoot,’ Charlotte explained.

‘There’s nothing like old bores to pour cold water on the fun of a party,’ Sir Charles said, offering his arm to his wife.

‘Speak for yourself,’ Mrs Hart laughed, her earlier frustration at her brother forgotten. Unlike Lou, Mrs Hart knew how to behave in this world.

Following the others into the billiard room, Lou slumped into a seat by the window and away from the heat of the fire. The room was dimly lit by candles in sconces lining the walls. The only electric light came from a large lamp over the billiard table. She didn’t care that it was dark. Sitting in the shadows suited her. Her face burned. Her vision swam. She accepted a brandy Edward offered. After handing the glass to her, he took a seat closer to the fire, beside Tom.

Lou nursed her drink and watched Charlotte and Emma take up cues.

‘Join us, Louisa,’ Charlotte called.

Lou held up her glass, indicating that she was busy with her drink.

George joined his cousin and sister, a fat cigar clenched between his teeth. He balanced an ashtray on the edge of the billiard table and took aim through a fug of smoke. The sound of balls cracking smashed inside Lou’s head. The game was loud and animated, Charlotte squealing and clapping, Emma laughing, and George telling them off for putting him off his shot. In every break in play, he replenished his glass from a decanter of whisky. Bastard.

Tom and Edward sat silently drinking. Every so often, Tom glanced at his brother. Was he wondering how Edward could have been so stupid as to get involved with a maid? Or rather, that he had been careless enough to get caught. Eventually, Edward got up and sat at the piano in the corner of the room. Lifting the lid, he began to play a melancholy sort of tune. His departure gave Emma the opportunity to make her move. Balancing her cue against the wall, she sat on the arm of Tom’s chair, the blue silk of her dress rippling down her curves. Hidden as Lou was in the shadows, Emma didn’t appear to notice her presence.