‘Louisa?’

That’s my name, don’t wear it out. While you’re at it, you might want to put some knickers on.

‘Louisa,’ Emma repeated, grinding out the cigarette in an ashtray, ‘are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. Thank you.’

‘Well, you don’t look it. Are you ill? Aunt Leo said you’ve been a bit under the weather. I’ll ring for some hot beef tea. My nanny used to swear by it when –’

‘I said I’m fine.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Emma turned her back on Lou. ‘There’s no call to stay on my account. At any rate, Fielding will be back soon with my dress.’ She picked up the puff and slammed it against her chest, unleashing a dense shower of powder. Lou saw something unfamiliar in Emma’s eyes in the mirror as she tried to avoid looking at her own reflection. It was a sadness, a softness almost. Beneath the devil-may-care attitude, the poise and performance, Emma was just a woman in love with a man. A woman who had been counting on Lou to scatter rose petals across the path to her beau.

A bag of rocks sank in Lou’s stomach, cutting her insides on the way down. Her feelings for that man – Emma’s man – ran as deep as if their roots had been planted in soil for a lifetime. But this was Emma’s reality, not hers. One day soon, she would leave. This bashing of heads was a waste of time and energy. Even if this were her reality, Tom would choose the woman at the dressing table, angrily rearranging the coil of her hair.

‘You should hit me over the head with that enormous lighter of yours.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Emma said.

‘It might knock some sense into me.’

Emma turned to face Lou. A wicked grin played on her lips. ‘Do you know, I really like you, Louisa. You’re so different from the run-of-the-mill women one finds out here in the sticks. And the boring ones in town. There’s something about you. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. Not many women have the wherewithal to stand up to me. We might be friends, you and I. So, come on, then,’ Emma leant forward in anticipation. ‘Tell me all. I’ve seen you and Tom huddled in corners. Were you speaking about me? Tell me you were.’

‘We were … we have … on more than one occasion.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I told him he should marry you.’

‘As bluntly as that!’

‘Perhaps not quite.’

‘Tell me exactly what you said.’

‘I can’t really remember.’

‘Try. I must know what hand I am playing with him.’

‘I suggested that a marriage between two great families would be good for the Mandevilles.’

‘And what did Tom say?’

Lou wouldn’t put words in Tom’s mouth that he might be held to. But neither did she have to quote him verbatim. ‘He said that he would only marry for love.’

‘And?’

‘And, what?’

‘My God, Louisa. It’s like getting blood from a stone! And … did he say that he loves me?’