Charlotte slammed her cutlery down. ‘You’re drunk. And nobody here cares to listen to your bile.’

‘I may be drunk, but that doesn’t mean I’m not correct.’ He downed another glass of wine. ‘Do you know, Miss Arnold.’ – Lou squirmed, why was he directing his outpouring at her? – ‘My sister is to be presented next year. Mother will find her a husband with land and money, because that’s what our family does, you see, they make matches for Lady Wealth. God forbid anything as tawdry as love should get in the way of a politic match.’

‘I do not need you to speak on my behalf,’ Charlotte said. ‘And I have no intention of ever marrying. So there.’

‘Oh, Charlotte. Dear, dear, Charlotte. You poor, misguided little kitten. You will be married. But if our perfect brother is not allowed to make his own match, then what hope is there for you and I? You will be put out to stud soon enough.’

‘Really,’ Lady Mandeville said, her neck flushing. ‘This behaviour is insufferable.’

Mrs Hart placed her cutlery down on her plate with a controlled chink. She took her napkin from her lap and wiped her lips. ‘Edward,’ she said. Standing up, she took hold of his hand. Edward got shakily to his feet. He fell against the table, and Mrs Hart helped steady him before escorting him from the room.

‘I must apologise on behalf of my son, Miss Arnold,’ Lady Mandeville said, ‘since it would seem that he is currently incapable of doing so for himself.’ She rang the bell to recall the staff as though Edward’s outburst had had as little effect on the meal as a pebble dropped into the English Channel. She took up her cutlery and regaled Lou and Charlotte with the details of new glass baubles she had ordered from Selfridges. Bainbridge and the footmen recommenced their well-rehearsed dance, placing dishes on the table, removing them and replacing them. Lou looked from mother to daughter. Rich or poor, stately home or council house, families were all the same. The Mandevilles just had more space and better clothes to conduct their squabbles in than the Arnolds.

At the end of the meal, Lou pushed her pineapple ice cream around the bowl until it melted to a yellow slick. The fun had gone out of the food as well as the dream.

‘You look tired, Miss Arnold,’ Lady Mandeville said and, with exquisite tact, added, ‘Do not feel obliged to take coffee with Charlotte and I, if you would rather retire.’

‘It has been a long day,’ Lou said. She got up and placed her napkin on the chair, glad of the excuse to leave.

‘But you will join us for church in the morning,’ Charlotte said. ‘It’s the Christmas carol service for the village school. It’s always held on the last Friday before Christmas. All the staff attend. Mother takes the car, but it’s just a short walk to St Mary’s. Won’t you join me after breakfast?’