10

20 December 1913

‘Please Louisa, won’t you come with us?’ Charlotte begged as a maid helped her button up her coat. ‘It will be such fun. Lady Marshall is Mama’s oldest friend, and she’s a hoot.’

‘Charlotte, I would, but I’m so tired, I’d be awful company.’

Even the prospect of a fine tea couldn’t convince Lou to make the trip to Leamington Spa with Charlotte, Mrs Hart and Lady Mandeville. She had barely slept. She was exhausted. Fagged-out. Bone-tired. Since she seemed stuck in this imaginary world, there seemed little option but to immerse herself in it. Nevertheless, the prospect of making polite conversation for hours on a train was a step too far. As the house was to be empty all day – Sir Charles having taken his sons to a meeting in town – all she wanted was to find an out of the way spot to curl up in. Charlotte tried again to entice Lou, but Mrs Hart took hold of her hand.

‘The train won’t wait for us, Charlotte,’ she said, leading her niece to the front door. ‘It’s already after eleven. Come along now.’

From the morning room window, Lou watched the car disappear into the freezing fog that had descended overnight; a fog so dense and so white that it was impossible to tell where the snow ended and the sky began. She listened to the silence. At last, she was alone. Wandering out into the hall, she made her way to the library, where the shelves lining each wall were densely packed with books of all colours and sizes, from atlases over a foot tall to tiny folios of poetry, no more than six inches high. Lou selected a small, buff-coloured leather-bound volume and sat in the armchair closest to the fire. She opened the book, closed it again and placed it on the arm of the chair. Nestling into the cushions, she was as warm and as snug as a dormouse in a teapot. A log crackled and slipped through the grate. She closed her eyes. Ten minutes … that’s all she needed … ten minutes…

After what felt like just two, a voice shattered her peace.

‘Hello there.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ She sat up abruptly. ‘I thought I was alone.’ Of all the people to catch her unawares, it had to be one half of the tag-team who had teased her at dinner last night and the man partly to blame for her sleepless night. She made to stand.

‘Don’t get up,’ Captain Mandeville said. With a rolled-up newspaper, he pointed to an empty chair beside her. ‘Do you mind? I like to read the newspaper in here when I’m home. It’s such a quiet spot.’

Lou sank back and shook her head; it was his chair, his house, he could do what he wanted. He placed the newspaper on a small side table, sat down and picked up the book she had abandoned.

‘Plato?’ he said, reading the spine.