The Hall was alive. Servants, up early, hastened to set fires, provide a hearty breakfast in the morning room, and ensure the day’s feast was ready, before wearing their own Sunday best and walking in single file behind the family, to Church.

Hugh washed in hot water brought by Martin, the valet. He drank a cup of chocolate while the man wielded the razor. He grimaced. A drink fit only for women and children. He would insist on coffee in future.

Hugh waved Martin away. “That’s enough for now. Get yourself down to the kitchen. If I’m not mistaken, there’ll be better cheer down there.” Martin hesitated. Hugh’s personal servant since his master had grown out of nursemaids and governesses, Hugh allowed him to criticise when others feared to speak.

“Begging your pardon, my lord.” Martin watched his master out of the corner of his eye. Hugh said nothing. He waited. Martin took a breath and continued. “If your lordship will forgive me, it’s my opinion, if you don’t mind my saying so…”

“Oh, for God’s sake, get on with it, man,” said Hugh. “When has minding ever stopped you saying anything—strictly for my own good, of course?”

“Exactly, my lord. I was just about to remark that Master John has been down in the kitchen for some time already this morning, showing the staff some items which were apparently left in a stocking in his room by Good King Wenceslas.”

Hugh blinked. “Good King Wenceslas?”

“Yes, my lord. I believe he enjoyed the story.”

“So he did. I presume the nursemaid accompanied him to the kitchen?”

“Oh, yes, my lord, no problem with that.”

“So what is the problem?” Hugh grinned. “Come on, you know you’ll tell me in the end.”

The valet sighed and shook his head. “One never wishes to cause trouble.”

Hugh grunted. Doggedly, Martin continued. “No, my lord, one does not. However, Master John appears to be dressed as a knight and waving his wooden sword. Very charming, of course, but with her Ladyship arriving this morning, you may wish his new nurse to ensure a certain increased level of decorum.”

Hugh’s lips twitched, even as he frowned. Martin hastened to deliver the rest of the message he carried. “I should perhaps add, my lord, that Master John has broken three pudding basins and severely damaged a silver sugar bowl by swinging the sword in a dangerous manner.” He coughed. “In addition, Mrs. Bramble has hinted that today’s feast may be at risk if Master John causes any more damage, especially to the remaining pudding basins which contain, the cook tells me, the figgy pudding.”

Hugh chuckled. It was an intriguing picture. “Do you know, Martin, I do believe I shall take no action at all. I will leave the new nursemaid to deal appropriately with Master John.”

He lingered a while after the valet left, smiling. How would the woman handle John? Hugh did not believe a word of her ridiculous stories, but this morning, such reservations hardly mattered. After all, she would only be here a short while. The prospect of watching a struggle was tempting. John had an infinite collection of ways to enrage an adult. Could such a young woman manage a child who seemed to respond only to punishment?