Selena smiled. “Shall we take John outside, once more, while the weather remains clear? The child tells me he has already ventured out with Hugh, which is most unusual and a very good thing, I must say.” Selena’s hand flew to her mouth. “I meant, of course, to say that perhaps you would like to come out again? The sun seems set to shine, and there is time before I must dress for dinner.”

Philomena enjoyed Selena’s company. Younger than herself, Hugh’s sister showed little sign of caring for any difference in rank and was not afraid of the exertion of running after John in the chill, fresh air. For Philomena, used to the fogs and smells of a city, the countryside held enchantment even in the starkness of winter. There was no need in this wide vista, to hold a handkerchief to her face to guard against the yellow fog that insinuated itself into every corner of London.

Selena kept up a steady stream of chatter, as though Philomena was one of her usual companions. She gossiped about the new Queen and the dashing Prince Albert, and described the balls she planned to attend in London in the Season. “That is, if Hugh does not change his mind and decide he cannot afford for me to come out, this year.” Philomena said nothing.

“He works so hard to maintain the Hall, and is always worrying.” Selena continued. “He plans many alterations, designed for efficiency. Mama, of course, prefers to keep everything as it was when Papa was alive. She does not understand how the world is changing. She believes that all things can remain the same as they ever were.”

Selena stopped to think, appearing to forget she was addressing the nursemaid. “Why, Mama hardly bows at all with many of our acquaintance. She becomes quite glacial when she meets Hugh’s neighbour, even though Mr. Muldrow owns Fairford Manor. She does not think Mr. Muldrow is quite the thing.” She leant closer to Philomena and giggled. “His father made money in trade, you know. Something to do with the cotton mills he used to own, up in the North.” She whispered the last few words, as though it was impolite to name, “The North,” in polite society.

She stopped talking abruptly to join her nephew in a scramble. The pair of them chased after something that rustled in the undergrowth, hoping for a glimpse of a rabbit. Unsuccessful, Selena returned to Philomena’s side, dress muddied and face flushed. “In any case,” she continued as though she had not broken off. “Mama thinks we should uphold the honour of Thatcham Hall and only receive those whose names are to be found in Burke’s Peerage. I do declare, however, that if we were to insist on that, we would have very few companions, for many of the old houses are going to the new merchants nowadays. Mr. Muldrow—I mean the son, of course, not old Mr. Muldrow—used to visit often when Beatrice was alive, though I do not think Hugh liked him over much.”