He did not want Philomena to leave. In truth, he longed to see the broad, unselfconscious smile that lit her eyes. He wanted to hear again that clear voice, by turns gentle and fierce, and smell the faint hint of jasmine that hung in the air wherever Philomena had been.

At dinner, the table groaned. Mrs. Bramble had spared no effort to provide an irresistible feast. Three complicated courses followed each other to the table, but Hugh could eat none of them. The soup seemed insipid, the fish dry. Turkey and beef accompanied by lark pudding was enough to make anyone ill. Plum pudding tempted for a moment, rich and crumbling, scented with spice and fruit, but every mouthful tasted of dust.

A fire raged in the grate, burning the massive log that would smoulder throughout the holiday. The Dowager’s conversation centred on the Queen, Prince Albert and the German features her new husband was introducing to his adoring wife. “Why anyone should wish to emulate that nation,” said the Dowager, “I have no idea. Do you know, I heard that Prince Albert insisted on bringing a tree into the house and putting candles all around it? Imagine. How very odd he must be. Our poor Queen surely suffers a great deal from such nonsense.”

“Why, no, Mama. Everyone says the Queen simply adores Prince Albert, and that anything he suggests is immediately to be undertaken.” Selena spoke to Hugh, looking for agreement. Pushing a morsel of fig around an almost-empty plate, he did not reply.

She turned back to her Mama. “I think it must be fun to have a tree for Christmas, much more fun than our boring old Yule log. All that does is burn away and make a great deal of smoke in the process. What do you think, Hugh?” Selena raised her voice.

Hugh looked up, refocusing his eyes. His thoughts had drifted back to the wood, recalling the scent of the old trees and the magic of the fading light. He imagined Philomena was there, enticing him into taking leave of every vestige of good sense.

Called upon by automatic good manners to answer, Hugh nevertheless found himself unable to offer an opinion on the unknown merits of the Christmas celebrations at Windsor.

He said so, causing Selena to sigh and the Dowager to glare. His mother asked, in an icy voice, whether he had taken cold during such a long sojourn outside this afternoon, undertaken for no reason that could be fathomed.

The Dowager talked on. Hardly listening, Hugh let his thoughts stray again, this time to the nursery. He watched the hands click round on the grandfather clock. They edged in interminably small measures towards the hour when Philomena would bring John down to talk to the Christmas visitors. Did he long for or dread the event?

At last, the meal ended. Since Hugh was the only man dining, the ladies retired for only a few moments, to take tea. Hugh, relieved to be alone, tossed back two large glasses of port, feeling the effect as a briefly pleasing shock of warmth. It failed, though, to overcome his angry mood. He drank one more glass. Two bottles of his most prized claret had accompanied the meal, but Hugh had hardly tasted the wine. His legs, though, shook a little as he joined Selena and the Dowager.