This was no ‘week or two’ invitation, like Margaret’s, or even the few months she might spend with Maria, who now had her own household and . . . peculiar . . . interests to occupy her. Mrs Glossop obviously wished for ‘Lady Flora’ and her daughter to take up long-term residence with them — and would do whatever Lady Flora wished to ensure that she would stay there.

Sydney might laugh at Lady Flora living in The Castle, but they would not laugh too much for, after all, she was the Honourable Flora and as near to aristocracy as most were likely to meet, except for the rare ball held to honour a visitor at Government House. Flora could even — tactfully — tone down Mrs Glossop’s excesses and teach her how to behave a little more like the ton: a factor Mrs Glossop, who was no fool, even if she did not know the correct way to write a letter of invitation, might even hope for.

Even more important than her own comfort: Clementine must be brought up to be a lady, to know her heritage, not a tan-skinned bush brat with scabbed knees. Too often, when she had been out with her father, she arrived back with her boots in his pockets and her petticoats too. Nor was Flora’s needlework sufficient to clothe her properly beyond the most basic pinafores. She would soon be old enough to need far more complex clothes, and the correct undergarments too.

At Overflow Clementine saw, and copied, Ezekiel’s table manners, and learned the rough accents of the workers. And if Mrs Glossop’s own accent was conspicuously ‘refained’, Clementine would be more likely to speak as her mother spoke — and Mrs Glossop would be more than willing to employ a well-spoken governess whose accent and skills Mrs Glossop too might learn from.

Did the Glossops have children? She did not think so. But even if there was a young Master Glossop, with his parents dreaming of an aristocratic marriage, it would be many, many years before a misalliance could be feared, and, in that time, surely it would rain, and funds become available for Clementine to go to England for her debut, as she must, and where she would meet far more gallant young men than any Glossop, Flora determined with newfound energy.

And if Overflow could not, or Ezekiel would not, pay for this necessity, Flora still had her mother’s pearls, carefully wrapped in the bottom of her cloak, and the vulgar ruby necklet Ezekiel had presented on her marriage, and other smaller items of jewellery Clancy had given her in the Rosemere years, which somehow Ezekiel had forgotten to demand she sell to buy more sheep.

Or which, she realised in sudden dismay, he might be keeping in reserve for the day it finally did rain, and he wanted their cash to restock his acres. Ezekiel might demand her jewels at any time.