Clancy must have understood her expression. Such a sensitive man. ‘That’s the kind of house my father wanted, but with twice as many towers. Maria convinced him to hire an Italian architect to create something more . . . more like the homes in English magazines.’

‘I am going to adore Maria,’ said Flora.

Did she imagine that he tensed at her words? ‘The house is . . . a bit different from the magazines,’ he said dubiously. ‘I hope you like it.’

‘I will love it.’ Her own house. Sunlight, instead of gloom. Paris fashions and a husband who wanted to give her anything she wished . . .

A rabble of skinny, half-naked children suddenly ducked out from behind one of the fancy carriage houses. They ran after them with outstretched begging hands. Clancy reached into his pocket and threw a handful of sixpences out towards the little horde.

Flora smiled at him again. ‘That was a lot of sixpences.’

‘I keep a pocketful to give to the children.’

‘I did not expect so many beggar children here. Are there no charities to help them?’

‘Yes. But not enough.’

‘Can you introduce me to those who run them?’

Clancy stared at her in wonder. ‘Of course.’

She smiled, almost apologetically. ‘Back home I was President of the Ladies Guild. It was supposed to be an honorary position, as the highest-ranking woman, but within a year we were genuinely helping the poor of the district, instead of simply arranging flowers and embroidering the altar cloth. I like to be useful.’ She gazed out at the harbour again. ‘I will never tire of the light here. It was too bright at sea. But here it’s as if the land turns it silver.’

‘You speak like a painter.’

She laughed. ‘I do paint a bit, but very poorly.’ All ladies painted, danced and played the piano, at least a bit. She lowered her voice as if telling him a secret. ‘I really do not care for painting.’

‘I hope you like the piano. Maria ordered it from England . . .’

‘She plays the piano? I am so looking forward to meeting her.’ Flora added, ‘I have never had a sister.’

The tension appeared in Clancy’s face again. What was wrong? she wondered.

‘Maria doesn’t play,’ he said shortly. ‘She bought the piano for you.’

‘Oh dear! That was so kind! But I absolutely hate playing the piano too. I have no ear for music at all. My governess was in despair at my lack of proper talents. I do like to dance though.’

She could see his relief as the visions of monthly concerts and evenings at the opera and afternoons at the art gallery vanished.

‘I enjoy dancing too. And this is the house.’ He watched her anxiously as the road turned a corner.

She stared, astonished. ‘It’s beautiful!’

The house was so new that not even grass had grown around it yet. It stood in serene simplicity, three tiers of cream stone work, its flagged terraces and rounded balustrades and wide doors inviting residents outdoors. This house opened its heart to the land and sea, instead of shutting them out with narrow windows and three layers of curtain.