At least I could now write to him. A letter from me would make him feel better. I took up my pen and wrote, telling him how smoothly I had driven to London. How much I had enjoyed meeting the princess. I even described the dinner party, Mrs. Simpson, the French marquis pawing my thigh and the incident with the fork. I could see him laughing at that, with those adorable crinkles at the sides of his eyes. And of course I told him how much I loved him and that I would come as soon as he wanted me there. I gave the Rannoch House telephone number, just in case he had forgotten it or didn’t have it with him. I didn’t even put the letter on the salver in the front hall for the servants to hand to the postman. I went out again myself and found a postbox.

I felt a little more cheerful as I came home to find tea had been served and the children had been brought down from the nursery for the daily ritual of interacting with their parents. Podge was telling his father a complicated story and Fig looked most uncomfortable holding baby Adelaide on her knee. Adelaide looked equally uncomfortable, but she waved her arms excitedly when she saw me. Podge rushed to me, wrapping his arms around my legs. “Auntie Georgie, you came back!” he said. “Are you going to stay a long time? Can we go to the park and feed the ducks?”

“I think you’re all heading off for France again next week,” I said, kneeling on the rug and taking Adelaide from Fig. Addy came willingly with a smile of relief on her face.

“You can come with us,” Podge said. “Can’t she come with us, Daddy?”

“There isn’t enough room for me,” I said hurriedly, before one of them had to answer. “Nowhere for me to sleep.”

“You can share my room,” he said.

“You’ll already have Addy and Nanny in your room.” I smiled at his earnest little face. “And I have important things I have to do here in England. But you’ll have a lovely time playing on the beach.”

“The beach is all stones,” he said bluntly.

“I think it’s about time Nanny took you back upstairs,” Fig said. “You have crumbs all over your jumper. And Adelaide needs changing. She’ll make your skirt wet, Georgiana.”

Nanny stepped forward instantly and whisked Adelaide away from me.

“I want to stay and talk to Auntie Georgie,” Podge wailed, but Nanny took him firmly by the hand.

“She’ll come up to the nursery tomorrow,” she said.

“He is becoming very whiny,” Fig commented. “Help yourself to tea, Georgiana. Mrs. McPherson baked gingerbread today.”