“We don’t have to stay here,” Darcy whispered to me. “There must be proper hotels in York. It’s not that far now.”

“It’s still miles away. And we’ve no guarantee anyone else has a room,” I said. “If all the roads northward are closed . . .” In truth I felt close to tears. It had been a long day, starting with helping to dress the bride at Kensington Palace, then the ceremony for Marina and Prince George at St. Margaret’s Westminster, then the reception at Buckingham Palace and the long, cold, snowy drive. All I wanted to do was curl up into a little ball and go to sleep.

The floorboards creaked horribly as we tiptoed down the hall. Number thirteen was about the gloomiest room I had ever seen—and I had grown up in a Scottish castle noted for its gloominess. It was small, crowded with mismatched furniture and dominated by an enormous carved wardrobe that took up the one wall where the ceiling didn’t slope. In the midst of this clutter was a narrow brass bed with a patchwork quilt on it. A naked bulb gave just enough anemic light to reveal sagging and stained curtains at the window and a small braided rug on the bare floor.

“Golly!” I let out the childish exclamation before I remembered that I had resolved to be sophisticated from now on. “It is pretty grim, isn’t it?”

“It’s bloody awful,” Darcy said. “Sorry for swearing, but if ever a room deserved the word ‘bloody,’ this is it. Let’s just get out of here while we can. I wouldn’t be surprised if the landlady didn’t kill off the guests during the night and make them into pies.”

I started laughing at the thought. “Oh, Darcy. What are we doing here?”

“My lovely surprise,” he said, shaking his head, but smiling too. “Oh well, if we start off life together in these surroundings it can only get better, can’t it?”

I nodded. “Do you suppose there is an indoor loo or will it be at the bottom of the garden?”

We explored the hall and were relieved to find a lavatory and bathroom of sorts at the far end.

“I’ll go and get the bags,” Darcy said. “If you’re really sure you want to stay.”

“I’m not sure that I want to undress. I’d freeze.” I reconsidered. “But I suppose I shouldn’t crease my good outfit any more. Do you have any idea what Queenie packed for me?”

“I told her sensible outfits to travel in. And your nightclothes.”

“Knowing Queenie, that will mean a dinner dress and riding boots.”