As someone voiced this last possibility in her hearing, Zelda sucked in her breath. If Harald Remer were dead then Berthold—ineffectual, uninspiring Berthold—would be head of the Remer steel dynasty.

The blood pounded in her ears. Nominal head. That was what Josef had told her and it was ludicrous to think of Berthold as being anything else. The real head of the House of Remer would be Josef.

‘I think he is coming round,’ she heard one guest say as someone else shouted that the doctor had arrived.

She pressed her lips together tighter than ever and closed her eyes, fervently praying they were both wrong.

Where is the doctor? Why isn’t he here yet?’ Vicky’s voice was filled with panic. ‘I know first babies aren’t supposed to come quickly, but this one is!’

Though she wasn’t much older than Vicky, Josephine had assisted at the births of her sister’s children and was well aware that Vicky wasn’t exaggerating.

‘He’ll be here any minute,’ she said with a confidence she was far from feeling. Where was everyone? No matter how long she rang the bell to summon help, no one responded. ‘I don’t like leaving you, ma’am,’ she said with deep feeling, ‘but if I’m to get someone to hurry the doctor up, I’m going to have to go downstairs.’

‘Then go now,’ Vicky said on a gasp. ‘But be quick, Josephine. And please find Berthold. Please tell him the baby is coming.’ Her face was sheened with sweat, her hair clinging damply to her forehead.

Josephine, knowing she had no alternative but to leave her alone and wanting to do so for the very shortest time possible, sprinted for the stairs.

Within seconds of running down them she realized that something was very wrong. There was no music coming from the direction of the ballroom. No sound of speeches or laughter. No buzz of celebratory conversation.

A group of footmen stood in the hall, muttering anxiously between themselves.

With her hand slipping and sliding on the banister rail she hurried down the last few steps, calling out breathlessly as she did so: ‘Where is the doctor? He’s needed urgently. Will one of you please go and tell him there’s not a minute to lose?’

They turned towards her. ‘The doctor is here,’ one of them said in careful English. ‘Has been here for some time.’

‘Where?’ Josephine’s head was spinning. Foreign ways weren’t English ways, but if the doctor had arrived why wasn’t he with Vicky? Had he, without even determining how far on in labour Vicky was, gone into the wedding reception to enjoy a glass of champagne? The very thought of such a possibility sent the Yorkshire blood boiling through her veins. ‘Where?’ she demanded again. ‘Where is he?’

‘In the ballroom, with Herr Remer,’ the young footman said, looking at her as if she had taken leave of her senses.

Josephine was uncaring of the strict rules that permitted only certain servants to enter certain sections of the mansion, the ballroom being most definitely out of bounds to her. She headed straight for it.