The cab pulled up and Arthur stepped out on to the street in front of his mother’s house, straightening his jacket as he waited for the driver to bring his travelling case down from the roof. Then, taking a deep breath, he climbed the steps and rapped the brass knocker sharply.There was a short delay before he heard footsteps inside and the door opened to reveal a footman.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘I am Arthur Wellesley. Is my mother at home?’

The footman scrutinised his face for a moment before he nodded and stood aside.

‘Yes, Sir Arthur, my lady is at home. If you would care to wait in the front parlour I will see to your luggage and inform Lady Mornington of your arrival.’

Arthur nodded, paid off the cab driver, and made for the parlour as the footman brought his bags in.The floor of the parlour was carpeted and the furniture was neat and expensive. Clearly his mother had done well out of her sons’ improved financial standing, Arthur mused. He took a seat and glanced round the walls. Above the fireplace were a series of small portraits of his brothers and sister, beneath a larger picture of his father, but no picture of Arthur.

Before his thoughts could become more melancholy, the door opened and his mother stepped into the room.Anne Wellesley was more gaunt than he recalled.Ten years had hardened the lines in her face and her bright eyes had sunk a little further into their sockets. She stood and examined him in turn.

‘You don’t look well,’ she said abruptly. ‘Your hair is cropped too close and your complexion is altogether too common and ruddy, as if you had been working the fields alongside common labourers.’

Arthur smiled faintly as he rose to his feet.‘It’s good to see you again too, Mother.’ He crossed the room and leaned forward to kiss the cheek she offered him. She forced a smile and took his hand.

‘It has been a long time, Arthur. Too long, perhaps.You did not write to me very often.’ Her tone was hurt, or affected to be hurt, Arthur thought.

‘You hardly wrote to me either, Mother.’

‘I was busy.A mother has to spend her time watching over her whole family. I did not have time to write in detail to every one of my children.’

It was a lame excuse and Arthur felt his heart harden a little.Ten years appeared to have changed very little between them. She gestured to the two seats opposite the fireplace. ‘Sit down. I have asked for tea to be served to us. I expect you will want to stay here for some time, while you find your feet in London.’

‘Yes, Mother. If that would not be too much of an imposition.’