After the cloth was removed we banished the four children to the other end of the hall and remained sitting at the trestle. Over the sound of their noisy game of ninepins we mulled some wine and spices and settled down together like two fountain gossips. As far as I could guess Philippa Gardiner was about my age, slim and dark and prone to wearing elaborately wired headgear, which gave the clever illusion of more height than she possessed. On this occasion her beautifully embroidered hat looked like a short steeple blunted at the tip and was covered by a gauzy veil, wired into a butterfly shape and secured at the front by an amethyst-headed pin. It provided the perfect topic to open the conversation.

‘You must give me the name of your headdress-maker, Philippa,’ I begged. ‘It is spectacular.’

She laughed. ‘It is a fashion copied from Bruges. My husband bought the Hennin cap on his last trip there and I wired the veil myself. I am so glad you like it.’

‘Very much,’ I nodded. ‘And I noticed Elin admiring it too – when she could tear her gaze away from your son of course!’

Philippa’s eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Yes, they seem to like each other a good deal. It is very sweet.’

‘You do not disapprove then?’

‘No, not at all – why should I? Elin is a lovely girl and so pretty with her sunburst curls and ready smile.’

‘And with a very lively nature,’ I added wryly.

‘Life then can never be dull with her around,’ she said lightly.

‘That is true enough.’ I paused to take a sip of wine and summon my courage. ‘Elin’s father was very taken with Will also. He wants me to ask if you thought there might be the basis of a marriage between those two when they are older?’

Observing closely, I thought I detected the gleam in my guest’s eyes change from amusement to speculation. ‘It might be worth considering,’ she said, apparently untroubled by my abrupt proposal. ‘Certainly I think it sensible to sort these things out sooner rather than later, before a boy gets too frisky, if you know what I mean?’ She cast an eloquent glance in my direction.

‘Something girls suffer from too, I assure you,’ I remarked.

‘I must take your word for that. I have not been blessed with more than my one dear child, but I would have loved to have a daughter; you are lucky to have two.’

‘But no son,’ I pointed out. ‘Which in the circumstances may be a good thing. The stain of bastardy can hamper a boy more than a girl, I think.’

‘Do you? Surely any child of an earl – especially one who has no legitimate heir – has only to retain the father’s favour to gain advantage from it.’