‘Shall I get you a nice cup of tea, love?’

Molly’s voice broke into her thoughts and she nodded. Unknown to her, all her thoughts were plain to her mother. Molly had deliberately set the chain of thought in motion and now she wanted to leave Briony alone for long enough to think through the consequences of any foolish action. No rash decisions must be allowed to wreck an otherwise harmonious arrangement.

Briony didn’t watch her mother leave the room, just waited with bated breath until she was alone once more. It was the first time Briony had felt the full force of the responsibility she had assumed. When it had all been a childish game, when she had dreamt of being a lady in the eyes of the world, looking after her family and taking over where her father had left off, it had all seemed glamorous somehow. Now, after the birth of the child, her child, who was even as she lay here being looked after and fed by a stranger, the sheer enormity of her own actions bore down on her, leaving her feeling crushed and afraid. She could no more ask Isabel for her son than she could ask the good Lord himself to take her to tea at Claridges. It was out of her control now.

What was it Tommy had once told her? Possession was nine-tenths of the law? Well, the Dumases had the law on their side and she knew that if they chose to use it, she would have nothing at all. No child, no house and no money.

She saw her baby again in her mind’s eye. His big long body, the red tinge to his downy hair, and knew he was still hers in so many ways.

Biting her lip, she made a pledge to herself. She could do nothing about her son now; she was too young, too vulnerable and far too poor. What she would do was to let herself heal physically and then work out a plan of action. If it rested with her she would never be vulnerable again, never be in a position to be overlooked by anybody, least of all Henry and Isabel Dumas who had both used her.

For different reasons maybe, but they had used her just the same.

Isabel had left the child sleeping and made her way up to Briony’s bedroom with light feet. She had not felt happiness like this for years. The sheer act of looking at the child made her into a happy carefree woman. She bounded through the bedroom door with a large grin on her face.

‘How are you feeling, Briony?’

The girl in the bed turned to face her and immediately Isabel’s expression changed. Briony looked ill and drawn. Her eyes were dead and even that glorious hair, which usually crackled with a life of its own, looked dull and flat.