These delights had included a master class on the difficulties of cross-breeding Japanese sambur deer with German roe deer, and the problems of keeping Sardinian mouflon sheep, accustomed to their dry and rocky native terrain, healthy in the damp Irish climate. Margaret had been treated to several lectures on the origin of the myriad stags’ heads which adorned the walls of the viscount’s abode, and had now heard his favourite anecdote, of how his father had nearly accidentally drowned King George at the waterfall, at least three times. She had inspected his latest acquisitions and feigned interest in his plans for creating a fountain in Juggy’s Pond and the technical obstacles to be overcome in doing so. Which was riveting compared to the subject of ornamental trees and their planting and drainage.

Night after night, Lord Powerscourt proudly described his plans for remodelling his farms; draining his fields; rebuilding his house; and peppering his lands with bridges, gates, and roads. There was no doubting his enthusiasm, his genuine regard for his tenants, his pride in his estates, or even the scope of his vision for his various improvements. But his prodigious ability to make the most interesting subject bottom-numbingly tedious, combined with his utter lack of humour, made his company an endurance test. Last night, in despair, Margaret had suggested that it might be a good idea to move the whole of County Wicklow slightly to the east. Though Julia had let out a snort of laughter, quickly muffled, her husband, after looking slightly perplexed, had patiently explained at great length just why the county borders could not be adjusted willy-nilly without a political outcry.

Lord Powerscourt could speak, without seeming to stop for breath, for an hour at a time. He would ask for an opinion, and then provide it himself, at great length. On the rare occasions when Margaret had observed Julia persisting in positing an alternative view, he listened patiently and then ignored what she had said. He was never rude, never overtly condescending, but he had an earnest air about him that put Margaret’s hackles up. He had several times commented on the serendipity of Margaret’s stay providing Julia with company, not seeming to imagine that she might prefer her husband’s.