“We can’t spare a servant to go with you,” Fig said. “We’re down to the bare minimum as it is. Binky could scarcely summon up enough beaters for the last shoot. And Maggie would never leave her invalid mother to go to London with you.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “I shan’t want to take a servant with me. I shan’t even turn on the central heating.”

“But if you’re going to help this girl with her wedding, won’t you be staying with her?” Fig asked.

“Eventually, yes. But she hasn’t arrived from the continent yet.”

“A continental, is she, this girl? Not English?” Fig looked horrified.

“We’re not English,” I said. “At least Binky and I aren’t. We’re part Scottish with a good admixture of German.”

“Let me amend that to British then. You were brought up to be British. That’s where the big difference lies. This girl is foreign, is she?”

I was dying to invent a mysterious Russian countess, but it was too cold for the brain to react quickly. “She’s been living abroad,” I said. “For the sake of her health. She’s rather delicate.”

“Then I wonder some poor chap wants to marry her,” Binky said heartily. “Sounds as if she won’t be much good at producing an heir.”

“He loves her, Binky,” I said, defending my fictitious heroine. “Some people do marry for love, you know.”

“Yes, but not in our class,” Binky said easily. “We do our duty. We marry someone suitable.”

“I like to think that love may come into it a little, Binky,” Fig said in a frosty tone.

“If one strikes it lucky, Fig. Like you and I.”

He wasn’t as stupid as he seemed, I decided. He was without guile, a man of simple needs, simple pleasures, but definitely not stupid.

Fig actually managed a smile. “Will you need to have your tiara brought up from the vault?” she asked, going back to practical matters now.

“I don’t think it’s a tiara sort of wedding,” I said.

“Not St. Margaret’s then?”

“No, it’s to be a small affair. I told you the bride was delicate.”

“Then I wonder she needs help in preparing for it. Anyone can arrange a simple wedding.” Fig took another large bite of toast and jam.

“Fig, she has asked for help and I am responding,” I said. “I’m just in the way up here and who knows, I may even meet somebody in London.”

“Yes, but what will you do for servants?”

“I’ll hire a local girl to look after me.”

“Make sure you check her references thoroughly,” Fig said. “Those London girls can’t be trusted. And keep the silver locked away.”

“I’m not likely to need the silver,” I said. “I’m only going to use it as a place to sleep for a few nights.”

“Well, I suppose if you must go, you must. But we’ll miss you dreadfully, won’t we, Binky?”

Binky went to say something, then thought better of it. “I’ll miss you, old thing,” he said. It was quite the nicest thing he had ever said to me.