Rosie smiled. ‘Then please say that I’ll be at … where am I going?’ she laughed excitedly.

Referring to the telegram, the nun said, ‘Zophony House, Lakeside, Windermere, it says here.’

Rosie smiled. ‘Tell her ladyship I’ll be there before noon.’

Grateful that Sybil had given her so many lovely clothes, Rosie sat on the Windermere bus feeling very fine indeed. Because it was a hot day, she was wearing one of Sybil’s pretty little crêpe dresses which she didn’t fill out, but the soft sage-green colour and the shape flattered her skinny body. One of the residents had lent her a pair of smart court shoes and a decent handbag, so all in all Rosie felt like chic personified when she started out on her journey.

The chauffeur, whom she immediately recognized, met her at the bus station in Windermere, and Rosie blushed as she stepped into the gleaming Daimler, drawing envious glances from several passers-by. Sitting back against the creamy leather upholstery, Rosie stared in wonder at the endless stretch of Lake Windermere, which seemed to her as vast as Brighton Beach, which she had visited once as a child.

‘Beautiful,’ she said out loud.

‘It’s that all right,’ the chatty chauffeur agreed. ‘Wait till you see Zophony House – you’re in for a right treat.’

He couldn’t have spoken a truer word. The house that was to be her responsibility was about a mile outside of the little grey-slate town of Bowness. Built on a gentle rise overlooking the lake, turreted windows reflected the sun rising high in the bright summer sky. The curving drive from the country lane wound around banks of dense rhododendron bushes, before it opened out in a wide sweep in front of the house. Unlike the grand London houses Rosie had known in her time in service, Zophony House was a simpler structure built entirely of timber and red-brick. Wide and rambling, its many windows opened on to the woods, the lake, the towering fells and the splendid gardens that rolled down to a deck at the water’s edge, against which a couple of motorboats at anchor rocked.

‘Oh, my God!’ Rosie sighed as she tried to take it all in.

The chauffeur gave a smug smile. ‘Told you, didn’t I?’

Lady Veronica, cool and elegant in a floating navy linen dress decorated with a crisp white sailor’s collar, came hurrying out of the wide carved front door overhung with jewel-red roses.

‘Rose, so good of you to come at such short notice.’ Ushering her visitor into the house, she added, ‘I have to go back to London tomorrow, to tie up a few urgent details concerning my separation.’

Rosie tried to hide a smile; hearing Lady Veronica talking about ‘her separation’ gave her a sense of deep satisfaction.