“You will wish some refreshment, I am sure,” he said eagerly. “Do you not agree, Julien? They must be very shaken by the accident.”

“Wine and biscuits are to be served immediately in the salon,” the Marquis ordered the butler in what seemed to Gretna to be an uncompromising autocratic voice, as if he was not particularly pleased at the idea.

“And now, ladies,” he added, “I am sure you would like my housekeeper to show you to a bedchamber where you can wash and tidy yourselves.”

“We should be glad of that, my Lord,” Mrs. Merryweather answered.

She curtseyed and Gretna followed her example. And then they walked up the broad staircase to where at the top a housekeeper in rustling black satin stood waiting for them with folded hands.

She seemed to take in Mrs. Merryweather’s status at a glance and with a slight sniff, as if to wait on such a person was beneath heir dignity, she led the way to a large bedroom.

“The chambermaids will bring you hot water and anything else you may require,” she said and then withdrew leaving them alone.

Mrs. Merryweather looked around her.

“Lord love us, what a room!” she said. “’Tis many years since I have seen the like. Those tapestries are worth a fortune if they are worth a penny.”

“Mrs. Merryweather, why did you say – I was your niece?” Gretna asked her and trying not to sound hostile.

Mrs. Merryweather turned her brown eyes from the tapestries to look at the exquisite heart-shaped face beside her.

“’Twas the best thing to do, dearie,” she answered. “And you’re not to tell them your name, do you understand now?”

“Why not? They are not likely to know – who I am.”

“But they are. Your mother will not have been forgotten even though Society has not seen her these eighteen years.”

“But even if they do know, does it matter?” Gretna enquired.

“Indeed it does. Now, see here, Miss Gretna. I was in service thirty years ago before I married my Tom. I never rose to anything grand, mark you, only fourth housemaid to Lady Lansdale, but I learnt what was right and what was not. And one thing I can tell you for certain sure, no young lady in your position should be gallivantin’ off to London alone on a stagecoach.”

“But I am not alone and I am not gallivanting,” Gretna smiled.

“I know that, dearie, I’m with you, but it was just a bit of luck that I could go at this last moment to visit my poor sick sister at St. Albans and you’re goin’ because you has to. At the same time you cannot explain those sorts of things to Gentry. They wouldn’t understand.”

“But it cannot matter to them anyway,” Gretna argued.