“Queenie, any minute now this water will soak through the floor and start dripping through the ceiling below. And if my sister-in-law sees it and finds out you’ve been using her lavatory, then I’m afraid you’ll be sent packing—sharpish, as you would say.”

“Well, what I am going to do?”

“Run downstairs. Ask for old towels for the floor and see if you can find something to hook out the hat.”

“Then everyone will know it was me,” she wailed.

“Queenie, I am not about to take the blame for flooding a lavatory for you,” I said. “Now either you roll up your sleeve and pull that hat out yourself or you find something to do it with. Go on. Run. Before it’s too late.”

The best she could manage was a spirited waddle but she soon returned with towels and a poker. “I just said there had been a bit of an accident in her ladyship’s bathroom,” she said. “I didn’t go into details.”

A few minutes later the hat was retrieved—now a soggy mess of red felt.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get it back in shape, do you, miss?” Queenie said, holding it out mournfully.

“Queenie, you can’t wear a hat that has been down the loo,” I said in exasperation. “Throw it in the dustbin. Immediately. And finish drying the floor too. I’ve a good mind to send you back to your parents today.”

“Accidents can happen to anyone, miss,” she said. “Even you.”

I sighed. Of course this was true. They happened to me. In moments of duress I had been known to be a trifle clumsy, shall we say. Only they happened rather more frequently to Queenie. Maybe we were destined for each other.

My nephew greeted me with touching enthusiasm, hugging me fiercely. Even my niece seemed pleased to see me, but that might just have been because I was preferable to Nanny, who was crisp, starchy and not the sort of person one warmed to. When I went into my bedroom, Queenie had unpacked my things without any serious mishaps and was very subdued, even calling me “my lady,” which showed she was trying hard.

I settled into my old room and Binky wrote to the palace on my behalf. Everything seemed to be working out rather satisfactorily. What’s more, Fig actually took The Lady so I curled up in an armchair and browsed through the latest copies of the magazine. There were plenty of advertisements for servants but precious little else. But now there was no rush to find a job. The wedding wasn’t for another month. My brother might even decide to stay on in London for Christmas and by then, who knew what might have turned up?