Under this pointed unconsciousness of hers, a species of blight spread over the scheme to which Riseholme ought to have been devoting its most enthusiastic energies. The courtiers were late for rehearsals, they did not even remove their cigarettes when they bent to kiss the Queen’s hand, Piggy and Goosie made steps of Morris dances when they ought to have been holding up Elizabeth’s train, and Georgie snatched up a cushion, when the accolade was imminent, to protect his shoulder. The choirboys droned their way through madrigals, sucking peppermints, there was no life, no keenness about it all, because Lucia, who was used to inspire all Riseholme’s activities, was unaware that anything was going on.

One morning when only a fortnight of July was still to run, Drake was engaged on his croquet-lawn tapping the balls about and trying to tame his white satin shoes which hurt terribly. From the garden next door came the familiar accents of the Queen’s speech to her troops.

‘And though I am only a weak woman,’ declaimed Daisy who was determined to go through the speech without referring to her book. ‘Though I am only a weak woman, a weak woman –’ she repeated.

‘Yet I have the heart of a Prince,’ shouted Drake with the friendly intention of prompting her.

‘Thank you, Georgie. Or ought it to be Princess, do you think?’

‘No: Prince,’ said Georgie.

‘Prince,’ cried Daisy. ‘Though I am only a weak woman, yet I have the heart of a Prince… Let me see… Prince.’

There was silence.

‘Georgie,’ said Daisy in her ordinary voice. ‘Do stop your croquet a minute and come to the paling. I want to talk.’

‘I’m trying to get used to these shoes,’ said Georgie. ‘They hurt frightfully. I shall have to take them to Tilling and wear them there. Oh, I haven’t told you, Lady Brixton came down yesterday evening –’

‘I know that,’ said Daisy.

‘– and she thinks that her brother will take my house for a couple of months, as long as I don’t leave any servants. He’ll be here for the fête, if he does, so I wonder if you could put me up. How’s Robert’s cold?’

‘Worse,’ she said. ‘I’m worse too. I can’t remember half of what I knew by heart a week ago. Isn’t there some memory system?’

‘Lots, I believe,’ said Georgie. ‘But it’s rather late. They don’t improve your memory all in a minute. I really think you had better read your speech to the troops, as if it was the opening of Parliament.’

‘I won’t,’ said Daisy, taking off her ruff. ‘I’ll learn it if it costs me the last breath of blood in my body – I mean drop.’