‘Marvellous woman!’ said Colonel Boucher. ‘Every word of the Queen’s speech by heart, singing with the choir, basting with the cooks, dancing with the sailors. That’s what I call instinct, eh? You’d have thought she had been studying it all the time. I agree with my wife, Georgie. The difficulty is Daisy. Would she give it up?’

Georgie brightened.

‘She did say that she felt inclined to chuck the whole thing, a few days ago,’ he said.

‘There you are, then,’ said Mrs Boucher. ‘Remind her of what she said. You and she go to Lucia before you waste time over another rehearsal without her, and implore her. Implore! I shouldn’t a bit wonder if she said yes. Indeed, if you ask me, I believe that she’s been keeping out of it all until you saw you couldn’t do without her. Then she came to help at a rehearsal, and you all saw what you could do when she was there. Why, I burst out cheering myself when she said she had the heart of a Prince. Then she retires again as she did this morning, and more than ever you see you can’t do without her. I say she’s waiting to be asked. It would be like her, you know.’

That was an illuminating thought; it certainly seemed tremendously like Lucia at her very best.

‘I believe you’re right. She’s cleverer than all of us put together,’ said Georgie. ‘I shall go over to Daisy at once and sound her. Thank God, my shoes are better.’

It was a gloomy queen that Georgie found, a Queen of Sheba with no spirit left in her, but only a calmness of despair.

‘It went worse than ever this morning,’ she remarked. ‘And I dare say we’ve not touched bottom yet. Georgie, what is to be done?’

It was more delicate to give Daisy the chance of abdicating herself.

‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ said he. ‘But something’s got to be done. I wish I could think what.’

Daisy was rent with pangs of jealousy and of consciousness of her supreme impotence. She took half a glass of port, which her regime told her was deadly poison.

‘Georgie! Do you think there’s the slightest chance of getting Lucia to be the Queen and managing the whole affair?’ she asked quaveringly.

‘We might try,’ said Georgie. ‘The Bouchers are for it, and everybody else as well, I think.’

‘Well, come quick then, or I may repent,’ said Daisy.

Lucia had seen them coming, and sat down at her piano. She had not time to open her music, and so began the first movement of the ‘Moonlight’ Sonata.

‘Ah, how nice!’ she said. ‘Georgie, I’m going to practise all afternoon. Poor fingers so rusty! And did you have a lovely rehearsal this morning? Speech going well, Daisy? I’m sure it is.’