‘Two weeks isn’t a long time. It’ll go quickly.’

‘May I see you from time to time when I get back?’

‘I don’t know, Daisy. I like you lots, but it doesn’t seem right.’

‘I’m allowed friends,’ exclaimed Daisy.

‘Of course, friends.’ Bernie gave Daisy’s hand a little squeeze. ‘What else?’

* * *

Daisy prepared lamb chops for Becket’s supper. She looked around the large high-ceilinged kitchen and reflected that soon she would at least be occupied in cleaning the flat. Her husband had said nothing about hiring help, and anyway, Daisy was sure they could not afford it.

When Becket came home, she served supper in their dining room. Becket looked about him with pride. ‘I say, Daisy, isn’t this marvellous? Our new home at last.’

‘You know,’ said Daisy cautiously, ‘I am trained to type and take shorthand. It will be very dull for me, being here on my own all day. I could find a job and hire someone to clean.’

‘Nonsense. You’re my wife and a lady, and ladies don’t work.’

‘I ain’t no lady.’

Becket gave an indulgent laugh. ‘If Lady Rose could hear you now! You’re slipping back into your old speech.’

‘I mean it. Why can’t I work?’

‘Because,’ said Becket severely, ‘you’ll be too busy being a wife and mother.’

‘Mother,’ echoed Daisy faintly.

‘As soon as I get round to it, I’m going to fix up one of the spare bedrooms as a nursery.’

A scream rose up inside Daisy, but she fought it down and said, ‘I’ll need to go to bed. I’m still not feeling well.’

‘You go ahead. I’ll clean up here.’

I’m trapped, thought Daisy miserably as she crawled into bed, and I don’t know what to do about it.

The exodus to Stacey Court took place the following week. Masters and servants and mountains of luggage made their stately procession out of London. It was one of those grey weeping British days with a fine drizzle falling from the sky.

Daisy would have liked to travel with Rose, but in her new diminished status, she and Becket had to travel with the upper servants.

Stacey Court was a Tudor building, its rose-red walls covered in creepers and with many mullioned windows. In Tudor times, the more windows, the higher the status of the owner.

It was dark and damp inside. The earl ordered fires to be lit in all the rooms although it was warm outside. He had a fear of rheumatism and blamed his secretary for not having had the foresight to air and warm the place before they arrived, unaware that Matthew had suggested it to Lady Polly and had been told that as it was summer, such preparations were not necessary.

Daisy and Becket were given a room on a half landing below the servants’ quarters in the attics.

Another dark place, thought Daisy miserably as she unpacked. In the servants’ hall that evening, she and Becket received a warm welcome from the other servants. Brum smiled and suggested that after dinner, perhaps Mr and Mrs Becket could entertain them as they had done before, Becket playing his concertina and Daisy singing music-hall songs.