Pat thought for a moment that Haworth was going to take umbrage. He stared at Jimmy with an unpleasant smile, then sat back and returned his attention to his food as Preston Keynes, conversational martyr, launched into a description of his shooting gear which had the sole merit of papering over everyone else’s silence.

***

PAT DIDN’T THINK SHE could bear retiring with the ladies. It took a strong moral effort and a mental reminder that she’d otherwise be leaving Fen with her future sister-in-law to force her to the drawing room, where she was rewarded with the announcement that Lady Anna had gone to bed with a headache.

“What a shame,” said Miss Singh, in a tone so flat that Pat had to turn away and examine a vase to recover her composure. “Are you all right, Aunt Mattie?”

“Of course,” the Countess said, and then, “No, not really. Perhaps you will all excuse me. I have the headache too. Victoria, please order tea.”

“I’ll come up with you,” Miss Singh said. “Miss Carruth can do the honours, I’m sure.”

Fen assured her she could, gave the Countess good wishes, rang the bell once they had gone, turned to Pat, and said, “Do you need something other than tea?”

“Definitely.”

“So do I. What does one drink after dinner that isn’t champagne? Or should we just have that?”

“It must be marvellous to be rich,” Pat said. “I don’t know if the Wittons keep champagne on ice at all times. To be honest, I usually have brandy with my brothers. Sherry?”

“Brandy sounds like a good idea. It’s medicinal, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but it’s hardly—”

A footman entered. Fen said, “Oh, thank you,” with her usual smile: she was, Pat had noticed, always warmly polite to staff. “Could we have the brandy decanter and two glasses, please?”

“The...brandy, miss?”

“The brandy, yes.”

The man opened his mouth. Fen gave him a sparkling smile. He blinked, bowed, departed, and returned shortly with a tray.

“Thank you so much. That will be all, please shut the door,” Fen said, with decision, and sloshed brandy into a balloon glass as he left. “Here you are.”

Pat took the half-full glass she was handed, with some trepidation. “Good heavens, this is enough to stun a horse. Have you ever drunk this before?”

“No.” Fen took a sip, and made a gargoyle face. “Gah. I can see why not. Ack. Do you like this?”

“Yes, but one does have to get used to it. It is definitely medicinal, though.”

“Like chloroform.” Fen flopped onto the settle, very much to one side, despite her skirts. Pat took up the unspoken invitation and seated herself, a little self-consciously, by her. “My goodness. What an evening.”

“Wasn’t it just.”

“That might have been the worst meal since...the previous one. Good heavens.”