‘That’s a job for Hattie or the girl.’

‘I need to be usefully employed, Aunt. I can’t spend my days idling.’

‘You’ve been brought up to be a young lady, Daisy. I owed it to your parents to see that you have the best chance in life. It’s just a pity you allowed Julian Carrington to get away. Rich husbands don’t grow on trees, my girl. I’m afraid you’ve lost your chance now, and that nice Dr Neville isn’t likely to stay for long. No doubt he’ll go where he can earn a decent living. I’m afraid you’ll be on the shelf if you don’t do something about it, and you know how hard life is for women without means, as well as the disgrace of being an old maid.’

‘I’ll find something to do with my life, Aunt. I don’t intend to be a burden on you for much longer. I just need to work out what is best for me, and then nothing will stop me. I promise you that.’

Chapter Four

Eleanora and Sidney had retired soon after supper, and Hattie had gone to her room on the dot of ten, leaving Daisy to wait up for Toby. She spent the time unpacking boxes of linen, but she was tired, and when he had not returned by midnight she decided to go to bed, leaving the key under a flower-pot outside the front door. Despite the lateness of the hour she was not worried – she imagined him and Nick playing cards after a good dinner, or sitting by the fire chatting about their student days. Toby, she knew, kept London hours and she suspected that Nick was glad to have his company. It must be lonely living in a large house without the comfort of a family to fill the rooms with laughter. Although, thinking back, there had not been much jollity in the Carrington household, and Master Timothy had often come crying to Daisy when his father had punished him severely for some minor misdeed. Julian had been the only member of the household who had had a kind word and a smile for Daisy, and now she was away from Queen Square she realised how easy it must have been for him to charm her into believing his promises of undying love and devotion.

All these thoughts passed through Daisy’s mind as she lay in her bed with the covers pulled up to her chin and prepared for sleep. It came eventually, and she awakened to the sound of the wind rattling the branches of a tree close to her window, and the scrape of thorns on the windowpanes as the stems of a climbing rose brushed against the glass. It took a moment or two for her to work out why she was sleeping in a strange room, and then the memories of the previous day came flooding back. She sat up and yawned, but the chill in the room was even greater than that of her small bedchamber in Queen Square. Mrs Carrington had not allowed the governess to have the benefit of a fire, no matter how cold it was, and Daisy had often had to break the ice in the pitcher before she could pour the water into the washbasin. She reached for her wrap and was about to get up when someone tapped gently on the door.