A timid knock on the door preceded the appearance of a housemaid. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, miss, but the master is getting impatient. He sent me to fetch you.’

Daisy tucked the crumpled sheet of paper into the pocket of her plain grey woollen dress and she rose to her feet. ‘I’m coming.’ Even to her own ears her voice sounded strained and edgy, but she had her feelings under control. Whatever it was that the master had to say could not be as earth-shattering as the contents of Julian’s letter.

The drawing room on the first floor was furnished in the height of fashion with heavy mahogany furniture upholstered in crimson velvet, matching velvet curtains and a carpet with such thick pile it felt like walking on a croquet lawn. The former Adam-style mantel had been ripped out on Mrs Carrington’s instructions and replaced by a huge, black marble fireplace that dominated the whole room, and a fire blazed up the chimney. An enormous Christmas tree took up one corner of the room, and was lavishly decorated with tinsel and glass baubles imported from Germany at enormous expense. At any other time Daisy would have been delighted, if only for Master Timothy’s sake. He was what her aunt Eleanora would have called ‘an afterthought’, being eleven years younger than Julian, and his parents were invariably too busy to spend much time with him. It was Daisy who read him a story each evening when he was tucked up in bed, and Daisy who took him for outings to the park or the Zoological Gardens.

‘I sent for you ten minutes ago. What kept you?’ Albert Carrington stood with his back to the fire, glaring at Daisy through the thick lenses of his gold-rimmed spectacles. ‘Well, what have you to say for yourself?’

Daisy had never felt comfortable in Mr Carrington’s company. He was said to have trebled the family fortune by investing heavily in the stock market, and it was rumoured below stairs that the master would receive a knighthood for his services to industry and his generous gifts to charity. Even so, his manner was cold and calculating, and all the servants were in awe of him.

‘I’m sorry, sir. I was mending a garment for Master Timothy.’

‘That’s no excuse.’

Mrs Carrington held up her hand. ‘Let me handle this, Albert.’ She fixed Daisy with a hard stare. ‘I won’t beat about the bush, Miss Marshall. As you know, Master Timothy will be starting school in January, and therefore we will no longer be in need of your services.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Albert said, frowning. ‘This is the end of the quarter and you will receive your wages from Mrs Thompson, together with a character, which should assure you of a position elsewhere.’

‘I’m to lose my job?’ Daisy looked from one to the other. ‘But who will look after Master Timothy during the school holidays?’

‘That is not your problem,’ Mrs Carrington said icily. She rose majestically from the sofa and ushered Daisy from the room. She lowered her voice. ‘Don’t imagine that we haven’t noticed what’s been going on between you and our elder son. I’ve seen the way you flirt with him, and it is just as well your time with us had ended naturally, otherwise I’m afraid I would have had to terminate your employment.’