For a fraction of an instant, Fanny was quite sure that she caught an expression flash across Mary’s face: the sort of expression Cook might find useful for the chilling of cream. It was not altogether attractive. Then: ‘Ma-ma?’ Just as suddenly, Mary’s angelic demeanour was returned. ‘Where is Miss Atkinson?’

A splash of tea suddenly left Fanny’s cup and arrived on the bedlinen. In silence, both lady and child watched the stain slowly spread. Mary was the first one to speak.

‘Mama?’

Fanny required a little time to collect her thoughts and prepare her answer. ‘Well …’ She isolated a few stray curls and tucked them back into her nightcap.

‘Please do tell me, for it is most worrying. Has something awful befallen her?’

Of course, any sudden disappearance could be rather unnerving. The child deserved some explanation. Fanny looked across at the splendid bay window and predicted a fair sort of day.

‘Mama?’ Mary’s once timid little voice had developed a sudden, new strength. ‘Cassy and I are both deeply concerned. Yesterday, the lady did not seem herself and now, today, she does not seem to be here at all. Simply vanished, and without a word to us. Dearest Mama’ – the fondest address, yet somehow laden with insolence – ‘how can that be?’

My dear, Fanny was tempted to say: it is perfectly straightforward. When a governess has got herself closely involved with a gentleman connected to the household, and the lady of that house has discovered the affair, and then the gentleman in question immediately lets that poor governess down … Well, then she is reduced to running to London to beg for an interview with her employer and plead that he overlook all her transgressions and keeps her in her job.

‘Mm,’ Fanny murmured as she took her first sip. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary, my dear.’ She dabbed at her lips and replaced cup upon saucer. ‘Miss Atkinson left for London first thing this morning.’

‘London,’ Mary repeated, without any discernible expression.

‘Mm.’ Fanny grabbed at her teacup again and, in her panic, began to extemporise. ‘She was needed … or wanted perhaps … by … by—’ Sadly, the sheer depth and great fervour of her Christian faith rendered her a very poor liar.

‘By whom, exactly?’ Mary held out both hands. ‘Since the death of her mother, Miss Atkinson is quite, quite alone. I am sure there is nobody in London for her to see.’