The Dowager picked up a lorgnette and, as the sleeve of her bed jacket fell back from her wrist, Carina saw that she wore a number of diamond bracelets, which jangled and glittered as she moved.

She read the Certificates and there was silence in the room.

Then, with a violent gesture of unbridled anger, she thrust them from her.

“It’s not true! It’s a plot! These are nothing but lies – ”

“No, Mama, what you read there is the truth,” Lord Lynche contradicted. “The question is, of course, what do you suggest we do about it – or rather, him?”

Again there was that mocking taunting note in his voice, which made Carina feel hot and ashamed.

But the Dowager seemed hardly to hear it.

Instead, she looked at Carina.

“Who are you? And where have you come from?” she asked in a hostile voice.

“I have been engaged by Lady Lynche as a Governess. This is Dipa, her little boy. He is six years old and speaks a little English.”

“Speaks English, I should hope so! And you have the effrontery to pretend that he is a Lynche!”

“I only know what I have been told,” Carina replied, “that Dipa is the son of Lord Lynche – and someone who is dying.”

“Dying! Who is she?” the Dowager enquired. “And why does the child look like he does?”

“It appears,” Lord Lynche said, picking up the Marriage Certificate, “that the mother of the child is Javanese.”

“Javanese!”

The Dowager almost gasped the words, leaning back against her pillows as if for support.

“For the moment, Mama, I am afraid that you have to accept these Certificates as valid.”

“I will not! I will never accept them!” the Dowager stormed. “They lie. Get lawyers to prove it! Send for the woman, bring her here and we will force the truth out of her.”

“I think there is every likelihood that Lady Lynche is dead by now,” Carina said gently. “Anyway she is far too ill to be moved.”

“Will you be quiet!” snapped the Dowager. “When I want your opinion, girl, I will ask for it.”

She glared at Carina, who dropped her eyes, feeling that she had, in fact, overstepped her position in saying so much.

“You must face facts, Mama,” Lord Lynche said. “I see no reason to doubt these Certificates. They are, I should think, completely and absolutely genuine.”

“Tear them up and throw them in the fire!” the Dowager stormed.

“What good will that do?” Lord Lynche asked. “Besides, don’t you think, Mama, you are giving a very uncivil welcome to your grandson?”

“Grandson!” The Dowager shrieked the word. “Don’t you dare to say that my grandson is that yellow brat!”

“As I said, you would find it difficult not to accept the Certificates of Birth and of Marriage,” Lord Lynche said.

“You mean that he really is – ”

The Dowager spoke slowly and stopped at the last word. She looked up at her son.