“Very well,” the Dowager answered, apparently unimpressed by her defiance, “but mind you remember who he is supposed to be. We will call him ‘Dipa’ because he answers to that name. But he is ‘Prince Dipa of Singora’, grandson of the present King and he is paying an indefinite visit to this country for the good of his health.”

When she had finished speaking, she reached out and, taking a small silver bell from her bedside table, rang it vigorously. Almost immediately the door was opened and a maid with white hair came hurrying into the room.

“You rang, my Lady?”

“What did you think that noise was you heard?” the Dowager replied.

The maid, who must have been nearly sixty, looked at Carina and then at Dipa with surprise.

“I didn’t hear anyone come upstairs, my Lady.”

“Asleep, as usual, Matthews?” the Dowager said with a tone of triumph. “Why can’t you be like me and do with four hours a night? It would give you more time for your duties.”

“I am indeed sorry, my Lady,” Matthews apologised. “I must have dozed off for a moment, but I’ve had one of my headaches all day.”

“Never mind your headaches,” the Dowager snapped. “I can’t listen to your ailments now. Go and fetch Mrs. Barnstaple.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Matthews replied.

She dropped a little curtsey and left the room.

“She has been with me forty years,” the Dowager said, as the door closed behind her, “and she is bursting with curiosity to know who you are and why you are here. Be careful of Matthews, she would worm the truth out of a deaf mute.”

Carina said nothing, because there was nothing to say.

Dipa broke the silence by running up to the bed, not a bit shy and quite unabashed by the awe-inspiring occupant of it.

“Doggie’s name?” he asked. “Tell Dipa doggie’s name. Dipa love him. Dipa want doggie like that.”

The Dowager looked down at him.

“The dog’s name is ‘Bracken’,” she said in a strange voice.

She bent forward to look at Dipa and then it seemed to Carina as if her face tightened almost as if she was about to have a seizure.

Then she shut her eyes to blot out the sight of him.

“My grandson!” Carina heard her mutter incredulously beneath her breath and knew that the old woman was suffering an agony that was almost beyond words.

For the first time Carina felt almost sorry for her.

An elderly woman in rustling black silk with a bunch of keys on a chatelaine hanging from her waist came hurrying into the room.

“You sent for me, your Ladyship?”

She gave a little bob. Carina remembered how her mother had told her that it was traditional years ago in the great houses amongst the properly trained servants.