“That’s the right word!” Mrs. Barnstaple exclaimed. “You mark my words, Miss Warner, if you live here long enough, you’ll find her Ladyship is uncanny.”

Mrs. Barnstaple’s keys clinked at her waist as if they agreed with the profundity of her statement. Then she turned towards the door as the lady’s maid came in carrying the thermometer.

“Excuse me, Miss Warner,” Miss Matthews said politely, “but I’ve brought Mrs. Barnstaple her thermometer.”

She handed it to Mrs. Barnstaple and said,

“I must apologise for keepin’ it so long, but her Ladyship put it in the drawer beside her bed and I forgot all about it until you asked for it.”

“Thank you, Miss Matthews,” Mrs. Barnstaple said, accepting both the thermometer and the apology with dignity. “The child is asleep so we think it would be best not to wake him.”

“No, indeed,” Miss Matthews said. “He’s a dear little boy, isn’t he? Have you ever met the King, Miss Warner?”

“No, never,” Carina answered, thankful that she could speak the truth.

“I’ve heard of his grandfather, of course, from her Ladyship, but I’ve always imagined him to be a somewhat sinister character,” Miss Matthews said.

“Well, he’s not likely to come here,” Mrs. Barnstaple retorted, “and a good thing too. We have quite enough sinister people in the house as it is.”

“I know who you be speakin’ about,” Miss Matthews said with a little wrinkle of her nose, “and I agree with you completely, Mrs. Barnstaple.”

“I thought you would,” Mrs. Barnstaple replied and Carina realised with amusement that this by-play was for her benefit – a warning from two well-meaning women who were too careful of the hierarchy that existed in the servants’ hall to come into the open and tell her exactly what they were thinking.

Mrs. Barnstaple suddenly remembered her duties.

“It’s time your tea was upstairs, Miss Warner,” she said. “If it isn’t, I’ll speak really sharply to that Emily. She’s always late and, if I’ve spoken to her once, I’ve spoken to her a dozen times. If this goes on, she will have to go and without a reference.”

“Oh, no, Mrs. Barnstaple,” Carina cried, “don’t do that. The poor girl might not get another post unless you speak well of her and a few minutes really does not make all that difference one way or the other.”

“In a house of this size,” Mrs. Barnstaple corrected, “I assure you that things have to run just like clockwork or there’d be chaos.”

She swept from the room and Matthews, with a somewhat apologetic smile, followed after her.