‘I came as soon as I could,’ he said. ‘Dearest Mama, I’m so sorry.’

‘Justin’s in the morning room,’ said his mother. ‘Have you seen him? I don’t go in there any more.’

‘No, Mama, I haven’t been in there yet. I wanted to see you and my father first.’

It was ten minutes later that Rupert left his mother. She had uttered not another word and didn’t seem to notice when he got quietly to his feet and slipped out of the room.

Then at last he went down to the morning room and softly opened the door.

Justin’s coffin lay on two trestles. As Fran had told him, it had been closed the day after he’d been brought home, but she had put two vases of lilies, one at the head and one at the foot, and the room was filled with their heady scent.

Rupert went and stood by the coffin, laying his hand on its polished oak surface. He felt he ought to be saying something to his dead twin, but found that the words would not come. His throat had closed and he stood there with his eyes shut, trying to conjure up Justin’s face. The scent of the lilies was cloying and he knew that whenever he smelled them again it would remind him of this minute, of his farewell to Justin, the best brother a man could possibly ask for. With his hand still on the coffin lid he managed to say, ‘Goodbye, old man,’ before he turned away, blew his nose, wiped his eyes and went back to his grieving family.

Later that evening, when they had had their dinner, he and Fran sat alone in the drawing room. Lady Chalfont had taken her meal upstairs, as she had ever since Justin had been found. Sir Philip had eaten with his children, but had now withdrawn once again to his library.

For a while the two of them sat in a comfortable silence. Rupert looked out of the window at the familiar view of the garden. The sun was setting and the sky was painted a glorious rose gold, streaked with orange. Justin was lying in his coffin and yet the world was still unimaginably beautiful.

‘Do you think Mother will attend the funeral?’ he asked Fran.

‘I doubt it,’ Fran replied. ‘You’ve seen her. She’s in no fit state to appear in company, is she? I thought when the first shock was over she might rally, but there has been no sign of that.’

‘And my father?’

‘Oh, certainly he’ll be there; whatever torment he feels, he will stand at the graveside and do his duty,’ she said, adding almost as an afterthought, ‘as will you and I.’ She glanced across at him and asked, ‘Why were you away for so long in France? We had no word of you for ages. We didn’t even know where you were until Parker arrived here to collect your luggage. What kept you so long?’ She softened the question with a faint smile. ‘I bet it was some woman you met.’