‘It’s such a lovely day, isn’t it?’ Kitty gushed. ‘Far too nice to waste on talking about those wretched Frenchmen. Please let’s not mention them again today. Let’s not give them the satisfaction of ruining our picnic. Come now, Arthur and Charles, eat up.’

There was no attempt to continue the disagreement for the rest of the afternoon and the two men were scrupulously polite to each other as they made small talk, but the friendly ambience had gone and despite Kitty’s best efforts to revive it the atmosphere remained strained. Late in the afternoon, as the sun’s angled rays burnished the slope of the hill and the fields below in red and yellow hues, they packed up the picnic basket and loaded it on to the carriage. Fenshaw strode away to help the groom lead the horses back into their traces. Kitty waited until he was out of earshot before she turned on Arthur.

‘What did you do that for?’ she whispered fiercely.

‘To what do you refer?’

‘Don’t treat me like a fool, Arthur. You know precisely what I’m talking about. Why did you provoke him?’

‘I did no such thing. If anything, he provoked me, Kitty. All that nonsense about the revolutionaries and their principles. The man is a damned fool if he really believes any of that.’

‘He was just being sensitive. I thought he spoke quite well about the unjust way their common people were treated.’

‘What does he know about common people?’

‘Arthur, what do any of us know about them?’

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but could say nothing. Kitty was right. There was as wide a gulf of incomprehension between the classes as there was between nations. He felt shamed by that knowledge. He was a lieutenant colonel of foot, and yet he knew little of those he led. Something must be done about that, if he was to be trusted with the command of hundreds of his countrymen. He must not only command them, but command their respect and their willingness to serve him to the best of their ability. In the recent campaign Arthur had seen the terrible consequences when officers distanced themselves from their soldiers and took no interest in their well-being.

Kitty nudged him. ‘Charles is coming back. Don’t say another word on the subject.’

Fenshaw flashed a warm smile at Kitty as he joined them, and kept the expression fixed in place as he nodded to Arthur. ‘All ready? Then let’s be off.’

He graciously handed Kitty up into the carriage and stood aside to allow Arthur to go next, but Arthur stood his ground.

‘You first, Fenshaw.’

‘After you, sir. I insist.’

Arthur was about to protest when Kitty began to drum her fingers on the side of the carriage. ‘If you boys have quite finished . . . Arthur, get in.’