‘Will we not see Uncle David, then?’ asked Lilibet.

‘I think not,’ Crawfie replied. ‘But never mind. When we come back upstairs you can hop into bed and we can start the new Agatha Christie you have. How does that sound?’ She took in the girls’ smiles. ‘Now, let’s go downstairs.’

The drawing room was looking very beautiful. Vases of cut delphiniums, peonies and roses scented the air. The mirrored cocktail trolley, with its ice bucket, glasses and bottles, twinkled in the last rays of the sun as it crept through the large windows.

Looking out on to the golden parkland were the Duke, smoking, and the Duchess, with a glass of Dubonnet and gin her hand.

‘I really don’t see what he sees in’ – the Duchess dropped her voice – ‘a certain person.’

The Duke sighed. ‘We must give her a chance.’

‘But I cannot like her.’ The Duchess shook her head. ‘She is so very superior to us mere mortals.’

‘Darling, we must make the effort.’

‘But why?’ She sipped at her gin, the ice clinking as she tipped the glass to her mouth, ‘He makes no effort for you. Or me. We three used to be so close.’ She lifted her gloved left hand to her forehead, remembering happier times. ‘Lady Furness was much better for him. We all had so much fun.’

‘He does seem to be enchanted by married American women.’

‘But she was so very different. Remember how she got David and us together as a working party for the gardens at Fort Belvedere? It was a jungle before she tackled it.’ She paused, thinking. ‘And the Fort itself – it was in a dreadful state until she took it in hand. I don’t think anyone had touched it for two hundred years. Goodness knows why he had to have it. Like a small boy wanting his own toy castle to play with, I suppose.’

The Duke put his cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply. ‘I felt rather badly for him. I mean, you and I have this glorious house, much more fitting for the heir to the throne.’

The Duchess put her hand on her husband’s arm. ‘But darling, he has York House, too – perfect for his tailor in St James’s.’ She laughed wickedly. ‘I don’t mean to poke fun at him but sometimes he needs it. A certain person will be soothing his sensibilities at every turn. Thelma Furness would have been different. She could laugh at herself and him, and he enjoyed it. She was one of us. She knew the score and she had perfect manners. So did her husband, bless him. But look how David treated her when a certain person arrived on the scene – and how Thelma backed off graciously. I do miss her.’

A cough from the door made them turn.

Crawfie stood in the doorway, the Princesses by her side. ‘Good evening, sir, ma’am. The girls would like to say goodnight.’

Husband and wife moved quickly from the window and put their arms out to greet their daughters.