“Oh, Mrs. Mannering, that won’t be necessary,” Belinda said. “Lady Georgiana and I are quite capable of dressing ourselves and as you can see, my haircut just requires a quick brush.”

“Very well, Miss Warburton-Stoke, but I will send up Elsie anyway. You may need assistance with hooking your evening gown.”

“I’m afraid we didn’t bring evening gowns,” Belinda said. “We had not planned on staying with anyone, just visiting a piece of property.”

Mrs. Mannering stared at Belinda for a moment as if not bringing an evening gown was a mortal sin, then said, “Maybe one of Miss Jonquil’s gowns would fit you. You have a wonderfully slim figure, just like she did. And you too, my lady.”

“Oh, we couldn’t possibly . . .” I said, but she waved the rest of my protest away.

“Who else would wear them? Such lovely gowns and they lie languishing in her wardrobe. I’ll select a couple and bring them to you.”

And off she went. I gave Belinda a worried look. “I don’t like doing this at all. How can we get out of it?”

“I don’t think we can. How awkward.”

The housekeeper returned carrying two long gowns over her arm. Belinda’s was emerald green in a Grecian style, mine was pale blue. Mrs. Mannering insisted on staying to instruct the maid as we were dressed in them. They were both exquisite but I was holding my breath as we came downstairs. Tony and Rose were waiting for us with drinks in the long gallery. They looked up as we came in.

“Oh, what lovely dresses,” Rose started to say, but Tony was staring at us as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Isn’t that one of Jonquil’s gowns?” he demanded.

“They both are,” Belinda said. “We explained to Mrs. Mannering that we had not brought evening clothes with us as we were not expecting to stay with anyone and she insisted that we wear two of Jonquil’s gowns.”

“Well, I must say they fit you both very well,” he conceded. “Quite a treat for the eye. You must keep them. They’re of no use here.”

“Oh, I’m sure Mrs. Mannering wouldn’t want us to walk off with them,” Belinda said.

“Mrs. Mannering does not have the final word over my departed wife’s gowns,” Tony said. “If you want them, they are yours. Now what will you have? Sherry?”

We each took a glass of sherry and went over to the fireplace. There was a draft blowing in from the sea, making the tapestries on the wall flap alarmingly, and I definitely felt a little chilly in that evening gown. I began to wish Mrs. Mannering had offered us fur wraps as well. Rose was noticeably silent. Maybe the sight of us in Jonquil’s gowns had made her realize what Tony had lost, and that she could never compete with a beautiful dead woman.