A clatter on the table behind us made us turn around. Mrs. Mannering had knocked over a bronze oriental statue. She righted it hastily. “I came in to see if the fire needs making up, sir,” she said. “Dinner will be served in ten minutes.”

AFTER THAT UNSETTLING episode, dinner passed remarkably smoothly. There was pleasant chatter around the table, mostly dwelling on Belinda’s recent time in Paris and what Madame Chanel was like, also my visit to Kenya and the habits of various wild animals. I had to describe my dangerous encounters, including the lion outside my tent and the elephant that stepped out in front of our car. They were duly impressed. The food that evening was outstanding. I could see why Tony insisted on keeping Mrs. Mannering if she arranged such meals. We started with a clear consommé with croutons followed by lobster salad. Then leg of pork with crackling and sage and onion stuffing, chocolate mousse with clotted cream and finally anchovy toast. It was accompanied by excellent wines and I felt quite relaxed and happy by the time the meal ended.

Rose suggested we ladies go through for coffee while Tony enjoyed his cigar.

“I think I’ll forego the cigar this evening and come with you,” he said. “It’s not often I have the privilege of witty company. We’re rather out of the way down here. I keep telling Rose it’s high time we checked out the property in Barbados. If it’s not being run well, I may just sell it and buy a house in London.”

“Think of the upkeep,” Rose said. “You’d need to have servants there.”

“Just a pied-à-terre, like Belinda’s mews cottage,” he said.

Rose looked at him sharply. “How did you know that Belinda has a mews cottage?”

Tony looked amused. “She mentioned it earlier, or Georgiana mentioned it. Did you say it was in Mayfair, Belinda?”

“In Knightsbridge.”

“Ah yes. I understand they are becoming quite popular these days. When you think that they used to stable horses there.” He laughed again and the subject moved on to Barbados and what we knew of the Caribbean.

We settled into armchairs by the fire and one of the maids handed us coffee. Rose sipped hers, then looked up. “That’s interesting, it doesn’t taste bitter this evening.” She gave a little laugh. “I’ve never really learned to like coffee. Not having grown up with it, I suppose.”

“Well, at least you’re trying it, which is one step in the right direction,” Tony said.