‘I’m sure they all have hollow legs,’ Lavinia commented with a grin.

Because it was Christmas Day the children were allowed to stay up a little longer that evening, and when a band of carol singers walked down the drive and came to stand outside the front doors, singing the best-loved carols beneath the gently falling snow, the children were enchanted. The group were invited in for warm mince pies and a glass of Cook’s hot punch, and by the time they departed there were more than a few of the children yawning. Some had even fallen asleep on the chairs.

‘Come on, missie.’ Tom lifted Kitty, who was snoring softly, to carry her to her room and for the first time that day, Maggie’s face fell.

‘Come on, sweetheart, I’ll help you get ready for bed,’ Sunday said, offering her hand, and Maggie reluctantly took it. ‘I’ll tell you what, just for this once, seeing as it’s Christmas Day, I’ll let you off having a wash this evening,’ Sunday told the silent little girl. ‘We’ll just slip your nightdress on, tuck you in and I’ll tell you a story, eh? How does that sound?’

Slightly mollified, Maggie nodded but she kept her eyes fixed on Tom who was cradling Kitty in his arms as he mounted the stairs as if she weighed no more than a feather. Maggie wished now that she had pretended to fall asleep and then perhaps Tom would have carried her up to bed too, but at least Sunday was holding her hand. They found Cissie and Zillah already in the children’s rooms trying to bring some sort of order into bedtime, but today nobody minded and at last all the children were safely tucked in and fast asleep.

‘I think we adults ought to go down now and treat ourselves to a glass of port,’ Lavinia suggested, and they were all only too happy to agree. It would be the perfect end to a perfect day.

Chapter Three

There were only three days to go before the New Year when Zillah came down with a fever and was confined to her bed. Lavinia flew into a panic.

‘She hasn’t been looking well for some time,’ she fretted. ‘And I blame myself. She’s no spring chicken any more and I should have made her slow down.’

‘Huh!’ Sunday snorted. ‘That would have taken some doing. You know what’s she’s like, bless her, she’s always on the go and thrives on it.’ Knowing how close her mother was to her former maid, she felt sorry for her. Zillah had been like a mother to Lavinia and had gone through some of the darkest times of her young mistress’s life with her. Now Lavinia wrung her hands in dismay to see her beloved friend so ill and wondered why the doctor was taking so long to arrive.

‘He should have been here by now,’ she said, crossing to the drawing-room window for the tenth time in as many minutes.