It was heart-breaking too, when she thought of all the time and effort he had invested in them. When a horse was due to foal he had been known to spend whole nights in the stables with the mare, to ensure that all went well, but there was nothing to be done now but accept the situation. In the field to one side of him she could see Ben talking to George, and guilt sliced through her again. She had been so cold to them both for so long, and now she would have only a very short time to try and make it up to them. It seemed so unfair. Why did this damn war have to go and happen anyway? She was continually whipping herself. Perhaps if she and Tom had not been estranged he would never have felt the need to go away. With his lame leg he would certainly have been classed as unsuitable for fighting but because she had been so stupid he would now still be at risk in his role as a horse handler. But there was no turning the clock back now. What was done was done and they would all have to make the best of it.

She was still standing there a few moments later when her mother entered the room and Sunday forced a smile to her face. Lavinia was due to be married the following day and Sunday wanted to make sure that it was as pleasant an event as it could possibly be, even with the shadow of war hanging over them all.

‘Cook is running herself ragged in the kitchen,’ Lavinia informed her with a grin. ‘There was really no need for you all to go to the trouble of a party. William and I would have been quite happy to just catch the train to Brighton for a few days after the ceremony.’

‘It’s the least we can do.’ Sunday planted an affectionate kiss on her cheek. ‘It’s just so sad that you won’t have the big wedding we’d planned at Christmas and the honeymoon in the South of France.’

Lavinia waved her hand airily. ‘My dear girl, I am about to marry the love of my life. What more could I ask?’

‘Just think,’ Sunday chuckled as something occurred to her. ‘After tomorrow you’ll be plain Mrs Dewhurst and no longer Lady Huntley.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ Lavinia answered. ‘In fact, I can hardly wait. But now have you sorted out what you’re going to wear? I do wish you would have let me buy you a new outfit.’

‘It doesn’t matter what I wear. You are the bride and it will be you everyone is looking at, which is just as it should be,’ Sunday pointed out. ‘And besides, I really don’t need any more clothes. But now will you excuse me? If Cook is getting in a flap I ought to go and give her a hand. She still has your wedding cake to ice. You just relax, I want you feeling all rested for your big day.’