‘Get a move on, or I’ll shoot you where you stand!’ the officer roared. ‘We won’t stand for cowards here!’

As Tate moved forward, his head down and his whole body quivering, Tom found himself thinking, There’s one I wouldn’t be sorry to see shot! Then he felt ashamed. Tate was still Cissie’s son at the end of the day and she would be distraught if anything were to happen to him. She still had no idea that it was Hugh who had attacked her and left her for dead, and with luck she never would remember. But then the officers arrived and started to mount the horses and Tom had no more time to think of anything but the poor beasts who were about to go into battle.

As the war raged on, Kitty’s first Christmas away from Treetops approached but this year there was little for the people of Britain to celebrate. Ruby was in a drunken stupor for half the time now despite Miss Fox’s constant attempts to pour away any wine or gin she found about the house. Many of the music halls had closed but Kitty was still very popular at the ones that remained open, although her bookings were fewer and further between than they had been before war had been declared.

She was at Richard’s one afternoon when the maid came to inform him that there were some women at the door asking to see him.

Richard frowned as he asked, ‘Who are they? I’m not expecting anyone.’

‘I’ve no idea, sir, they wouldn’t say.’

‘Then you’d better show them in.’ No doubt they were new clients, he thought.

‘Right you are, sir.’ The little maid bobbed her knee and hurried away, to reappear a few moments later with four ladies following her.

‘Mr Richard Fitzherbert?’ The older of the ladies, who was beautifully spoken, stared imperiously down her nose at him.

Richard said smoothly, ‘Yes, how may I help you? If you wish to have photographs taken I’m afraid you will have to book an appointment.’

‘Believe me, I would never appoint you to do anything for me,’ the woman replied, then without another word she handed him an envelope as the other ladies looked on.

Bewildered, Richard slit it open and as he did so, a lone white feather fell out and drifted to the floor. It was then that Kitty realised who they were. They were part of the Suffrage movement and were making it their business to hand out white feathers to any gentleman whom they considered fit enough to be away fighting for their country.

‘You are a disgrace to your sex, sir,’ the woman told him coldly. ‘Shame on you for your cowardice.’ And with that she turned and walked away with a look of pure disgust on her face as the other women trotted behind her.

Kitty was deeply distressed and tears sprang to her eyes, but Richard appeared to be unmoved.