‘Yes, indeed.’ Kate realised that Mrs Marsh was eager to learn more of their escape, but she could not bring herself to talk about it now, or perhaps ever. Some things were best forgotten, if that were possible. ‘I’d better let you get on, Mrs Marsh. It’s good to be home.’

Mrs Marsh inclined her head and turned away slowly, but if she hoped that Kate would change her mind and pass on more information she was doomed to disappointment.

Kate set off towards the morning parlour. The house seemed too large, too echoing and too cold. She missed India and the privileged life she had led there: it was another world and a land of extremes. Until the uprising each day had been an adventure – now she had come back to reality. The smell of carbolic soap mingled with that of beeswax polish, and there was a hint of burning soot in the stuffy morning parlour.

An hour later, after a supper of soup followed by bread and cheese, eaten on her own, huddled by a desultory fire, Kate went upstairs to her bedroom. The curtains had not been drawn and she went over to the window, gazing down into the square. It was quite dark now and the trees in the residents’ private garden had a fairy-like quality, shimmering in the gaslight. A few tender young leaves fluttered bravely against the chilly wind, and the first early tulips stood to attention like soldiers on parade in the well-kept flowerbeds. She drew the curtains and was relieved to find a nightgown laid out for her on the bed. She was about to undress when there was a timid knock on the door.

‘Come in.’

A young woman, barely more than a girl, rushed into the room and came to a halt by the bed. ‘Ma thought you might need a hand to get undressed, miss.’

‘You’ve changed quite a bit since I last saw you, Jenny,’ Kate said, smiling.

‘So have you – that’s if you don’t mind me saying so, miss?’

‘Not at all. We’ve both grown up a lot in three years. I believe you are going to be my mother’s maid, until she can find a replacement for Bennett.’

‘Yes, miss. That’s right. But I could be your maid, too, if you so wish.’

Kate thought of the beautiful Mira, who had been assigned to her in Delhi. Mira had anticipated Kate’s needs, fulfilling her duties with serene dignity and grace. There could be no comparison, of course, but there was something about Jenny’s eagerness and simple honesty that was both warming and refreshing.

‘I think that would be a very good idea, Jenny. You may start by bringing me a jug of warm water so that I can wash off some of the city dirt before I go to bed. In India my maid used to float rose petals in the washbowl.’