Jenny wrinkled her nose. ‘Funny habits them foreigners have. I wouldn’t fancy washing my face with all them greenfly swishing around in the water, not to mention the odd bug.’ She left the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind her.

Kate laughed for the first time since she had left Delhi, and then she began to cry. The tears that she had shed since parting with Ash were nothing compared to the heart-broken sobs that now shook her whole body. She collapsed on the bed, unable to control her pent-up emotions for a moment longer, but the storm of crying had passed by the time Jenny reappeared with the water. She set the jug down on the washstand and moved to the side of the bed.

‘You’re tired out, miss. Upsadaisy, now. Let’s get you washed and into your nightie. I was just the same as you after I come back from Lady Dalrymple’s place. Run all the way, I did, and when I come home I didn’t know if I was to get a clip round the ear or a cuddle. Got both, as it happened, but Ma never made me go back there.’ Jenny helped Kate to her feet and undressed her, talking all the time so that there was no need for Kate to respond other than a nod every now and then.

When Kate was settled in bed, propped up by a soft bank of pillows, Jenny stood back with a nod of approval. ‘That’s better. I’ll fetch you a nice hot cup of chocolate, shall I? I knows that Ma has some in because I was sent out special to fetch some when she got the letter to say you was arriving today. Your ma just drank a cup and she lay back in bed and was asleep afore I got to the door.’ She left the room without waiting to see if her suggestion had been accepted.

Kate sighed and closed her eyes. Sometimes it was nice to be treated like a child again. Tomorrow she would organise herself and start a new life back in London. She would put all thoughts of Ash, India and the events she had witnessed from her mind. It would all be forgotten – it must be forgotten, or she would go mad with grief. She drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

There was a strained atmosphere next morning at breakfast. Sir Bartholomew was hidden behind the pages of The Times, lowering it only to ask someone to pass the butter or marmalade. Arabella looked pale with dark shadows under her eyes, and Kate was concerned.

‘Did you sleep well, Mama?’

‘Yes, although I think I was overtired.’

Sir Bartholomew rattled the crisp pages of the newspaper. ‘Might we take breakfast in silence? I have only a few minutes to study current affairs before I have to leave for my chambers.’