‘But all the paintings have been passed as good enough for exhibition, have they not, ma’am?’ Henrietta suggested.

‘They have, but that is in many ways deceptive. I make no pretence that I, or Martley here, could paint anything to match the least work on these walls. They are all professional creations, but some are merely the adequate results of learning, as an apprentice learns, how to draw and to mix and apply paint, and others are true artistry.’

‘My mama attends all the exhibitions,’ volunteered Lord Martley. ‘She is accounted to have quite the eye for masterpieces.’

‘That is perhaps going a little far, Martley, for there are very few paintings to which that term may be applied, and I have no especial talent with sculpture. However, I will admit to an unerring ability to detect inferior works dressed up with eye-catching frames and subjects which attract the attention to what is, underneath, poor quality,’ Her ladyship’s glance flicked for an instant to Lady Elstead’s face, which wore a mask of disinterest, but whose eyes glittered, and she delivered the coup de grace: ‘And of course I do not need to be “told” what I must admire.’

‘Then one wonders at this being your first visit,’ responded Lady Elstead.

‘My first? Oh no. This is perhaps my fourth. You would not understand, of course, dear Lady Elstead, but to properly appreciate a picture, one must spend time with it, not parade in front of it.’

‘I have always held that good taste is bred not taught, and a slavish attention to whether the brush strokes are akin to those of …’ She waved her hand, as if that might conjure up a name. ‘… Torrigiano, is merely showing book learning.’

‘Yes, you would find that difficult – indeed, impossible,’ tittered Lady Pirbright, ‘since Pietro Torrigiano was a sculptor.’

‘I meant,’ corrected Lady Elstead, ‘Titian, of course. A mere slip of the tongue.’

‘Ah yes, they do both begin with the same letter … so confusing.’ Lady Pirbright smiled, and let the following silence say more than further comment. After this pause to enjoy her victory, she tapped her son upon the arm and said brightly, ‘Now, Martley, we must leave Lady Elstead’s party to their … perambulations. Good day to you all.’ With which she smiled, bowed her head very slightly, and led him away.

The ‘Elstead party’ might have been posing for a sculptural group entitled ‘The Bemused and the Belligerent’, in which everyone bar Lady Elstead herself counted as ‘the Bemused’. After a minute, Caroline gave a nervous smile, and asked Lord Henfield if he thought some cows in a background were not a little too like horses. It was a silly question, and she knew it, but nobody wanted to touch upon what had just passed, and so he launched into a most impressive reasoning as to why that may have appeared to be so.