‘Duck, duck, come here, come on, duck.’ Cicely held out her hand.

‘It’s no use trying to catch it,’ said her brother Marcus. ‘It’ll only fly about and knock things over. We’ll have to wait for Osbert.’

‘What a naughty boy,’ said Ida. ‘I’m so sorry, Belle-mère.’ (This was how she addressed her mother-in-law.)

‘Nonsense, my dear,’ said Minnie. ‘But I think Marcus is right. We’d better all stay quite still until Osbert comes. There are so many things to knock over in this room.’

The group, most of whom had been on their feet in the course of redeploying themselves for the next part of the evening’s entertainment, now sat down again.

The bird paused, as if aware for the first time how many people there were in the room, and looked from one to the other with its head on one side.

‘It’s thinking,’ said Cicely.

‘I hope it won’t come to any sudden decisions,’ said Sir Randolph.

It opened its mouth in a sort of yawn – no sound emerged – it shut it again, shook its feathers slightly, then slowly extended one leg sideways as if in a dance movement. It then stretched one wing along the length of the leg, opening to view a patch of deep bright blue feathers barred with white which had been concealed beneath the speckled brown of its wing.

‘How beautiful,’ said Olivia.

Leg and wing were then returned to their more usual positions, the feathers shaken again, and the slow contemplation of the company resumed.

‘Where on earth is Osbert?’ said Ida.

The duck now with a surprisingly loud spluttering sound emitted a large damp dropping. Cicely giggled. The duck walked slowly forward and lowering its head began to dabble, or graze, at a Persian carpet.

Fortunately at that moment a boy rushed into the room, scooped the duck into his arms – it quacked once in protest but did not struggle – and seemed about to rush out again. This pale, dark-haired boy was the ten-year-old Osbert, Ida’s third child and second son. As he approached the door Nanny appeared in the doorway followed by Rogers, Mary and the between-maid with a mop, dustpan and brush. Relief had arrived.

‘Osbert, wait,’ said Ida. ‘You might at least apologize to Granny.’

‘I’m sorry, Granny,’ said Osbert, looking hunted.

But everyone now was laughing, wanting to take an interest in the duck: only Minnie was quietly encouraging Rogers to get the rest of the tea out of the way and put out the card table.

‘A duck is rather an unusual pet,’ said Lord Lilburn, looking at the child from his great height, down his long nose and over his thick brown moustache. ‘How did it come about?’

‘I found her on the river last spring. She’d lost her mother.’

‘A mere chick then?’

‘She was only about four days old, I think.’

‘And won’t she fly away?’

‘She does. She goes down to the river with the other ducks but she comes back at night and sometimes in the day time. That’s why I never know when she’s coming back, you see, and then she comes to look for me.’